From Sheryl_Martin@tvo.org Wed May 21 11:03:53 1997 Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: On The Mountain (1/1) From: Sheryl_Martin@tvo.org (Sheryl Martin) -------- All Characters copyright of TenThirteen Productions and Chris Carter. No infringement intended on any part... go ahead, take me to court... I'm using the insanity defence... heh, heh, heh... Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@tvo.org Summary: What St. George is doing during "Gethsemane"... Rating: G, Vignette... Spoiler: Obviously, "Gethsemane"... Author's Note: Heck, I wanted to know how Mulder got the body all the way back to the States from the Canadian Yukon... and this is the best I could come up with... On The Mountain (1/1) by Sheryl Martin Sitting in the helicopter, the woman looked down at the base camp where they were about to land. "St. George? I've got a call coming in from the Office..." The pilot flipped a switch, connecting her helmet headphones. "St. George..." She shook her head, forgetting that no one could see her. "No, sir - I haven't gotten up to the dig yet... no, I don't know anything about any helicopter flying out of here without permission. There's a rumour about some fellows taking one; but I'll follow that one up myself..." She grunted as the helicopter landed hard with a thud on the packed snow. "Yes, sir... I'll let you know exactly what I find." Ripping off the headphones, she stared out at the yellow tents. "Oh, Mulder... what the hell have you gotten yourself into this time?" She whispered before sliding the door open. ********* "It'll be dark before we get up to the site; but..." The guide was smiling as he displayed a stack of flashlights. "I was warned that your people wanted to get up there pronto." Waving a hand at the small team behind her, the Canadian smiled. "Gee, whatever gave you that idea?" Her face grew solemn. "And six bodies are enough to grab and keep my attention." ******** The first body was still where it lay; the snow a dark red around the chest where he had been shot. St. George frowned, taking a step back and looking. "There were two other people here - they flipped him over and then kept on going." She pointed at the snow imprints. "This path gets a lot of wear, but this guy didn't turn over by himself." She stared up mountain. And shivered. ********* The carnage in the cave was as bad as the first radio reports had described it. Torn yellow tent fabric whipping back and forth in the wind that kept sweeping through the small encampment; the reddened snow unable to melt and disappear back into the mountain... the bodies lying where they had been shot, mouths and faces frozen literally at the time of death. The team set to work quietly by the light of the electric torches they had dragged up the mountain; cataloguing and collecting evidence. Each corpse was identified and tagged; pictures taken and samples dug out from under fingernails and clippings from the frozen hair. Finally slipped into dark green body bags and carried outside the small cave to be dragged down by sled the next day. St. George looked at the hole sliced out of the ice wall; shaking her head. Walking over to the hole in the middle of the small camp; she mentally measured the sizes and found them matching. "Okay, you dug whatever it was out of the ice and dumped it in this hole... then took it out of here by helicopter..." She closed her eyes and tried to figure out what she could cover this one up with. He hadn't mentioned the dead bodies when he had called her for help. Sometimes being friends with Fox Mulder was a real pain. More than the headache she had now. Kicking at a patch of reddening snow, she walked around the encampment and stared at the body bags as they began to line up by the sled. Whoever put this one together wasn't that fussy about leaving tracks. And tracks were easy to follow if you knew who you were hunting. Pulling out her cell phone, she punched in a familiar number. "Hello, this is Mulder. Leave your name and number..." Click. Dial different number. "Scully..." "Dana, where the hell is Mulder? I need to find out what the hell he was doing..." The Canadian leaned on a large rock jutting out of the snow; sitting down on the cold stone. "I know he signed the log up here as Luder, but I'm sitting here surrounded by bodies and a helluva lot of trouble. And he's not at his apartment, so I want..." "He's dead." The static almost overwhelmed the softly whispered words. "Dana..." St. George shook her head. "I've got a bad line - I'm up the side of a bloody mountain... "Mulder died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound to his head in his apartment. I identified the body this morning." Static. "Dana, don't tell me..." "I've got to go into a meeting." A sharp intake of breath. "Come home, Jackie. Please." The line went dead. St. George stared at the phone for a long second. The snow had just started to fall again; a light dusting quickly covering her hands and the cell phone. Tucking it back into her parka, she hopped off the rock and cupped her hands around her mouth. "Brian!" The roar echoed around the icy cavern and up the mountain. A man separated himself from the other agents and scrambled down towards her. "I need to get down off this place right now. I need to get back to Washington immediately." Her words were short and clipped and sharp. The Mountie nodded, then shook his head. "I was coming to get you when you got off the phone." He handed her the walkie-talkie. "Office on the phone. I told them you were making a personal call." "Thanks." She took it from him. "Just prep everyone for a fast exit. I want to get out of here pronto." Nodding, Brian turned back. "I'll call for the chopper to meet us back at the base camp." Putting the radio close to her face, she pushed the button. "St. George here..." "Situation under control?" The emotionless voice demanded. "As much as it can be. Dead bodies, missing hunks of ice... heck, nothing we're not used to by now. But I need..." "Who signed out the missing helicopter?" She took a deep breath. "Some fellow called Luder. I'll run his name through the databanks back in Washington; but it's probably an alias. But I don't think he killed all these people - doesn't make sense considering the time between the murders and the chopper theft." "You're sure it crossed the border?" "Already alerted the Americans. But you know how it goes..." "Yes, we do." Static. "Sir, I need to get back to Washington. I have a sick friend..." "Negative." She stared at the radio for a second. "Say again, please?" "Negative. You stay there until we give you the word." "On this mountain?" Her voice went up a notch. "Sir, I have to..." "St. George, we need you to stay where you are. With the bodies until extraction and then to the city for further investigation. You will not go back to Washington until we say so." "With all due respect..." "This isn't a discussion. Return to the base camp and stand by." Static. She looked at the radio. Lifting it in her hand, the woman slammed it down on the stone beside her; smashing it again and again until the dangling wires and the shattered plastic fell out of her hand onto the snow. Brian walked up, stopping short as he saw the remains of the radio. "Equipment failure." St. George shrugged. "Now get me off this mountain." "That's what I came to tell you." He took a deep breath, choking slightly on the frigid air. "There's a storm coming in. Bad one. We've got to get back to the camp now or get caught up here for a while." "Then let's get it in gear." She snapped, walking by him. "Just call ahead and get a chopper to the base and..." "That's what I'm saying." He flinched as she turned and stared at him. "There's nothing coming in or going out until the front passes. By the time we hit the bottom the storm'll be here and we're stuck. It's only a case of where we're stranded; up here or down there." Her face hardened. "How long is the storm going to be over us?" "Hours, days, weeks... they don't have a prediction yet. And even when it's over; we've got to call down for a chopper to come up. They're not risking leaving one in the camp while we're holing up in our tents." Brian sighed. "We've got to get going." Looking back at the ice cave, St. George nodded. "I hope you have a deck of cards. And lots of matchsticks." Brian nodded, walking off to gesture wildly at the rest of the team members as they scrambled to finish packing up. "Oh, Mulder..." The Canadian quietly said to the snowflakes as they fell harder around her. "What the hell have you gotten into now?" She paused. "And if you're not dead, you will want to be when I get ahold of you. Because of what you're doing to her." The thick snow began to whirl around her; threatening to cut off her sight. "St. George! We're ready to roll!" The voice came from the direction of the trail. "Right." She shook her head. "Let's get as far off this dammed mountain as we can before the worst of this hits." Stopping, she looked back at the cave. "A cold day in Hell indeed..." Shaking her head, the woman started to walk down the trail behind the sled. ********* "Heart of a warrior; mind of a fool... soul of a romantic." - Jackie St. George "I am a brother to dragons and a companion to owls..." - The Book of Job All Dragon stories archieved by the Wonderful Stef Davies (grovel, grovel..) at: http://web.ukonline.co.uk/stephanie.davies/dragon.htm ****************************************************** - sent via an evaluation copy of BulkRate (unregistered).