From: Dawn Rice Date: Wed, 18 Apr 2001 10:51:26 +0800 Subject: Phantom Fireflies by Dawnwind Source: direct Title: Phantom Fireflies Author: Dawnwind E-mail address: Dawnrca@Earthlink.net Rating: PG Category: Story, Angst Spoilers: Brand X, Endgame Keywords: UST Summery: Mulder contracts a virus, which has already killed several other people. Phantom Fireflies FBI Headquarters- Thursday, 8:30 a.m. Surprised to actually find the basement office door locked, Dana Scully had to fish to the bottom of her purse for find her key. She seldom, if ever, needed it since Mulder nearly always arrived before she did. Truth be told, there were days where she strongly suspected he had just never left the night before. The cluttered office was quiet and slightly chilly, since neither agent had been there in three days. Scully still felt out of sync, on California time. Maybe that was it, Mulder had overslept. Never the less, she had a tiny frission of worry that something was wrong. It had been the rare non-stop flight and Mulder had actually slept half the distance. So, oversleeping probably wasn't the problem. After stowing her purse in a drawer, Scully fingered her cell phone. She'd give Mulder until eight thirty, then start checking up on him. He walked in, or rather dragged in, at eight twenty five. "Mulder, where..." Scully stopped, surveying her partner acutely. "Well, now I know why you're late." His nose was red, his eyes watery and a cough escaped before he could speak. "I think I've got a cold, Scully." She felt his forehead with the back of her hand, "You've got a fever, Mulder." "I thought so too, so I took your advice and took that Tylenol before I left." He sighed. "Didn't do much for the headache, though." "Did you take your temperature before the Tylenol?" She frowned. He hadn't even looked sick when they'd parted at the airport. "Well, no." "I'll go find a thermometer." "Oh, no, I know where your thermometers have been." He wrinkled his nose, sneezing in the process. His throat and chest had become even more constricted in the ride over from his apartment. Scully returned, shaking down an old-fashioned mercury thermometer. She stood resolutely in front of her partner, holding out the glass wand. "Open your mouth." "I am not putting anything you may have used on a dead body in me." "It's sterilized, Mulder. Open up." He complied, waiting until she eyed the silver line. "One hundred degrees. You should be home in bed." "I've got paperwork to do, Scully, reports about that hut in Salinas." "I'll do the paperwork." She said resignedly, she did most of it anyway, "But we didn't find anything." "That dust in that place, Scully..." "It was an abandoned hut covered in dust and rat droppings, I'm sure." She shook her head. "I don't know why you like to go ferreting around places like that." "So you don't have to." He gave her a crooked smile, then sneezed and coughed. "Besides, I don't LIKE to." "You need to go home and go to bed." She reiterated. "Do I need to drive you myself?" "I can drive." He stood shakily. "But, I'm not spending all day in that bed. I still don't know why I ever got a water..." "Then watch bad sci fi lying on the couch." Scully gave him a little push out the door. "I'll come by around noon with some chicken noodle soup." "Can you bring won ton instead? From the Imperial City Cafe?" "Won ton soup it is. Now go, Mulder." She insisted. "Feel better." She added in a gentler tone. "Oh, wait." He fished a small plastic baggie out of his coat pocket. "Evidence." "Of what?" Dana grimaced. He was always handing her disgusting things, like monkey piss. "The dust from the hut." He coughed. "All those children from the strawberry fields claimed they'd seen something strange in that hut...they said it glowed." "They didn't go in. They couldn't describe anything specific." Scully argued. "It was probably...I don't know- fireflies." "In Central California?" Mulder laughed. "You're reaching, Scully." "So are you." Scully shooed him out the door. "There was no x- file in Salinas, Mulder. Go to bed." Once her partner had finally left, Scully switched on her computer, tidying up the desk while she waited. She discovered several desiccated french fries, an ancient ham on rye and two empty sunflower seed packets under piles of half finished reports. "Mulder, Mulder..."She murmured to herself. "No wonder Skinner complains about our paperwork. I always finish my half." Opening Mulder's junk drawer, which was full of odd bits and pieces that only he could identify, Scully dropped the baggie of dust in. She spent the morning finishing up the four reports on the desk and the Salinas file. Hitting the print key, she watched the laser jet spit out reams of paper impatiently, wanting to get out to the Imperial City Cafe before the lunch crowd hit. She left the paper uncollated on the desk and grabbed her purse, after phoning in the order for won ton soup and a small fried rice. * * * * * * 12:15 p.m. "Mulder?" Scully knocked politely before letting herself in to his apartment. "Are you awake?" Despite the noon hour, Mulder's apartment was shadowy and dark. "I've brought the soup." When he didn't answer, Scully dropped the bag on the coffee table, bending down to get a closer look. Mulder was curled in a fetal position, covered by an afghan. He didn't even move when Scully put her hand on his forehead. It felt like a stove burner set on high. "My God, how did your fever go up so quickly?" She worried, her stomach no longer hungry for Chinese rice. This was more than a simple flu. She automatically punched 911 into the phone. The paramedics were prompt and efficient, starting an IV of lactated ringers and getting him loaded into the portable gurney with amazing speed. After he'd been bumped down the hall, into the elevator, out though the lobby and into the ambulance, Mulder regained consciousness. "Scully?" He gazed around him in tired astonishment. He'd been in enough ambulances to instantly recognize one and wasn't at all happy about it. "Isn't this a little extreme for the flu?" "Your fever went to 104."She told him, happy to see his eyes open. "Scared the daylights out of me." "Just so long as it wasn't those Salinas fireflies." He teased, then coughed. The coughing went on so long he began to wonder if he'd be able to breathe without wrenching pains in his chest. Finally, after the paramedic slapped an oxygen mask in place, he took short, shuddery breaths, forcing the coughs back down into his lungs. It hurt. "Damn." He whispered. "Don't talk anymore. Mulder." Scully shushed, holding his hand. "Bossy." Mulder retorted, but refrained from saying more, the coughing welling up from his chest like a tidal wave. Luckily, the ambulance had pulled in front of the ER and the gurney was quickly unloaded. As usual, Scully was designated to filling out admission and insurance forms, despite her medical degree. She'd found Emergency doctors, in particular young residents, seemed to think a pathologist unable to react quickly on her feet. She waited outside the treatment room, alternatively thinking up situations where she could perform medical feats of marvel to the amazement of a wet behind the ears first year intern and worrying about Mulder's health. She'd never seen a flu progress so quickly before. Even the so called '24 hour" flus didn't behave like that, and most of those were miss-named food poisoning. This rapid onset of respiratory symptoms and high fever was frightening. "Ms. Scully?" A smooth faced young man with dark curly hair approached. His hospital badge labeled him Dr. Berkeley Greene. Berkeley? Scully's concentration thrown for a moment, she immediately identified him as a child of hippies. "Ms. Scully?" "Doctor Scully." She corrected. "How is my partner?" "Sorry, Doctor." He had the youth to be chagrinned at having made that faux pas. "His temp has come down slightly from what the paramedics reported at the scene, and he's better hydrated with the IV, but his respiratory status seems to be worsening. We've got him on a Vapo mist to help open up his airways and a high flow oxygen, but his initial blood gas wasn't great and his sats are only about 90." That wasn't good, especially on a lot of oxygen. A normal, healthy adult should have a blood oxygen saturation of 99 to 100. "Did you draw blood work, yet?" "Yes, the usual compliment." Berke nodded. "If you'd like to see him, we're just waiting for a chest x-ray. They're always backed up." "Thank you." Scully pushed open the exam room door. Mulder lay on the gurney, an IV in one arm, heart monitor leads plastered on his chest and an oxygen cannula in his nose. Despite the O2, he was breathing heavily , with audible gasps. "Hey, how're you doing?" She took his hand. "I'm fine." He lied with a glimpse of a smile. "Just a little hard to breathe." "I can see that. Mulder, when did you start feeling bad?" "When I woke up. It came on fast." He wheezed. "I'll say." Scully bit her lip in concern, then was pushed aside as the nurse came to wheel him up to x-ray. "I'll be here waiting when you're done, Mulder." * * * * * * Returning to her little bank of plastic chairs, Scully found she'd acquired a neighbor. A portly, red faced man nodded to her. "My wife's in there." He said before going back to perusing the Washington Post. "My friend is sick." Scully responded, not sure whether he was paying any attention to her at all. The man discarded the front section of the paper, unfolding the sports section. Scully absently read a headline upside down, picking out the words virus and Salinas. Her heart thudded against her ribs as she leaned down to grab the paper. A small article on the lower front page proclaimed that five migrant workers in Salinas had come down with a rare virus, a form of arena virus. Scully was running down the hall to the nurse's station before she even realized what she'd done. "Is Dr. Greene available? It's important." "Just a moment, I'll page him." A tiny Asian nurse nodded. "He'll call soon." While waiting, Scully scanned the rest of the article. A side bar described the symptoms and causes of infection. It was so eerily like Mulder's illness, she felt barely able to breathe herself. Flu like symptoms which could lead to complete respiratory failure; most people were infected by inhaling airborne particles of rat or mouse droppings. A similar outbreak in the Southwest a few years ago had resulted in several deaths. Dr. Greene didn't call back, he came out of the elevator with Mulder's gurney. The doctor was pumping oxygen into the sick agent's lungs with a portable Ambu bag, his dark fingers rhythmically squeezing the blue bag with serious intent. "What happened?" Scully gasped. "He stopped breathing after the x-ray." Berke informed her, never stopping his constant pumping on the oxygen bag. "We need to intubate." Although she understood what the doctor and nurses needed to do, Scully felt fear creep down her backbone. Placing Mulder on a ventilator would help him breathe until he could get the proper treatment and medication. But it was only one thirty in the afternoon. Mulder's virus had progressed from regular flu symptoms to respiratory arrest in one morning. It was too fast. How could the virus be slowed down enough to let medical science work? "Give me succinylcholine and atropine. I want to intubate now." Greene commanded as the room swarmed with activity. "Doctor Greene, I know you're busy, but I need to talk to you when you're done." Scully said urgently, moving back against the wall to allow the ER personnel room to work, "I think I know what kind of virus he has." "Great, that's help us concentrate on his cure." Berke slid a long curved endotracheal tube down Mulder's throat, then attached the oxygen bag to the open end. "We're in." He proclaimed as his bagging caused Mulder's chest to rise. "Sats already up to 95."A nurse called out. "Get an arterial gas, stat." Berke pulled off his rubber gloves, watching his patient. Mulder's color was a pale gray, despite the increasing oxygen saturation in his blood, and his fever was already back to 104 degrees. He was not looking promising at present. "How was the chest x-ray?" Scully asked. "Not developed yet." He rubbed his forehead, a headache starting. "But going by breath sounds, I'd say pretty much white out. He sounds like shit." "We were in Salinas over the weekend." Dana held out the newspaper, "There's been an outbreak of arena virus. I want to start him on high doses of ribaviron immediately." "That sure sounds like the bug." Berke read the first few paragraphs. "We'll need to draw more blood. We've already started him on Vancomycin, but let's add ribaviron to the mix and see if it helps. Can't hurt." "And then wait for 48 hours." Scully sighed. "At least. It came on so quickly, his immune system was completely overwhelmed." Berke said. "We'll need to give him every support until he starts to fight back." "Mulder's always been a fighter." Scully murmured. She watched as the nurse slid a needle into his wrist to draw an arterial blood gas. The bright red heart's blood would show if the ventilator was helping him oxygenate. "We'll be moving him up to the ICU." The little Asian nurse said as she carried the blood out to be tested. "Mulder." Scully curved her fingers around his lax ones. "Don't let this stupid little virus get you. There's no X-file here. You've fought back from worse than this-in Alaska, Arizona. Breathe deep." When the nurse returned with reinforcements, Scully helped wheel Mulder to the elevator and up to the ICU. He didn't seem to notice the location change in the least, lying unmoving in the hospital bed. Out of nervous habit, Scully checked the IV site, the ventilator settings and the heart rate monitor. He was critically ill, needing the strongest medications, and maximum support to breathe. At least Dr. Greene had agreed readily to the ribaviron. Once Mulder received a few doses, he should start to recover. Would start to recover. Touching the IV bag for the second time in half an hour, Scully realized she couldn't stay in the room. Her thoughts were racing between alternate treatments to save Mulder's life and being unable to stop his inevitable slide towards death. She had to do something to help. "Dr. Scully?" Berke stepped into the room just as Dana rose to leave. "This is Dr. Nicholas Fielding. He's in Infectious Disease- and probably knows more about these kind of viruses than anyone on the East Coast." "Dr. Fielding." Scully had to look up. The man had to be over six foot four. She shook his offered hand. "What can you tell me?" "That I.D. is very interested in your friend. We haven't had a case of Hanta virus or any of its cousins in Virginia, ever." He opened the folder he carried. "Plus, your friend-Mulder-has some fairly interesting blood work." "This isn't the first rare virus he's encountered." She explained about the illness he'd had in Alaska. His blood had been so thick and sludge like it literally stopped him heart at normal body temperatures. She'd had to keep him hypothermic until the ribavirons had begun to work. "So, he has some unusual antibodies in his blood." Fielding remarked, intrigued by her information. "Who knows, that could be to his advantage." "I have some dust from the hut he was in." "I knew I was in love when I met you." Fielding grinned suddenly, a dimple appearing in his cheek. "So few women carry dust around with them." And I didn't." Scully felt vaguely cheered by his quips. It reminded her of Mulder. "It's in the basement." "That's where I'd keep my dust." He agreed. "Listen to me, do not open the bag or examine it in any way. I need to call California about any info the doctors out there can tell us, but this thing hit your partner pretty darn fast." "I'll tell the lab to be waiting for you." Berke spoke up. * * * * * * FBI Headquarters, 4:45 p.m. Opening the drawer to Mulder's desk, Scully extracted the sandwich bag full of dust, examining it more critically than when Mulder had first handed it to her. It appeared to be nothing but dirt. There was a vague glitter to it, but she suspected that was just bits of mica. She wanted very much to know if this had made Mulder sick. However, in six years some of his raging paranoia had rubbed off and she wasn't willing to give every particle to Nick Fielding, even if he could crack a joke. She tucked it into her jacket pocket, planning to head over to her second home, the pathology lab. "Agent Scully?" Assistant Director Skinner stood in the open doorway to the office. Scully was surprised to see that he looked uncertain. "How's Agent Mulder?" "He's ill." She sighed, "Very bad." Skinner regained his composure, frowning. "Why did he fly out to California?" Scully hated to have to explain her partner's actions when she didn't totally agree with them. If they'd found something strange or mysterious, she'd at least feel there had been good reason to be in Salinas, but it had been nothing but sickness. A rare, but completely known human disease. "He thought there was evidence of...there had been sightings of weird glowing lights." Dana closed her fingers around the bag in her pocket. "But we didn't see anything." "But it made him sick?" "Rat droppings made him sick." Scully said tightly, "Like it's made many other people-who've died. But Mulder is not going to die." "Can you cure him?" "I plan to." She hissed, her heels snapping loudly in the hall as she walked towards the lab. Adorning herself in latex gloves and a blue paper surgical mask, Scully carefully transferred a small amount of the dust into a test tube. She labeled it Salinas and tucked it into her personal locker. It felt melodramatic, but she thought Mulder would have approved. There had been too many times when evidence and even the person handling the evidence had disappeared. Breathing shallowly in the confines of the surgical mask, Scully withdrew another tiny portion of dust with a pipette and placed it on a glass slide. She sandwiched the specimen with a slide cover and placed it on a microscope. adjusting the eye pieces, Dana peered down at the cause of Mulder's illness. She easily identified the difference between common dirt and rat droppings. There were tiny particles of a shiny mineral, but Scully's knowledge of mineralogy wasn't strong enough to be sure they were just mica. However, she didn't see anything that looked obviously out of place or evidently alien to the naked microscope eye, but then, she wasn't using a very powerful lens. She set aside another small sample, just to have enough for an independent analysis, perhaps with a gas chromatograph to ascertain the mineral compound. Her hand trembled, just once, while she was preparing the sample. It unnerved her to think that she was nervous enough about Mulder's condition that she wasn't able to think like a scientist. Worries about Mulder kept slipping through her defenses, and she knew that she'd never be able to conduct a proper examination under these circumstances. With a sigh, she secreted the slides in her locker with the test tube and cleaned up. The hospital lab would be able to discover much more from the specimen than she had, and she was anxious to hear about Mulder's condition. * * * * * * The lab techs at Georgetown University Hospital reacted so excitedly to Scully's little baggie of dirt, she felt like Santa Claus leaving gifts. Rare viruses probably were more interesting than a constant diet of CBCs and electrolyte levels. The ICU nurse reported that Mulder's temperature had decreased, his oxygen saturation had increased and he'd had brief periods of drugged wakefulness. Scully hoped she could catch him in one of those awake times. Naturally, he was asleep when she arrived, and she settled into the bedside chair. She'd sat in so many hospitals, in so many chairs next to Mulder's bed, it was beginning to feel familiar, which she didn't like. Mulder was one of the most accident prone people Dana had ever met in her life, and she was a doctor! If bad things happened to good people, Mulder thrived on sickness, torture and hardship. She doubted he enjoyed the dubious distinction or even recognized it for the prize it was, but he was a survivor. He'd recovered from weird viruses, tobacco beetles invading his lungs and probably unsanitary brain surgery. Arena virus should be a walk in the park for him. Tucking her cold fingers into Mulder's still feverishly hot ones, Scully felt him tighten his grip on her hand. "Mulder? Are you awake?" The ventilator tubing prevented him from talking, but his gray green eyes were open, looking up at her. His hand went up to the tubing, as if to pull it out, but Scully stopped him. "Just be patient, Patient." Scully quipped, "Right now you need the ventilator to help you breathe. You may not have found aliens in Salinas, but I knew there were rats in that hut. You caught a virus...kind of like the Hanta virus." Mulder's eyes burned into her, he looked ready to jump out of the bed. "I know, Cancerman's used Hanta virus as a cover for his operations, but it is a REAL illness, Mulder, and you have it." She gently pushed his head back onto the pillow, "And I haven't called FEMA yet." He rolled his eyes at her for the retort and made writing motions with his hand. Digging into her purse, Scully retrieved a pad and pen. "Be nice." She admonished. He wrote 'Fuck nice, How long vent?' "Until you don't need it, Mulder." She answered quietly, "You nearly died. You need to rest, let the medicine work and get better." He wrote 'C.G.B." on the pad. "I'm keeping my eyes open." She laid a hand on his hot forehead. "And I haven't smelled any cigarette smoke all day. Go to sleep, Mulder." The word 'Trust" skittered across the pad, his hand tiring. "Trust me." She took the Bic from his hand as the morphine took him back under. Late afternoon turned into late evening, the rhythm of the ICU flowing around Scully's chair. She helped the nurses with Mulder's care and tried to stay out of the way when the doctors had to code an older women in the bed across from her. The sadness in the room was palpable. Scully remembered again why she had chosen to work in pathology. "Dr. Scully?" "Dr. Fielding?" She responded, peering up at his tall, slender form. He was smiling broadly, dimples deepening in both cheeks. "I haven't had such a good time in the lab since med school." "You don't get out much, Dr. Fielding." "Especially when I get a patient with a really weird virus." "What did you find?" Her heart thumped nervously. "I'm not quite sure- not what we were expecting." His attitude sobered. "Would you like to have a look?" Not telling him she'd already examined the dust, Scully followed the tall doctor downstairs to the lab. His hand on the doorknob, Fielding turned back to her, "We had finished our preliminary work and were cleaning up-this lab is only used for special jobs. Mark turned off the light..."He swung open the door and pointed. The area around the microscope glowed with an eerie bluish light. "Wow." Scully murmured. It was a less than adequate word for the situation, but she wasn't sure exactly what adjective was appropriate. "Pretty much my first impression, too." Nick waved his hand near the microscope. His skin reflected the blue color. "No heat, just a ..." "Glow." Scully nodded. "Mulder said that some children reported seeing a glow from the hut. But, we saw it during the day. Neither of us thought to come back at night." She approached the microscope warily. "Mind if I take a look?" "Be my guest." He shrugged, "There are some fairly strange particles in there-not exactly plain ol "California soil." "Really?" Scully pursed her lips, peering down at the sample. The glow nearly hurt her eyes when looking through the eye piece, but other than that, it truly did not look any different than the slide she had back at the Hoover building. "How can you tell?" "Honestly, I couldn't." He grinned at her. "Dirt is out of my expertise, but Mark was a big help. We have isolated the virus out of the rat droppings, but he wants to do a PCR and gel electro- phoresis test, which can take 2 or 3 days." "To test for other things." "Yep." "What exactly do you expect to find?" Scully looked up into his very blue eyes, her stomach knotting. She knew what Mulder would say. "Got me." Fielding slid the slide out and placed it in a small case with a dozen other similarly labeled slides. "Maybe Martian dust." "It's not red." Scully scoffed. "No, we have established one thing, it's definitely blue." He held up his hands. "Very interesting, I really can't hazard a guess. I did talk to some experts at UCLA Med Center." He gave her a rundown on the medical advice he'd received and what he'd done to fine tune Mulder's care. "Thank you for your dedication." Dana said sincerely. "Weren't nuthin', Ma'am." He pretended to pull his forelock, "Would you like a late night cup of coffee?" "At 11:30 at night, no." Scully opened the door for him, "But if your cafeteria has hot chocolate, I'll go Dutch." "And I had you pegged for an Irish girl." Scully gave him a raised eyebrow before following him down the hall. It took her a minute to realize he was humming 'My Wild Irish Rose'. * * * * * Georgetown University Hospital, Sunday 3:30 p.m. Hurrying down the corridor, Scully felt hope buoying up inside her. The plan had been if Mulder's blood gases continued to improve as well as they had been, the doctor would extubate him. He'd been on the ventilator for nearly three days and was definitely getting antsy. All morning Scully had sat next to his bed keeping him distracted from ripping out the ventilator tube himself. "We have a winner." Nick Fielding waved a blood gas slip as Scully arrived at Mulder's room. "O2 and CO2 levels are excellent. He's not completely cured yet, but I think he can breathe on his own." "I don't think he'll give you any argument." Scully smiled. Mulder's eyes sought her out when she entered the room, followed by Dr. Fielding and a respiratory therapist. Scully took Mulder's hand, giving him an encouraging squeeze. "Ok, Mulder." The tall Doctor began, "You probably don't remember being intubated, a lot of patients don't, but I've been told extubation can be a little scary. First Sherry is going to suction down the tube to get rid of all the secretions, then I want you to take a really deep breath and cough as hard as you can, while I pull it out." Nodding his assent, Mulder watched as Sherry disconnected the tube in his mouth from the ventilator and inserted a long suction catheter down the tube to insure that there were no secretions to clog his trachea when the endotracheal tube was pulled. For a few seconds, it was as if Mulder had no oxygen and couldn't take a breath to get any. He clenched Scully's hand hard enough to bruise her fingers, panic welling up as his heart rate doubled. As Sherry withdrew the catheter, Mulder sucked in a lungful of air, coughing painfully. Nick pulled the tube out in one movement. It had taken less than a minute, but Mulder felt as if he'd run a marathon. Breathing was painful, his throat wheezing as he strained to slow the coughing. "Mulder, relax." Dana gently pushed him back against the pillow as Sherry placed a nasal cannula on him and administered an Albuteral inhalation treatment. The prolonged coughing was scaring Scully, since that was exactly what had brought him into the hospital in the first place. Despite Dr. Fielding's optimism, Mulder didn't look any better. The albuteral finally quieted his spasms, although doing nothing for his still racing heart beat. "A little rougher than I expected." Nick observed, placing a stethoscope on Mulder's chest to listen for breath sounds. "Sounds a lot better, the virus filled your lungs up with fluid-like having pneumonia. That's improved vastly." "Oh, yah, I can tell." Mulder rasped, his throat like sandpaper. "Thanks." He stifled a cough, taking a sip of water from the cup Scully held out. "Why does my heart want to jump out of my chest?" The sentence exhausted him. "It's the albuteral, an unfortunate side effect of the drug." Nick gently put his fingers against Mulder's wrist, feeling his rapid pulse. "As you start feeling better, you'll need it less." "Did you get the results back on the PCR test yet?" Scully asked, knowing Mulder would pester her for information once the doctor left. "I'm just going down to the lab now." He answered. "You'll be the first ones I tell." "Thanks." Scully smiled, then turned her attention to her partner who was already fiddling with his nasal cannula. "When can I get out of here, Scully?" He asked peevishly, his chest still heaving with the effort to breathe. "When you can breathe without wheezing like a ninety year old smoker." She groaned, "Mulder, you were just extubated-several days faster than expected. You survived a virus that killed five people in Salinas. Be grateful." "What tests?" His voice was barely above a whisper, it hurt to talk. "I wondered when you'd ask." She laughed, flicking the covers up over him. "On the dust you found-with lots of arena virus present. You heard Nick. Now take a nap until the results are back." "Nick?" He repeated, feeling a smidgen of jealousy. She was on a first name basis with his doctor? He couldn't fight the fatigue, though, and was asleep within minutes. Scully smiled, watching him sleep. Barely recovered from his near fatal illness and he already wanted to be up, on the trail of his latest X-file. Not that she didn't find the blue glowing dust just a trifle weird, but it was just dust, wasn't it? A nurse came in to tell her the results were still inconclusive and Dr. Fielding would call her when he knew more. * * * * * * 7:30 p.m. After leaving the hospital, Scully got take-out from her local Thai restaurant, to eat in front of the TV before bed. It was the first evening since Mulder's collapse she'd felt relaxed enough to do so. However, the message on her answering machine made her drop the bag and quickly dial the correct number . "Yes." A voice growled. "Turn off the tape, Frohike." Dana commanded, knowing the Lone Gunmen recorded all their conversations. The little gnomish man had such a crush on her, she wouldn't put it past him to record her voice and then splice it together into a much sexier conversation. "Ah, the lovely Agent Scully." he sighed, as if he hadn't been expecting her call. "You had information?" She asked briskly. Scully could hear a shuffling and clunking as the phone obviously changed hands. The next voice she hear was that of Byers, the handsome, dapper member of the team. "How is Mulder doing, Scully?" Byers asked politely. "Much better, thank you." She replied primly, feeling somewhat confused. "He was breathing on his own, but he's still under the weather. You called me about something?" "We? Uh..."Byers glanced over at his fellow Lone Gunmen, not sure how to explain what he knew without revealing where he'd gotten it. Langly grabbed the phone away from his friend. "Mulder may have an alien disease." He blurted out. "No." Scully's voice was firm. "He has a form of Arena virus, like Hanta..." "It presents like that, but the virus showed alien RNA." He continued breathlessly. "That's impossible, Dr. Fielding would have told me..."She broke off abruptly, "Where did you get this?" "That's classified." Langly replied, trying to sound mysterious. "Ringo Langly, that's Mulder's medical files you're rummaging around in!" She roared. "You hacked into the hospital's mainframe and then read private medical information. That's illegal." "Duh. The thing is, you obviously didn't know about it." "True." She pursed her lips, "I need to read this myself. Can you e-mail it to me?" Now Frohike was back on the line, "Gotten over you reservations about hacking, Agent Scully?" He asked warmly. "Langly is all over it, should be coming over to you in a few minutes." "Look, guys." She took a deep breath, steadying herself, "For Mulder's sake, if this is true, thank you." "Anything for you, Agent Scully." Frohike grinned lecherously, glad she couldn't actually see him. He hung up reluctantly. Nibbling idly on a spring roll, Scully dialed up her Internet server, waiting for the sign that her mail had arrived. If what the Lone Gunmen had read was correct, then Dr. Fielding had basically lied to her. He had to have known about the dust's unusual properties and not revealed them. A little mail truck popped up on the computer screen, pulling Dana out of her reverie. She tapped the appropriate icons and swallowed the rest of her snack. While the mail was printing out, she ran to the kitchen for a cup of green tea and a bowl for her chicken coconut soup. There was quite a bit of paper when the printer finished and Scully realized Langly had included all of Mulder's medical files along with the laboratory data. Glad she'd read Mulder's chart everyday at the hospital, Scully was able to quickly sort all of those papers to one side and concentrate on the lab's chemical breakdowns. As she read the words, her breath came in shorter and shorter gasps, as if she too had contracted Hanta virus. She read the odd components signifying the alien RNA. She'd seen alien DNA in Purity control, the green alien blood of the clones and even in her own medical records. All living things had DNA in every cell. Usual Earth DNA is designated by the letters G,A,T and C. Alien DNA had a fifth and sixth previously unseen pair designation. Some Earthly viruses just had RNA, DNA's chemical cousin, such as the virus in the dust from Salinas. She had never seen alien RNA. Her fear for Mulder's life escalated, her hands shaking so much the chicken coconut soup was slopping onto her skirt. Scully took a deep breath, trying to decide what needed to be done. She gulped the soup, eyes still riveted on the chemical analysis. She needed to go to Mulder, ensure his safety. Folding up the most inflammatory pages, she stuffed them into her coat pockets and ran out the door. * * * * * * Georgetown University Hospital, 9:15 p.m. The hospital was quieter after nine p.m., with fewer visitors and doctors. Nurses prepared their patients for sleep, taking quick sets of vital signs, administering medications and extra blankets. Having slept most of the afternoon, Mulder was wide awake. He held the TV remote loosely in his right hand, thumb on the channel changer. TV images flashed by, but he wasn't really paying much attention to them. Finally he settled on an Australian Rules football game, but the pain in his chest kept distracting him. He hated having respiratory diseases and especially being intubated. After suffering the tobacco beetles in his lungs and having them killed by massive doses of nicotine, he'd had asthma like symptoms for months. It wasn't a whole year later and here he was again straining for breath, his throat and chest raw from coughing. Scully forced herself to walk calmly out of the elevator and down the hall of the fifth floor. The quiet atmosphere of the hospital reassured her. No one was reacting to any frightening events or threatening people. And as she had joked to Mulder a few days before, she didn't smell any cigarette smoke. She was able to walk into room 535 without overly startling Mulder. "What are you doing here so late?" He asked, wheezing, "Not that I'm complaining." "Has Dr. Fielding come by with your test results?" She asked tersely. "No," He shrugged, "It's late." "He assured me he'd call." She frowned. "Anyway, the Lone Gunmen e-mailed me this." She handed over the papers, pointing to the pertinent information. "This is even different from the branched DNA we've seen before. I'm really concerned about where Dr. Fielding could be." "I did find aliens." Mulder grinned, his voice raspy. "Another alien disease. I'm going to look for him." "I'll go to the lab with you." He started to remove there oxygen cannula from his nose. "No, stay here. You're still sick." She pushed him back into bed, but handed him her extra gun. "I'll be back soon." "Scully." Mulder looked over at her, his face grave. "Be careful. "He tucked the gun under the covers. "You, too." She smiled reassuringly at him. He was far improved, but still weak and needing oxygen. If her hunch was correct and something terrible had happened to Nick Fielding, she wanted Mulder out of the hospital. She walked purposely down the stairs to the second floor lab, bypassing the regular rooms where technicians prepared lab slides to check for blood counts and urine analyses. Around a corner and down a rarely used corridor was the extra lab Fielding had commandeered. Scully paused, instinctively drawing her weapon. Everything felt wrong, despite the fact that nothing in the hall looked out of place. "Nick?" She called out cautiously, her hand on the doorknob. There was no answer, so she stepped into the room. Smashed glass littered every inch of the floor. Tiny particles of glowing blue shone amongst the debris like fairy lights. Scully advanced slowly around the main work station until she saw Fielding's prostrate body. Crouching carefully to avoid kneeling in glass, Scully placed a gentle finger to his carotid. There was no pulse and the body felt cold. He'd been dead too long to revive. The skin around his eyes was inflamed and charred looking, invoking a fear deep in Dana's chest. She had seen these symptoms too often to be mistaken, Fielding had been exposed to toxic green alien blood. * * * * * * "You need to get out of here, now." Scully spoke rapidly, pushing a wheelchair and portable oxygen tank into Mulder's room. "Fielding is dead?" He croaked, already yanking the IV tubing out of his arm. A tiny drop of blood welled up, but he pressed a wad of Kleenex against the wound. "As a doornail." She said grimly, disconnecting his cannula tubing from the wall and fitting it into the nozzle on the oxygen tank. "Your morphing friend paid him a visit." "He is no friend of mine." Mulder frowned at the transportation she offered. "I don't need that." "You do. And it'll look less conspicuous." She gave him a little shove to get into the wheelchair. "I'll call Skinner once we get to my place." "Scully..." "Get in." She hissed, "I'd rather not stick around any longer than necessary." "I never thought Dr. Scully would let me out AMA." Mulder held on tightly, Scully wasn't kidding. She zipped down the corridor at speeds not really meant for a wheel chair, almost knocking down a scrubs clad nurse waiting for the elevator. Despite Mulder's objections that he didn't need a wheelchair, even the short walk from the back of the hospital to Scully's car left him winded, his chest tight. He didn't mention anything to the woman driving the car, she looked too tense and preoccupied for that unsurprising revelation. "I think maybe we shouldn't go to my place." Scully said, taking a left onto the beltway onramp, "It's too obvious." "Scully, why do you think the 'Bounty Hunter'..."Mulder used the only name they had for the shapeshifting alien, "Killed Dr. Fielding and not me?" "I don't know and it's irrelevant-you survived and that's all that matters." Scully took her eyes off the late night beltway traffic to spare a look at Mulder. His color wasn't good, even in the half light provided by the street lights flicking by at sixty miles per hour. "You should be in bed." "I was looking forward to yours." He grinned lecherously, then sobered at her expression. "I'll be fine." Mulder curved his long fingers over hers resting on the gear shift. "But this worries me...did he take all of Fielding's samples...the blood? Test tubes?" "No." Scully mentally acknowledged a green sign on her left signally an upcoming offramp. "Everything was smashed. There was glowing particles all over the floor." She glanced quickly at her feet, "Look at my shoes." There was a glimmer of pale blue phospheresance along the soles of her black leather four inch heeled pumps. "Glowing particles?" Mulder asked in an excited tone. "Didn't I tell you?" Scully maneuvered the sedan past a long double trailer truck, pulling the car into the next lane. "I think I'd remember that." He said dryly, trying to stifle the coughs crowding his throat. Explaining about the odd glowing properties of the dust found in Salinas, Scully brought her partner up to date on the progress of the investigation he'd missed while being on the ventilator. "Now that it's been confirmed that it's alien RNA..." "Now I really wonder why I didn't get the ice pick in the neck." "Fielding was burned around the eyes." Dana took the next exit, scanning the road behind her. There had been no evidence of a tail, but her sense were still on full alert. "Maybe he hurt the Bounty Hunter in some way-that green blood is so toxic to humans." "And if he was hurt, he left before coming up to my room for a visit?" Mulder quipped. He registered the road they were now driving on, recognizing the rundown area of Takoma Park, Maryland. "Where are we going?" "If you haven't guessed by now, you're in worse shape that I thought." She directed the car down an alley, parking in front of an old warehouse. "I usually get my papers delivered." He surveyed the Lone Gunman Newspaper offices with resignation. Mulder handed Scully the oxygen tank before levering himself out of the car. An onslaught of coughing hit suddenly, incapacitating him completely. He leaned against the still open door, coughing fitfully, his throat burning. "It's not the best place for you in the shape you're in, but the Lone Gunmen have a security system." Scully scooped her arm under his, bumping the door shut with her hip. "And I hear Frohike's a good cook." "You believe Langly?" Mulder laughed raggedly, his breath hitching in his aching lungs. "Get inside before you catch your death." Scully propelled him up the stairs. "Didn't I already do that?" He joked, knocking on an unmarked door. The front door was triple locked. Even after the FBI agents had identified themselves, it took Byers thirty seconds of dead bolt turning to open the door. "Hey, Mulder." Langly greeted, pulling in the oxygen tank before relocking the three dead bolts. "We didn't think you'd be gettin" out of the hospital so soon." "Yah, we were planning to bring you a...video... of the Oriole's game you missed." Frohike stuttered, looking between the two agents. "This isn't a planned discharge, is it? "No." Scully explained what had happened to Dr. Fielding. "I have some more evidence at the FBI, but I need to have it analyzed by someone we trust." "I know a name." Byers put in. "Scully!" Mulder grinned beatifically at her, "You kept some of my dust?" "I've been your partner too long, you're wearing off on me." She smirked at him, still not liking his color. "That's not the only thing wearing off." Mulder pointed down at her size six pumps. "Nice shoes." Frohike commented. It was dark enough in the room crowded with every known electronic gadget and computer known to modern man to see that the blue phospheresance around her heels had almost disappeared. "Hmmm...."Dana slipped off her shoes, handing them to a very willing Frohike. "Take a scraping off those, there may be some residual left. I have another pair in my trunk." "I love a woman who comes prepared." Mulder put a hand to his heart, but spoiled it by coughing. "Lie down, Mulder." Scully admonished sternly, "Get some rest." "We'll keep our eyes on him." Byers promised, "Langly's already hacking back on the hospital's mainframe to see if Fielding left any last notes." "Before he died." Frohike stroked Scully's shoes absently. * * * * * * 10:30 p.m. FBI headquarters was much quieter after hours-whole rooms of desks were empty, with only the occasional circle of light identifying a late working agent. Scully took the elevator to the forensics lab, tapping her now gray suede clad foot nervously. She hoped it would be relatively, it not completely impossible, for the Bounty Hunter to get into the building, but she'd seen him do mysterious and quite impossible things before. He could look like anyone-even an FBI agent, and that scared her. Sliding her key into the lock, Scully paused to let her heartbeat slow down to an acceptable rate before pushing the door open. The lab was dark, quiet and undisturbed. She used her maglite to illuminate the row of lockers, opening her own with swift turns of the combination dial. The vial and slide were still there, nestled next to her safety goggles and lab coat. Switching off the flashlight she checked for the characteristic glow of the dust. The test tube had a faint luminescence, but it was obviously fading. Possibly that was why the Bounty hunter had left so much evidence all over the hospital lab floor-it was degrading and might soon be worthless. "Just like fireflies." Scully cupped her hands around the test tube, admiring the pale blue reflected against her palms. "It dies when you put it in a jar." * * * * * 11:30 p.m. Since the forensics lab had been undamaged, Scully felt safer about going to her own home, Upon arrival, she removed the gray pumps, never her favorite, which is why they spent most of their life in the trunk of her car, and pushed the message button on her answering machine. Five messages blared forth, three from Skinner demanding to know where Mulder was, giving her worse and worse ultimatums if she didn't reply. She was more than a little relived that the other two were from her Mother wanting to know if she was still coming for dinner next Friday and the dry cleaners telling her that her clothes were ready to be picked up. The first phone call she made was to the Lone Gunmen, who told her Mulder had fallen asleep and they'd arranged for a meeting with a Dr. William DeFries in the morning. He was reputed to be a top biologist, who could analyze the remaining dust. Scully just hoped it would be worth looking at, twelve hours from now. With a bracing glass of white wine, Dana finally dialed her boss's familiar phone number, expecting a thorough reaming out. "Where did you hide him?" Skinner asked quietly, after she'd identified herself. "The hospital is in an up roar." "Did they find Dr. Fielding's body?" Scully put in, anxious to know what had been discovered. "Dead." Skinner replied, "But I suspect you knew that." "Yes-I couldn't leave Mulder in there any longer. Did you see the body?" "I saw the damage around his eyes. This was right up Mulder's alley all along." Skinner conceded, "But where is he?" "I'd prefer not to say at this time, Sir." Scully answered carefully, "Just be assured he's safe, and I will personally see to his health matters." "I wouldn't expect anything less." Skinner rubbed the bridge of his nose where his wire rimmed glasses pinched. "You are still perusing some line of inquiry?" "I have a meeting tomorrow morning, after that I believe I will have run out of options." "But Mulder is recovering?" "He's much better, there are other matters at hand." "I thought this was just Mulder getting another one of his mysterious illnesses." "There may be more to it than that." Scully opened her purse to look in at the test tube. The light it gave off was weakening with every passing hour. "I have a specimen in my possession, but it may not be enough." "Enough for what...Just make the report sound logical." Skinner gave half a chuckle, "Tell Mulder he's on full medical leave until his doctor says he can come back." "I'm his doctor." Scully allowed herself half a smile. "Exactly." Skinner replied, "I'll get back to you with the results found in the hospital lab." "Thank you, sir." Scully hung up, taking a sip of her Chardonnay. Skinner had been much easier on her than he'd implied on his messages, in fact he'd been kind. She was too tired to try to delve to deeply into that, there was still much work to do. If the unusual properties of the dust were degrading, then it was easy to postulate that the virus in Mulder's system was unstable as well. It may be the whole reason he'd recovered. With the ribaviron and medical care he'd gotten, he had simply been able to last out the acute stage of the disease, which had killed it's other victims, to get to the stage where the virus weakened enough for the body to fight it off. Now, he just had to gain strength and get rid of the nagging cough, just like any other flu sufferer. This gave her a modicum of comfort as she quickly showered, changed into other clothes and fixed a quick snack. It was close to midnight, but with her medical connections, Scully knew of an all night pharmacy, which was able to fill all the medications that Mulder had been on. Langly's print up of the medical records proved invaluable for this. Gathering up her medical bag, she headed out to the pharmacy. * * * * * * Lone Gunman offices, Monday morning-1:45 a.m. "First you wake me out of a sound sleep, and now you're sticking needles into me." Mulder grumbled, wincing as the needle bit into his vein, dark venous blood flowing into the attached test tube. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?" "Not at this moment, no." Scully slipped the first test tube off and reinserted a second to get another sample of blood. She gently shook the first to mix in the heparin that prevented the blood from clotting. "But, there have been plenty of times when I'd be more than happy to poke you." "That's my line!" Mulder groused with a leer. "Looks like you're not the only one." Frohike commented, watching with interest, "You look like a pin cushion, Mulder." After Scully had pulled out the needle and applied a qauze pad to stop the oozing blood, Mulder rubbed his black and blue arm. "Where do you think the expression 'stick it to you" come from? Nurses." "Do you want me to kiss it and make it better, Mulder?" Scully asked dryly. "Now, you need an injection of your antibiotic. Drop your pants." "She never asks me this when I'm in the mood." Mulder scowled, sending Langly and Byers into gales of laughter. He sucked in air through clenched teeth when Scully jabbed the hypodermic needle home, causing a bout of coughing. "The good news is, you're probably free of the fatal phase of the virus, Mulder." Scully deposited the needle into her mini sharps container, stripping off latex gloves, before writing identifying information on the two test tubes of blood. "Unfortunately, if what I hypothesize is correct, that may also mean we have no proof of the alien RNA. It may just disintegrate into worthless cells that we can't identify as any different than any other cellular debris." "Makes me feel so much better." He wheezed after the coughing had let up. "I'll whip up a batch of ol "Grandma Frohike's famous chicken soup." Frohike promised, "Puts hair on your chest." "And other places?" Langly affectionately rubbed the littler man's balding head. "Maybe you should make it more often?" "If I did, you'd look like Rapunzal." He batted at the long blond hair brushing Langly's shoulders. "We should probably all get some sleep." Byers, always the sensible one, urged. Mulder had been the only one asleep while Scully had been gone, and all were grainy eyed with weariness. Langly had printed out all relevant information from the hospital records, while Byers had contacted his biologist friend. Frohike's contribution had been to search the Internet for any other articles on the various mutations of Hanta virus. "If you're interested, Scully, I did manage to change the sheets on Frohike's bed-he'd be more than happy to have a sleeping bag on the floor- and Mulder is already in my bed." "Oh, but where will you sleep?" Scully was completely sure she didn't want to sleep in Melvin's bed. "I'll just go home tonight and see you back here at eight thirty, with bagels and coffee." "Drat." Frohike muttered, the fodder for his wet dreams going down in flames. "What?" Scully had turned to pack her medical bag, half hearing his comment. "Donuts. "Frohike said louder, getting a nasty grin from Mulder, who had heard the exchange correctly. "The gooier the better. "Mulder put in, "Maybe with cream filling?" This again sent Langly and Byers into paroxysms of laughter, as Scully rolled her eyes. Frohike stomped off, hands gesturing to some invisible companion about the lack of his friends" compassion. * * * * * Monday, 8:30 a.m. Armed with an assortment of bakery goodies, Scully arrived back at the Lone Gunmen's offices at the appointed hour. Mulder was very appreciative that she'd even managed to stop by his apartment and brought him a change of clothing. He hadn't relished wearing any cast off head banger tee shirts of Langly's. He did not, however, look happy when Scully whipped out the full compliment of drugs he had to receive before leaving. "Scully, I think I can do without this tank." Mulder wheedled, after his aerosol treatment, Albuteral puffs, antibiotic shot, ribaviron and multivitamin complete with iron had all been given. Still in serious doctor mode, Scully examined her patient critically, Fully dressed, Mulder looked remarkably better than he had the night before. The black turtleneck emphasized his pallor a little more than necessary, but the long sleeves hid his bruised arms. Other than that, he was standing erect, appeared in little discomfort and was wolfing down a bagel with cream cheese like a man who hadn't eaten in a week. Which, she had to admit, he probably hadn't. He was, on the other hand, still wheezing like a calliope, but going to meet a biologist wouldn't be overly strenuous and she could bring the oxygen tank in the trunk, just in case, "All right, Mulder, but if you keel over in the hall, don't fall on me." "That's telling him, Scully!" Langly laughed, a half-eaten donut in hand. "The van is all ready, with so many of us, it'd be easier if we all went together." "Then, I suggest we go." Scully agreed, "The glow has all but faded from all the samples." "Does my blood glow?" Mulder asked with interest. "That I'd like to see." Frohike took the monumental task of locking the door after them as the rest trouped over to the van and settled in. "No, but I'm not sure why." Scully got into the passenger seat beside Langly, holding her precious cargo of test tubes tightly in her purse. "Dr. DeFries isn't far." Byers handed over the address, and they hadn't driven more than fifteen minutes before they arrived at a small, ramshackle looking building, which appeared to be in dire need of being condemned. "Let me guess." Scully observed dryly, "He's on your newspaper's mailing list. Is his lab even in there? It doesn't look safe." Not only was there a fully functional lab in the deceptive looking building, but Scully was actually impressed with some of the equipment inside. Obviously the man had some funds coming from anonymous and perhaps less than legal sources. There was little concern that he might turn his findings over to the government or any person in authority. William 'Wild Man" DeFries was a flashback from the sixties, complete with graying, waist length braided hair, a string of beads around his skinny neck and a tie-dyed T- shirt on under his lab coat. He could have easily won a Willie Nelson look-a-like contest. Frohike and Langly immediately began to prowl around the lab, quietly poking at the equipment, trying to guess at its uses. Both were very taken by DeFries's state of the art Mac computer which had every bell and whistle any hacker could ever have lusted after. A pile of Mulder's medical files, which Byers had faxed over the night before, lay haphazardly on the desk, several paragraphs marked in red ink. "Did you put these slides in any sort of preservative?" DeFries asked Scully, holding the glass slides between finger and thumb. "No, I was in a hurry and thought the hospital techs would do the hard work." Scully admitted, "I wasn't even sure what I was looking at." "Well, I read what Johnny sent over last night." Wild Man frowned, "Amazing stuff, but hard to prove with what you've got." He inserted the slide under his microscope, examining it carefully. "I've got an electron microscope here-take a look." He encouraged the red haired doctor to peer into the eyepiece, "But as you suspected, the cells are degrading almost to nothing. It looks like they have a very fragile protein in the nucleus-I don't think they would ever had been entirely stable, even in a preservative medium." "So we're left with nothing?" Mulder asked, trying to muffle a cough with the back of his hand. "Again." "What about the blood samples I took from him last night?" Scully persisted. "I have to prepare those, do several preliminary tests, but what you may have had is a weak mutated virus. Since it killed nearly all of it's hosts..."He gave a nod towards the tall FBI agent on his right, "Except him, we don't have much to work with, even if you could get some blood samples from the CDC. As for Mulder, the drugs you gave him may have destroyed any trace of the virus." "If it was so weak, how did it kill so many people?" Langly asked. "Weak for a virus, but if the immune system has no defense against it..."Wild Man shrugged, "I'm no epidemiologist, or even a virologist, but it's kind of like the American Indians getting the measles." "Dr. Fielding wrote that it had alien RNA." Byers put in, "You're saying there's no way to prove that?" "Not unless I got some fresh samples from the original site." "Then we need to go back to Salinas." Mulder took a ragged breath, still struggling not to cough again, but his eyes were bright with excitement. "No!" Scully protested, "As your doctor, as well as your partner, I forbid that." "You forbid it?" He asked incredulously. "Mulder, you still should be on oxygen." Scully saw that look in his gray-green eyes, there was no way she could keep him from going to California, short of locking him in a jail cell. "We could go." Frohike volunteered. "I know a new way to hack into some of the airline's computers, wouldn't even have to pay for tickets..."Langly mused, "Of course, we couldn't use our own names..." "Thanks, guys," Mulder pulled his gaze away from Scully's concerned and possibly mutinous blue eyes, "But it's my 'Holy Grail" and if anyone goes, it should be me." "I'll go with you." Dana sighed, her medical degree and her loyalty to her partner warring inside her. "But since Dr. DeFries has to do tests that will take more than twenty four hours-the RNA manipulation can be tricky, right Doctor?" The biologist smiled at her, his beads jangling when he nodded. "So, we don't need to go anywhere until Tuesday or Wednesday-you can wait that long." She directed the last straight at Mulder, who knew when to back down to fight another day. "We need to get in touch with the doctors back in Salinas, see what they did with the bodies of the people who died." Mulder began plotting. "We are NOT digging up any remains." Scully stated firmly, relieving especially Byers who found that a particularly gruesome idea, "Dr. Fielding spoke with the hospital out there where all the Arena virus patients were taken, and I'm sure he has the notes somewhere." "I'll go through what I printed out last night, and go back onto the hospital's mainframe, if necessary." Langly eyed the biologist's Mac lovingly, but knew the operation would be best performed in the secrecy of the Lone Gunmen head quarters. "And Mulder can go back to bed." Scully insisted. "At your place?" He gave her his best sick-puppy look. "Those guys snore like walruses." "As long as you keep the ESPN down to a dull roar." * * * * * San Jose, California, Wednesday 7:15 p.m. The plane ride out to San Jose, California airport had turbulence nearly the entire duration of the flight. There had, naturally, in this modern world of airline centralization, been a stopover in the company's flagship airport half way between Dulles and San Jose. Thus, after flying all day, renting a car and having to fight Silicon valley rush hour traffic to get out of the airport, it was after seven p.m. and Scully was all for finding a quiet restaurant and hotel to the night. Mulder, despite obvious exhaustion, had other plans. "Scully, you said yourself that the glow only shows up at night." He wheezed, searching around in his carry-on bag for the Albuteral puffer she'd insisted he bring. He located it by feel and extracted it out from under his change of clothing. A quick inhalation from the little plastic dispenser opened up his airways, but he still felt like he was drawing breaths through a filter across his trachea. "I'll put you back in the hospital, if I have to." Scully threatened, swinging the car over one lane to fight traffic for the correct off ramp for highway 101 to Salinas. "Just wait until after we get there." He grinned at her. Daylight savings time had recently 'sprung forward" so there was still daylight and he watched the California landscape turn from industrial and high-tech business buildings into more and more fields of spring crops. "DeFries didn't find anything out of the ordinary in your blood work, Mulder." Scully pointed out. "Even the residual antibodies from the other alien viruses you've had show up more than this. However much alien RNA there was when you were initially exposed, it reverted to regular Arena virus cells in the end." "But if we can find the source, what caused it..."He peered out towards a long field with a view of the ocean in the distance. "This looks familiar." "Yes, it was up about two or three miles from here." Dana checked her odometer, slowing enough to keep watch as she drove. They turned onto a small, infrequently used side road around the agricultural fields, so there were no other cars or people around. At least, when they had last visited, there had been some migrant farm workers tending the crops. Now, there was a quiet after hours feel, the early evening darkness descending around them like a dark blue quilt speckled with stars. "This is it." Scully stopped the car, both FBI agents getting out. But there was no hut, not even a pale glow to show where it might have been. "They burned it." Mulder kicked at the charred earth and bits of burned wood, coughing. "It's all gone." "What did you expect, Mulder?" Scully sighed, "We never get any proof." "Remember what you called it, Scully?" He looked up at the glittering panoply of stars above them. "Phantom fireflies. Insubstantial, but burning brightly. Like stars. I wonder where that virus came from? An alien ship? A meteor that crashed to earth here?" "I'd forgotten how bright the stars look when you're away from a modern city." She tilted her head to admire the view, gasping with delight as a falling star flashed briefly across the heavens. "A wish, Mulder?" "You know my wish." He gave her a sad smile, "The truth." "Mulder, you did have proof." She linked her fingers with his, warming his cold hand. "It was inside you. That's where the truth has always been." fin