From salian@magna.com.au Tue Dec 31 22:35:10 1996 Here it is - candidate for the longest written story in the history of fanfiction. Started early Sept 95 it is finally making it's debut . Some of you may remember a couple of stories I co-wrote entitled 'A Case Gone Missing' and 'A Case To Forget'. Like those, this tale started out as a tag team story, but it soon developed into a double act between myself and DJ. Regardless, it would not have been possible without the generous support, contributions, and encouragement of my fellow taXphiles, particularly: Jim Stein, Libby Black, Craig Noonan, Cate [the BTB] Brewer, Adrian Van Nunen, Katrina De Vos and of course, my partner in crime DJ Rout (smile for the cameras Darren). Both ACGM (not currently on the Gossamer Archive) and ACTF (on the archive) were humour pieces. With this story we were attempting a serious X-File........I don't think we quite succeeded :). It took months of coffee and lunch breaks to write and then ages to edit and revise to the point where I quit. It is not the model of perfection I want but if I re-read this one more time I may not be responsible for my actions. It still has plot holes, inconsistencies, time discrepancies, and lapses in logic - all those fun things we like argue about :). Treat this as you would any episode of the X-Files. Pick it to pieces - dispute everything. In fact, I issue a challenge, see if you can spot a discrepancy I've missed....and believe me I should know them all - I could sing this tale in my sleep (not that anyone in their right mind would want to hear me sing ). Disclaimer: If you've seen them on the X-Files they are still the property of Chris Carter and FOX. The use of the name Tom Braidwood is not meant to infringe in any way on the person of that name. The events and characters described in this collaborative effort are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to persons (natural or corporate), living, deceased or abducted is neither implied nor intended, and should not be inferred, except so far as is practicable for use in humourous or outlandish situations, or for the advertisement and amusement of persons travelling along a public thoroughfare, and under circumstances which the Commissioner shall from time to time make known and lovingly garnished with lark's vomit. The moral right of the authors to be recognised as the creators of this work is hereby asserted: WE DID THIS! Spoilers/Time frame: Set after 'Red Museum' but before 'Anasazi'. Rating: Some minor violence - nothing graphic. PG (just to be on the safe side). X H G. Praise, comments, constructive criticism to: salian@magna.com.au Sally-Ann Maslen. Flames to: hippy@onthe.net.au DJ Rout (hey...he lives in Victoria - he can use them next winter ) Thank you very much ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ----------- A CASE WORTH INVESTIGATING: By Sally-Ann Maslen & DJ Rout Part 1 of 7. ********************************** 11.21am Monday Special Agent Dana Scully paid no attention to the looks she gathered as she passed through the building. Being stared at, whispered about, hadn't been a concern before joining the X-Files and it wasn't now. Mind still on the report she had just finished she didn't realise until she had closed the door of Fox Mulder's office that the lights where out and the slide projector was running. She took one look at the picture on the screen and groaned. "Cattle mutilations......again!" she lamented Special Agent Fox Mulder seated in his favourite position - chair tilted back, arms crossed, sunflower seeds shells scattered, smiled at her, "Not quite." Scully sat on the edge of the desk and idly picked up a red magic marker "Cattle mutilations aren't the only thing, " said Mulder, gesturing at the slide projected on his office wall. "In Hopetown, Nebraska in 1908 two brothers were reported missing and there bodies were recovered three months later." "Let me guess. No livers?" Scully twirled a Magic Marker like nobody else could. "No lips. No genitals, either." "Mulder, the bodies would've undergone pronounced decomposition over three months. The investigators just missed them." Mulder changed to the next slide. There was a black and white, early twentieth century photograph of two corpses, naughty bits (or what was left of them) covered with towels. Neither of the men had lips, but the removal had been done with care, or so it seemed to Scully's practiced eye. "They don't look three months dead to you, do they?" "No, they don't. But the photograph could've been retouched." "If it was, the resources of the FBI couldn't find it. Neither could The Lone Gunmen." "Not that I'd believe them. . ." "A little statistical fluke for you. Those two brothers didn't come from the MidWest, they came from Tennessee. Specifically, Mullerville, Tennessee. Mullerville has the highest rate of twin births in the country.....And the highest infant mortality rate." "All this has a point?" Scully really didn't have to ask before Mulder picked up a file on his desk and handed it to her. It was thick, very thick. The summary notes on front recorded numerous unexplained disappearances and absences in the town of Mullerville, Tennessee. Mulder shut the projector off and grabbed his coat. "How do you feel about Southern hospitality, Scully?" Scully pouted. Mullerville, Tennessee 26 January 9.32 am The fog lights of a 1992 green Camaro cut through the heavy deep South fog. Mulder ripped the top off a bottle of sarsaparilla and handed it to Scully. "I'm not going to examine the compensatory aspects of driving a powerful car like this, Mulder." "The lady at the rental agency must know something you don't, " he smiled. Scully slowly sipped her drink being careful not to spill it on her trenchcoat,. Mulder suddenly stomped down hard on the gas pedal causing the eight pistons to purge out a burst of thrust forward. The once stable and heavy car violently fishtailed from side to side. Mulder casually looked over toward Scully with a sheepish grin only to notice that her once grey overcoat now had a large portion of black liquid over it. "Mulder !" Scully yelled. Reaching into his coat pocket, Mulder pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Scully, "I pay for the cleaning." "Damn right you will" said Scully. Putting the now empty bottle on the floor she took the hankie and began to dab at the spreading stain. "How much further to go?" Scully asked handing the hankie back to Mulder. "No, you keep it," said Mulder waving the now soggy handkerchief away and giving his best boyish grin, "my mother always insisted I carry a spare. We should be hitting the city limits any minute now.....in fact, I think....this is it." Looking up from contemplating her ruined coat, Scully saw a billboard ahead which read 'WELCOME TO MULLERVILLE, Twin Capital of the USA' Mullerville had probably always been a two horse town, probably twin horses. Mulder angle-parked the Camaro over by an old ,dusty drugstore with an old dusty wooden sidewalk that faced onto a small park with a Civil War memorial that had the initials CSA still visible over a plaque that listed Mullerville's war dead. Mulder didn't need to look to know that the list featured a lot of the same surnames. Prior to 1890, Mullerville had not had a high infant mortality rate, but it had been pretty gung-ho on multiple births. "Looks like a nice place to bring up kids, " Scully said. "Are you serious? This town hasn't been small-town America anytime during this century." "I have to find somewhere to clean up." "You get us a twin share - there should be plenty of those - and I'll see one - " "One?" "Or both - of the sheriffs, Scully." Leaving his partner with the car Mulder strode off in search of the sheriff. Scully considered her options; according to their information there was a motel about a mile out of town and the grandly named Royale Guest House in the main street. The curious looks she got from a few locals decided her - the sooner she got changed the better. Minutes later she stood outside the Royale. The last time it had lived up to it's grand name was the year it was built - 1901. Still someone had made an effort to keep it tidy, the paintwork was fresh and the windows shone. Climbing the stairs Scully entered the lobby and a surprise. The minor effort to maintain the outside character was nothing compared to the glow of the polished panelling and the sparkle of the crystal lamps that scattered the room. "Can we help you?" The voice came from behind. Scully spun and found herself face to face with her first Mullerville twins. Scully knew to expect a few unusual things here but what see saw standing behind the counter took her totally by surprise. "You look lost little girl" "I'd like to book 2 rooms for the night" Scully replied All the time, unable to grasp the image before her. She knew that Mulder had said this was the town of twins but she had no idea it meant this. Casually avoiding eye contact and trying to hide her stare, Scully began to approach the situation more scientifically than at first. She began to ponder as to what type of genetic defect or mutation could have caused such an offspring. Mulder stepped up onto the sidewalk that ran in front of the Sheriff's Office, unconsciously changing his stride as if he was wearing cowboy boots. The office should've had batwing doors, he thought, but instead it had an ordinary glass-fronted door, with checked curtains gathered at the sides. A gilt sign read Cade County Sheriff: T Braidwood. The large red-headed man lounging behind a desk didn't lift his feet off it until he saw Mulder. "Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI." "Tom Braidwood, " said the sheriff, holding out his callused hand. They shook hands and the sheriff motioned Mulder to a chair. "So, you've come about our little problem," he said, seating himself behind the desk again. "I would hardly call it a little problem Sheriff, " Mulder bristled, the attitude of local police was one of the job's hazards. "Agent Mulder, " Braidwood drawled, "Around these parts a force 10 hurricane is called a little problem. The folks just don't seem to get excited - drove me bats when I first came here. " Picking a pile of folders of the table he handed them to Mulder. "These are the files. Everything's in there, autopsy reports, the lot." Mulder picked up the files and leant back in his chair, swivelling to look out the window. He glanced summarily at the folder in front of him, but as usual, it appeared the local law enforcement have left all the interesting details out. Mulder sighed, the folder dropping to his lap. He glanced to up to the window, admiring the line of the green Camaro parked outside. Suddenly, a young Caucasian male in a Miami Dolphins baseball cap and LA Lakers sweatshirt slipped something under the windshield wipers and then backed away from the car, looking around wildly. Mulder leapt up, spilling coffee all over the sheriff's antique Persian silk carpet and dashed out the door, just in time to hear the sheriff say "Hey, FBI! It took ten children five years in slave labour to weave that thing!" Mulder didn't look back. He tore down the stairs, two at a time. Outside he ran into the glare, looking for the young man. Catching sight of someone running away. He took off in pursuit, with the young man looking behind him in terror - so terrified he didn't see that he had run onto a cross-walk against the light. The dusty red Ford pickup came out of nowhere. Tyres screeched and the boy bounced off the car onto the road. Seconds behind Mulder looked the boy; he was no expert, but even he could tell by time he reached him was dead, the blood trickling from every facial opening was a good indication. 20mins later.. The ambulance called, the body removed, Mulder trudged back to his car, and only then remembered the note under the windshield. He opened it, and in left-handed scrawl are the words "At midnight tonight, order a drive-thru cheeseburger with double jalapenos at Wendy's on the corner of Elm and Maple. In the bag will be all you need to know". Scully, freshly changed into another of her silky pantsuits, entered the sheriff's office. Mulder and Sheriff Braidwood were standing by the front counter. Braidwood was saying, "There was no need to chase him, Agent Mulder. As far as I can see he did nothing to your car." "Sheriff, believe me, that was not my intention" Mulder replied. Seeing Scully approach, he introduced her to the sheriff. "What's going on Mulder" she asked. "Your partner here just chased one of our local youths in the path of an oncoming car." the sheriff replied. Scully looked up at her partner. Mulder gave a barely distinguishable shake of his head. 'Something's up' thought Scully. A deputy approached with a report of the accident and Mulder quickly signed it. Gathering up the files, and promising to return them soon, he took his leave of Sheriff Braidwood and ushered Scully from the office. Royale Hotel Scully's room : "And when I get back to the car, I find this under the wipers," Mulder handed her the message. Scully read it through, "Obviously not a health-food fanatic. Mulder, what if the boy who was killed is the one with the information?" "We'll just have find out". There was never any question of not attending the rendezvous - both he and Scully knew too well that sometimes the only way to get their information was covertly. Mulder stood and stared out the window, "This isn't a big town, it's got, what? 1300 people, including children?" Scully nodded in response. Mulder went on, "So you'd figure most people would have a fair idea who everyone else was, particularly if you were the local sheriff, right?" Again Scully nodded, she had a feeling she knew where this was heading. "Braidwood didn't give any indication of recognising the boy, he didn't even act like he was a stranger." 5.02PM The Cade County Coroner's office had closed about 3:30 that afternoon, so the body of the poor unfortunate windshield messenger had to be housed at Ferris' Funeral Parlour, which doubled as Mullerville's morgue. "Mulder, I appreciate your impatience, but I am totally out of my jurisdiction here. I can't lift a finger toward this body until the County Coroner gets here." "When will that be?" Suspiciously on cue, Sheriff Braidwood walked in. He was accompanied by a short, bearded white-haired gentleman who only needed a string tie and eleven secret herbs and spices to paint the perfect picture of a retired Southerner. "Right about now, Miss Scully." Hands were shaken all round. "This is Dr Gus Mullin, " Braidwood continued. "Been in Mullerville since the Siege of Vicksburg, delivered us all - " "Thank you, Tommy-boy. If they want my life story, they can see it on 'America's Most Wanted.'" "Are you from the County Coroner's office?" Mulder asked. "Deputised in loco for the Cade County Coroner's Office, Agent Mulder, " said Mullin, pulling on some gloves and a white smock. "I look after them from cradle to grave." Scully turned and began to suit up. "That's not necessary, miss." said Doc Mullin, "I'll have a report for you soon enough." He sounded displeased. "Agent Scully is a qualified doctor.....and a forensic expert." Mulder answered. "I hope you don't mind if I observe?" Scully asked politely. Mullin and Braidwood exchanged a look. Mullin shrugged, then looked back at Scully and smiled, the courtly southern gentlemen once more, "Of course not, There's nothing I like more than a pretty lady like yourself standing beside me." Mullin pulled the sheet back from the boy's face. For a moment his features softened. "Do you know him?" asked Mulder. Behind him Braidwood glared at the doctor and gave his head the merest of shakes. Mullin, intent on the body didn't see him. Scully did. "Yes, it's one of the Paxton boys - Shane" he looked up and saw the Sheriff glaring at him. Mullin flushed red, then recovered, "If that is all gentlemen I suggest you leave and let the young lady and I get on with our work." Braidwood turned and left the room. Mulder gave Scully a slight nod and exited the room. "Sheriff", called Mulder, catching up with Braidwood on the steps of the funeral home. "If you don't mind I think I'd like to go and see that site now". The Sheriff turned and stared at him for a moment, then with a grunt gestured towards his car. With a sigh Mulder followed him down the steps - it was proving to be a long day. "This won't take very long, Miss Scully?" said Mullin, pulling on some gloves. "Just a hit and run." "Doctor, " said Scully, "I'd like to take blood, vitreous humour and tissue samples and send them up to Memphis for a full toxicological analysis." "Why?" Mullin prepared to make the first incision. Scully noticed the point of the scalpel touching the corpse just below the larynx. She grabbed the Doctor's arm. "Rockatansky method? Are you intending to embalm the corpse, Doctor?" "Force of habit, I think, Agent Scully. Would you care to make the first incision?" Some of the charm had left the doctor's voice. "Let's prepare tissue slides." Scully took a dermatome from the sterilised kit at the side of the autopsy table, and began to scrape skin cells into a cassette. Doc Mullin prepared a syringe. "I beg your pardon, Doctor?" asked Scully. "Small towns have their secrets, I said, Agent Scully. Especially small Tennessee towns." "Good." Scully took fingerprints from the corpse. "Good Day to you, Sheriff" The greeting came from behind. Both Mulder & Braidwood turned. "Afternoon; Miss Ella, Miss Lou" replied the Sheriff. Mulder stared. He couldn't help himself. Two women in their 60's stood before him. They were twins, identical twins.........almost. Their height, features and stance were the same, they even had the same amount of grey in their hair. Their gestures and voices as they inquired of the Sheriff's health, were echoes of each other. There was just one difference - one of them was black. "Tom, where are your manners? Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?" said the black twin. Chastened, Braidwood performed the introductions. "Mulder, allow me to introduce the Bonaye sisters, Louella" he indicated the black woman, "and Louise. Ladies, this is Mr Fox Mulder. Mr Mulder is......" "A guest at our hotel" interrupted Louise, her smile mirrored by her sister. With his most courteous and charming smile Mulder shook hands with the two women, "Pleased to meet you." "We have already met your lady friend - such a lovely girl" said Louise. Mulder blinked and stammered, "Partner. Scully is my partner." Ella and Lou exchanged glances. Ella shrugged, "Partner, girlfriend, lover - it's all the same in the end isn't it." Before Mulder could reply Louise went on "We offered Miss Scully our Bridal suite but she said you preferred to sleep alone because of your snoring." thought Mulder. He made a mental note to kill Scully at the first opportunity. Miss Louise was speaking , "Sheriff, I'm sure you and Mr Mulder must have business to attend to. Mr Mulder, perhaps you and Miss Scully will join us for some refreshments this evening?" "It would be a pleasure" answered Mulder and with that the Bonaye sisters took their leave. Mulder turned to see Braidwood regarding him with amusement. "Shall we get going Sheriff?" "I can't get over those two sisters, " Mulder told Braidwood as they walked back to the Sheriff's 4WD. "They're what you might call Mullerville's 'living treasures.' You can imagine what it was like for Miss Louella, growing up in a hick Southern town in the Depression." "No, I don't think I can." "They ran Mrs Bonaye out of town for it. We never saw her again." Braidwood sounded regretful, but shook it off visibly. "The site's about fifteen miles out of town. The Parmentier farm." "I don't remember any Parmentier's making statements in your reports." They got into the car. "It's just the name of the farm. Miss Adelaide Parmentier stayed alive to see David Janssen find the One-Armed Man and passed away in her lounge chair. No dependants." "Who pays the taxes on the farm?" "You'd have to check in Memphis." Mulder said he would. ************************ End of Part 1 From salian@magna.com.au Tue Dec 31 22:36:12 1996 See Part one from disclaimers and possible explanations. Treat this as you would any episode of the X-Files. Pick it to pieces - dispute everything. In fact, I issue a challenge, see if you can spot a discrepancy I've missed....and believe me I should know them all - I could sing this tale in my sleep (not that anyone in their right mind would want to hear me sing ). A CASE WORTH INVESTIGATING: By Sally-Ann Maslen & DJ Rout Part 2 of 7. ********************************** 15 minutes later... The Parmentier Farm The house had stood empty since August 30 1967. In any other community across America vandals would have reduced the building to a shattered hull long ago, but here in Mullerville time and the elements had done their work unassisted by human hands. "Stop the car." Braidwood brought the car to a halt. "The field's out back - what do you want to stop here for?" "I just want a quick look around" said Mulder getting out of the car. It only took Mulder 3 minutes to circle the old farm house. Despite the weathered boards and cracked paint, there was a still a hint of dignity clinging to its' tired timber. He returned to the front of the house. "The only thing you're likely to find here is a home for termites & possums." Ignoring the sheriff Mulder brushed aside the curtain of cobwebs and stepped onto the porch. He pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed at the 30 years of grime coating the windows. Through the smudged clearing he could faintly make out the shapes of shrouded furniture. "Come on Mulder, I haven't got all day." Mulder turned and followed Braidwood back to the car. Opening the car door he gazed at the house once more. "I'm surprised the local kids haven't done more damage." "Oh, there's a reason for that." said Braidwood as he got back in the car, "They all think it's haunted." Thirty years growth of scrub pine was harder to get through than Bureau procedures, thought Mulder, as brambles tore at his coat and twisted and rotting roots threatened to break his ankles. The Sheriff passed through like a ghost - a cursing ghost with the temper of the Headless Horseman and a stream of invective that was getting quite colourful by the time they broke out of the bush into a clearing. City-bred Mulder didn't spot what the Sheriff saw immediately. The twisted trees had once been carefully tended peach trees. The trunks were lined up along ridges, placed in rows. Their leaves were long and straggly and Mulder, to whom all trees looked alike, had momentary thoughts of a Lovecraftian New England farm with tortured souls and strange growths. "The site," said the Sheriff. Mulder walked out to the centre before he realised he had done it. He looked around him, then back to the Sheriff, who hung back near the trees. There were thirty of Mulder's footprints clearly visible in the dirt. Mulder paced off to the trees in a different direction, and at the edge turned back to see his prints. He was on the edge of a fine circle of ash. While the Sheriff watched, he took a sample of it and put it in a test tube. He walked back across the circle. "Sheriff?" "Yes, sir?" "Why did the Doctor call you 'Tommy-Boy?'" "Everybody does. My daddy was called Thomas Jackson Braidwood and so was his dad. I'll be Tommy-Boy till my son's born." "Oh? When will that be?" "Well, " the Sheriff laughed, "got to find me a wife first." Mulder looked up for a minute as a shadow crossed his vision. The sun had moved a little and one of the branches that criss-crossed the clearing had cast a shadow over his face. "What kind of trees are these?" "Peaches." "How tall do they grow?" "Fifteen, twenty feet." Mulder gestured around at the edges of the clearing. "These are three times that." The Sheriff smiled: "That's cause they're mountain ash." Mulder looked at the overhead branches again. Yes, they had no leaves - not unusual for the middle of winter - but the peach trees did. Come to think of it, the undersides of the branches looked.....burnt. "Come on, Sheriff. There's nothing to see here. We've been ho -" Mulder's foot slipped out from under him. Braidwood rushed forward, a little reluctantly it seemed. "You okay? Agent Mulder?" Mulder did not listen, but continued to brush away the ashes with his gloved hands, exposing a circle of polished, black, volcanic glass. The circle was approximately 6 inches in diameter and slightly convex. It offered no indication as to it's depth. Taking a small penlight from his pocket Mulder shone it onto the polished surface. The light beam was swallowed by the opaque darkness. "What is it" "That, Sheriff - is the 64 dollar question." Mulder looked up at Braidwood. "Do you have a penknife handy?" Braidwood opened the small holster on his belt, withdrew his knife and handed it to Mulder. "mmm, Swiss Army." "It was a present." Opening a blade Mulder attempted to scratch the glassy circle. Five minutes and 4 blades later he still had not marked the surface. He stood and looked around the clearing as he brushed the dirt from his knees. Striding up to one of the twisted trees he reached up and managed to snag one of the smaller branches. He snapped off the branch, then using it as a broom swept away the ash on either side of the circle. Two more circles appeared - same size, same substance - each approximately 6 inches from the middle circle. Mulder crossed the clearing to the opposite side of the ash circle. Using the branch he unearthed three more circles. He walked back to the centre of clearing and gazed upwards at the darkening skies. Braidwood watched him, faintly fearful - mostly puzzled. After a minute Mulder's attention snapped back to earth and he returned to the Sheriff's side. "I want men out here first thing tomorrow to clear away that ash." "Miss Scully, this is the most thorough and painstaking autopsy I've ever seen, " said Mullin, tiredness creeping in around the edges of his drooping mouth. "Just about finished, Doctor. Don't you do autopsies this detailed?" "Most of our deaths are from natural causes. That and the occasional hunting accident. It doesn't take much to determine cause of death when a 30.03 has done its work." "I know, " said Scully, so intent on preparing a lymphatic tissue slide for the FBI's regional office in Memphis she didn't notice what the Doctor was doing behind her. "What?" "I said, 'Count backwards from one hundred.'" Scully felt a slight sting at the base of her neck. As the corpse of Shane Paxton swam up to meet her, she thought insanely 'external jugular vein.' Darkness closed like a fist. Mulder was silent on the return journey - already mentally planning and executing the next days search. Involved in his own thoughts he failed the notice the looks Sheriff Braidwood gave him. Tom Braidwood was worried. He had enough problems without having to deal with the FBI. He glanced at Mulder again. There was something odd about this guy - he didn't seem to fit the usual FBI mould. After 30 years in law enforcement he considered himself pretty good at reading people but he couldn't get a handle on Agent Mulder.....or his partner. "Agent Mulder?" "eh?" Mulder refocussed his thoughts. They were parked outside the Sheriffs office. "We're back in town. Is there anything else?" "I'd like to make arrangements to search that clearing tomorrow." "There's nothing to organise - I'll have the boys out there at 8 o'clock on the dot." "Very well. I'll meet you there." Mulder made a mental note to be at the clearing by 6 and got out of the car. Leaving the Sheriff he strolled off in the direction of the funeral parlour - he had a lot to tell Scully and it wasn't just about the clearing. Doc Mullin was filling in forms as he entered. Mulder looked around. "Where's Agent Scully" "In there." Scully was slumped at the desk inside the small anteroom, her head resting on her arms. "M-Mom?" asked Scully, dragging herself back to consciousness by main force of will. She could see the edges of her forearms, the edges of the desk and the edges of a trench coated figure so impossibly far away that she couldn't believe she heard: "Scully? You collapsed. Are you all right?" Some kin of feeling was returning to Scully's lips and tongue, She could speak, but the edges of the desk and the figure in the distance remained wobbly and diffuse. From about three quarters of a mile away a large hand shot out to grab her. "M-Mulder? Is that you?" "Yeah. How you feeling?" "I don't know. Things look strange. I feel very sleepy. Mulder?" "Yeah." "See the Doctor. Don't let the samples from Shane Paxton out of your sight!" "In a minute. How are you?" "Now! I'll be all right." Mulder turned, and in two strides was over Scully's horizon. The corpse of Shane Paxton was no longer in evidence, and Dr Mullin was packing something into the small chemical incinerator used to dispose of hazardous material. Mulder brought his gun and badge up in one fluid motion. "Don't make me say it, Doctor." "I suppose if I'd had better timing it wouldn't have come to this." Mulder had to pretend he knew what the doctor was talking about. "This is a small town Mr Mulder - people are more conservative, quicker to judge. I was merely trying to save his family from more grief ." Mulder stayed silent, waiting for the doctor to provide further clues to his actions, but the answers came from another source. "It isn't like in the big cities Mr Mulder. Folks here know about things like HIV and AIDS. They see on the TV and in the papers, but it doesn't happen here." said Tom Braidwood from the doorway. Mulder felt a hand on his arm and looked down at his partner. Scully smiled takingly at him. "How long had he been infected?" she asked the doctor. "Shane ran off to Memphis 3 years ago. He returned about 8 months ago. He was a wreck - suffering from drug and alcohol abuse. When tests revealed HIV he begged me not to tell anyone." "Yet you told the Sheriff." said Mulder quietly. "I hauled Shane in for being drunk & disorderly one night. Halfway through the night he started vomiting and sweating. I called the doc." "The alcohol was reacting with the medication he was taking. I had to tell Tom so he'd release Shane into my care." "And to keep this a secret you were willing to destroy evidence?" Mulder's tone was harsh. "As I said this is a small place - redneck territory you might say. Shane was infected cause he used dirty needles but that's not what folks will think. Sandy Paxton's had a hard enough life since Jim died and she's got 3 more kids at home - having the gossips on her back is the last thing she needs." Braidwood looked pointedly at Mulder, "Having her son killed is pain enough." Mulder looked down at his partner and conferred with her. The conversation was unusual for no words were exchanged. his face questioned. Scully gave a slight shrug. her look questioned back. Mulder arched one eyebrow. Scully smiled slightly, . "There's still the question of assaulting a Federal agent, " Mulder said, turning back to the Sheriff. "Suppose we agree to say no more about it?" the doctor said. "Suppose I holler for a Marshal?" Mulder asked, reaching for his cellular phone. "Suppose he asks for some witnesses?" the Sheriff countered. "Suppose I show him Agent Scully?" "I suppose he'd be pretty impressed, " said Braidwood. "Mulder, this isn't important," said Scully. "Where are the tissue samples from Shane Paxton? If you're worried, we'll get an AIDS test done along with the other ones. It will be so confidential no-one will know the results." "Will that suit you, Sheriff?" asked Mulder. Braidwood looked at the doctor. "I think that'll be fine, Tommy boy." Grudgingly, Braidwood said: "You know best." "That's cause - " "You're so old, " Braidwood finished for him. Scully didn't miss the exchange - that was a long-standing joke. It looked to her like the doctor had been the brains and Braidwood the muscle for a long time - but for what? "Suppose you break the news to Sandy?" Braidwood turned without a word and stalked out of the room. "What did you use on me?" Scully demanded, suddenly nervous. "2.5 mg Halothane in a ligniciaine solution. I gauged your weight at about one ten." "In my stocking feet!" Scully laughed, quite charmed. Mulder narrowed his eyes: "Your name isn't Mullin, is it?" "Why lie about things you can check?" the Doctor said. Scully went to check through the samples. They seemed intact. Mulder had arrived just out of the nick of time - soon enough to save the samples and too late to save her. "The family name was Muller, " the doctor went on. "Yes, like in Mullerville. My father changed it after the First World War. German names weren't popular, even in backwoods Canada." "Canada?" "I was born in Gibsons, Saskatchewan September 21st, 1921. I went to boarding school in Saskatoon, then I went to England to study medicine." "England?" "Oxford." Scully smiled to herself. Mulder and the doctor looked as if they were wearing old school ties. Mulder let it pass. For some reason, he thought, the Sheriff had been awfully quick to get him out to the Site, but they had been prepared to face prison to cover up Shane Paxton. "Scully, do you have those samples packed?" "Almost." "Good. Let me treat you a cheeseburger." 10 minutes later.... Mulder pushed open the door to the diner and stood back to let Scully through. The sudden silence was deafening. There were about 8 people in the room & they were all looking at him and Scully. Mulder felt a sudden compulsion to hum the theme from 'High Noon'. He suppressed the urge. He lead Scully to a booth at the back of the room. A quiet murmur rose as they sat down. "So, where's the piano player?." Mulder gave a small grin and handed her a menu. "It did feel like something from a old western. " Gesturing to the menu he said (in a very bad John Wayne imitation), "Choose, pilgrim." Scully studied her partner for a moment, < No, Mulder was more Gary Cooper> The waitress approached and took their order. Two cheeseburgers & fries for Mulder, burger and salad for Scully. Root beers for both. "Two burgers AND fries?" "I'm hungry." thought Scully. "Find anything in the autopsy." "Nothing obvious." "What about......you know....what the doctor said." "There was scar tissue consistent with needle tracks. I won't know for sure till the tests are done." Before leaving the funeral parlour Scully had called the Memphis office and arranged for someone to collect the samples the next morning. "What about you? Anything interesting?" "The old house out at the site is supposed to be haunted." Scully rolled her eyes heavenwards "One X-File at a time please Mulder." He grinned slyly at her, his eyes bright with excitement. "What?" Mulder glanced around the room. Scully understood - he wasn't going to discuss it here in public. The waitress returned with their burger laden plates and they turned their attention to food. The talk became general - the weather, agency gossip and Scully delivered her lecture on the importance of maintaining a regular calorie intake. 20 minutes later they paid the bill & headed back to the hotel. A grey headed man seated at the counter watched them leave. Rising from his stool he walked to the phone by the back door & dialled. "They're heading back to the Royale." Mulder looked over his shoulder for the third time. "What's wrong Mulder?" Scully wasn't overly concerned, Mulder was always checking his back - it was when he stopped checking she worried. "I don't know....for a second I thought......" Mulder shook his head in frustration, then relaxed, " It's nothing ......something back there just rang a bell." "As long as it's not you for whom it tolls." Mulder stopped and smiled down at his partner, "ooooh....Hemingway - I do like an educated lady." "At least my IQ exceeds my bra size...which is more than I can say for Miss December ." Mulder grinned, "HA!, - you were reading that page." Scully elbowed him in the ribs, "Think yourself lucky - leaving magazines like that open on your desk could be considered sexual harassment." Still smiling they continued walking. "What did you find at the site?" "Reasons for being here Scully." Mulder told her of his findings. "Why didn't you stay there....start digging straight away?" They had reached the front steps of the Royale. Mulder stopped and scanned up and down the neighbourhood. He could handle big cities, urban backdrops, untamed wilderness, and even the frozen wastelands of Alaska....hell, he could even survive suburbia. But there was something about rural small towns that set his nerves tingling. They were close...yet removed from the mainstream. Towns like this breathed on innuendo and gossip - eventually it was either ignored or passed on into folklore. That made them dangerous - the perfect hideaway. He looked down and saw Scully was waiting for answer. "For one thing, it was getting dark and this town has - what?.... three deputies & two patrol cars, not counting the sheriff's 4x4. The only option was calling in the state troops and all the paraphernalia," he quirked a smile at his partner, "And that would only antagonise the local law enforcement - and you know how I hate to do that." Scully's eyes rolled so far heavenwards he thought they'd never return to their usual blue. "How do you know the sheriff isn't involved in all this?...whatever it is?" "Oh - he's involved." He took in her questioning look, "Instinct Scully." "Then why aren't we out there now....torches blazing, shovels in hand." Mulder grinned at that. "Because he's not a major player. He has to take orders." "More instinct Mulder?" Mulder shrugged, "It's worked before." Scully looked at him for a long second then lowered her head with a shake. That's why you're 'Spooky' she thought. "Scully...are you OK?" "Just a little tired. Residual effects of the sedative I expect." Mulder let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding. "That's another thing. If I hadn't come back you'd have lost those tissues samples." Scully frowned, "Do you really think Mullin intended to tamper with the samples? You have to admit the story is plausible - you've seen what people in small towns like this can be like." "You said it yourself - we won't know for sure until the tests are done.....it's a convenient story." Neither moved for a moment then Scully shivered. Mulder took her arm & led her up the steps, "Come on, you're tired and it's cold out here." As he held open the door for her he looked back over his shoulder at the vacant street and wondered. "Good evening, Miss Scully, Mr Mulder." The only thing more welcoming than the warmth of the hotel lobby was Miss Ella's smile as she handed them their keys. "Good Evening Miss Bonaye, " "Please Mr Mulder ....my sister & I do not stand on ceremony here, I am Lou & she is Ella," said Louisa as she emerged from the hotel office. "Did you enjoy a nice meal - the diner is much better than the silly fast food place up the way." "Very enjoyable, .....ah... Miss Lou." Try as he might he couldn't call her simply by her first name. "My sister and I are about to have some tea in the lounge, would you care to join us?" Miss Ella asked them. Mulder and Scully exchanged looks, the silent. "We'd love to Miss Ella," answered Scully. "Lovely." Scully followed behind as Mulder escorted the ladies to the lounge, smiling as she heard them question her partner. "Tell me Mr Mulder, what does the 'F' stand for?" Mullerville, Tennessee Wednesday 4:45 am Even Mulder had to sleep sometime, and Deep South TV could make the Sphinx droopy-eyed. There were fourteen channels to choose from, but most of them closed down at midnight, and those that stayed on were mostly religious and infomercial stations, and one peculiar one from Nashville was a strange mixture of holy rolling and Danny Bonaduce that left a sour taste in Mulder's mouth. Mulder felt as if he'd had too much coffee. There was a slight waviness to the edge of his vision and sounds seemed loud and kind of echoed. Scully slept the sleep of the recently anaesthetised. Her dreams were of soft pink clouds, and someone standing on a high mountain was calling her. The viewpoint changed - suddenly she was on the mountain, looking at a vast sunset ocean. Somehow she knew she was beyond the sea. A bell began to toll, soft thudding noises. Four peals, a pause, three peals. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the sea and sky merged to one deep blue. The wooden bell kept thumping. Scully woke as languorously as a girl in a perfume commercial. She heard a soft tapping at the door. She was wearing cotton pyjamas but she flung a sensible dressing gown on before she answered the door. "I couldn't sleep, " said Mulder. "So, what else is new?" "Hey Scully, you wanna see a haunted house?" "At this hour of the day?" Scully looked up at him. Obviously he hadn't slept - his eyes were hanging out of his head and he hadn't shaved either, there was at least a day and a half's stubble adorning his cheeks. He looked totally disreputable. Mulder glanced at her alarm clock, his initial enthusiasm dying. "Yeah, you're probably right" he agreed reluctantly. "It'll be dawn before we get there......but?" Scully sighed, "Give me 15 minutes ." One boyish grin and Mulder was away. Mulder scooted back to his room and donned jacket & shoes. He slipped his gun into the holster and flashlight in his pocket. His attention was caught by the paper remnants scattered on the bed. Following the instructions Shane Paxton left on his windshield Mulder had gone to Wendy's at midnight and ordered the chilli burger. He'd pulled off into the car park and searched the bag - nothing. He sat in the car nearly 20 minutes, watching, waiting in case someone showed up. In the end he headed back to the hotel with nothing more then a minor case of heartburn. There was a tap on his door, "Ready, Mulder?" Mulder grabbed the car keys from the bedside table and opened the door. Scully had changed to jeans, flannel shirt and jacket - she looked about 16. "Come on. Let's go ghostbusting" said Mulder. Moments later they were heading out of town. It was still dark and the air was chill. Scully shivered wondering whether she should have worn a heavier jacket. She turned on the heater. Mulder was already miles away, whistling softly under his breath. "Mulder?" He looked at her. "Do you know what or who the house is haunted by?" Mulder nodded, "Eh heh. Miss Louise told me all about when we were having 'refreshments' earlier." The roads around Tennessee would've confused Daniel Boone. The rental Camaro had a triple-A road map in the glove compartment, but it didn't list roads the size of the ones around Mullerville. Mulder knew they'd be watched as soon as they left town, but he thought that heading NorthWest along the Interstate would look as if they were heading up to Memphis for an early start at the FBI regional office there. They passed a few side roads which might have been driveways and then crossed a paved road about ten miles out of town. Mulder took a left turn a few hundred yards further on, pulling in slowly to avoid telltale tyre ruts in the dirt road. He switched the lights off and edged gently along between tall trees through the tepid starlight shone like a watch dial. Suddenly he cut the engine, motioned Scully to be silent. In a silence broken only by the ticking of the cooling engine they heard a car pass by on the main road behind them. It was in no hurry. It had no lights on. "You got your walking shoes on, Scully?" "I wore my satin pumps. I thought we were going dancing." "I'll take a rain check." Mulder checked his gun, his flashlight and his badge. Scully checked her gun and badge. "Follow me and stay close." "Mulder, " Scully smirked. They got out of the car quickly. Mulder grimaced at the flashing lights as he locked it. It was almost impossible to get out of a car with any stealth these days. "It should be this way." "You're not sure?" "That way's South. If we head this way we should be in Tijuana by April." They set off. Something white and sharp dropped out of a tree and flew at Scully. She gave a little shriek. Then she laughed softly. A barn owl. The woods were getting to her. Mulder, oblivious, kept his attention focused on the destination. He had already noticed that the trees had begun to appear in rows. Now he concentrated on finding a spot to hide and observed the ring of ashes. He thought he heard conversation ahead, but neither of them missed the howl of a wolf. Scully stilled at the sound of the mournful baying. An involuntary shiver rippled through her body - briefly she recalled the case of Lyle Parker and the Amerindian werewolf. Mulder turned and motioned her forward. "Mulder, what......" she whispered He placed a finger to his lips in silence and drew her closer. She could hear muted voices somewhere ahead and torchlight flickered through the trees . A harsh laugh rang out and was quickly silenced. Mulder & Scully exchanged glances, then at Mulder's nod they edged closer. The struggling dawn light had turned the clearing a ghostly grey. Two men stood watching as a third dug into the soil. "Says a lot for your instincts." "So I'm wrong for once. I'm only human." "That's the frightening part." "Mr Mulder?" said a quiet voice behind them. Mulder froze, Scully was too scared to squeak. "Take it easy. I ain't gonna hurt ya. Don't shine your flashlight aroun' too much. I'm Blaine Paxton, Shane's brother." Mulder turned as easily as someone could under the circumstances, trying to balance himself, a torch, a gun and his chequebook at the same time. In the pre-dawn Blaine Paxton looked the spitting image of the body Scully had been working on a few hours ago. Mulder wasn't surprised. He was accompanied by a shaggy, low-slung mutt that had more kinds of dog in him than a Hong Kong stew. "Zeke here's the best 'coon dog in three counties. 'Tweren't no trouble to find the two o' you." "All our fancy manoeuvres with the car didn't help?" asked Scully petulantly. "They might've. I wa'n't lookin' for your car. I knew you'd be making out here as soon as I saw you come by with the Sheriff." "I think we ought to arrest those men, " said Scully. "I wouldn't, " Paxton said. "On what charge, Scully?" asked Mulder, strangely pleased that he was the one using the law to back up his work this time. "They just as likely to shoot the two of you, and they damn sure gonna shoot me." "Why would they do that?" "A lot of twins die in this town, Mr Mulder. I was one who was supposed to. I guess they'd like to still see me dead." "Yeah, but why?" "On account of them black disks - as was made by the aliens." As Scully watched the digger unearthed another black disk and passed it to the other men who added it to the others piled beside them in a wheelbarrow. Behind her Mulder and Blaine Paxton whispered. "Aliens? What makes you think aliens had anything to do with those disks?" Mulder keep his face and voice calm. "That's why ya here ain't? You two some kind of UFO experts, right?" Scully and Mulder exchanged startled looks. Paxton elaborated, "I heard Pete Crampton talkin' about you" he said indicating the man digging in the clearing. "He's a deputy - he told Bo Davies," this time indicating one of the other men, "he told Kev the Sheriff had you checked out." "That doesn't explain why you think those disks are of alien origin." Scully bristled slightly, not entirely sure she liked being thought of as a 'UFO expert'. "Because I seen them Ms Scully." The dog beside him gave a soft whimper. All three looked towards the clearing. The men were moving closer to their hiding place. "Come on, " whispered Blaine, "I know where we can talk." ************* End of Part 2 From salian@magna.com.au Tue Dec 31 22:36:01 1996 See Part one from disclaimers and possible explanations. Treat this as you would any episode of the X-Files. Pick it to pieces - dispute everything. In fact, I issue a challenge, see if you can spot a discrepancy I've missed....and believe me I should know them all - I could sing this tale in my sleep (not that anyone in their right mind would want to hear me sing ). A CASE WORTH INVESTIGATING: By Sally-Ann Maslen & DJ Rout Part 3 of 7. ********************************** Blaine led them along a semi path. It was dark and Scully jumped again as she heard a wolf howl in the distance. The trees overhead effectively blocked out the little light there was and she pulled her coat closer around herself as the gentle breeze suddenly seemed to pick up and cut through, freezing her bones. Mulder didn't seem to notice, he was following Blaine's every move with a wide-eyed expression of wonder on his face. Paxton led the way, Scully followed, Mulder brought up the rear. Occasionally he fetched up against Scully as Paxton would stop for no apparent reason, then continue. The way he took them was as twisty as a skateboard ride down Lombard Street, but he passed through the bush as silently as a ghost. Mulder was not surprised when this expedition wound up behind the Parmentier house. "I usually hole up here, " Paxton explained, "when things gets too tough." Paxton lifted two doors that led down into inky blackness. "Fruit cellar, " he said. "The kind Norman Bates would use, " said Scully. Closing the doors quietly behind them, Paxton pulled the string that switched on the one naked bulb that illuminated the cellar. An old rocking chair and a camp stove seemed to be the only furniture. Zeke, wagging his tail, settled down in a corner and put his head on his paws. "Coffee?" "Er, no thanks, " said Scully. "Sure?" "Sure." Blaine had three mugs set up in a jiffy, anyway. Mulder noticed they were green china mugs, with gold letters on them: B, F and D. Mulder surveyed the cellar. He was surprised at the dryness of the air - the cellars back home in his native Massachusetts always smelled damp. Here the mustiness was underlaid with a sweetness he couldn't identify. "Mr Mulder?" Paxton offered him a coffee cup. Mulder took it and sipped, as he continued to take in his surroundings. A few posters were tacked to one wall, their images hidden in the dimness. Mulder stepped closer - The Ramones and The Vandals. he thought. The third poster was one very familiar to him; it graced the wall of his office - I WANT TO BELIEVE. Beside it was a small black & white photo. It showed two boys - 7 or 8 years old, ragged jeans, fishing poles in hand - Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn to life. It was Blaine and his twin. "Blaine" Mulder turned to him and spoke softly. "I'm sorry about your brother." "Hell, " said Blaine, settling down one of the packing crates he obviously used as furniture, "that sort of thing can happen to anybody." "Dying of AIDS?" asked Scully. "I thought - " "Ha!" Blaine laughed sardonically. "The Doc give you that guff? Shane may have been a lot of things. Shiftless, not too bright, lazy as a skunned hog - but he sure as hell wa'n't no queer!" "Blaine, you can get AIDS in a lot of ways." "Maybe. We ain't so dumb in the South, Ms Scully. We get Oprah, you know. All I'm saying is, Shane didn't have AIDS, or anything like it. The Doc and Sheriff Braidwood didn't have to cover anythin' up, neither. Folks 'roun' here don't care so much about AIDS, or those sorta things. This town talks civilly to the Bonaye sisters, so - well, hell, a little disease ain't gonna bother no-one." "This is great coffee, Scully, " said Mulder. "So, Blaine, why were they so keen to cover up Shane's situation?" "Twins don't die in this town, Agent Mulder. "They're abducted." Scully shot a look at her partner. Mulder nodded slightly, "Are you saying they were abducted by aliens?" "Abducted, experimented on - maybe even created." Neither Scully or Mulder spoke "You don't believe me." Scully glanced at her partner again. He was staring at the poster - I WANT TO BELIEVE. "It isn't a matter of belief Blaine, it's a matter of proof." "Look, Ms Scully. I may talk slow and I may look like Shane, but I ain't him. Shane barely made it thro' 9th grade. Me? I got my high school diploma - and good too. I'd be in college now, it weren't for the money. You want proof?" Blaine put down his coffee, stood and lifted the packing crate. He prised up a floorboard and removed a small tin box. Opening he withdrew two notebooks and handed them to Scully. "I've written down everything I could find out - who were born, went missing, 'died' and when." Scully flipped through the pages of tightly written notes. "Then there's this" Scully looked up and caught her breath. Paxton held a small plastic ziplock bag. In it was a piece of metal - a micro circuit. The twin to one she'd seen in Oregon. "Where did that come from?" Scully asked quietly. Blaine sat back on the crate and picked up his coffee. "Me" "Tell us" Mulder's words were soft. "Back when Shane & me were little and my pa was still around, he use ta taking us fishing at night. Tell us spooky stories, that kinda thing. After he'd gone, me and Shane still used to sneak out on our own ." Blaine took a sip of his coffee, his eyes fixed on the childhood photo. "This woulda bin the summer of '88, I reckon, " Blaine recounted. "Warm night, hot summer night and all. Shane and me had settled in for a quiet night's fishin', talkin'. We sneaked a few beers. Up from under the water there comes this strange light, pale as marsh gas, but movin' t'ward us. "Shane says: 'I reckon we oughten to stay 'roun here.' "I says: ''Tain't nothing but marsh gas, Shane. Ain't dangerous.' "He says: 'You know no marsh gas never moved like that.' He turns to run, then, but I grabbed - " Blaine bit his lip. Mulder was holding his mug handle so tight he drew blood from his palm. Scully's vision flicked from one to the other. She was moved by the emotion, not the story. "I grabbed his arm! Then the gas was all 'roun' us. Then they told us to stop." Scully watched Mulder now. He believed. Completely. Scully saw Blaine watching Mulder. Yes, Paxton wanted to believe - and to be believed. "Then they took me away. They lay me out on a table. They told me not to be afraid, and suddenly I wasn't. Then they did. . .things." "What things?" asked Mulder. "They made me - " Blaine looked at Scully, then the floor. "They wanted a semen sample." He put his head up. "They pulled my mouth open, then they took some scrapings from the inside. They gave me needles. Oh, the needles! The needles in my eyes!" Blaine did not scream, but his tone was so intense that it cut the air like a scream. "Go on." "When I could talk again, I asked them about Shane. They said Shane was the control, that I'd see him again, that I was to be silent, that there was great work in store - ..." Blaine suddenly sprang to the light chain, and plunged the room into darkness. Scully had her gun out in a second, painfully aware she could just as easily shoot Mulder in the dark. Suddenly there was a looming presence beside her. Something hard shot between her legs, almost toppling her. The damned dog! "No flashlight, Ms Scully, " said Blaine's harsh whisper right in her ear. "They gave me a gift." Blaine's hand clamped firmly on Scully's gun arm. The cracks in the door of the fruit cellar now showed a grey light, easy enough to see by outside. There were quiet footsteps outside. How could Blaine have heard them? "I can see into the future." In the darkness of the cellar the only sound was a gentle snuffling from Zeke. As her eyes adjusted to the light conditions Scully spotted Mulder crouched below the cellar doors, gun at ready. With one hand he reached out and patted the dog beside him. Zeke's breathing grew quieter. A shadow passed through the cracks of the cellar door then moved on. A low murmur of voice could be heard. Scully strained to hear but could not make out the words. The shadows passed over the door again. The footsteps and voices moved off. An eternity ticked away - in reality, barely 2 minutes. "They're gone." Paxton's whisper was ear-shattering in the silence. Mulder slowly stood and moved towards them. "We better get out of here - they're probably looking for us." "They know you two left the hotel, but they haven't found your car yet - Bo figures you've gone to Memphis." "How do you know that?" asked Scully, rubbing the bruise Blaine left on her arm. He was strong. "I heard 'em. Tha's what they were talking 'bout." Mulder and Scully exchanged one of their looks. The one that said 'Let's not go into that now'. Blaine Paxton gathered up his notebooks and placed them back in the box with the micro chip. He then removed the picture of his boyhood from the wall and added it to the tin. "This way." Without turning on the light Paxton pointed towards the door at the far side of the cellar. Mulder headed towards the door, Paxton between and Scully following. Behind the door Mulder found a stairwell leading up to the house. He took one step and stopped. There was something he had to know before he continued. "Blaine. What do you mean by you 'can see the future'?" Blaine gazed at him blankly for a moment. "'Zactly as it sounds Mr Mulder. I know what happens next." "That was how you found us in the bush?" asked Scully, sceptically. "No, Zeke found y'all. I had an idea you'd be drivin' out here, then I 'seen' your car pulling in up to that lane yonder." "Were you able to do this before you were abducted?" asked Mulder. "I think it was the aliens as done it. They did a lot of things to my eyes. They didn't know about pain, though, " he said quietly. "Artificially induced psychic power, " said Scully. "Traumatically induced, " Mulder said. "many abductees report increased sensory perception and heightened awareness as the result of an abduction incident." "Defocused temporal perception, " said Blaine. "Another common abductee experience, " said Mulder. "I read that phrase in 'Restaurant at the End of the Universe,'" Scully whispered. "You don't mind if we put this to a practical test, do you, Blaine?" "No." "Who's going to win the fifth at Savannah tomorrow?" Blaine laughed - then he closed his eyes. A frown puckered his forehead. "Win: Scottish Girl, Place: Keanu, Show: Paris Attack." Scully reached for her cellular phone, then stopped. The only bookie she knew was Danny, back at FBI headquarters in Washington. They went through a door at the top of the stairs, and found themselves in a small, musty pantry. There were rat droppings around, crumbled snack packets and crushed beer cans littered the floor, it appeared Blaine wasn't the only one who used the place as a hideout. Mulder noticed one other thing. There wasn't a cobweb in sight. They risked a peek through the curtains. The morning light made the yard outside seem as bright as a new penny. Droplets of dew ran down the windows, distorting, but not obscuring the stealth copter parked on the unkempt lawn, its main rotor turning slowly, slowly, while the men around stood their ground. Waiting. "They been there since last night." said Paxton. A grey haired man stood with his back to them, an army style walkie talkie in his hand. Mulder felt there was something vaguely familiar about him, but was unable to place what it was. The man turned and appeared to issue instructions to the two of the men on guard, who promptly ran off in the direction of the clearing. The grey haired man continued his conversation with the walkie talkie. "I wonder what that was about?" pondered Scully "He told them to help Bo and the others with the last of the lights. He wants to be out of here by 8 o'clock." Mulder looked at Scully Scully raised her eyebrows slightly and inclined her head, . She spoke, "8 o'clock? Isn't that when you're supposed to meet Braidwood?" "Uh huh - and when we get to the site there'll be nothing there." Mulder looked at his watch - another 30 minutes to go. With one last look out the window he turned and sat down on the floor, his back resting against the wall, "We can't go anywhere till they're gone." Mulder looked up at Blaine. With a nod Blaine sat beside him. After a moment of surveying the wreckage on the floor Scully carefully, and gingerly joined them. "You want to tell us the rest? About the implant?" Mulder asked Paxton. "When I was in the 11th grade I won this state essay contest - prize was a trip to Washington for the judging of the national competition." Mulder nodded, he knew of the contest. Paxton continued. "Ah never made it. Half-way there on the bus, I started gittin' these stomach pains. They were so bad, the bus driver ended up leaving me at the first hospital he came to. Turned out ta be appendicitis. When I woke the doctor gave that thing, " he nodded towards the box, "to me. Say'd he found it in my stomach." "This was Doctor Mullin?" asked Scully. "Yeah." Mulder was keeping a weather eye on the chopper. The grey-haired man seemed in no hurry, and Mulder couldn't shake the feeling that they had met. "Why would the doctor be so concerned about Shane, but let you have the implant so easily?" Mulder asked off-handedly. "Search me." A man in military fatigues ran up to the grey-haired man with the easy jog of a Marine. Mulder relaxed - it was not the blue team rapid recovery force that had almost killed him in Puerto Rico. The grey haired man held up three fingers. The slowly spinning rotors began to quicken. "What did they do about the appendicitis?" asked Scully. "I guess they cut it out." "Mind if I examine you?" "No problem." Blaine pulled up his shirt, exposing a bronzed Chippendale stomach. Scully probed around professionally. Almost no pang of jealousy crossed Mulder's face. "There's a scar, " said Scully, "but it's a little high to be an appendectomy scar." "Have you been far from Mullerville since then?" asked Mulder, still watching the chopper rev up. "Nashville, Little Rock, Atlanta. I was goin' to go to New Orleans, but I never raised the cash." "Mulder?" asked Scully, needing an explanation. "Shane was the control - but they wanted Blaine to stay where he was put." Two Marines ran up carrying a heavy footlocker between them. They heaved it, then themselves, into the chopper. The grey-haired man joined them, sliding the door closed. The chopper lifted in a storm of dust and grass seeds, with no more noise than a noisy fan. As the sound of the helicopter died away Scully made to stand up. Blaine's hand shot out grabbed her arm. "Wait, Miss." he cautioned. Both he and the dog lifted their heads and listened. Moments later she heard it, a radio blaring - Steve Earle singing of John Lee Pettimore and his plans for Copperhead Rd. Mulder looked out in time to see a utility truck pass, the passengers the three diggers from the clearing. "That box they carried.....that was the black disks.......lights? you called them" Paxton helped Scully to her feet, "I reckon Mr Mulder. I seen them glowing up from thar ground....I think they're some sorta signal or maybe a beacon." "Blaine," Mulder's voice was quiet and tense, "Have you ever seen the signal answered?" "I don't rightly know..... a couple of times I seen the smaller lights glowing up and than this big column of light shining down, but I couldn't tell where it coming from and I couldn't get close enough ta see. I writ it all down in the book" he said handing Mulder the tin box. Mulder looked at his watch. 7.47am ....damn, he needed more time...time to question Paxton...to read his notes. He weighted the opinions. Wait here for Braidwood and go along with the farce of a search, find somewhere to hole up and peruse the evidence, or ...... "Scully....." Scully knew what the ellipsis in Mulder's tone meant. It looked like they were going to split up. Experience told her that this was going to be trouble. Usually, splitting up put her in danger while Mulder did the glamorous work, chasing suspects who turned out not to be suspects. "Mulder, if this means we have to split up. . ." "I thought you could stay here with Blaine while I take off after the hick rednecks in that pickup." "How are you going to catch them? On foot?" "I'll be able to find the Camaro." Well... Scully thought, waiting here with Blaine might not be that unpleasant. He seemed a nice enough guy....he reminded her of a young Navy officer she had a serious crush on at 13. Same raw energy. Mulder was holding the tin box out to her. "Okay, Mulder." Mulder checked his gun. The coast looked clear. Of course, he thought, it probably looked clear in Hawaii on December 7, 1941. He set out on his way through the woods. Blaine had given him rough directions, explaining that Zeke would be able to lead him right to his car. Mulder had declined the offer of the dog's help. His watch beeped the turn of the hour. There had been no sign of Sheriff Braidwood and his searchers - Mulder wasn't surprised. "Miss Scully...?" Dana turned from the window, "Yes?" "I think we'd be more c'mfortable in the other room." With a nod she followed him out. Bulky, anonymous shapes hid beneath dust sheets, in what was probably the living room. She selected one that looked chairlike and sat down. Scully opened the hardcover notebook while Blaine settled himself down to wait. Scully couldn't resist the occasional glance over the top of the book. Blaine was half-reclined on a shrouded sofa, still with his shirt untucked. Every time Scully looked back at the book it was harder to concentrate - put Blaine in a white JAG uniform. . . A slight noise made Scully look up. Blaine had slumped on the couch. Behind him stood a Marine colonel in camouflage gear. From the kitchen an impossible, familiar voice asked: "Problem, Colonel Jedburgh?" "No problem, sir." '.....I been told, he never come back from Copperhead Rd..' Mulder cursed silently, . He concentrated on the directions Blaine Paxton had given him, hurrying through the bushes as fast as his city bred feet could take him. The trail lead back to the clearing. The silvery eeriness of moonlight had been replaced by the chill light of early morn - the sun not yet high enough to light the enclosure. Mulder stopped briefly in the centre to catch his breath, his ragged panting breaking the silence. Mulder looked around at the plundered circle and up at the encroaching branches of the trees. It suddenly felt chillier....and darker in the circle - he ran on. Reaching the edge of circle of trees he stumbled and fell to the ground. Lifting his face he wiped the dirt from his eyes and found himself staring into blackness. There nestled amongst the roots and undergrowth was one of the black discs, it's edges still sprinkled with dirt. He sat up and grabbed it, he thought. He got to his feet, cradling the disc's inky smoothness in his arms and hurried in the direction of the car. Scully's scepticism had taken a battering in the last half-minute. Images swum in her mind. Blaine's tin box slid slowly off her lap and clunked to the floor. It sounded like a gunshot on a wet and darkened street. "Trust no-one, " she mumbled. "Good advice, Miss Scully." "I saw you killed!" Scully screamed. The dark-suited figure with the unmistakable Texan accent stepped into the brightening light of early morning coming through the curtains. He stopped to lay a hand gently on Blaine's bruised head. He seemed fatherly for that second. "There are times when it becomes necessary for people to think you're dead. Certain agencies were aware that I had helped someone get access to Purity Control." "Fox went to your funeral!" "I saw him there. I was deeply touched." Scully bumped the tin box with her foot. Her attention was drawn back to it. "Are you part of all this?" she asked, looking at it. "I'd like to be. But I need your help." "My Help! Why would anyone who can fake their own death so effectively need my help?" Scully spat the words out. "Miss Scully, you of all people should be aware of the problems we face in the search for the truth." "Problems! Don't you mean the dangers? the sacrifices?" Scully was angry.....angry at him - angry because he wasn't dead, because of what he'd put her through but mostly angry for what his 'death' had done to Mulder. She turned her back on him and went to kneel beside Blaine. "Miss Scully....Dana.....I know what you & Mulder have been through since....since my demise. If there had been anyway I could have prevented it I would have......the dead have their limitations." Scully didn't answer. She ran her fingers lightly across bump on Blaine's head, he moaned softly at her touch. "Was it really necessary to hit him?" she said to Jedburgh. Jedburgh didn't answer. Deep Throat came and stood behind the sofa. "Agent Scully - whether you believe me or not, we are not your enemy." Scully looked up at him, her eyes dark with distrust, "If you're not the enemy, why did you remove the discs...the evidence? It was you, wasn't it?" "Yes, it was" the texan drawl was soft. "Then why?" "Salvation" replied Col. Jedburgh. Mulder approached the Camaro casually. The keys were about an inch from the doorlock when he thought: this might be where it all ends. He took a few steps back, then began to examine the car minutely. After fifteen minutes he confirmed that the only traces he could see were those of Scully and himself made last night. Which didn't prove much. He flipped open his cellular, faced in various directions till he got a signal and dialled a Virginia number. It rang three times. "Go ahead." "This is Mulder." "Hang up. We'll find you." A few seconds later his phone rang. "Mulder." "This is Byers." "How would you like a close encounter of the second kind?" "With your delectable co-worker?" asked a predictable voice. "I'll see what I can do." "Evidence?" asked Byers. "Technology." "All right!" "I'm in - " "We know. We'll find you. Goodbye." Mulder got in, got the Camaro into gear. It was time to put some miles between him and Mullerville. Scully could take care of herself. **************** End of Part 3