SilentNightPainfulSight2

Silent Night, Painful Sight -continued

By XSketch
XSketch@hotmail.com

XxXxXxXxX
----------
ACT THREE
----------

7:07AM

The storm had died out about two hours earlier, and as the sky began
to slowly lighten and welcome the new day, Mulder watched the clouds
begin to part from where he and his partner were huddled.

They'd just managed to reach the cave before the complete whiteout
had set in - tired, weak, frozen to the core and leaning on each
other as the fierce wind had fought back against them - but it had
turned out that there were indeed three happily-snoring grizzlies
hibernating within the depths of the shelter as Scully had feared,
so they'd been forced to rest right at the entrance where they had
been protected from the cutting wind, but not from the bite of the
chilly air or all of the snow.

Mulder glanced down at Scully, pressed a kiss against the crest of
her icy hair and then pulled the hood of her jacket that had slipped
down at some point during the night back up over her head. She
shivered and snuggled even closer against him, but didn't wake up.

"We will get out of this," he vowed in a hushed whisper, holding her
a moment longer before carefully slipping away from her and edging
toward the cave's exit. "I'll b-b-be b-back, I p-promise - I'm just
gonna g-go ahead a l-l-little and check the w-way is safe..."

He was about to turn away when one of her hands suddenly shot out
and wrapped around his wrist. "N-No you d-d-don't," she stammered,
shifting to sit up. "No w-wandering off o-o-on y-your own...
Wherever y-you go..." Her eyes fluttered shut, no matter how hard
she tried fighting it, and her voice began to trail off. "...I
g-go..." And before she'd even had chance to fully wake up, she was
asleep again.

Mulder smiled, leaned in once more to kiss her on the lips and then
crawled out of the cave - leaving behind the backpack of supplies
for her, just in case.

XxXxXxXxX

27th STREET
DENVER, COLORADO
8:32AM

*knock* *knock* *knock*

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm coming!"

*knock* *knock* *knock*

Chad Spector wiped frantically at his sleepy, gritty eyes and
scowled at the front door as the loud knocking continued. He'd been
up all night going through the case file Walter'd asked for and he'd
finally managed to dig it out of the records department at work at
about 9PM, so this early visitor on Christmas Eve was not about to
get on his good side.

*knock* *knock* *knock*

"I said I'm coming, dammit!"

He tore open the door as hard as possible, only to reveal Walter
Skinner - red-eyes peering out from beneath a baseball cap.

"Walt? How the hell'd you get here?"

Skinner shrugged. "I ...I managed to get a late flight out to
Colorado Springs and then drove the I-25 over night...I'm sorry if I
got you up..."

Spector stared disbelievingly at his friend for a moment and then
quickly moved out of the doorway so the older man could enter out of
the cold. "Don't be silly! Holy shit...You drove here? I don't
remember you being this crazy."

"There's a big chance my two agents are in danger," Walter sighed,
dragging his tired frame across the threshold and shuffling with his
head lowered into the living room. "I needed to get out here as
soon as possible."

"Your agents?" Chad frowned, puzzled, as he quickly followed the FBI
assistant director. "You came all this way to--"

"They're friends. Were you able to find that case report?"

"Uh, yeah - I was gonna fax it to you when I was fully awake. I've
been going over it all night. Apparently Sheriff Donner called in
to say that he'd caught the killer and the case was closed."
Skinner opened his mouth to say something, but Chad quickly
continued, "*But* no official report was forwarded on to us, which
is standard procedure - especially if we're involved in the
investigation - and from what I was able to find out by calling a
few favors in, no suspect was ever sent our way to be tried.
Normally red flags would have flown up everywhere in our system, but
whoever was handling it either accidentally or purposely altered the
info on the system network to say the case had been wrapped up
completely. It was only when I looked at the hard copy, which we're
always sure to keep of every single case we're involved with in our
Records department, that I spotted the gaping holes." The Denver
Police Department chief shrugged his shoulders and picked a cigar
out of the wooden box on the coffee table in front of where Skinner
sat. "And before you ask, no I couldn't find out who that was."

"That I *can* help out with," Skinner piped up, pulling a folder out
of his bag. "I was able to acquire a copy of the personnel file of
who sent my agents out to investigate the murders. It says she was
transferred to us from the New York field office, but after a lot
more digging, it turns out she was actually assigned to us from your
department by somebody at the Pentagon."

"You're kidding? What's her name?"

"She's posing as Deputy Director Deborah Angela Wallace in D.C, but
her real name - at least the one she was using when she was parading
as a cop - is Sally Morse-Elba."

Chad stood in thought for several minutes, puffing on his cigar as
he wracked his brain to try remember the name. "Sally...Sally...
Sally! Yes, I remember her - she must have only been with us a
couple months! Never thought to find out where she disappeared to;
she left at the start of the month. But how could a cop get
promoted straight to deputy director of the FBI? Why would she go
to such lengths to dispose of the case, and then send your two
agents out?"

"These two particular agents have pissed off a few figures in
authority over the years by trying to expose conspiracies. Let's
just say there've been a lot of ploys used to try get rid of them,
so nothing surprises me now." Skinner wiped a hand down his face.
"What about the sheriff? Why would he so blatantly lie about
something he knew would send up red flags?"

Chad gave a shrug of his shoulders and rested back in the comfy
chair opposite his friend. "I tried calling him at his office in
Wyntack, but the line just kept ringing. As I told you yesterday,
though, he might have moved to Denver for the winter months. He
must be in cahoots with your deputy director there - there's no way
he'd dare to try pull the wool over our eyes otherwise."

There was a moment of thoughtful silence, and then Skinner suddenly
reached to pull out a second folder from his bag. "Maybe not," he
muttered, thumbing through the file. "What if...What if Sheriff
Donner's the murderer? It would explain his need to throw you guys
off the trail as soon as possible."

"A cannibalistic sheriff? That's a bit of a leap, isn't it?"

"Like I say, nothing surprises me now. Seriously, think about it,
Chad. He could have been doing this for years! The only reason why
you were involved this time is because the hiker that found the
family came to you first."

"You really believe--"

Skinner's tired head nodded vigorously.

Spector got up from his seat and moved over to his computer, where
he immediately typed in a request for Lynus Donner's profile. After
reading for approximately three minutes he suddenly stood up and
quickly snatched up his coat. "Come on, Walt, we need to get to the
PD!"

"What is it?" Skinner queried, standing up also.

"When he was a kid, Donner and his parents were in a car crash out
by Wyntack Forest. They were found a week later by a search and
rescue team; Lynus had eaten his folks to stay alive."

"Shit!"

XxXxXxXxX

Mulder hadn't realized he'd been walking for as long as he had until
he stopped to catch his breath and thought to look at his watch.

8:42.

He'd only intended to venture away from Scully for about half-hour
to survey the path ahead before returning to the cave, not almost
two hours! She'd probably be awake by now and worried about where
he'd gone...as well as fuming and ready to kick his ass for ditching
her.

With a sigh, as the sun peeked out from above the mountain and an
eagle passed overhead, Mulder turned on his heel to go back and face
the music, but as he did something caught his attention out of the
corner of his eye. He paused and then - curiosity getting the
better of him as ever - made his way over to the red patch
underneath one of the taller spruces.

When he was close enough to see the lifeless, empty eyes of the wolf
that they'd encountered yesterday staring back at him from a mass of
matted fur, muscle, bones and diluted blood, he knew exactly what
had happened here. Instinctively his hand reached for his gun...but
it wasn't there. He must have left it behind back at the cave, but
that meant--

Suddenly there was a sharp pain tearing up his leg from somewhere in
his right calf, and Mulder looked down in time to see the large
hunting knife sticking out from there before he dropped to the
ground. There was movement from somewhere behind where he lay, but
he was too busy frantically scrabbling to apply pressure to his leg
to stop the blood flow to care who it was. There were another pair
of hands pushing his away, though, and before any of what had
happened had had chance to sink into the agent's muzzy brain, a head
came into focus, the knife was ripped out of his leg, and - just
when he didn't think the pain could get any more excruciating -
teeth chomped into his bleeding flesh.

A scream barely recognizable as his own voice shot out of Mulder's
chest, and he thought he may have blacked out for a minute, but the
pain, the blood, the pull of something trying to rip his skin from
his body...It all never ended.

Lynus Earl Donner smiled greedily as blood poured down his white
beard and the pain-filled cries echoed against the trees in the
morning air. If there was one thing he'd learnt over the years,
fresh, living tissue was so much more of a delicacy than that in
which the heart had stopped beating blood - life - to the muscles
and organs.

*I'll be back, I promise.*

His own vow replayed over and over in Mulder's mind as he lay on the
frozen ground, futilely struggling to break free from the stranger's
jaws.

*Christmas Day we're walking out of here...Frostbitten, tired,
chapped lipped, hungry, and my ass as sore as hell, but alive
nevertheless.*

He'd promised her an end to this nightmare. He'd promised her life.
He'd promised that this would not be the final time Death stared
them in the face and claimed them or that they'd be separated
forever.

It was time to prove all his promises to her actually meant
something.

With the tiny bit of strength left in him, Fox Mulder kicked and
rolled his way away from the cannibal and shakily got to his feet.
He felt the other man lunge at him, but before he could be taken
down again the FBI agent ran with all his might deeper into the
woods - disorientated and desperately trying to bite back against
the pain tearing his senses to shreds.

He ran and ran and ran, almost feeling the breath of his pursuer
right against the back of his neck, but then he reached a fallen
tree that was blocking his path of escape, and the only option was
to jump it.

Which he did.

And failed to clear.

And all he knew then was darkness.

"Sculleeee......."

As Mulder's body shut itself down, the distant sound of rustling
branches registered in his brain, and he knew Death had finally
caught up with him. He thought he heard something akin to a
gunshot...

And then there was nothing at all.

XxXxXxXxX

WASHINGTON, D.C.

The sudden beeping from the computer snapped Frohike back to
attention and he quickly sat up, staring at the monitor in shock.

"Hey! Guys! I've managed to connect to Mulder's phone!"

Both Byers and Langly rushed to his side and stared at the screen
also.

"Finally!" Langly exclaimed, slapping his friend on the back and
then nudging him out of the way so that he could have full access to
the keyboard. "Now, if we can just locate their exact position..."

As the long-haired geek started tapping away, a shaky voice suddenly
started over the speakers, "H-h-hello?"

Byers brightened when he recognized the voice and quickly reached
for the system microphone.

"Agent Scully? It's John Byers. Are you okay?" Considering how
weak and upset she sounded, it was probably a stupid question, but
it was the first thing he'd managed to think to ask.

There was silence, the ever-so-faint sound of her shivering, and
then, "I...Mulder's b-b-bleeding..."

Langly sharply looked up from his work, but those two words made him
even more determined to succeed with tracking their friends down.

"Don't panic, Scully. Assistant Director Skinner is in Colorado,
and we're using the GPS in your phone to locate you, so don't give
up yet," Byers gently assured, hoping he could calm the scared woman
even a fraction.

"There's a s-s-stinger on the r-road in...Make s-sure n-n-no one
d-drives o-over it."   She paused, sniffed. "I-I-I need...I n-need
to--"

The line went dead.

"I've got them!" Langly smiled, taking a step back and pointing the
flashing indicator on the screen.

"Let's get those co-ordinates to Skinman immediately," Frohike
barked, wiping at his eyes and rushing for the telephone.

There was no need for questions from his two friends - they were all
feeling the affects of the emotional charge.

XxXxXxXxX

DENVER POLICE HEADQUARTERS
CHEROKEE STREET

Walter Skinner closed his cellphone and turned to face the group of
twelve officers that Spector had managed to gather to help with the
search.

"We've found them. Let's go."

The team moved into action at his order and quickly filed out of the
room - leaving Chad and Walter alone.

"By the sounds of it, both of them are badly injured," Skinner
sighed, trying to compose himself as best as possible but failing to
ward off the guilt that continued to consume him. "And there's a
concealed spike-strip on the road in to Wyntack...Do you have any
choppers we can use?"

Chad gave a nod, knowing a lot was riding on his answer. "I could
call one of our pilots in, but it's gonna take him at least a couple
hours to get here," he explained, heading toward the exit.

"Please, can you call him? A foot search isn't gonna get to them
soon enough."

"Sure thing, Walt. You go ahead with the guys and I'll catch you
up."

The two stared at each other in companionable silence for a second
and then went their separate ways.

XxXxXxXxX

6:39PM

Pain sifted through the darkness and tugged him in every direction.

In his head.

In his leg.

In his groin...

Fox Mulder had experienced a *lot* of pain and torture over the
years, but he really didn't believe that he'd ever experienced
anything like the agonizing ache inflaming his squashed genitals,
and he never wanted to again - hopefully that was something he could
keep to himself and not let them use against him.

"...Joy to t-the f-f-fishes in t-the d-deep b-b-blue sea...J-joy to
y-you and m-m-me."

His eyelids slipped open as reality tried to break through the fog
in his brain, and he realized he was resting in the cradle of her
arms...

And there was something cold being gently rubbed against his
testicles.

Not in an arousing way, but it was certainly helping to take the
edge off the burn in his balls.

"You're e-e-enjoying t-that far too m-much," he whispered in a
strained, quasi-falsetto.

Scully almost jumped out of her skin at the sound and she looked
down at her partner, pulling him tighter against her as she rested
back against the fallen pine tree that had caused him this extra
injury. "M-Mulder? You're o-okay?"

"J-just as w-w-well we c-c-can't think a-about having k-kids the old-
fashioned w-way, 'cos there's n-n-no way I-I'll b-be able to
d-deliver n-now," he pouted, letting his eyes close again. "That
and m-my leg...it...I-it--"

"It's o-okay," she whispered, kissing the top of his head.

"How d-did you--...What h-h-ha-happened?"

"I w-woke up again after y-you l-left the c-c-cave," Dana explained,
withdrawing her hand from his pants and reaching for another ball of
snow. "But I-I had that b-backpack to c-carry and f-f-fell behind,
so I had to j-just f-f-follow your footp-prints in the sn-snow.
Then I saw you and Donner--"

"D-Donner?"

"Mm, y-you were right - it w-was S-Sheriff Donner c-committing
t-t-the m-murders after a-all. Anyway, I saw y-you b-both
s-scrabbling up ahead after a-a-awhile, d-dropped the bag and
r-r-ran to catch up. Sadly y-you h-had your procreation-damaging
s-slip b-before I-I was able to s-s-shoot the guy." Her hand delved
back into his pants to cup and massage his swollen balls with the
cold slush. She'd only just managed to get the bleeding from his
leg under control, so she hoped upon hope that she could help him
with this unbearable injury at least.

"H-he's d-d-dead?" Mulder snatched in a breath as his testicles
began to numb and the fog in his brain cleared a little.

Despite the lack of energy left in their bodies, there was no
mistaking the fire of hatred and poison of disgust when she spat
out, "H-he's on the o-other side of t-this log."

Mulder looked up at her, saw the icicles that had formed on her
cheeks glisten in the moonlight, and gave her a loving, reassuring
smile.

Her hand once again retreated to scoop up a fresh ball of frozen
powder.

"I-is there s-something I should know a-a-about your knowledge and
e-expertise at d-d-doing this?" he joked, eyeing the snow in her
hand.

"W-well, y-you know," she mused, expelling a huff of laughter when
she saw him waggle his eyebrows, "I-I've always h-h-had this
s-secret f-fantasy of 'packing i-ice' w-with y-y-you, so r-really
I'm just t-taking advantage o-of you a-and your injury."

"If only t-that was turning me on and n-n-not n-numbing my s-senses."

"Will h-have to s-start c-calling y-y-you 'Blue Balls'." She began
to chuckle, but then suddenly paused and looked up at the sky.

"S-Scully?"

"Shhh. Did y-you hear t-that?"

There was silence and he listened as hard as he could, but he
guessed he must be more out of it than he'd thought as he couldn't
hear anything.

Scully could though, and she strained to hone in on the noise as it
came nearer and nearer.

"It s-s-sounds l-like..."   She paused, searched the horizon
frantically for the source,

And then she saw it - its searchlight coming into view as it skimmed
the tops of the trees.

"...H-helicopter blades... "

"You m-mean we're g-g-gonna be out o-of h-here for Christmas a-after
all?" Mulder hummed as his eyes slipped shut once again - his body
beginning succumb to the cold and pain and exhaustion. "N-not
s-s-sure if I'll...b-be up to coo-cooking the d-dinner..."

The searchlight stopped on them as the chopper hovered directly
above. Scully quickly withdrew her hand from her partner's groin
and raised it to shield her eyes from the bright light and whirlpool
of snow the rotors whipped up. If she'd had the energy, she
probably would have sent up a silent 'Thank you' up to whatever
deity had saved them this time, but everything left in her was
focused on Mulder...

And getting the hell out of here as soon as possible.

XxXxXxXxX
----------
EPILOGUE
----------

        'Case File: #X14082273
        Agent of record: Assistant Director Walter S. Skinner
        Date: December 28th, 2006

        Due to the injuries inflicted by Agents Fox Mulder
        and Dana Scully whilst on this investigation, I shall
        make my own report on this case.

        Lynus Earl Donner was found dead wearing what appears
        to be an imitation Santa Claus outfit. His ID photo
        depicted him with a clean-shaven face, however his
        corpse fashioned a thick white beard, giving the all-
        round impression that he was trying to portray himself
        as the mythological bringer of Christmas presents. To
        date, no explanation has been found amongst his
        belongings sequestered from his office at the Wyntack
        Sheriff's Station, but a full psychological evaluation
        of his background from medical records etc. will be
        carried out in the new year. Personally, I wonder if
        the trauma incurred by his parents' death triggered
        something in Donner's brain that made him regard every
        special holiday as a reason to feast and dress-up - I
        wouldn't be surprised if he'd been dressed up as a
        turkey when he killed the Thompson family at
        Thanksgiving. Or, perhaps he had been psycologically
        okay, but - isolated out in the wilds alone - cabin
        fever had begun to set in and his past caught him up,
        pushing him completely over the edge of reason. This
        is all hearsay, but I think that that's all it will
        ever be - only Lynus Donner knew the truth behind his
        reasons...Or, at least what he believed to be the truth.

        Deputy Director Deborah Wallace has not been seen since
        her meeting with Agent Scully. A further check into
        the FBI's payroll list revealed she is not even listed
        as an employee here anymore, deepening my suspicions
        that she was placed here for malicious purposes, and I
        highly recommend that an investigation should be opened
        to deal with this matter.

        Agents Mulder and Scully are currently still receiving
        treatment at Georgetown Memorial Hospital for pneumonia,
        and hypothermia, as well as the external injuries they
        suffered. There was a fear that the lower half of Agent
        Mulder's right leg would have to be removed due to the
        damage incurred and infection that had started to set
        in, but thankfully his surgery went successfully and his
        leg was saved.

        Both agents will hopefully be fit to return for work in
        three weeks.

        Further details can be found in Chief Chad Spector of the
        Denver Police Department's report into the oversight on
        their handling of the case.

        Otherwise, FBI case number X14072273 is closed.'

XxXxXxXxX

The woman walked away from the building - each calculating step
taking her nearer and nearer to her next assignment.

"Who are you working for?"

Deborah Wallace turned at the voice, finding herself coming face to
face with Conrad Strughold but never flinching at all, even though
she knew this impromptu encounter probably meant that her deception
had been uncovered.

"I thought I was working for you," she dryly retorted, brushing her
hair back away from her face.

"You know we have more plans for Mulder - more we need to learn from
him," Strughold snapped. "Why would you put those plans in jeopardy
by sending them on that case?"

Wallace quickly unholstered her concealed gun and pointed it at the
shorter man. "Because someone offered me a bigger pay packet!"

*BANG!*

One shot.

One kill.

Unwavering eyes stared and watched nonchalantly as Deborah dropped
to the ground - a gunshot wound in the center of her head.

"It obviously wasn't big enough," Strughold coolly noted, pulling
both his hand and silencer-equipped gun out of his jacket pocket and
giving them a quick wipe. "Otherwise you'd have been long gone by
now."

Before a crowd could gather, he re-pocketed the weapon and moved to
the nearby parked black sedan.

ROLL CREDITS

"Mulder? Mulder, are you all right? Mulder, wake up!"

Sounds slowly made their way through the darkness - hollow,
indistinguishable to begin with but eventually sharpening into
something he could place as his head groggily turned to the side.
What was happening? The searing pain in his calf and certain other
places of his body he would give anything to save reminded him of
what had happened and that he must be in hospital. Except...there
was no familiar smell of disinfectant, no clinical sounds or
groanings of people passing back and forth in the corridor, or--

"Mulder, if you don't open your eyes this very minute I'm calling
for an ambulance!"

Scully? That was Scully's voice! But she was-- Wait... Did she say
'ambulance'?

Mulder's hand shot out and grabbed at the closest appendage, which
turned out to be Scully's warm, bare wrist. He must have been out
of it for ages if she was back to good health! She was so going to
kick his ass for this one... He slowly blinked open his eyes,
preparing for the glare of cold fluorescent lights he knew would
blind him.

There was no blindness, though. No fight to focus as the familiar
ceiling of their living room came into view above him. No need to
long for the heat that had been deprived from him for the past three
days. No--

Living room ceiling? Why was he on the floor of their living room
and not in a somewhat lumpy, slightly raised bed at Northeast
Georgetown?

"Scully?" he choked out, lifting a hand to eye-level so that he
could examine it. "Scully, what's going on?"

"That's what I want to know, Mulder." Dana sounded pissed and
worried at the same time. Knowing how long she could hold a grudge,
ditching her at the cave really hadn't been the smartest move he'd
ever made   "I came home from the office early and found you
sprawled on the floor with the ladder knocked over, half the bulbs
from the tree smashed on the floor and... Well, you were clutching...
your pants," she concluded, pointing to his midsection.

"What about Donner? And Deputy Director Wallace?"

"Who?" Scully asked, confused.

"Donner! Sheriff Donner - the cannibal. Scully, surely you
remember--" His voice trailed off as realization dawned that she
really had no idea at all of what he was talking about. "Scully,
what day is it?"

She raised an eyebrow, wondering if it was time to examine his scalp
again for any extra bumps that may have come up in the last five
minutes, but then dutifully checked her watch. If there was one
thing she'd learnt from experience, it was that Fox Mulder would not
settle until his confused mind had been appeased, and right now she
needed him as lucid as possible so that he could lift himself up off
of the floor (it was times like this when she really wished she
wasn't almost a foot shorter than him). "December 23rd," she
intoned, rising to her feet, "and it's time for me to call that
ambulance,"

Scully slipped out of his grasp as she took a step away, but his
hand outstretched to grab her ankle, and as he regained contact with
her soft, heated, unharmed flesh the sudden movement almost brought
her toppling down on top of him. "Wait. No ambulance. I'm fine."

"You aren't fine. You're talking about cannibals and sheriffs and
deputy directors I've never heard of, and you have a knot on your
head the size of a melon!" she argued, inspecting the back of his
head from her vantage point above him. When his head shook in
dismissal, she dropped back to the floor and grabbed his shoulders.
"Mulder, track my finger." A detached, authoritative and clinical
order was the only thing she knew would bring him back into focus if
he really was as okay as he insisted, and he dutifully obeyed,
watching as her left finger slowly waved back and forth in front of
his eyes.

"Scully, I'm fine," he groaned, hoping her standard failsafe would
be as acceptable as she expected it to be when she delivered it to
him. "I guess it was just...just a bad dream. It was so real,
though! I could literally feel the ice hanging from my nostrils!
It was so detailed I even saw things from everybody else's point of
view, like I was watching it on television! Honestly, Scully, I
thought I was a goner! What's worse, I was shit-scared *you* were
done-for." His head lowered and he shuddered, the memory of the
cold and fear shaking his frame to the very core. When he felt her
gentle touch on his cheek, he lifted his head again and stared into
her blue, concerned eyes. "Really, I'm fine." He started to get up
from the littered floor, hoping a vertical stance would reassure
her, but the ache in his groin tightened and both hands quickly
clutched at the area right over his pants' zipper. "Okay, maybe not
*that* fine," he admitted, barely managing to gasp it out. "But no
ambulance, and definitely no hospital!"

Forty-five minutes later Mulder was resting in their bed with an
icepack on his lap and ibuprofen happily flowing through his
bloodstream. Scully came up the stairs with two cups of mulled
cider and settled in next to him.

"Sorry you had to clean up the mess," he lamented, taking one of the
cups and sipping the cider.

"Well, it wasn't as bad as I initially feared. Only two casualties
in 'The Great Christmas Ornament Disaster of 2006' -- not including
you. You're lucky you don't have glass embedded in your ass as
well, just to add insult to injury."

"...Like what I did do isn't insult enough..."

She couldn't hide the slight chuckle that burst out at that. "You
were doing a great job, right until, I guess, you tried to tie the
ornaments to the ceiling fan. What were you thinking, Mulder?"

"That it was a cool place to hang the mistletoe?" he replied with an
innocent look.

"Well, judging from the swelling, we won't be playing 'find the
mistletoe' for a couple of days," she reminded him.

Mulder winced, shifted uncomfortably and decided it was time to
change the subject to something a lot less painful and embarrassing
as soon as possible if he was to retain any dignity. "I heard the
phone ring while you were clearing up my sorry mess...Was it your
mom?"

"No, it was Skinner. He was calling to ask if we might be
interested in a case. I told him you'd had an accident and would be
laid up till after Christmas. He said he'd find another set of
agents and see us in the New Year."

"Did he say what the case was about?" Mulder asked, slightly uneasy.

"Not really. Something happened in a place called Wyntack,
Colorado." Scully shrugged her shoulders and settled back against
the headboard, not noticing how pale her partner's face had suddenly
become. "Anyway, it's not our bother, so let's just forget about
it. Now, are you going to tell me about this dream you had -- the
one that played out just like a television drama complete with
credits at the end?"

"Yeah, sure, Scully. But first, uhhh, I have to make a quick call
to Skinner. He's gonna want to send more than two agents on that
case. I'm sure of it."

THE END

....Really, it is this time J