Title: Horizons: Homecoming, pt 7/12


On the plane Pender called Gibbons to re-appraise her about the
situation.

"Where are you going?"

"Lombard Research Facility.  It's a fertility clinic according to
the maps, but Scully says five years ago more was there and still
might be.  Mulder's actions indicate that he agrees.  He reached
you yet?"

"No, his plane should be landing any time, though."

"Same instructions as before, then.  Hold him there as long as
you can.  And if he's going to bolt..." He hesitated before
continuing. "Tell him where we are."

"Understood."

"One more thing--I'm sending Guss along to back you up."

"What?" This was the first Guss had heard of this.

"He'll be with you in a couple hours." Pender disconnected and
then turned to deal with his partner. "Three of us wouldn't do
any more good than two, and it'd be one more person in danger."

"But why not--" Guss didn't finish but glanced pointedly at
Scully, sitting behind them reading medical journals.  Still
catching up, apparently.

Pender lowered his voice. "Because I have the authority--sort of-
-to tell my partner he can't come.  It's my turn to ditch you."
Meaning, of course, that he wasn't going to try to tell Scully to
stay behind.

"You're right," she said suddenly, "there's no way you could just
drop me off."

"Do you have to do that?" Pender asked, half-annoyed and half-
joking.

"I was left in charge.  It's like baby-sitting five-year-olds,
let me tell you." For a brief instant her face lowered.  "Do you
know if children still watch the movie 'Babe'?"

"They still watch 'Aladdin,'" Guss offered. "I think they still
watch 'Babe.'"

Pender brought them back on track. "Once we get there, how do we
get into this place? Any ideas?"

They spent the rest of the flight determining entrance, exit, and
investigation.  Scully surprised Pender by taking out her
celphone and dialing a number he knew quite well. "You mean, you
know them?"

She arched an eyebrow at him. "I take it you do as well?"

"Who?" Guss demanded irritably.  The number and people in
question he was not familiar with.

Whoever she had called answered then. "Langly, stop the tape."

A pause. "Thanks. I need you to remember something you did for
Mulder--" and she outlined their intent.

"Who is she talking to?"

Pender frowned, half his attention on Scully. "Hard to explain,
you have to see.  We'll take you to them yet.  Remember when we
needed to find Mulder when he disappeared, right before Scully
and the rest came down? It's them."

Guss found this remarkably unilluminating but wasn't able to
elicit anything more from his partner.  Whoever it was did help
advance their plans, and Scully and Pender continued plotting
with great enthusiasm, right until the plane landed.

At the air port Scully turned to Pender. "I can do this as easily
by myself.  Go with your partner."

"No," Pender flatly refused. "We planned for both of us.  You
couldn't manage half as well with no one to guard your back."

"How about another back-watcher?" Guss suggested.

"You're finding Gibbons, Dubz, and the director.  And I'm going
with Scully to break into a secret classified facility.  Any
questions?"

"No," Guss sighed.  Pender was his partner; he was also
unofficial deputy director and nearly as unaccustomed as Mulder
to being disobeyed.  Arguing with him at this juncture would be a
lost cause.  Besides, Pender could take care of himself at least
as well as Guss could.  Hopefully more, he added, thinking back
to the last time he himself had crashed one of these places.

"No questions," Scully agreed, earning herself yet another
surprised expression from the nearly-unflappable Pender.  Guss
would've applauded, except he had to go off, find a taxi cab, and
search out his fellow agents.

Pender and Scully secured a Ford Taurus for themselves.  Scully
drove, logically, since she knew the way.

They arrived a couple of hours before sunset.  Mulder would wait
for dark.  But neither of them were Mulder.

"We have another half-hour," Pender said, looking at his watch.  
"Four-fifty-one, they said?"

Scully nodded. "And they keep time by the Naval Observatory
Atomic Clock."

"I set my watch by it every morning, so we should be okay."

"Why'd you leave your partner behind?"

"Guss?" Pender shrugged. "As I said, too dangerous for more than
two."

"It'd be safest with one."

"Maybe, maybe not." Pender tapped arrythmically on the dashboard.
"I try not to let Mulder go anywhere alone.  The X-files works
best as a team, a group.  Partners and all.  We need to protect
ourselves, there's too many demons out there to fight singly."

"'United we stand, divided we fall?'"

"Something like that, yeah." Pender grinned lopsidedly. "'And
remember your gun when your back's to the wall.'  The X-files'
motto."

"Does that include when you're against the wall of the main
Bureau?"

Pender's grin widened. "We're not often against that wall, thank
god.  I wouldn't want to have to pull my gun against, say,
Director Skinner."

"Mulder on occasion found it amazingly effective."

"Oh really?" Pender blinked. "Now that's a story I hadn't heard,
from him or rumor or anything else."

"Now I find /that/ surprising.  It's actually several stories."

"You'll have to tell me.  Later." Pender peaked at his watch. 
"Twenty minutes.  If they come through.  Which they always have,"
he hastened to add.

"How'd you meet them?" Scully asked.

"Ahh." Pender leaned back against the seat. "That's not too
difficult to tell--haven't mentioned it to Guss just to irritate
him, to be completely honest.  And because you really have to
meet them--it spoils the experience just to describe.  But since
you're acquainted...

"About a month after Gibbons joined the division, she came to me
about a problem.  Gibbons is a hacker among other things, she's
somewhat paranoid, and she had been keeping a pretty close eye on
her computer.

"She wanted to know why someone had broken onto the FBI net and
downloaded her classified personal files.  And only that.  She
had set some kind of flag to warn her if that happened but I
think she was surprised that it had been tripped.

"It had been quite a class act, no Bureau security measures even
noted the intrusion.  We wanted to find out who it could be,
Gibbons even suggested recruiting them--after she had had a
chance to pay them back for electronic espionage on her own
person."

Pender smiled, thinking about how utterly outraged his then-
partner had been.  "We set a trap, all her idea.  Cunning set-up,
I won't go into the details, but it involved spreading several
rumors and writing up a dozen fake directories--all on our own
time and all behind Mulder's back.  We didn't want to concern him
with this if it turned out to be nothing more than some cyberpunk
prank.

"It took two weeks but at last we got a nibble, and Gibbons spent
a couple of days tracking it before we closed in.  Then when we
got the location we stung--full Bureau arrest, breaking down the
door, guns and ID ready, the works."

"You got a warrant?" Scully asked.

"Well..." Pender didn't hedge for long. "Truthfully we were
completely out of Bureau jurisdiction.  But we didn't think these
punks would think of asking that, and they were breaking the law-
-we couldn't arrest them then, but they wouldn't know that, and
they certainly wouldn't report anything.  I know the type."

"But these 'punks' weren't exactly the type you expected."

Pender rolled his eyes. "I'll never forget my first look at that
insanely cramped little office.  Or the looks on their faces.  

"Or for that matter on ours.  We charged in, said our piece, and
immediately, in sequence, Byers asked to see our IDs, the
warrant, and the evidence against them.  Langly wanted to know
exactly how we had tracked them, and Frohike demanded his phone
call, 'to be made to Agent Mulder of the FBI.'"

"How'd you handle it?"

"Only way we could think of at the time--told them just who we
were and why we were there.  Specifically mentioning Mulder and
the X-files."

"And they believed you?" she asked skeptically.

"Well, after this, Gibbons started to lay into them about
breaking a computer entry and described all the measures she had
taken, to catch them and that warned her of the initial
'assault.'  And they were impressed.  Langly started to ask
questions and before you know it, we're discussing our latest
case with them--they had the facts from Mulder, we gave them all
the little details that made it fun."

"So mutual paranoia inspired trust."

"Yup," Pender verified.  "That, and mutual acquaintance in the
form of Mulder.  That's why they had 'investigated' Gibbons to
begin with; they had done the same thing with me, but I wasn't
alert enough to catch it.  It wasn't at Mulder's request, he
didn't know.  But they wanted to be sure his new partners
measured up to the old," and he nodded to Scully. "In loyalties
at least, if not in qualities."

"What I've seen is the highest quality," she commented softly.

Pender looked away, down at his watch. "Show time."

They drove up to the parking lot.  The guard there waved them up
to his booth.

"May I help you," he asked in a bored tone.

"I'm Alvin Mailer, this is my wife Connie," Pender said easily,
Scully reclining demurely in the passenger seat. "We have a 5:15
appointment with Dr. Napier."

The guard quickly checked the list on his computer.  "Go right
in," he told them, eyes not even leaving the screen.  "Don't take
a reserved space."

Once inside the facility they gave the secretary at the main desk
the same story.  She directed them to the elevator.

Which is where they went, but they didn't take it to the second
floor and then enter the third door to the right as they had been
instructed.  Instead they proceeded down to the basement.

Before exiting Scully typed a quick sequence on the keypad.  Then
they were out and on the maintenance level, ducking behind a
boiler.

Pender examined his watch. "5 o'clock," he whispered.  "The
guards and secretaries are changing, and Alvin and Connie Mailer
no longer have any appointments or connections with Lombard.  Or
with anybody else in the known world, for that matter."

"Back into the ether from whence they came," Scully murmured
back.  "The Taurus is still rented out?"

"To a very real couple," the other agent assured her. "Of course
they live in Alaska but unless somebody checks for plane tickets
nobody's going to know that they're still at home."

"And if the code worked, nobody knows that we're in the
basement," Scully said.

"Lot of good we can do down here.  Where to?"

"I'm not sure." Scully examined the local area.  "I'm guessing
that what we're looking for is on the main level."

"So it'd probably be best to wait.  Easier to get inside during
the daytime..."

"But now we're in, we wait until it's all closed.  Say six
thirty." She sat down and Pender dropped onto a crate beside her.

After a minute he noticed she was watching him. "What?"

Scully shook her head. "Nothing.  It's just--I was thinking, if
you were Mulder, I'd be having to find some way to keep you
still.  You'd want to be--"

"--in action, I know." Pender smiled. "I have worked with him. 
Running off to the rescue."

"Not a care in his head."

"Except for finding whatever's he's looking for." Pender
hesitated.

"Which was me."

"Most of the time.  Yeah."

A few more minutes of silence, and then Scully stood. "It must be
contagious.  I can't just sit here, either.  Why don't we go up
and just take a look around?"

Pender nodded immediately and followed, happy with the excuse. 
Talking with her left him uncomfortable, somehow.  They returned
to ground level and began some discreet snooping.

It wasn't hard.  After passing rows of offices they came to halls
of more distantly-spaced doors, most of them locked, and none
with any signs marking what was inside.  Finally the doors
started to have key-pad and carded locks.  

"Laboratories," Scully said, and Pender agreed.

"So here's where--" She froze, and he did as well, hearing
footsteps when he listened. 

"Somebody's coming, get in there." Scully pointed at a
maintenance closet they had passed some meters back.

"No, you do," Pender answered.  She looked like she was going to
protest. "Hurry up!"

And without a word she dashed to the closet and ducked inside. 
Pender leaned toward one of the keypads and squinted at it as if
he were trying to read the serial number.  He jerked upright when
the door across the hall opened. 

"May I help you?" said the man there, a middle-aged red-head in a
lab coat.

At that moment a guard materialized from around the corner,
heading toward the two.

Pender put on his most innocent expression, blinking at both men.
"I'm sorry, am I causing a problem?"

"You aren't supposed to be here," the guard informed him.

"But I have an appointment," Pender protested. "I'm looking for
Dr. Napier's office, the receptionist told me it was left from
the elevator--"

"On the second floor," the doctor said. "Show him there," and he
disappeared back through the door.

Pender was escorted to the elevator, but fortunately not into the
office.  He waited on the second floor, humming slightly and
smiling at people coming and going, who all gave him rather odd
looks.  Since from their clothes he deduced that none were
members of the facility, he wasn't concerned.

In ten minutes Scully arrived. "No one saw me leave."

"Good.  Even if they suspect me they don't know there's two of
us."

"They could have just as easily suspected me.  What do you call
what you pulled back there, Pender? Chivalry?"

"Chivalry, hell," Pender said.  "I'm looking out for both our
interests.  They needed to find somebody or they'd have searched
further.  You were some sort of patient here, yes? So it's
minutely possible that you might've been recognized by that
doctor."

"I wasn't an official patient," Scully muttered, but since she
didn't argue any further Pender guessed his point had been made.

They returned to the basement and silently waited for the
facility to close down.  Pender paced, thinking out the ideal way
to gain access to the appropriate laboratories.  He had some
general codes from the Lone Gunmen that would help, but he didn't
know how far they would get them.  He also mentally mapped out
escape routes if and when the codes did fail.

Scully sat against the wall silently.  Her face betrayed nothing;
Pender couldn't even guess at her thoughts.  Though he wouldn't
be surprised if they were very much like his--she was, all in
all, the practical, logical sort.  How had she managed to
survive--to thrive--partnered with Mulder was something he
couldn't begin to imagine.

After a couple of aeons it was half past seven.  Pender hoped
that Guss, Gibbons, and Dubz had managed to keep Mulder in place. 
It would not be good if he laid siege to the facility right when
Pender and Scully had begun exploring.  Putting the guards on
double alert was not conducive to breaking an entering.

They took the stairs, rather than the elevator, to avoid being
captured.  And soon learned that even if they weren't on special
alert, these guards were not ones to let a couple of federal
spies slip by.

"It's a fortress at night!" Pender hissed, as they counted the
fourth set of even, heavy footsteps stride by the door in the
last ten minutes.

"It proves this is the right place," Scully whispered back. "If
you were having doubts.  No regular research facility is guarded
like this--unless fertility science has become much higher
regarded by the government in the last five years?" 

Pender shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of.  These guys are
/definitely/ hiding something."

They waited for another five minutes. "Maybe that was the
changing of the guard," Pender said.  "Nobody's outside anymore."
Nevertheless they waited a few more before cautiously slipping
out into the hall.

The first place they checked was the main office.  It was empty,
an easy matter to pick the lock, sneak inside and activate the
computer.  One of the Lone Gunmen's passwords worked nicely and
they were soon on the main database.

Scully skimmed it as fast as she could. "Nothing suspicious
here," she said. "Looks like standard medical records,
appointments, bureaucratic data."

"Check for Chris Anderson, Mabel Cahul, Robert Engle--" Pender
listed the names of the current missing ten and then the other
two sets of possible abductees.

She did so.  "Eight out of thirty," she said. "All registered
patients.  I don't see anything here." With a quick motion she
switched off the terminal. "This probably doesn't connect with
the real database, the records we're looking for."

"The lab computers.  Behind those carded doors." Pender nodded. 
"We better move."

Just getting to the doors in question proved to be a feat of
daring.  It wasn't the number of guards; it was their astonishing
ability to be in the worst possible place at the worst possible
time, at least from the two agent's point of view.  They spent
fifteen minutes at one point camped out in a convenient
maintenance closet, wary of even breathing for fear of being
overheard.  Pender fingered his gun the entire time, wondering if
he could threaten with it, wondering if he'd have to use it,
wondering if he'd even get the chance to.  

He hated waiting.  He could wait; he had incredible patience if
it was necessary.  He just hated to.

Several sets of steps went by in quick succession.  Pender cocked
his head. "Where're they going?" he asked Scully under his
breath.

"No idea," she said in equivalent tones.  "Hear anyone else out
there?"

Pender listened. "No.  You?"

In answer she cautiously opened the door.  The hall was clear.

They balanced speed with silence hurrying to the hall's end.  The
two blank lab doors were both closed, their key-pad locks glowing
red.  Both inactive.

"Eenie meenie miney moe," Pender whispered. "I've got a code but
it'll only work once without alerting anyone.  Which lab would be
the best bet?"

Scully pointed left. "This one."

He eyed her skeptically. "How do you know?"

"Any other ideas?--besides, they both should have terminals."

Pender raised his eyebrows, beginning to understand how that
long-past partnership might have functioned, and punched in the
numbers.  The lock clicked satisfyingly and turned green, and the
two agents hastened through the door.  Pender closed it behind
them, but frowned. "It's going to stay green," he said. "It will
as long as somebody's in here."

The lights were the same deal--they came on without a switch as
soon as they took two steps into the room.  

And then they stared around them.


End part 7


Title: Horizons: Homecoming, pt 8/12


The lab was huge, as big as a standard gymnasium though only one
story high.  And it was far from empty.

Rows and rows of tanks--like giant fish-tanks, Pender thought--
filled the space.  They were filled with some unidentifiable
liquid and covered on all sides with what looked like computer
monitors, electronic sensors, all variety of measuring devices.

They all seemed deactivated as well, dark and silent.  Pender was
almost positive that if the room hadn't been sealed the tanks
would have been gathering dust; they had an unused look to them,
machines retired.  

"What the hell do you suppose these are?" he whispered.

"Hybrid growing environments.  Artificial wombs," Scully replied,
voice steady but with a pale face.

"You've seen these before?"

She shook her head. "Not me.  Not exactly like these, no.  But
Mulder has, he's told me enough about them that I can guess at
the identity."

"When you said hybrid, I assume you aren't meaning they raise
baby mules in these things."

"No," Scully agreed. "Human hybrids.  Genetic crosses of homo
sapiens with a species of extra-terrestrial."  She touched the
closest tank and then drew her hand back. "We never proved they
existed; I never was sure that was what they were.  But Mulder
is--was, I don't know what he believes now.  I don't know what I
believe."

"Here's what we need," Pender said, calling her over and away
from whatever reflections she might be having.  At the center of
the growing tanks was a quite ordinary lab table, with a basic
computer terminal on either end.  It was already active and
requested Pender's user name when he touched a key, bringing the
screen to life.

"At least somebody's gotten us to the system," he muttered.

"Or a system," Scully cautioned. "It may be the same database as
before.  Do you have a password?"

Pender tried the one that had worked in the office terminal.  The
screen flickered. "We have two more tries before all the bells
and whistles go off," he reported, watching the messages on the
terminal.  "Off-hand I'd say this isn't the public database.  The
security's intense on this one."

"You said you had another one, didn't you?"

Pender frowned. "They weren't sure it would work, but..." He
entered a standard username and a string of numbers and letters.  

For a moment the screen flashed the words "processing..." and
then it returned to a plain cursor.

"We're in!" Pender exclaimed.

"Very good," Scully congratulated him tersely.  She typed the
same queries as before. "This looks the same," she commented.
"Same medical files, same list of names, just the eight that are
patients here."

"Let me try." Pender leaned over her and typed in a search for a
single name. 'Scully, Dana Katherine.'

'Restricted data' flashed the screen; then 'Enter username.'

"Dammit," both agents swore simultaneously.

"That's what we want," Pender announced, peering closer.  "This
is a different database; it has second one shelled inside of it. 
And I'm out of codes, let alone finding a username.  Somehow  I
doubt this system will accept 'guest' as a viable one." He wished
Gibbons were here; she could break into anything--

"Let me try again," Scully said.  "And cross your fingers."

She typed 'crawford.'

The computer blinked. 'Login accepted.  Enter password.'

Pender knew that asking her to explain would be as futile as
asking, say, Mulder, the same question.  Instead he said, "Nice. 
Any ideas on a password?"

"I hope so." Scully bit her lower lip and typed, carefully
hitting one letter at a time and watching a little asterix appear
in its place on the screen, 'm' 'o' 't' 'h' 'e' and finally 'r.'

'Password accepted,' the computer flashed in response.  'Database
opened.'

Pender's sigh of relief was obscured by Scully's own small gasp
as she released the breath she'd been holding.  "Here we are,"
she murmured, searching for the names again.

All thirty came up.  The final ten were highlighted, and when she
opened their files she found an extensive medical report, a
scanned picture, and just about every form of identification they
had--from telephone number to social security to credit card to
number of pets.

Pender read over her shoulder, skimming the medical report (the
jargon was thick enough to render it incomprehensible to a non-
MD) and searching for his own keywords. 

"There," he said, pointing near the bottom.  Her eyes darted to
where his finger rested and Pender saw them widen.  "...implant
removal scheduled for reasons of security..." she read.  Glancing
down further she continued, "preparance routine completed,
general activation of sublevel h-guidance in subjects a.01 to c.3
begun at reception of [contact] request..." She checked the time.
"My God, according to this they started almost an hour ago."

"Started what?" Pender demanded.

"I wonder--would they--" Oblivious to him she typed another
query.  A new screen was brought up.

Pender recognized it as belonging to the other, main database. 
She read the columns of names and dates. "My god," she said
again, "they did.  I don't believe it, someone would surely catch
this."  Scully shook her head. "No wonder it was so suspicious,
they had to work so fast--"

Pender read after her, noticing at least some relevant details. 
No fewer than eleven of the names of the past two sets of
abductees were listed.  And the date by each of their names was
that of today. "Scully," he demanded, "what is this? You
understand what's going on? I thought you said only eight of them
were patients here--"

"I don't know exactly what's happening," she told him.  "Just a
guess--" A few more rapid entries and she was back in the
restricted database, going through files faster than Pender could
read.  "What time, what time, if the date is tonight--" She
turned to him suddenly as if just realizing something. "I bet
they're still here, maybe in the other lab."

"Who, the abductees?"

"Yes, of course." She flicked off the terminal and headed for the
door.

Pender intercepted her. "If they're in there then twenty dollars
says so are guards, scientists, and who knows who else.  We can't
just barge in flashing our IDs and demanding to know what's going
on." This was starting to feel more like working with Mulder. 

Except that Scully listened to logic; she halted. "You're right. 
So what we can do?"

"Ahhh..." Pender thought this over. "Find a back entrance.  Try
to sneak in."

"Good plan." Scully changed direction, heading for the opposite
side. "Now, if these labs mirror each other, and in this type of
building they usually do..."

There were no windows but two doors.  One was big enough to drive
a truck into; it was probably how they transported the tanks into
here to begin with.

The other was a narrow service door on the opposite end.  From
the inside it pushed open, but when Pender checked it from the
outside it had no handle and blended into the wall.  A fire exit,
most likely.  Belatedly he realized he might have set off alarms
opening it.

"We can go out this way, but I don't know how easy it would be to
get back in."

"We'll manage," Scully insisted.  "We have to see what's going on
in the other lab."

Pender peered around but couldn't see any guards in the area. 
The facility was surrounded by walls and barbed wire; he imagined
they were concerned about people breaking an entering, not those
who had already managed the entering part.  "If we stay low and
hug the building, we shouldn't be seen," he reported.

It was a long, slow trip around the perimeter.  There probably
weren't more than two or three guards on the outside ground--
keeping up appearances that this was only a standard research
facility--but they seemed to encounter them every hundred meters. 


Whenever a flashlight appeared they ducked low until it was
behind them.  Any second now Pender could see floodlights
exploding around them, a siren--he felt like a prisoner making
his escape.  Fellow cellmate and all.  

In actuality it probably didn't take them more than twenty
minutes to work their way around to the other side of the
building.  Once at the corner, they froze.

Sneaking into the lab would not be easy.  Beyond the six guards
surrounding both outer doors, two trucks idled, their headlights
cutting swathes of glittering mist through the darkness.

The only thing on their side was that all the guards' attentions
were focused inward, onto the trucks and the people moving
between them.  Pender and Scully mutually decided that a closer
look was required and slithered forward on their stomachs.

Stretchers were being carried from the lab to the trucks.  There
were bodies on the stretchers.  Pender at first thought they were
dead--were they witnessing the cover-up of some hideous
experiment?

Then one of the bodies moved, groaned loudly enough that the
agents heard.  A man in a white coat, a doctor Pender assumed,
hurried over.  Pender thought he saw him hold something
glittering in his hands; he knew that the doctor did something
for the groaning ceased and the struggles stopped.  Drugged,
Pender thought, hoped.

Scully beside him was whispering.  "Eighteen, nineteen..."

"There's two already in the trucks," Pender murmured to her.

"Twenty-one, that's the ten abductees plus the eleven with
appointments today.  Where's the other nine?"

"What are they doing?" he whispered harshly in her ear.  "Where
are they taking these people?"

"I don't know," Scully whispered back, just as angry.

"Then we have to find out." Pender crawled closer, leaving Scully
no choice but to pursue him.  If she wouldn't tell him her theory
(and she had one, no doubt about that), then he would have to do
his own research.

One of the trucks was almost full; ten people were loaded into
it.  It was this truck that Pender approached.

Looking inside, he debated.  Quarters were pretty close; the
people on their low stretchers had been lined up in two rows,
then the stretchers attached to some sort of framework.  This
obviously was not new to the facility, since the framework looked
as if it had been built into the truck.  Apparently this method
of transporting humans was easier than flying them first class.

There probably was room for him amidst that framework.  He could
squeeze in, hide, and go on the ride with them.  He still had his
celphone, once they got there he could call Mulder or Guss or
someone and have them trace the call.

If it had just been the ten he would have assumed that they were
"returning" them, dropping them off in some field outside
Allentown.  But the other eleven...

The two guards watching that truck were looking in other
directions.  The area around it was dark.  He was about to turn
around and explain to Scully--

--when she rushed past him and vaulted into the truck,
disappearing into the back.

Pender swore out of sheer shock and followed.  He heard an
exclamation off to the side but it was too late to stop.

Just as he leapt into the loaded truck he heard a quick hissing
sound and felt something prick his back, only a tiny poke through
his jacket, but before he could do more than mutter, "Shit," he
felt himself collapse between two of the stretchers.


End Part 8


Title: Horizons: Homecoming, pt 9/12


Guss met Dubzinski and Mulder outside the police station.  He
paid the taxi driver and climbed into the back seat.

"Salutations and welcome to beautiful Allentown, Pennsylvania,"
Dubzinski greeted him.

The director eyed him.  "What are you doing here, Guss?"

"Pender told me to come," Guss said honestly.  "He was...worried
about you, sir."  Total truth, just leave out certain relevant
details.  "Anyhow, I'm here to help."  He noticed a presence
absent from the car.  "Where's Gibbons?"

"She's out--following her own lead," Mulder answered, with a
quick glance at Dubzinski.

Dubz nodded confirmation, but Guss saw him frown slightly.  Not
complete honesty there, either, and the director knew it.

So where was Gibbons?

"So you're planning on staking out fields and what-not, trying to
see who's returning them?" he asked, pushing his other, more
serious questions, aside.  At least while the director was
present.

"Yup," Dubz said. "Equipped with cameras, binoculars, the works. 
If it's little grey men, we'll have some more pictures for the
scrapbooks.  If it's a more earthly cause..." Evidence that would
be valid in court.  Another arm of the octopus severed.

"Have you found out how they were taken?"

"Well, if it was aliens, they've got some new techniques.  No
ash, no charring, no reports of lights," Dubzinski explained. "On
the other side--there's no breaking an entering, no signs of
damage.

"Gibbons and I decided that this may be just what it looks like--
people literally walked out of their beds and into the arms
of...whoever.  Whatever.  Which seems to indicate them."  With
one hand he pointed upwards.

"Why?" Guss asked.

"Telepathy is what it sounds like.  Mind control.  'Calling'
these people to them.  You know.  Who-oo-hoo" and Dubz imitated a
classic flying saucer hum, hypnotic undertones and all.  He
darted a quick glance at his director, but Mulder only rolled his
eyes.  On his lips was the faint smile he had perpetually worn
for the last few weeks.

"Certain human factions have experimented with mind control,"
Guss mentioned. "I've read of experiments...but I don't know if
we could call people, something that direct.  I'm thinking of
hypnotic suggestion, subliminal techniques."

"Subliminals have been used in some very powerful ways.  By
people," Mulder said suddenly. "Scully and I have seen them cause
people to murder."

"What?" demanded Guss, not having heard of this usage before.

"I doubt you'd find that reported in your standard science
journal," the director responded.  "They involved--let's just
say, questionable research techniques.  And it was a while ago
anyway."

"So you think these are human abductions," Dubzinski pressed.

"I haven't heard any proof from you that they're alien. Hypnotics
or not." The director performed a credible version of his agent's
flying saucer routine.

"I wonder if Scully could tell.  Having personal experience,"
Guss suggested, seeing Dubz at something of a loss for words.

Mulder shook his head, a firm negative. "I don't think it's best
to involve her in this.  Not right away."

"She's an agent, we're all involved," Dubzinski said, recovering
from his surprise.

"I wouldn't assign /you/ to a case that you weren't ready to deal
with." Mulder's stance was set. "This is not so very long after
the 'personal experience' you referred to.  I'm not going to
expose her to something traumatic so quickly.  Trust me on
psychology at least."

"You're the boss," Dubz replied.  "It was only a suggestion." But
in the rearview mirror he exchanged a pointed look with Guss.

"Here we are," were his next words. "Eliza Sander's place." 
Eliza Sander being one of the first set of abductees.

"Why did you pick her?" Guss asked as they got out.

Dubz shrugged. "First one on the list we called that was
available.  Seems today's big for doctor's appointments and the
like." He rang the door bell.

A young blond man answered. "Yes?"

"I take it you're not Eliza Sander," Dubz said. 

"I'm Lizzie's fiance.  Mike Aarons.  What are you looking for her
for?"

"Nice name--I'm Agent Michael Dubzinski, FBI," and he flashed his
badge. "My partner and I spoke to Ms. Sander yesterday.  These
are two of my colleagues--mind if we all come in and chat?"

Mike regarded them thoughtfully before saying, "No.  Sure, come
in.  I think Lizzie mentioned you."

Once inside Mulder took over, to neither Guss nor Dubzinski's
surprise.  He was as fine an interviewer as ever, calm, assured,
and sympathetic; Mike responded readily enough to his questions. 
No, Eliza hadn't any idea what happened to her.  No, she didn't
appear to be experiencing any side effects from those missing
days.

He paused at the next query.  "Yeah," he said finally. "She's had
trouble sleeping.  But that's been true since I've been with her.

"In what ways? I don't know.  She, like sometimes she can't get
to sleep.  And then she has really bad nightmares--she's kicked
me a couple of times.  By accident, when she's sleeping, I mean,
having a real bad dream.

"Oh, and she sleep-walks too.  Man, that's spooky.  She, like,
gets up and can even put on her bathrobe and once she made it all
the way outside before I woke up and found her and woke her up, I
asked, like 'Where were you going?' And she said she'd been
dreaming that she was on a leash, like a dog or something, being
lead around.

"That happens on and off.  Sometimes she's fine for a month and
then she's up all night for another month...but it's nothing big. 
Like, there's nothing wrong with her.  She went to see a
counselor, when I found her outside I took her to a shrink I know
about, but she asked Lizzie questions and talked and stuff and
said there wasn't anything wrong.  Like, she's not crazy or
disturbed, she wasn't beaten as a kid or anything, and it's not
drugs.  It's just the way she is, I guess."

"Mike," Mulder asked, "has Eliza ever mentioned disappearing
before? Before last week, I mean, do you know if it's ever
happened to her before?"

"When she was a kid," Mike said immediately. "When she was around
fifteen, I think, she told me she was missing for almost a month. 
And they don't know what happened to her.  I don't know if she
told the shrink that.  I've been thinking, maybe that's why she
wanders, something really bad may have happened to her.  Maybe
she was kidnapped and they--well, she doesn't remember that
either.  No one ever found out where she'd been, I think her
folks were just so happy to have her back.  It's like me, now, I
don't care much where she was last week, she told me she doesn't
remember and I believe her.  But the doctors said she--" He
stopped abruptly.

"What they'd say?" Mulder sat straight up.

"Nothing," Mike said clearly. "Sometimes they can be wrong.  But
they said she's fine, and they're right, that nothing happened to
her when she was gone.  She wasn't raped or beaten or anything. 
I'm just glad she was returned," he added defensively.

Guss met Dubz's gaze, mouthed to him, 'he's not saying
everything.'

Dubz nodded, tilted his head toward Mulder. 'He knows.'

But the director didn't push that issue. Instead he asked, "Mike,
has Eliza ever mentioned where she might have been taken? Has she
ever hinted that she might guess?"

"Nope." Mike firmly shook his head. "She doesn't know and she
doesn't care.  Maybe she's scared to know." He rubbed his hands
on his jeans. "You know, I sort of have a theory, though.  I
don't want to scare her, but I've done reading..." He trailed
off.

"What do you think?" Mulder pressed carefully. "We're
investigating every possible angle, any lead would be useful."

"I think maybe...maybe aliens took her.  I know, it sounds corny,
but they're out there, we all know that now.  Hell, five years
ago I thought only nuts saw them but now...and they do take
people.  I don't know if you saw, all the papers had it a month
ago maybe, all these folks were returned.  They were missing for
years and almost everyone believes them when they say they were
in ships.  Maybe that's where Lizzie's been."

Not seeing a hint of condescension or disbelief in Mulder's
expression he warmed to his topic. "See, Lizzie's sleep-walking,
maybe that's them, you know, /calling/ her some way.  To their
ship.  The night she disappeared--I never woke up, just next
morning she was gone.  Maybe they take her and erase her
memories...they aren't hurting her, though.  That's important. 
Or they didn't hurt her this time, though when she was
younger...I just hope." He stopped and started again without
prompting. "I hope they don't take her again, and I hope they
don't take her for a long time if they do.  I keep thinking,
those people, what if Lizzie were taken for five years? I don't
know if I could wait--I mean, I'd try, I love her, but what if
somebody else--"

Then he shook his head. "I don't think I'd ever find someone like
Lizzie, though.  Not in five years.  She's, like, she's one in a
million, like that cliche says.  You know?"

"I know," Mulder said with a slight smile.

Mike grinned nervously. "Yeah," he said. "Yeah, is there anything
else I can tell you?"

"Just one thing--where is Eliza now?"

"She's at work, she works at in office in town.  She should be
back in an hour or so, unless she goes out with some friends."

"Thank you, Mr. Aarons," Mulder said, standing and shaking Mike's
hand.  

"Sure, no problem," he answered.  "Can I just ask something?"

Mulder nodded and Mike continued, "Do you think that I could be
right? About, you know, aliens?"

"I can't say at this time." He paused before adding, "It may be a
possibility."

"Then can you--do you think she'll be taken again?  Do you think
there's a chance of that?"

Mulder shook his head. "I can't say that, either.  I'm sorry.  I
hope not, though."  

Dubzinski distracted the man. "When's your wedding?"

"In a month.  On Halloween, actually.  Lizzie and I thought it'd
be fun, I'll be in black tux and all...I hope she doesn't--it's
going to be great."

"Sounds it.  Best wishes to you, you're quite a lucky guy." Dubz
shook hands as well and Guss followed suit, offering
congratulations as well.  Then both agents pursued their
director.

As they re-entered their car Guss asked fellow agent and director
what they thought of the situation.

"I think we should recruit Mike for the X-files, pronto,"
Dubzinski offered. "I mean, he theorizes as well as Gibbons and
I!"

"On about as much data," the director commented wryly. "He hadn't
seen anything the night she was abducted, obviously, or he
would've mentioned it.  Lights in the sky or odd noises or
something."

"Maybe he slept through it."

"Through a standard abduction?" Guss asked.

Dubzinski rolled his eyes. "Okay, maybe he's a /really/ heavy
sleeper.  But this isn't a standard abduction."

"Has anyone seen anything?" Mulder queried.

"No," Dubz admitted. "And we've checked with the local NICAP
chapter.  Zip.  That doesn't mean--"

"Evidence is important--even in the X-files," Mulder reminded his
agent.

"Speaking of evidence," Guss said, "what's Gibbons looking for?"

"She said she had something she wanted to check out," Dubz
answered.  "Something that maybe Pender could help her with?"  He
was trying to communicate something to Guss in the mirror.

Guss wasn't getting it.  Pender--why hadn't she said anything to
Pender when he called her?  She knew where he was, she knew that
she couldn't ask anything of him at the moment--

In a flash it made sense.  Guss said cautiously, "Pender didn't
mention she had contacted him."

"Maybe it was after you left--" Dubz began, and then froze.  "He
didn't say anything?"

"Not a word, I was supposed to see her, actually," Guss affirmed.

Dubz didn't say a word, not sitting next to Mulder as he was, but
Guss clearly saw his eyes narrow and his lips mouth 'dammit.'


Crouched in the dark far end of the truck, Scully saw Pender
collapse.  At the same time she saw one of the two guards outside
call something before also falling onto his face.

Everyone outside not strapped to a stretcher hurried to the
scene, but Scully was distracted by a sudden motion in the
blackness next to her.  She turned and was barely able to make
out the shape of someone hugging the wall as well, hiding with
her.

"Who's there?" she hissed.

Outside one of the guards knelt by his fallen comrade.  In a
voice loud enough that Scully could hear he announced, "He shot
himself in the leg, that's what happened.  Look, his gun's by his
hand and down one tranq-stun."

"Probably saw something in the shadows," commented one of the
others.

"Like one of our patients," a cold voice replied. "Take him in
and lock him in an office.  We'll figure out what to do with him
when this is over."

"Unless he did see something," the first guard said.  He shone a
flashlight into the truck.  Scully only barely ducked in time.

"I don't see anything but what should be there," remarked the
cold-voiced man--a doctor, Scully saw, when she cautiously lifted
her head.  "We don't have time to conduct a full search, close
this truck up and let's finish loading the other."

The door was lowered, plunging the entire space into total
darkness.  Scully heard metallic rattles outside--lock and a
chain, she presumed.  Getting out wouldn't be so easy.

A beam of light cut through the black in front of her eyes. 
Scully turned and made out a dim shadow, holding the flashlight. 
The beam was shone into her face.

"Agent Scully," stated a woman's voice quietly.

Scully recognized it. "Gibbons."

"Fancy meeting you here."  The shadow and the light moved past
Scully into the aisle and to the other end of the truck.

"Where's Pender?" Scully asked, following.

"Here." The light was aimed between two stretchers, where the
agent lay on his stomach.

Scully reached under the stretcher she was crouched by and felt
his pulse.

"How is he?" Gibbons asked, worry clear in her voice.

"I don't know.  Pulse is steady but he's unconscious."

Scully could almost feel Gibbons relax. "He's fine then.  He was
hit by a tranq-stun."

"Ah." Scully began to understand. "And you have one too."

"Right here." Gibbons waved it under the flashlight.

"You shot the guard almost the same time he shot Pender.  Very
good timing."

"I couldn't let you or him get found.  They might have found me,"
Gibbons threw off the compliment.

"You wouldn't have been in that dilemma if you weren't here.  I
wasn't under the impression you were going to join us."

The flashlight bobbed as Gibbons shrugged. "I knew you would need
the assistance.  Pender isn't half as good at this spy-sneak
stuff as--"

"As you are?"

"Or Mulder.  Or Guss, actually.  I didn't know about you, but
Pender could've used my help...whether he wanted it or not. 
Sometimes two people can do better than one."

"We were going in as a pair as it was," Scully pointed out.

Gibbons only shrugged again.

The truck jerked then, the engine roaring to life and the wheels
under them beginning to carry it onto the road.  "They must've
finished loading the other truck," Gibbons commented.

Scully glanced back at Pender, who hadn't moved. "I thought those
tranq-stuns only lasted a few minutes."

"Some last a minute," Gibbons told her.  "Some last an hour. 
Either way Pender takes two, three times longer than average to
wake up--he's allergic."

"Not seriously."

"No.  With these, I'd say he'll be up in under half an hour. 
He's going to be in a terrible mood, though."

"Hopefully that'll be before we get there," Scully said.  "Where
ever it is we're going." She reached over and took the pulses of
the people on the stretchers to either side.  Steady but very
slow.  Shaking their shoulders did no good and their eyes under
the lids were rolled back. "They're pretty far under."

Gibbons nodded. "They all are.  They" and she pointed her thumb
at the truck's closed door, "don't want a stir on this little
jaunt, apparently."

"Pender and I weren't able to find where these people are being
taken.  We guessed somewhere around Allentown, but--did you find
anything?"

Gibbons made a negative grunt, speaking reluctantly. "Didn't get
a chance to get in.  Where ever we're heading, though, we'll have
back-up.  Dubz is monitoring my celphone." A ghost of a grin
crossed her face. "Unlike you and Pender, I gave the others a way
to track me when I entered this labyrinth."

Scully was pleased to hear it; it saved her the trouble of
explaining herself to Mulder. "How did you get in here?" she
inquired, curious more than anything else.

"Found this place's network, crashed the computer and wrote
myself an ID as a visiting doctor.  Then I walked in and stuck
around until night fell and the fun started.  When I heard some
noise outside I came out and joined the gang loading people in,
only the first stretcher I strapped in I just stayed with in the
back of the truck."

Scully stared. "You're joking."

"If you're wearing a white coat these guards assume you're a doc
and the real scientists were in such a hurry they didn't notice
they were one extra."

Mulder had pulled off some fairly audacious stunts--just the
little pieces he had told her about Russia so long ago had left
Scully gaping--but this was beyond anything even he had done. 
"You just strode in and weren't even questioned."

"Old trick--if you look like you know what you're doing there and
have the right to question someone else, everybody assumes that's
where you belong." Gibbons seated herself on the end of a
stretcher. "Besides, they are in a major rush.  Where ever
they're taking these people, it's an appointment that can't be
missed."

Scully remembered suddenly a time long ago, breaking into a place
with similar security, fulfilling another appointment of extreme
importance.  One that had ended in death, but a life saved at the
same time.  

She took a place on the stretcher opposite Gibbons. "But you have
no idea what that appointment is."

"Never got a chance to find out.  I was going to attempt to until
the opportunity to get directly involved showed itself."

Scully smiled in the shadows. "It sounds like you learned your
technique from your director."

Gibbons snorted. "Never broke into anything with him."

"But I thought--" Scully began.

"He wouldn't let us." The other agent switched off the
flashlight, so they were seated in utter blackness. "Useless to
waste the batteries."

"What do you mean, he wouldn't let you?" Scully asked.

She could hear Gibbons breath but she didn't speak for a bit. 
Just as Scully opened her mouth the other agent said, "We never
were the director's partners.  Even Pender never was, not
entirely.

"Not that it means much.  We work with him.  He tells us things,
sometimes, if we're fortunate.  But most of the time--we're as
much in the dark as we literally are now.  

"We'd do anything for him.  I don't know if you can understand
that.  We'd follow him anywhere, except that he has this tendency
to run and hide.  Then we waste time tracking him...some day
we're going to be too late.  I'm sure of it.  Was sure of it. 
Maybe not now.  But maybe--he's still doing it.  He tried it
except we beat him to the punch this time.  I don't know about
the next."

"I know exactly what you mean," Scully murmured.


End Part 9


Title: Horizons: Homecoming, pt 10/12


"I don't think that you can," Gibbons returned. "You're his
partner.  He talks to you.  He's open with you, he almost--he
doesn't shut himself off.  Not from you.  But us? I've worked
with Mulder for four years now.

"Pender--Pender's been by his side for four and a half years. 
Pender fought for that post, god knows why, and then fought with
Mulder to keep it, and I don't think Mulder even realizes that if
he told Pender to fly to the moon Pender'd start looking for a
rocket.  Maybe I'm going too far.  But it's close.  Pender would
give his life--hell, we all would.  And maybe Mulder would do the
same for us.  Probably.

"But he won't allow us close, he holds us back, we can't break
through.  He won't allow anyone to."

I did that.  Scully didn't say it aloud.  She could hear the
words, though, right on Gibbon's tongue but held.

And it was an accusation that she couldn't deny, she had no way
to, no right to, not when it held so much truth.  But how to
explain?  Gibbons knew it wasn't her fault that she had been
taken, that wasn't the reason for her anger.

But it wasn't her fault that Mulder cared, either.  It wasn't
through any purposeful action of hers that he was so torn by her
leaving that he tore his own self away, so it was nearly as
separated as she had been.  Perhaps even more, as she thought
about the people on the ship, her acquaintances, friends by place
but friends none the less.

Scully sat in the darkness and thought of this.  Thought of her
year and their five years.  Except Mulder hadn't been alone, he
had had this team, these people, all eager to help him, all
willing to die for him.  

"Gibbons, Mulder knows," she said at last. "He knows what you'd
all do for him.  

"And the reason he runs is because he doesn't want that, he
doesn't want to risk you." She thought back to that e-mail, the
one she had deleted at the time in angry fear and then wished
later she had saved.  To laugh at, maybe, and to remind her. 'A
line must be drawn, and I'm drawing it for you here.' "He's run
out on me so many times..."

She could Gibbons' eyes on her, even through the blackness of the
truck's inside.  "Why do you hate me?" 

She didn't mean to say it.  She didn't really mean it.  But
somehow it was all that she could think of.

"I don't." The answer came back too soon to be a lie.  And that
relieved Scully.

Gibbons went on. "I don't know.  Maybe we're jealous.  After four
years, four and a half with Pender, of being by his side...would
Mulder even notice if Pender was gone?"

"You're mad if you think he wouldn't," Scully snapped. "Why do
you think he does that escape act? If he really didn't care,
would he mind you following? I'm not saying that he'd miss
someone getting his coffee--and besides, none of you do that,
I've seen that much.  He'd miss you, personally.  He'd more than
miss you.  He'd bear the guilt of your loss on him for as long--"
As long as he lived.

As long as he lived without me.  It hit Scully suddenly,
something that hadn't bothered her before.  How long would it
have been.  How long would he have lived, wallowing in guilt,
before he decided that it was too much? 

Never, despite everything, she never would have thought he would
do something so outrageous, so pointless, as end it.  But then,
she had never seen Mulder--never seen him as he had been.  She
could deduce, put together pieces, imagine what he had been like. 
That Mulder.  The one that these agents, that Gibbons knew.

And that Mulder, that director whom she had never met, how long
before he would have--but he hadn't.  And Scully understood why.

"Gibbons," she said slowly.  How to tell her, how to explain.  It
couldn't be done, not properly. "You've done more for him--you
matter very much to him.  He doesn't show it.  Even when I knew
him, he wasn't demonstrative like that, and now...

"You know him better than me now.  You were there for these five
years.  I wasn't.  I'm sorry for that, I can't change that, if
you understood what I'd give... But I'm returned, and I know full
well that things have changed.

"And I want to be part of that change.  I want to join it. 
That's a piece of what you're angry about, I can grasp at least
that, that Mulder is trying to make me part of something
automatically that I have no right to.  I'd like to earn that
right.  I think I need to earn it."

"We're giving you a chance," Gibbons said quietly. "Mulder wants
us to.  Pender asked us to."

Which mattered more? Scully wondered.  There wasn't any way to
tell.  Mulder was the director but Pender was...

What? A friend? Because they all were Mulder's friends, too, they
understood that instinctively.  Because--because Pender was in
some ways their only real connection to Mulder.  The one who
decided what to do for him, the one who could predict sometimes
where he was, where he was going.  Pender, the only one who had
actually been his partner, at least in name.

And Gibbons had been the second.  And they had both strived for
something, and then Scully came and took it, came back and
reclaimed it, though if they could only see they had it still...

"Mulder never told us about you," Gibbons said suddenly. "Not a
word.  Never mentioned that he had a partner before Pender, of
course we knew one existed, but we didn't know it meant anything. 
He never said your name, not in my presence at least in the last
four years.

"Pender knew.  I don't know how, but he found out.  And me...I
knew there was someone.  I recognized that."

Scully heard her stand, heard a couple footfalls on the metal
floor of the rocking truck.  "I remember," she said through the
dark. "Once, one time, Mulder didn't come to work.  It was the
first time for me.  I don't know how often for Pender, but he
panicked when he couldn't get him on the celphone.  

"We drove to Mulder's apartment, and Lee--Pender made as if he
was going to beat down the door.  Completely crazy, that's what I
was thinking, what have I gotten myself involved with...When
Mulder answered the door, I thought he, Pender, was just going to
fall over.  Then he started to demand why he hadn't answered his
phone--

"It was so obvious, to me at least, the director wasn't hearing a
word Pender said.  Just this blank look, this dead expression on
his face.  And a book in his hands, this slim little book,
nothing on the cover, like a journal...grasped in his hands, so
tight it was bending, held so close his knuckles were bleached
white.  This dark little journal.

"And I just knew what it meant, and I pulled Pender away.  Didn't
completely understand why he was so concerned until the next day,
when Mulder wasn't home or at the office.  Or the next, or the
next.  I got used to it, Pender did too, didn't charge out so
fast and furious anymore.  But still...I guessed, I knew--but I
never imagined it was you.  His partner.  Not until Pender told
us.  And that wasn't so long ago--in the hospital where we
brought you, we made him explain.  Forced the truth out of him."

Scully could see it in her mind--he must have found it searching
her house, those months after Samantha was gone, trying to find
her.  He must have come across it, buried though it had been in
the back of one of her closets, she had truly meant to throw it
away but never got around to it.  So he'd gotten to read it in
its entirety.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, unsure if she was addressing Gibbons
or the absent Mulder or some other presence.

With her ears so sharply cocked the other agent heard. "Tell him
that."

"I will," Scully said. "I have."


Mulder requested to be dropped off at his motel. "I have some
calls to make, a little research."

"We're going to see if anybody else is home.  Why don't you wait
and talk to an actual abductee?" Dubzinski suggested.

"Who doesn't remember a thing.  This is your investigation. 
Handle that without me, I'll check in tomorrow."

"About that, you'll want to see what measures we're taking to
find where and how these people are going to be brought back,"
Dubz proclaimed.

"I trust you and Gibbons with the affair, and you have Guss's
help," Mulder countered. "Once I check up these matters I'll
contact you, should be later tonight."

Guss looked out the window, where the sky glowed pink in the
aftermath of sunset.  He hadn't known the director for all that
long but night was definitely Mulder's sphere of action.  The
time when the spirits and spooks are up and wandering the earth.

Dubzinski was still arguing. "You're the expert on these type of
things, though.  We can't match your experience and your advice
would really--"

"You were managing fairly well on your own," Mulder pointed out.
"I'm sure it'll go as planned.  Drop me off and take care of your
business."

Dubz stopped the car. "So you can take care of Lombard?" he
asked.  Guss sighed imperceptibly, understanding Dubz's lack of
patience with this but knowing Pender would not be pleased.

"What do you mean?" Mulder inquired casually, but he had gone
very still.

"Lombard Research Facility's about half an hour's drive, sir,"
Dubz said. "You're timing's good, it would've been totally dark
when you arrived."

"How did you find out?" Mulder dropped all pretenses with his
agents.  He glared. "Guss?"

"Yes, sir," Guss admitted.

"I should've gotten your oath on a bible.  How did Pender figure
out where I was heading?"

Guss wasn't about to spill everything, not yet.  Mulder passed it
by for now. 

"Dubzinski, take us there," he ordered.

"I do have responsibilities--" Dubz began.

The director's tone was about as cold and sharp as an icicle.
"You'll be back in time.  Lombard's only half an hour's drive,
you recall.  Take me."

A couple years of conditioned response to that exact voice left
Dubz in no position to argue. "Yes, sir." The agent stepped on
the gas and the car leapt back onto the street.

"Did Pender go to Scully or did she guess?" Mulder wished to
know, once they were on the way.  Seeing Guss's surprised
expression he continued,  "I'm no fool, no matter what I may act
like.  She's the only one who would have known."

"She went to Pender and me.  We both told her," Guss informed
him.

Mulder shook his head.  Under his breath he muttered, "Should've
remembered I can't keep secrets from her..."

And you shouldn't try to keep them from us, Guss thought, knowing
he was reading Dubzinski's mind as well as his own.  Not to
mention Pender's, wherever he was at the moment.

On the highway entrance ramp Dubz began to speak. "You know, it's
really not necessary to go.  And I do have unfinished--"

"Maybe you don't think this is a worthwhile investigation," the
director replied. "The abductees might disagree.  Or those that
care about them--ask Mike Aarons if he'd--"

"I'm not saying that this avenue shouldn't be explored,"
Dubzinski said.  "Just that you don't have to be the one to do
it."

"As Scully no doubt told you, I've been in Lombard before.  I
know my way around."

They sped onward for several more minutes.  Dubz and Guss
exchanged questioning glances by way of the rearview mirror.  At
last Dubz said, aloud, "Why not tell him..?"

"Tell me what?" Mulder pounced on his two agents.

"Sir," Guss began, "it isn't required that you be the one."

"We just went through this."

"It isn't hypothetical--someone's going in your place.  In
fact..." Guss considered the best way to put it and decided there
really wasn't one. "Someone's already gone."

Mulder twisted around in his seat to pin Guss with a glare. "Pray
continue."

"Pender broke into Lombard sometime ago.  He's there now."

"Pender," the director hissed, "should have minded his own
business.  Yet why am I not surprised?" He turned to Dubz. "It
must have been because your partner was out of town, because I
know Gibbons would never have let--" He broke off.

"That's what she's investigating," Mulder answered himself. 
"Lombard Research Facility with Pender."

"I think so..." Guss ventured, and Dubz confirmed it. "That's
where she said she was going.  Of course she said Pender /asked/
her to come..."

Guss answered the querying tone. "He didn't."

"Seems as if no one is either being honest or following
requests," the director commented dryly. "I thought this team was
supposed to be based in trust?"

"Trust no one," Dubzinski came back, but he was grinning. 
Mulder's tone was still annoyed but had lost that cold edge of
anger. "But do you think we can trust them enough to carry on
with our work and let them do theirs?"

"They don't even know what they're looking for," remarked the
director reflectively.  "No, take us there, Dubz.  Drop me off. 
I promise," and he raised his hand in the manner of an oath-
taking, "I will not attempt to follow Pender and Gibbons.  But
there may be more to do..."

Dubz nodded; they continued driving.  With Dubz at the wheel the
trip was reduced to only twenty minutes; Guss spent most of it
wondering at the division's predilection with pushing the speed
limit to whatever was reasonable for an Indy 500 driver.

Five minutes from Lombard the director spoke again.  He had been
in quiet contemplation for several minutes; now he verbalized his
thoughts. "You let your partner go in alone--since you weren't
aware Gibbons was also coming.  I'm surprised at you, Guss." He
didn't seem to expect an answer so Guss didn't offer one.

Mulder went on. "And Pender's too logic-bound to go in without an
idea why.  Did you talk to Scully about that?" When Guss was
silent the director addressed him. "Did she tell you what she
suspected might be happening? What I suspect?"

"No, sir," Guss responded, nervously.  Something in his tone...

"But why..." His voice suddenly snapped into full force. "She's
with Pender, and Gibbons, isn't she?"

When Guss didn't immediately answer he repeated it, louder,
"Scully was with Pender, she's in Lombard now? Tell me!"

"Yes," Guss confirmed softly.

Dubz took his eyes off the road long enough to eye his director;
Guss watched him closely.  Mulder's hands were clenched into
fists and his jaw was tight.  "Get us there fast," he growled to
Dubz.  Then to Guss: "If I find Pender was responsible--"

"He couldn't have stopped her," Guss murmured. "You said it
yourself, no one could have.  It was all her decision."

"If she--" He cut his own sentence off, for a moment seemed
incapable of starting another one. "If she knew how dangerous--"

"Sir," Guss said, and found Mulder's attention suddenly riveted
onto him, "she is an agent of the X-files.  She's part of the
team, as Pender says, and it is her duty to take some risks.  And
if she's half as competent an agent as we've heard..." He
mustered his convictions in the face of the director's wild
glare, "I don't know what you really have to worry about."

"I wouldn't expect you to," Mulder returned. "Get us there,
Dubzinski."

They screeched to a halt a block from the facility, the director
understanding as well as his agents that it would be foolhardy to
declare their intentions by going any closer.  By the time the
car had rolled to a stop Mulder was out of it and charging in the
direction of Lombard.

Dubzinski and Guss hurried after him.  "Sir!" Dubz called. "Where
are you going?"

No reply. "What, are you just going to walk up there and ask to
see them?" Dubz demanded.

The director turned briefly. "I have to know if they have her
yet."

"How do you know they'll catch her?" Guss protested, but Mulder
continued his march.  The two agents raced to catch up.  Dubz ran
directly in front, right in his line of sight.

"Sir, this is nuts, we gotta get a plan--"

"We don't have time," Mulder snapped.

"How can you /know/?" Dubz began, but it was clear the director
was not listening.  "You're not the only one with a partner in
there! They'll manage! Sir, you gotta stop!"

He didn't.  "Sir!" Guss cried, "Dubz's right, this is crazy,
Director Mulder!" He was marching toward the facility with all
the momentum of a locomotive going down-hill.  Without brakes.

Guss grabbed his arm and wrenched him to a halt.  "Sir," he said
distinctly, "If you go up there and ask you're telling them
something that they might not know.  If they haven't found them
yet--"

"You'll put her in more trouble," Dubz supported him. "You'll
endanger Scully and Pender and Gibbons, too."

Mulder frowned at both of them. "We have partners as well," Guss
reminded him again.

"And we're not ecstatic about this, either," Dubz added, throwing
a pointed glance at the facility. "But if we want to do
something, we better make sure it's something helpful.  And right
now," he said assertively, "I think the most helpful thing will
be getting back and doing our job.  And letting them handle
theirs.  Like I've been saying."

The director gazed at the lights of the facility, his face an
unreadable mask.

"Besides," Dubz added, "They're okay.  Or at least Gibbons is,
and she would have told me if she knew they were caught."

That grabbed both Mulder's and Guss's attentions. "How?" Guss
demanded.

Dubzinski took out his celphone, a little amber light blinking on
top.  "Gibbons and I have kept our connection linked.  It's
costing the Bureau a bundle, but we can trace her anytime.  If
anything had happened to her she would have turned it off--or the
people who found it would have closed it--and if anything had
happened to the others she would have rung me." He pocketed their
link with their partners. "Can we get back to Allentown now?"


End Part 10


Title: Horizons: Homecoming, pt 11/12


In a dark truck hurtling toward some unknown goal, Scully and
Gibbons sat in uneasy silence.  They were surrounded by blackness
and the quiet slow breathing of the abductees on their
stretchers, in their drugged slumber unaware and uncaring of
their location.

Scully spoke just to make sound; she had had enough silence
around her the past year. "So Dubzinski knows where we are?"

"He should," Gibbons replied across the darkness. "I alerted him
when we started moving--"  

A groan interrupted them.  Followed by a voice. "That better not
be you, Gibbons."

The flashlight glowed into being, the beam focused in the
direction of the sound.  Pender had pushed himself up between the
stretchers.  He squinted at the light.

"You're awake," Gibbons greeted him gladly.

"For about two minutes now, lying on the floor, trying to figure
out if I was captured, if I had gone blind, and if I was
surrounded.  Then I heard your voices and figured none of the
above..." He rubbed his face, growling through his hands, "You
were /not/ here before, Gibbons.  Leastways you weren't supposed
to be."

"Change of plans.  My idea," the other agent informed him.

Pender made an attempt to stand and ended up leaning heavily on
one of the available stretchers. "How do you feel?" Scully
demanded, medical training moving to the forefront of her
thoughts.

"I'd like to find the person who termed those damn tranq-stuns
'humane' and make him swallow a liter of the drug in 'em," Pender
muttered. "Otherwise, I think I'll survive." He closed his eyes
for a moment and seemed to marshal his strength before opening
them. "This truck is moving."

"Yes, brilliant deduction," Gibbons confirmed, grinning.

"I was hoping that all the rocking wasn't in my mind," Pender
grunted. "From here on I'll assume that only the spinning is my
personal perception.  Where are we going?"

"We'll know when we get there."

"And Dubzinski is tracking us."

"That's what Gibbons says," Scully agreed.

Pender looked from one to the other. "I think at the moment I'll
choose to believe her.  If we're lucky Mulder and the rest are on
our tails."

"I thought Mulder wasn't to be informed of our locale," Scully
reminded him.

He considered this only momentarily. "I don't give Guss one
chance in fifty in holding out against the director for this
long.  Hopefully they're out there, then."

The truck suddenly bounced up, and if they hadn't all been seated
they would have fallen.  As it was Pender was knocked off his
stretcher.

"I think we might be getting...wherever," Scully offered.

Pender shook himself and reclaimed his seat. "I hope so," he
said. "This vehicle is obviously not designed for dirt roads."

"Or speed bumps," Gibbons added a moment later, after
experiencing another bone-jarring rattle.

They all were thrown soon after by the truck jerking to a stop. 
In the silence following the cut-off of the motor Gibbons
whispered, "We're he-ere..."

They retreated to the opposite end of the truck from the loading
doors.  Through the sides Scully could distantly make out doors
slamming and voices calling to each other, and then on their
truck there was a metallic clunking.  Slowly the end lifted up,
cool night air rushing in.

Outside lights, flashlights, broke up the darkness.  People
swarmed around; in a few moments Scully realized there were only
six, all in white coats.  The doctors.  They had left even their
guards behind, apparently.  The other truck was parked nearby;
Scully could see its back, opened like the one they were hidden
in.  The doctors showed no signs of even looking inside either
truck to check on the status of their "patients;" for the moment
Scully and the other two agents were safe. 

And then she saw darker forms.  The doctors were leading them by
the hands, herding them.  Four were lead to the back of their
truck; Scully counted five by the other.  

"The nine other abductees!" Pender hissed into her ear.

"They were just standing there, waiting for these ghouls!"
Gibbons whispered.

"Summoned by them," Scully answered them both.  "Brought to this
field."

"Why?" Pender demanded, but Scully didn't answer.  Not yet.  Not
until she was sure.

One by one the four outside were lifted into the truck.  As soon
as they were inside the doctors pressed something against their
necks; Scully couldn't see what exactly, but it was easy to guess
by the way they wilted after the operation was performed.  More
drugs.  So they didn't want these ones to run, either...

The last abductee was loaded in.  Outside a voice said clearly,
"Talk about cutting it close!"

"Whatever's happening, it goes down soon," Pender remarked.

"So we better move," Gibbons agreed.

"Wait!" Scully cautioned. "What are you going to do?"

"There's only six of them," was Gibbons' response.  

And two were already out of their line of sight.  Gibbons picked
the one closest to their truck.  In one quick motion she flashed
her light in his face, pulled her gun with her other hand, aimed
it, and shouted, "Freeze!"

Pender was already targeting another doctor and Scully swiftly
choose a third. "We've got you all covered," she warned them.

The one spotlighted believed her.  The rest didn't.  They fled
with an alacrity that disturbed Scully; she knew this type, and
they were far from cowards, whatever else they may be.

Pender fired a warning shot overhead but it only spurred them on. 
Swearing, he scrambled to the other end of the truck, Gibbons and
Scully on his heels.

The doctor in the flashlight's glare stood gaping at them, open-
mouthed and frozen in his tracks, a rabbit trapped by headlights.
"How did you--you must get out of here!" he gasped.  "We all have
to--"

"Save it," Gibbons cut him off. "Better yet, explain it."

"Look!" the man shrieked, and he gestured behind them.  Old
trick, but his terror was so palpable Scully could take it in her
hands.  She looked.

On the ground was nothing, but where he pointed--she froze,
instinctively, keep still so the predator won't see you, an
ancient reflex.  But when the predator is in the sky, a great
star in the night sky, a star that is growing as you watch it...

She wasn't the only one so affected, but Gibbons broke out of her
trance sooner. "Damn!" the agent shouted, "Freeze!" But the
doctor was sprinting toward a car idling at the edge of the empty
field.

"Oh god!" Pender muttered, as the night suddenly became as bright
as day.  Not from the sun, though, and not, as Scully first
feared, from that artificial star above them.  

The trucks had suddenly flashed to life, not the headlights, but
other lights, framing both the vehicles in brilliance.  At first
Scully could only see whiteness, but then her eyes made out
colored bulbs as well, flashing, like some form of twisted
Christmas display.

Gibbons saw it as well; Scully heard her croak, "Damn
unseasonable!" not a joke, but a protest, defending against the
overwhelming disorientation.

"It's patterned," Pender noted in a cracked tone.  "A signal--"

Scully saw movement, a white blur, not light but reflecting
light, and she aimed her gun, knowing how visible she was. "Don't
move!"

The figure froze as instructed. "Stop it," Scully called across
to it hoarsely. "Turn them off." 

Nothing happened.  

Pender's gun flashed under the lights as he took aim as well,
squinting.  He was pretty far off, what with the glare in his
eyes, but though Scully could see she doubted the doctor could.
"Do it," Pender commanded.

The world was plunged back into darkness as every light on the
trucks died.  Gibbons was alert, however, and the flashlight had
already been focused on their remaining suspect.  Scully aiming
clearly at his head, approached him slowly.

He had something in his hands, a dark box--a remote control? And
he shouted across to her, terror echoing in his voice, making it
tremble, "Can't you see? Let me go! Look up!"

She didn't need to.  Already the field was growing brighter, the
ground becoming visible, the air grey, though it was far from
sunrise.  And the stars were fading, drowned by the largest one
in the sky, growing still, she could feel it if she couldn't see
it directly, in her bones, shaking with the hum, she knew it too
well, they had arrived as planned, to take them...

"They've come!" he screamed.  "Let me--"

She lowered the gun.

He ran, flat out, away from the field.  The car was gone already,
his companions abandoning him.

A gun shot sounded, echoing past her ear, but the bullet missed
its target, sending up dust several feet behind the fleeing
doctor.  And then he was out of the circle of light around them,
growing brighter still.

Flashing suddenly, as the trucks' brilliance returned, adding
color to the prevailing whiteness of the atmosphere, shattering
the final remnants of the night.  Twinkling colors, making
intelligible patterns around the trucks' perimeters.

As a month before, as every time, she fell, unable to tell if she
was standing or not, sight impossible because of the light, more
opaque than the blackness inside the truck had been; balance
impossible because of the thrumming that filled her ears.  And
for an eternity she was trapped in it, gloried in it, existed out
of time and space among pure energy.

Simultaneously with the return of the ground under her hands came
the flashing pain in her eyes, enormous blinking spots that
gradually shrank, diminished, receding with the pain and as the
ringing of her ears faded.

When her sight was mostly cleared and her hearing mostly
recovered she pushed herself up, until she was standing.  The
flashlight had fallen but from the ground it cast its beam
directly onto her.  That was the first thing she saw after.

The first thing she heard was a sharp click of a gun some meters
away being cocked, and Pender's voice coming coldly to her ears,
commanding her, "Do not move."


End Part 11


Title: Horizons: Homecoming, pt 12/12

This is it, home stretch--thanx for making it, and I hope you
enjoyed it! Tell me, please, I'd love to know! Also, I do have
ideas for a couple of other "Horizons" tales...they don't always
investigate aliens, for instance, and Burnett and Wong do
actually have lives and purposes, despite all evidence to the
contrary.  Not to mention I can imagine a change in the dynamics of
Mulder and Scully's relationship after this sort of event...Anybody
interested at all? E-mail me! 
ERK
ekarr@bowdoin.edu 
oh yeah, the end:


Dubzinski came to Mulder and Guss a couple of hours after they
returned to Allentown, with an urgent report.  Gibbons had given
him a one sentence bulletin--"Pender and Scully have arrived,
finally," and then when he traced the call, she was found to be
moving.  

"So they probably all are," he concluded.  Meaning that Mulder,
Guss, and Dubzinski left matters in local hands for the moment
and pursued.

They zeroed in on the location fairly fast, and after analyzing
their general placement and direction of movement pinpointed what
road the other agents were on.  It was fairly easy to find a
parallel one, and they kept constant surveillance to trace any
turns.

When one at last occurred it came as a surprise, and Dubzinski,
still at the wheel, wrenched them around in a U-turn and careened
several hundred feet down the break-down lane of the wrong side
of the highway to catch the closest exit.  The map didn't even
show the road that they must be on, but Mulder hypothesized that
their destination was a wide empty expanse of land.  A farm had
gone under but the owners were choosy and so far no developers
had gotten their claws onto it.  It was very isolated and
probably an ideal space for...whatever was occurring.

It also was not one of the fields being monitored. "It's nowhere
near Allentown," Dubz protested crossly. "How was I to know we
were supposed to watch the whole damn state?"

The three of them had only just reached the long dirt road that
lead to the lot when they all saw the light in the sky.  Guss
didn't need assistance to identify it.  He remembered the white
glow crystal-clearly in his memory, only a short month ago, in a
Wisconsin quarry.  He even thought he could hear the hum, his
heart thumping in sympathetic rhythm with it...or perhaps only to
the sound he remembered.

Dubzinski slowed the car, open-mouthed, staring at the
phenomenon.  "If ever I didn't believe..." he whispered.

Mulder said nothing.  Guss turned his eyes to the director.  He
sat pressed against the seat, fists pushing into his thighs, and
his face was white in the light, drawn in the shadows.  His mouth
moved faintly, and though no sound, no breath emerged, Guss read
his lips saying, "Scully..."

The car braked. "I'm not driving into that," Dubz objected,
tilting his head at the brilliance.

"Keep going," Mulder directed, voice gone, only mouthing the
words.

"No, sir," Dubz answered hoarsely, unable to look away from the
light.

Nor did the director's gaze change.  But his voice solidified
into his command tones, magnified by a fear and an urgency barely
understandable. "Drive the damn car, and don't stop again."

Dubzinski obeyed, eyes still focused on the sky, inching the
vehicle into motion.  Guss heard him breathing heavily in the
stillness, gasping a little when he inhaled.  Dubz had never
faced anything like this before, the agent realized, and that he
could be scared by something was probably frightening him even
more than the thing itself.

It seemed as if the light were there forever, never changing,
bright but distant.  Were they in that light, Guss wondered,
Pender and Gibbons and Scully most of all, she who had been in it
before, not at all long ago.  He wondered if they were
frightened, as spooked as Dubz was by it all.  

He didn't remember being really afraid, but then he didn't
remember the light lasting for so long.  Hadn't it been only a
flash of radiance and then gone? Fading in his eyes--

And then it really was fading, and then it was gone.  The car's
headlights brightened back to full luminance--when had they
dimmed?--and Dubz accelerated without a word from Mulder,
rocketing down the dirt road, not to the end, but to where it
curved off into the empty field.

The light was gone, but there was still moonlight, and starlight,
and headlights, and on the field itself a flashlight shone. 
Between all this Guss could make out the tableau, three
silhouettes, like actors on an empty stage.  Statues posed...

And one statue was his partner, and one was Gibbons, and the one
in the center of the flashlight's beam was Scully.  All the air
in his lungs rushed out in a relieved sigh, and he heard Dubz and
Mulder both echoing the action.  All present and accounted for--

It wasn't until they were out of the car that the positions
caught their notice; it wasn't until Guss was standing on the
field that he saw why they hadn't been hailed, that he saw
Pender's stance, with his gun pointed squarely at Scully's head.

Gibbons moved, turned toward them but said nothing and didn't
take a single step.  Pender and Scully might have been carved of
stone.

Mulder broke the silence. "Pender!" his voice rapped out,
commanding, demanding, not even framing the order.

Pender heard it all the same. "No, sir," he refused through
gritted teeth.

The director only stared.  Guss couldn't even see anger on his
face, only confusion, bemusement.  Lack of purpose--decision,
Mulder's hand moved tentatively, in the area of his holster,
where his own gun rested.

"Sir," Dubzinski murmured, only for Guss and their director's
ears, no other words but a reminder.  That each of them had a
partner on that stage, that they were all involved, and sides
were not yet chosen but might be.

And though Pender might not have heard, he perceived it all the
same. "Sir," he said again, "if you knew what--" and then he was
addressing Scully, clearly, "--I don't understand, how could you?
How could you, when you were one of them, did you forget the last
five years?"

Scully stared back at him steadily.  Her eyes flickered once,
onto Mulder and then back to Pender.

"Pender," the director began again, warning in his voice,
desperation creeping into his face.

"They're empty.  Aren't they, Gibbons?" Pender said.  His voice
was strange, hard and yet cracked, like a broken crystal, all
sharp edges.

"Yes," Gibbons told him. "There's no one inside."

For the first time Guss noticed the dark shapes of two large
trucks in the field, black masses, their metal sides glittering
faintly when they caught the starlight.  He peered inside them
but could make out nothing but darkness.

"How could you?" Pender demanded of Scully again.

Mulder made another abortive motion for his gun.  He didn't even
need Dubzinski's rejoinder this time to stop.

Pender saw somehow out of the corner of his eye.  Or sensed in
some other way. "Mulder, she allowed this, we could have stopped
them, saved them, if she hadn't--" and again he was speaking to
her. "What will you argue? Mind control? Subliminals? A hold, a
force that you cannot explain?"

"No," Scully spoke for the first time. "It was my choice.  My own
choice."

Guss barely recognized his own partner's voice, so twisted as it
was with anger, bitterness, cold fury. "Then you willingly worked
with them.  How long?" When she didn't reply he repeated,
"_How_long_!?  From when you were taken? From before that, from
the first time they had you? Or from the very beginning?

"Tell him," Pender commanded. "Tell him how long it's been a
lie."

Scully turned her head, deliberately, to face Mulder, and in a
clear, calm voice, stark contrast with the unendurable tension in
Pender's, said, "It never was."

And Mulder asked his own question, just as plainly, "Why, then?"

"You'll understand." Her calm, her honesty was unfeigned. "I
couldn't explain to him, but you--remember why I was taken,
Mulder.  I told you why."

"I remember," the director murmured. "Why you think, at least."

"I know it was," Scully said. "And that's why.  That's why they,"
and she waved toward the shadowy trucks, "that's why they were
requested.  Why this appointment was made.  Fixing matters. 
Putting things right that are wrong.  It takes time, it's a
difficult process, but..."

"Five years," Mulder reminded her quietly. 

Pender spoke again. "Or ten.  Or twenty.  Or thirty-five, Mulder. 
Remember that.  These people, they had families, they had people
who loved them--and she--"

Scully cut him off. "That is why," she insisted. "For them, for
those that love them.  I never was told this, I made no deals, no
contacts, but I saw the medical reports at Lombard, I know I'm
correct.  It's the logical explanation.  It's the instinctual
theory.  Any way I look at it I know it's true." She was facing
the director, speaking only to him.  "Would you rather have had
me for only one more year, or lost me for five in return for as
many as we survive?"

"You know the answer," Mulder told her, and Guss almost thought
he heard a smile in the tone.

"I know," and her voice was even softer.

"Pender, put the gun down," the director said, not even an order,
only a request.

"You can't trust what she says, if you saw--" Pender argued
hoarsely.

"She's my partner, Pender, and it's my choice to trust her, and I
do," Mulder replied, without anger. "I'll explain later, but now
I am your director, and I order you to put your gun away.  As
your director, and as a member of your team, who you trust to
make some decisions.  Put it away, or I may have to use my own on
my past partner, something I would truly rather avoid."

For the first time Pender looked away from Scully, to glance at
Mulder.  Guss gestured slightly, caught his eye and shrugged,
expressing his own lack of power in this choice.

But Guss knew that it was the director that convinced him, with
his casual tone and his half-smile, no longer tense or pained but
calm, almost happy, reflecting a peace far down at last restored.

Pender replaced his weapon in its holster and sighed, a huge long
exhalation, shoulders dropping as if no longer bearing even
gravity's pressure.

Gibbons and Dubzinski both nodded simultaneously, identical grins
inching onto their faces.  And Guss gave his partner a
traditional thumbs-up signal and headed over to him.

"So you think I'm a good enough gladiator that I shouldn't be fed
to the lions?" Pender asked when Guss reached him.

"What?" Guss queried, lost.

"Never mind." He looked over at Mulder approaching Scully, saying
something inaudible to the others, something that made her almost
smile.  She responded in kind, judging from his expression. "I am
going to want an explanation."

"So aren't we all," Dubzinski commented, coming over with
Gibbons.  "What just happened?" He was smiling slightly but Guss
could still see remnants of fright and confusion and worry in the
corner of his eyes.  Gibbons too looked distantly haunted and
though Pender might joke, there were dark patches under his eyes
and lines crossing his face that didn't belong there.

"Where are the abductees? Did you find them?" Guss asked, to
start the questioning at the beginning.  

"We found them," Pender confirmed grimly. "I hope we can do so
again.  Eventually."


It was over a week before the entire X-files division was back in
the Hoover Building.  Even after explanations had been given and
Lombard Research Facility was thoroughly searched--of course
nothing was found, and not an arrest could be made--there were
still other matters.  Mulder and Scully travelled around the
state, going even further in some cases, to personally relate the
fate of the thirty abductees to their friends and families. 
There were tears, there was anger, but there was acceptance as
well.

For one thing, in many cases they had known that their beloved
was dying.  There were so many different ways, cancer prime among
them, but other diseases, degenerative conditions, afflictions
mortal in the long run.  And Scully personally told them
everything that had happened to her, including the cancer and how
it no longer was there, and many of the people found comfort in
that.

Mike Aarons, who hadn't believed the doctors when they had said
that his Lizzie was victim to some non-contagious disease that
they could neither identify nor cure but that they could see
acted very like AIDS, with a similar guarantee of fatality--Mike
believed it when Scully told him, and believed her as well when
she promised Lizzie would return healthy, and was willing to
wait.  As long as it took, so they could have their Halloween
wedding.

Of course not all families and friends knew, and not all
believed, and some demanded to know when they would see their
loved ones again, a question even Scully could not answer.  All
she had for real evidence was her own self, and there were those
who didn't even believe that.

After a week and more of this, Mulder and Scully both were
exhausted when they returned to the X-files division.  For some
reason, climbing stairs up instead of descending into the
basement to get to their office felt especially wrong to Scully,
an alteration in her life that she couldn't adjust to.

She mentioned it to Mulder, but after four years of it he only
gave her a blank look and made a snappy remark about elevators
and exercise.

And the offices itself, with its six extra agents, felt even
worse.  As quickly as possible she retreated into Mulder's own
office, which had at least a passing resemblance to the old one,
like the only one desk that they both had to share.  But also big
windows with a fairly nice view of the city, which was nothing
like their old one.

Mulder entered soon after her and dropped into his chair, tilting
it back and turning it slightly with his toes.  "At least we sit
more comfortably," he offered to her.

Scully was on the edge of her seat, as if wary of toppling it if
she leaned back.  "I suppose," she said quietly.

"Scully, I--" and then Pender poked his head in. 

"Sir, sorry, but there's a couple of things that have backed up
in your absence, you wouldn't believe the number of crop circles
in Arkansas this week (Gibbons asked me to tell you that), I
think Skinner's been hunting you, and..." He grimaced. "And you
need to get a secretary.  I refuse the duty, flat-out."

"But you have talent!" Mulder argued, smiling wearily and pushing
himself off his chair, willingly forging into the world outside
their office.  Knight on a crusade, as always.

Pender opened the door for him and closed it, shutting himself
in.  "Scully," he began.

She turned to face him, nodded. "Yes?"

"I wanted to say...that I'm sorry.  Mulder talked to me,
explained everything, the whole piece of the story that I hadn't
gotten.  Things made a little more sense after that.  I was
wondering, would you mind if I fed it to the rest of the team?"

"Sure, fine, whatever," Scully muttered, then, seeing Pender's
doubtful look, shook her head. "No, honestly, I don't mind.  Tell
them.  They should know.  They have a right to."

"Thanks," Pender bowed his head quickly once, but still didn't
leave.  "Now, about the apology--"

"You're forgiven.  You said 'I'm sorry.'  I absolve you of all
guilt.  Go in peace, my son." She made a half-hearted cross in
the air.

Pender frowned.  "This is of important, you know.  What I did.  I
do feel guilty about it, though I want you to understand my
motives--I think you do.  Trust isn't a thing which comes easily
to any of us here, we've been through too much.  But I want your
trust."

She stood, looked him up and straight in the eye. "And you have
it, Pender.  I mean that.  I do trust you.  If you--"

"I do." Pender nodded, completely serious. "I trust you."

"Good."

"Hard for trust to exist with that sort of base," Pender said
suddenly. "I've never aimed a gun at a fellow X-files agent."

Scully raised an eyebrow. "You mean, FBI agents?"

"No." Pender half-smiled. "I mean X-files agents.  Regular Bureau
agents are another matter."

"I'll have to hear about that sometime."

"Sure, when the rest of the division does.  But I'm serious here. 
We depend on each other so much, I never thought I'd threaten one
of us...and Mulder nearly threatened me.  I never thought I'd be
put in that position either, the losing end of that sort of
resolution..."

"You didn't lose," Scully pointed out.

"None of us did," Pender said.  "I don't know what would have
happened if one of us had.  If one of us had been killed, even
just injured--by another of the X-files...what would happen to
the trust then?"

"It might survive," Scully said slowly. "It's possible.  And I am
speaking of more than theory..."

Pender stared. "Personal experience?"

"It's a hard thing to get over, I'm not suggesting it, but I can
give you my guarantee--someone you've shot can still trust you,
if the circumstances are right."

"Trust you correctly?"

"Completely, a failsafe trust.  A double trust, in which it's
impossible to say whose faith in the other is stronger..."

"Your own is."

"You have proof?"

"No," Pender answered, "that's just what any of us think.  In the
X-files, that our faith is the stronger, that the other can be
trusted more than ourselves can.  Of course the other one always
thinks the exact reverse...that /you're/ the more trustworthy
one." He hesitated. "If you understood any of that--"

"I know what you're trying to say."

Pender bowed his head.  Then cocked his ear toward the door.
"Sounds like there's an argument going on out there."

"Sounds like Mulder."

"And Guss?" Pender blinked. "If this is about that murder--Guss
has been insisting it's a human killer, despite all marks to the
contrary...would he go against the director though..?"

"It sounds like an investigation worthy of two X-files agents. 
Shall we?"

"Certainly." Pender took the arm of his past partner's partner
and they proceeded into the main office.

Scully, looking it over, with the newspaper clippings papering
the wall, the cramped desks overflowing with clutter, and the six
agents and one director standing in the middle of it all debating
tenuous theories at slightly under the top of their lungs,
thought it appeared surprisingly like the way things should be.  

Joining the argument (on Guss's side, against Mulder; his was the
more logical stance) felt startlingly familiar.  

And for the first time in over five years, she knew she was where
she belonged.


The End