Date: Thu, 7 Sep 2000 21:50:10 -0400
Subject: Story submission
Source: direct

----------------------
11:21 AM - SATURDAY
SKYHIGH BIRD CAMP
HEADQUARTERS
----------------------

The strange happenings had been heard along a large radius of
the camp, and the two other groups had hurried back worriedly to 
find out what had happened.  Many campers were visibly frightened 
and a low, steady buzz of whispering had swept across the camp 
faster than wildfire.  For a private conference, Scully, Mulder, and 
Paul stood amongst a maze of free-flight rooms in Gil's most 
treasured section of the camp, his aviary.

This had been the structure surrounded in trees that Mulder had not 
been able to identify when he had first arrived to the camp.  The 
architecture was absolutely stunning with overhead silver mesh 
wiring extended three stories high while the rectangular width of 
the entire aviary stretched almost over half an acre.  Sections 
divided different species of birds from each other, tailored with 
particular plants, trees, the unique lifestyle they had been used to 
in the wild.  The main free-flight room, the largest, was up at the 
front, surrounded by leafy vegetation and an artificial waterfall 
that crashed into a pool of water from two stories above.  Tiny 
flecks of gold and silver darted through the waters, a waiting meal 
for one of the birds soaring above.  It was obvious this gift of 
Utopia Gil had created for the birds still taught them the art of 
surviving in the wild.  Although many of them now accepted humans, 
they were safe in Shenandoah.

Gil was sitting in a battered recliner, obviously a place he had 
spent quite a number of hours in.  A creamy, white dove was casually 
pecking at birdseed from his extended palm, other different species 
had taken flight when the three had first approached. "I'm so glad 
no one was hurt...I just can't imagine what happened out there.  
I've lived here for most of my life and nothing...nothing like 
this..." Gil drifted, his face contorting into a deeply pained 
expression.  

The aviary was alive with a symphony of birdsong, multitudes of 
different pitches and notes meshed together.  Sounds of feather 
danced with the wind, feet landing against wood, all of them 
conversations that Gil's ears understood as well as if they were 
speaking English to him.

"But most importantly," Gil continued, his worry turning his face 
the same color as the dove in his hand, "I have to know what's going 
on.  I have to protect my campers if there is a danger to them."

"I think it was a wild animal--possibly a male bear."  Paul 
supplied, a small bandage now carefully taped to his forehead.  
"When I fired a shot, it was frightened, just like an animal."

Gil looked over to Scully with his steel-gray eyes.  "Is this what 
you believe as well?" 

"Well, Paul could be right."  Scully replied swiftly, feeling a 
chilled stare coming from Mulder.  "I really didn't get a good look 
since I was pinned in the ditch, the wind so heavy it was impossible 
to see."

"Alright," Gil sighed, moving his arm for the dove to take flight, 
"Paul, please alert the campers that there will be no more hikes 
until this...this...animal is caught.  I want everyone to stay close 
to the camp for a few days--there are plenty of fun activities to do 
here without hiking into the mountains.  We have our special 
'Breakfast with the Birds' in the morning, plus, the social mixer is 
tonight, so maybe that will help relax our worried campers."

"And Bird Bingo too." Paul added, making a poor attempt to be helpful.

"The social mixer?"  Mulder asked curiously. 

"Oh, yes," Gil suddenly lit up, "It's our traditional dance here at 
Skyhigh.  Our campers dress up a bit, kick back their heels, and 
do the funky chicken."   

Scully exchanged a warning glance with Mulder.

"Kidding about the funky chicken...well, not entirely.  I hope you 
two will be there."  Gil teased, the bright light in his face 
turning back off as the morning's incident shadowed his mind.

"Yes, I hope so too."  Paul grinned at Scully, his washboard chest 
puffing out so the lines of his 8-pack were visible.  He turned to 
Gil, giving a small wince as he touched the bandage on his 
forehead.  "I'll go tell the guests of the new plans."

"Thanks, Paul.  I'll be out there soon."  Gil called, watching the 
large man put on his million-dollar walk as he exited the aviary.   
Once Paul was out of earshot, Gil turned back to the two agents, his 
expression darkening further.  "I see you two have some differing 
theories between you, and I understand that it's top secret.  My 
main concern is for my guests, and if I need to send them home, you 
just give me the word.  It's upsetting enough that two people I care 
for are already missing."

"We understand your concern, Mr. Hahn."  Mulder responded.  "Staying 
around the camp and forgoing the hikes is the right thing to do, and 
if it becomes dangerous, believe me, my partner or I will be sure to 
let you know.  But as of right now, we don't know what's out there 
in the woods or where Beth and Lou might be, so evacuation would 
only lead straight to the media, and we want to avoid that at all 
costs."

"I'm sure you've dealt with tons of cases like this, so you know a 
lot more about it than I do.  I still can't help being...well, 
scared to death." Gil honestly answered, turning at the sound of 
flapping wings as the dove returned.

Scully also jumped at the sound, a confused expression crossing her 
smooth-skinned face as her brows furrowed together.

"Go on, now, Halo."  Gil spoke in a soft voice, "That's all the 
snacking for you." He gingerly moved his arm again, the stubborn 
dove not budging.  This brought a small chuckle from the wiry man, 
giving the dove his special, soft touch, telling Halo numerous 
secrets that Mulder and Scully couldn't understand.  The words were 
between bird and man.

"Ah, anyway, Mr. Hahn," Mulder continued, regaining the camp owner's 
attention, "I was wondering if we could have a copy of the guest 
list for this week.  There may be someone here that shouldn't be."

"What?"  Gil asked, alarmed, while pushing his glasses higher on 
the bridge of his thin nose.

"Well, we're not sure, exactly." Mulder reassured, "But can you tell 
us anything about a man in his late forties, an identifying scar on 
his forehead?"

Gil leaned back thoughtfully while the dove moved closer to his 
face, chewing at his glasses frames with dainty, tiny bites.  He 
didn't even notice the white bird's antics as he continued, "Well, I 
think I've seen someone like that around here.  Most of the time, 
the campers make their reservations with a credit card then end up 
arriving on the bus with the new week's group.  Many of them 
introduce themselves right away, but there's always a few that are 
quiet and off to themselves.  And of course, since it's their 
vacation, I completely respect their privacy and need for a little 
solitude.  They just come for the birds and a little peacefulness, 
and that's what the camp is here for just as much as meeting new 
people.  I haven't really spoken to anyone that fits that 
description, but with new groups, it takes me a few days to learn 
who everyone is anyway.  You could always ask Dorothy, though, she's 
pretty good at introducing herself to every man, woman, and child on 
the entire campsite.  So that's about all I can tell you, but you 
can certainly take a look through my guest ledger if that might be 
any help.  If there is any other way I can assist you in putting 
this mystery to rest, please let me know.  The sooner Beth and Lou 
are back, the better."

"We agree, Mr. Hahn."  Scully sighed as a low-flying bird swooped 
overhead.  She followed the red cardinal with her eyes as it 
descended on Gil's shoulder, opposite of the dove.  

"Hey there, Red."  Gil greeted, pulling out more birdseed from his 
breast pocket on his shirt.

"This is quite a place you have here, Mr. Hahn."  Mulder grinned.

"It's really grown over the years." Gil couldn't help but talk about 
his aviary with pride, Mulder's comment fuel to a blazing fire.  
"Most of these birds were rescued from the forest, being either sick 
or injured. It ended up that visitors all over the park would bring 
in injured birds they found on hikes or while camping, so I had to 
start the Adopt-A-Bird program to keep from going into the poor 
house.  It's worked out really great, but I'm sure you don't want to 
keep hearing about this." The proprietor laughed, standing from his 
chair, "Let me grab those ledgers for you."
   
They waited a moment while Gil left the aviary from a door that led 
into his office.  He was back in a few minutes with a box in his 
arms.  "Here are the ledgers dating back a few years. I hope this 
will help."

Mulder stood and took the box.  "This is great, Mr. Hahn.  We'll get 
these back to you as soon as possible.  Thanks again for your help."

"Oh no, thank you.  Thank you both."  Gil replied with honesty, 
watching the two agents let themselves out, releasing a shaky sigh 
as the door clicked shut.

The sun bathed rays of warmth against Mulder and Scully's skin, 
their retinas adjusting to the change in light, sending a quick jolt 
of pain across the eye before lids whipped together protectively.  
The open, green landscape between the Lodge and the cabins were 
surprisingly empty, aside for a group of young children dashing 
happily in a game of chase, their tiny bodies glistening in the 
afternoon rays of yellow-orange light.  A round cluster of people 
were standing at the back of the Lodge, Paul's unmistakable voice 
explaining the new camp activity changes while ears attentively 
listened.  

Scully could hear him finish his speech with the announcement that 
tacos were being served for lunch, the group stampeding for the 
stairs.

"Well, as long as the tacos don't run out, it looks like no one will 
get upset." Mulder mused, watching a shoving match that resulted in 
Paul getting in the middle, his teeth blindingly white in the sun as 
he turned on the charm.  Mulder opened his mouth once again, Scully 
cutting him off in mid-breath.

"One imitation of a talking Chihuahua and you'll be sorry."

Mulder quickly shut his mouth, at least satisfied his pun had 
slipped by her once.  He decided to re-route his approach to hit 
home. "So you're subscribing to Paul's theory?"  He queried, a tone 
of distaste added at his mention of Paul's name.  

Scully shook her head, the sun sending many red and gold highlights 
bursting with color throughout her auburn hair.  "I'm not 
subscribing to anyone's theory.  I was simply telling Gil that a 
wild animal could be a possibility."

"Oh, come on, Scully.  You told me what happened out there." Mulder 
scoffed, "And you don't seem very supportive of this whole bear idea 
either.  You said it was large enough to cast a shadow over you.  
Now unless this 'bear' took a running leap across you and then 
disappeared into the mist right afterwards, this is a clear case of 
alien activity...it had to be a UFO."

"I bet."  Scully mumbled inaudibly.  

Mulder turned toward Scully.  "What was that?"

"First stop."  She spoke louder, the thrust of her chin indicating 
they had reached Mulder's cabin first.  She tried to peer inside, 
but every window was covered by curtains, the door open to a pitch 
black pit inside.  Scully fished around in her shorts pockets for 
the exact change of a diet soda as Mulder moved toward the cabin.

The kid must be a vampire, Mulder thought grimly, setting down the 
box of ledgers to drop his backpack off inside.  It took a moment 
for his eyes to adjust to the black surroundings, his sight taking 
its time to focus in on the small red-headed form sitting on the 
edge of his bed, feet dangling a good foot above the floor.  He was 
intently staring down at his hands, Mulder concluding Andrew was 
once again enraptured by his video game.  The sooner Mulder was back 
out of the cabin, the better.

The backpack made a clunk as it was gladly tossed to the floor, 
startling Andrew from his deep concentration.  Mulder had fine-tuned 
his radar to have at least one eye on Andrew at all times, and 
curiously noticed Andrew clasp his palms together, the sudden halo 
beaming on his head a dead giveaway.

"Why's it so dark in here?" Mulder faked a friendly tone. 

"That ain't none of your bus'ness." Andrew replied, a knowing smirk 
on his chubby face.

"What do you have there?" Mulder continued, not phased by the boy's 
first remark.  With Andrew, Mulder decided, he was sure it would 
take work to get anything out of him.

"What's it worth to ya', mister?"

"What do you want?"

Andrew turned on a smile that filled Mulder with dread.

"I dunno.  What'cha got?"

Mulder made a mental run through his belongings, trying to pick 
something the boy might be interested in.  "Well, lets see."

A thump off the bed indicated Andrew was heading his way, two 
curious gray eyes peering cautiously across Mulder's shoulder as he 
opened his backpack.  

Mulder could feel the boy's hot breath against his neck, hoping that 
the dreaded gun wasn't nearby.  "How about a radio?  It's small 
enough to fit in your pocket."

Andrew snorted, his nostrils flaring from the rush of air.  "They 
ain't got good stations up here.  What else ya' got?"

Mulder's jaw tightened, keeping his exterior free from the 
irritation that was sweeping like fire under his skin.  He noticed 
Andrew had finally decided to move next to him, crouching down on a 
chubby knee, his nostrils concluding that the boy could have used a 
bath.  "Um, alright, how about a keychain?"

"Oooh...what's this?!" Andrew cut in, ignoring Mulder's last remark 
while thrusting his hands into Mulder's bag without asking.  He 
pulled out an item that almost looked like goggles, his freckled 
face lighting up excitedly as he put them over his eyes, adjusting 
the strap around his head.  

"No, wait, that's not..." Mulder began, making a failed attempt to 
snatch them from the boy.

It was too late.  Andrew had already switched the button on the 
side.  "Aw, cool!  Night vision!"

"That's not for negotiation." Mulder added discouragingly as Andrew 
bounced to his bare feet, the boy hardly listening to him.

"This would work great at night for..." Andrew continued, his head 
turning around the room, his tiny lips excitedly grinning.  He 
turned to Mulder.  "It's this, or no deal, mister."

Oh damn, Mulder thought, Skinner would kick his butt but good.

"You have to show me what it is you have and we'll talk." Mulder 
replied cautiously.

"I'm no fool, mister.  You want what I got or not?"  Andrew 
bargained, still spinning around the room and looking at the cabin 
through the goggles.

Mulder had that feeling in the pit of his stomach that was never 
wrong.  He had to know.  "Alright, deal.  Lets see it."

Andrew practically skipped to his bed, pulling out a tiny object 
from underneath his pillow.  He trotted over and dropped it into 
Mulder's hand.  It only took Mulder a second to realize what it was, 
breath catching in his throat. 

It was a bug.

And it wasn't the creepy-crawly kind, but an actual surveillance 
device. "Where did you get this?"

"I done gone to the bathroom to do my bus'ness and when I came out 
sure enough there went this bald guy into our cabin." Andrew 
explained, zeroing in on the closet next to Mulder's bed.  "So, 
'course I sneaked in for a better look.  No one makes out with my 
pa's and my stuff.  But instead of stealin' he done messed around 
the headboard on your bed.  I jumped in the bushes when he come back 
out--never saw me.  So I went in, and that's what I done found."

Mulder was visibly stunned, holding the device tight in his hand.

"Why's you and that man have all of these gadgets anyway?" 
Andrew questioned, but Mulder was already out the door.

Scully sipped at her diet soda, checking her watch for a third time 
when Mulder suddenly dashed out of the cabin, a look on his face 
that she had seen a thousand times.  "What's going on, Henry?" She 
asked with concern as he whipped the box of ledgers into his arms, 
whisking her on down the trail with him.

"What are you doing?!" Scully vehemently asked as Mulder burst into 
her cabin, sweeping under and around furniture, digging through the 
closet between a row of her meticulously hung clothes.  He sprang to 
the lampshade on the nighttable, roughly scouring his hands 
underneath, skipping to the curtains, shaking and feeling the cloth, 
hands searching for any abnormality.  When Mulder had turned one of 
the recliners upside down in the middle of the floor, Scully had 
lost her patience, an irritated "Mulder!" finally stopped his 
ministrations. 

He rolled to the side of the chair on the floor, exhausted by his 
furious search, but relieved by the results.

"What's gotten into you?!" Scully spouted, rearranging her disturbed 
clothes in the closet, giving Mulder an annoyed glare.

Mulder motioned for her to come toward him, focusing her attention 
on his extended palm.  "This was in my cabin...on my bed."

Scully had quieted, a serious expression darkening her face as she 
stared into her partner's palm.

Mulder nodded grimly, giving it a hard squeeze with his fist to 
make sure it was disabled.  "Classic work--looks like the guy took 
the easy route being that my cabin is always open.  At least he 
didn't get in here with all of the equipment we have.  Now why would 
my cabin be bugged over a wild bear?"  He raised his eyebrows at her 
quizzically.

Scully gave him a knowing stare.  "I never said it was a 
bear...exactly."

"But there was a possibility?"  Mulder continued, repeating what she 
had stated earlier.

"It's important to leave the options open...or as you say, 
'thorough.'" Scully fought back, grabbing the case folder and taking 
a seat in an overstuffed red chair next to the window.   She 
pulled out her pen, clenching it between her teeth as she settled 
her reading glasses on the bridge of her nose.

"Someone knows what we're doing here, Scully.  They're listening to 
us to see how close we're getting to the truth."

Scully gave him a cold stare.  "Well, there's always Dorothy."

"She doesn't know anything about us, except that we're here 
searching the skies for more than just birds.  And plus, Andrew 
already identified who it was--it was the same man who was tailing 
us this morning.  Who knows what he would have done to you, Scully, 
if that UFO-type of thing hadn't diverted him."  Mulder explained.

Scully immediately dismissed her partner's last statement, looking 
back to her folder. 
 
Mulder could feel the cold tension mounting between them, their 
differing theories once again creating a friction of pride between 
them.  Mulder sighed, nonchalantly opening a window before settling 
himself on the bed, spreading the ledgers in an arc around him. He 
stared at the words and numbers unblinkingly, aware of Scully's 
presence across the room.  Although it was normal for them to have 
different opinions about a case, he didn't enjoy the battle that 
went on between them because of it.  He clearly understood why she 
never told him what he wanted to hear, her equality to him was too 
powerful, their respect too important.  And as he had told her in 
his apartment's hallway, the person she was had kept him honest.  
Their belief foundations were like night and day: hers being of a 
scientist requiring proof to gain her beliefs, while he believed 
without any proof.  With those personalities, they worked together 
with a passion so fierce and strong it sparked a battle of wills 
often, and yet, it truly kept him a whole person.

Mulder stole a glance from the corner of his eye, finding Scully's 
frame comfortably but elegantly sprawled in the red chair.  She 
was furiously scribbling more notes into the folder and her glasses 
had dipped until they were in danger of falling off the end of her 
tiny nose.  He felt his heart pound harder as he yearned to reach 
over and rescue her glasses, but more importantly to rescue himself 
from the silent screams inside him.  

"So what *is* your theory...a-about this case."  Mulder 
stammered, offering a peace treaty with her, ceasing his wandering 
thoughts from tearing through his insides.

Scully looked up, surprise widening her clear blue eyes, and then 
suspicion narrowing them.  She slowly removed her glasses from their 
perch on the tip of her nose, folding them carefully and slipping 
them into a case before she spoke.  "Something isn't making sense to 
me, actually."

Mulder hid a smile, his muscles relaxing as his offer of peace had 
been accepted.  He sat taller on the bed, his interest obvious to 
what his partner was saying.

Scully moved the pencil behind her ear, closing the folder on her 
lap.  She took a deep breath as she continued.  "Remember how Gil 
told us yesterday that the sound he heard had bird qualities, or 
possibly some kind of animalistic qualities to it?"

Mulder nodded, pulling a sunflower seed from his pocket.

"Well, then today, with that...that thing in the woods, it stopped 
moving when it heard the rifle shot--just like an animal of some sort 
would.  But here's the craziest part..."

"Ooh, trying to top one of my theories?"  Mulder mused as a 
sunflower seed shell was thrown skillfully into the wastebasket next 
to Scully.

"It was terribly quiet in the woods today, and that happens when 
some kind of predatory animal is present.  And today in the aviary, 
when the dove landed on Gil's shoulder, it was just a few 
inches away from me.  The sound of its wings seemed so familiar 
somehow...almost like the object in the woods.  When Paul fired the 
shot, the sounds afterward were very similar, although what I heard 
was louder and more powerful than the dove.  There was a lot of 
likeness to it though, which is why I'm sticking to my animal 
theory...it's just wasn't a bear."

"So your suggestion is a Bigfoot with wings?"  Mulder joked, trying 
to keep a straight face.

Scully could see the speculation in his eyes, but a smile cracked 
her polished demeanor, teasingly answering,  "Well, I haven't 
disproved that yet."

Mulder rocked back on the bed with a sudden energy burst, "Dear 
Diary," he spoke while grinning ruefully, "today my heart leapt 
again when Agent Scully suggested Bigfoot.  Addendum...if this keeps 
up, I'll make sure to keep my next cardiologist check-up."

"Mulder!"  Scully couldn't help but laugh, straightening herself in 
the chair.  "I'm serious about this theory.  I was there--I know 
what I saw and heard.  And Mulder, Bigfoot doesn't exist...just like 
Big Blue, the Jersey Devil, Moth Men, or El Chupacabra.  Those are 
fabrications created from people who have nothing else better to do 
so they get a thrill hearing their names in the news or to win a 
guest spot on Jerry Springer."

"Ah, Scully," Mulder chided, sitting upright to face her from across 
the room, "But don't you think there could be such possibilities out 
there?  It's an infinite universe we live in, 99.99999% of it 
untouched by man.  Our earth is like a grain of sand compared to the 
vast space out there.  How do we know what does and does not exist?"

"Well, I believe we see what we're meant to see." Scully retorted, 
her answer derived from her deep-rooted religious beliefs.

Mulder nodded his brown head, popping a new sunflower seed into his 
mouth.  His eyes darted over to the papers next to him.  Scully 
followed his eyes toward the ledgers, and slowly walked across the 
room to grab a stack of papers.  She sat down heavily at the foot of 
the bed, the leftover papers between her and her partner.

"Lets get it on."  Mulder commented, opening a stack himself. 

X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X

-------------------
3:10 PM - SATURDAY
Scully's cabin
-------------------

The twittering notes of birdsong wafted through the open cabin 
windows, a silent breeze stirred the yellowed curtains with gentle 
caresses, letting them fall back against the wall between gusts.  
The sunlight was warm and bright, many campers outside searching the 
skies for tiny winged bodies soaring through the air.  Every now and 
again, stranger's voices of "Look!  I think it's a red-headed 
woodpecker" or "Aw, look at the ducks--do we have any bread?" 
imposed into the cabin, not to mention the shouts of playing 
children as they ran by, pounding like a herd of wild mustangs.  
After the morning's strange events, and Paul's explanation of a 
bear, the camp had returned to its original state consisting of 
excited people making the most out of their vacations.

Mulder was pretending to be engrossed in their researching, although 
after a few hours of reading the ledgers, the words had become a 
swirl of blue, black, and white.  He had almost forgotten what his 
whole idea had been about the documents, the absence of air 
conditioning in the warm afternoon making him drowsy.  His mind kept 
switching from the papers in front of him to the morning's incident, 
the latter finally winning his concentration.  The idea of losing 
Scully was the same as taking air from his lungs, the beat from his 
heart.  The simple thought alone tore at his chest with a deafening 
pain that paralyzed his entire being.  His senses were on high alert 
by his partner's entrancing presence inches away on the bed.  It was 
easy to create scenarios in his mind, to suddenly be swathed in 
fearlessness, to look up into her endless blue eyes and make the 
black, confined secrets of his heart be known.  While he spent his 
life searching for the truth in the world around him, he could not 
reveal his own truth, his own true feelings.  He felt like a 
complete hypocrite, wanting truth so desperately, yet not able to 
contribute his own.  He realized why this truth he was searching for 
had yet to be found--the truth in humans was compounded by lies, by 
layers created to protect it from ever being exposed.  So what was 
the right thing to do, he wondered, or maybe there wasn't one right 
way at all.  It was wrong to jeopardize what they had, their work 
and partnership, for a moment of truth, a declaration of love.  
These feelings he harbored could only destroy a friendship, a 
friendship he was sure Scully had always wanted to never change.  
And yet, he tortured himself with a replay of the moment outside his 
apartment.  The truth was there that day, the protective layers 
stripped away, no regrets, no worries about the friendship, but a 
new step to what they had already established.  With the memory, a 
series of questions invaded his thoughts, frustrating questions he 
could not answer alone.  But why then?  Why that moment when there 
were so many other opportunities before that?  Was it fate that a 
bee all the way from Texas just happened to sting her at exactly the 
wrong time?  Was she glad the bee stopped her?  Does she even 
remember now?  The last thought pained him far greater than even his 
thoughts could express.   Her expression of love forgotten?  To him, 
it was impossible, but that impossibility had been staring him in 
the face ever since that day.

"Something good on that page?"  Scully asked in a soft voice, her 
eyes never budging from her own papers.

Mulder's thoughts whirlwinded back to reality.  The blood thumped 
thickly in his chest, but his voice rang out calmly--used to the 
fine-tuned process of filtering out any other emotion.  "Ah, just 
looking over everything closely."

Scully took that moment to look up at him, almost disbelieving in 
her expression.

A light knock at the door broke their attention.

Mulder whipped the ledgers together in haphazard stack, shoving them 
under the bed while Scully groggily stood to her feet, glad to be 
rid of the tiresome names and weekly dates written on the ledgers.  
She didn't notice Mulder keeping an eye on her as she quickly shut 
the closet door on their equipment before opening the cabin door 
with a quiet turn of the doorknob.

"Well hit the nail on the head, I found the right cabin!"  Wafted in 
the sing-song of Dorothy's delighted voice as Scully opened the door 
wider to her, "I didn't see you two at lunch so I figured you two 
were...ah, spending a little quality time alone."  She gave them a 
quick wink and a sparkling grin. "Anyway, I brought you a little 
something to eat."  The small woman walked inside at Scully's 
gesture, carrying a brown paper sack with noticeable grease spots 
along its bottom.

"My stomach thanks you."  Mulder said gratefully, taking the bag 
from Dorothy's outstretched hand and rummaging through it.  

As Scully shut the door, Dorothy added, "And I'm also the carrier of 
some juicy news."

The elderly woman's last statement diverted Mulder's attention away 
from the food, long enough for Scully to hungrily steal the bag from 
his hands.

"Drop the Chulupa." Mulder directed toward his partner, receiving an 
icy stare in return, her expression ultimately leading to the 
conclusion to let her keep the bag.

"We've been keeping surveillance on the man I told you about this 
morning."  Dorothy began, taking Scully's seat at the end of the 
bed, "But this afternoon when we got back from lunch, he had packed 
up his belongings and left without a trace.  His cabin was as empty 
as a cookie jar left in a schoolhouse, but this could only mean one 
thing--his cover was blown.  Maybe he knew about you, or about us, 
or about all of us, but either way, the results can't be good.  We 
were really trying to keep it low-key, our advantage being that he 
didn't know we were watching him." 

"Who's 'we'?" Scully asked, rescuing a shiny red apple from a pool 
of grease.

Dorothy and Mulder both gave her a stare.

"What?"  Scully asked through a mouthful of apple, noticing the 
looks.  She shook her head, adding "Sure, fine." before taking a 
seat in the red chair.

"This could mean we are all in danger."  Dorothy continued, turning 
back to Mulder.  "And whatever is out there could be in danger too."

Mulder nodded thoughtfully.  "Have you ever seen this man here 
before?"

"No, I don't think so.  The activity in these parts has been the 
same for years, and no one has paid any mind to it.  But this year, 
it's different with Beth and Lou's disappearances, the noises, and 
what your partner experienced today.  The government is sending their 
goons out here for more than just the disappearance of two people, 
but it hasn't happened 'till now.  We're determined to preserve 
whatever is out there, no matter the risk."

"Preserving the truth."  Mulder murmured absentmindedly.

"Anyway," Dorothy continued, lightening her voice, "The others in 
our group are a little shy, but I'd like you to meet them tonight at 
the mixer.  They would love to hear some of your theories."

They both ignored the amused snort from across the room.

Mulder nodded with a wry grin,  "Well, I guess you've given me a 
good excuse to go."

"And what about you, Kate?"  Dorothy continued, looking over to the 
chair, grinning warmly.

Scully looked like she considered the offer with distaste.  "Well, I 
was hoping to curl up with a good book, maybe get some extra sleep."

"That means she'll be there." Dorothy whispered to Mulder with a 
wink.

Mulder nodded enthusiastically, walking the spry woman to the door, 
her head easy a foot beneath his own. 
 
"We're also going to look for some Chickadees this afternoon if 
you're interested."  Dorothy added with a twinkle lighting up her 
blue eyes.

Mulder chuckled.  "As tempting as that is, Dorothy, I think I'll 
pass."

Dorothy gave her feathery chuckle, reaching up to give his cheek a 
squeeze before he could avoid it.  He watched her amble down the 
path, already pulling out her binoculars to get a closer look at a 
nearby bird.  Mulder smiled as he closed the door, turning back to 
the bed, the springs creaking under his weight.

"Why didn't you tell her about the bug?  Their cabins could be under 
surveillance as well."  Scully asked curiously.

"Remember the policy, 'trust no one'?"

"Well, you two seem to have a certain simpatico.  And anyway, I 
thought you changed it to 'trust everyone'."  Scully chided.

"Oh, didn't I tell you, Scully, I changed it back."

Scully folded her arms, biting her lip to keep a smile from 
appearing on her lips.

"And besides, it's not Dorothy I'm worried about.  Something strange 
is going on here, Scully."  Mulder commented as he grabbed a 
slightly soggy taco from the bag Dorothy had brought.  "And whoever 
or whatever is trying to be concealed out there, we've got to find 
it...first."

"You mean how Beth and Lou tried to find it?"  Scully interjected, 
"No thanks."

"Well, we can't just sit around here.  I'm sure that man Dorothy 
mentioned is out there right now.  He knows about us, Scully.  I bet 
when his bug stopped working that gave him a huge clue.  It's 
probably just as dangerous here as it would be if we were out hiking 
in the woods."

"That very well could be, but what are we even looking for?"

"We'll know when we find it."  Mulder stated simply, taking a large 
bite of taco, a smile playing at his lips.  "But foremost, you 
could say we're looking for Beth and Lou.  We're going on two days 
since their disappearance."

"What exactly do you have in mind?  We have that 'bird breakfast' in 
the morning." 

"Mmmm...two eggs over easy sounds really good right about now."

Mulder quickly shuddered at the death rays coming across the room, 
jumping ahead without missing a beat.

"Ah, afterward, we can slip away without anyone noticing our absence.  
We've got all the necessary gear, and we pretty much know our way to 
North Ridge after today."

Scully shuddered at the thought of returning to that dreaded path 
she had hiked just hours earlier.  She knew her conscience wouldn't 
allow Mulder to go on the hike alone, but her insides were screaming 
at her not to go.  "Alright Mulder, but we're going to go, check 
over everything, and then get out of there."

Mulder nodded triumphantly.  "It's a date."  He stood, still holding 
on to the bag of food, "And speaking of dates, I have to go throw on 
my party shoes for tonight's festive mixer...for appearance's sake 
of course."

"Yee-haw." Scully sighed unenthusiastically, watching Mulder let 
himself out.

X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X 

------------------
5:10PM - SATURDAY
SKYHIGH SHOWERS 
------------------

Scully had been alone in the showers, gratefully scrubbing the dirt 
and grime of the last day and a half away.  The air was filled with 
a soapy smell as she stepped out and dressed, hearing the groan from 
the pipes on the men's side, indicating the presence of another 
dirty camper taking advantage of the warm running water.  She 
grabbed her belongings, and headed out the door, running straight 
into Mulder.

"Well, well.  You scrub my back I scrub yours?" He grinned, a towel 
slung across his shoulder, a bar of soap in his hands.

"Getting ready to impress the bird-women tonight?" She teased, 
moving to walk past him.

"Maybe it's not a bird-woman." came the response.

Scully could feel the warmth in her cheeks as she kept moving, not 
looking back.  At her rapid pace, it didn't take her long to reach 
her cabin, letting out a deep breath the moment the door slammed 
behind her.  She never knew if their words were simple ways to make 
their case-work easier, or if there was actually truth behind it.  
Although, she wished for the latter, she couldn't let herself 
believe it if it really wasn't true.  

Late-afternoon clouds were rolling across the camp, darkening the 
outside light to the point Scully had to switch on the lamp.  
Although the clouds were a pregnant light gray, it didn't look like 
rain was coming anytime soon.  At least, to Scully's joy, the 
temperature had cooled down by five degrees or more, and she let the 
cleansing winds continue to swirl through the cabin.

Her fingers massaged her temples in tiny circles as she flopped into 
the chair next to one of the open windows.  She could see the lake 
from this view, its waters turning a dark gray from the cloud's 
shadows, the waves chopping more crisply at the banks.  Trees bent 
and swayed in tune to the wind, a beautiful mountain waltz that  
mesmerized Scully for several minutes.  She quickly caught herself 
staring at the landscape, mechanically grabbing for the case folder, 
but deciding against it.  Instead, she picked up Beth's journal, 
flipping it open to where she had left off.  She was looking for 
clues, she reminded herself, skimming through four years of entries, 
a large chunk in the middle about Beth's discovery of PC, of how she 
had her last session with her therapist, of the countless letters 
and talks on the phone she and Lou had during the rest of the year.  
It amazed Scully how one person could make someone's life so 
complete, fulfilled.  But maybe it wasn't that amazing.  Wasn't her 
life very similar?  Who did she hang out with besides Mulder?  Maybe 
there was her mother, her family, but she had to admit there really 
wasn't anyone else.  About 90% of the time, messages on her 
answering machine had Mulder's voice attached to them, it was Mulder 
she saw everyday at work, who she traveled with on cases, and it was 
Mulder who had saved her from death on multiple occasions.  
Although, she decided, the work and the near-death experiences went 
hand-in-hand, but it all revolved around her partner.  Sure, they 
had had their differences, but just as Beth, she wasn't complaining.

She moved near the end of the journal, the date of the last entry 
grabbing her attention.   It was dated two days ago--the day Beth 
and Lou had disappeared.  Scully immediately started reading...
  
<< "Beautiful."

The sun's golden rays reflected on two spherical circles of glass, 
its magnifying eyes gliding in harmony with a velvet black wingspan 
and the starch white cap of a bald eagle.  As the bird of prey 
glided behind the craggy side of a mountain, the binoculars slowly 
moved downward, the seam from a pair of khakis coming into view.

"Hey!" came the pleasantly surprised laugh, Lou twisting a bulging 
hiker's backpack across his shoulders.

"Ahem." Spoke out Beth's soft, teasing voice, gesturing at the 
backpack with a thrust of her chin, "You're blocking the view." 

"You jus' got your binocular permit revoked, young lady."  Lou spoke 
with a purposefully thick southern drawl, charging toward the source 
of joyous laughter.  "Maybe while I'm at it, I should check your car 
decals to make sure they haven't expired."

The joke on the local police engaged them in a round of laughter, 
Beth willingly surrendering her binoculars as her large brown eyes 
sparkled with an excited softness.  The look was returned with a 
pair of blue eyes, of a warmness that made Beth shy away after only 
a few seconds.

Beth's heart and mind were alive with the mountain wilderness, time 
seeming to sweep by so quickly during her short yearly visit with 
Lou.  If she could have willed time to stop, she would have--she 
just couldn't have enough.  Yet, a new realization had started 
eating away at her, ever since her second year to the camp.  Lou 
really did want to spend time with her, not a leggy ranger or some 
tiny visitor that modeled for a living.  She had been wrong about 
him, making assumptions based on his looks that embarrassed her for 
doing so.  Each year she discovered a new depth within him.  He was 
a far more amazing man than she even imagined existed within another 
human.  She was pleasantly surprised.  

Mutually, they moved together across the worn rock trail, past 
familiar trees and the blooming white petals of dogwood.  Lou took a 
long drink from a half-full canteen, passing it over to Beth
before she even had to ask.

"Was that 'ol Barney back there?" Lou inquired, his cropped blonde 
hair being peppered with leafy shadows right before he covered it 
with his familiar dark brown hat.

"Sure was." Beth replied after finishing a long swallow from the 
canteen, a dribble of water winding from the corner of her mouth to 
drip from her chin.  "He was heading back to the nest with a good-
sized fish from the river."

Lou's thin bottom lip stretched into a grin, his tanned features 
stayed smooth and supple with the change in his facial muscles. "I 
bet Betty and the babies will be happy to see that."

"It'll probably put her into shock." Beth joked with him, both 
knowing Betty was the main hunter in the family.  Her brown 
ponytail danced with the cool mountain breezes as she walked, her 
body shadowed next to Lou's lean, tall form.

"So were you able to see anything else with the binoculars?" Lou 
went on, his voice now quieter with the change in subject.

"Everything looked the same.  The man said he saw lights right in 
the middle of North Ridge last night, but nothing seems to be 
touched."

"You think he was lying through his teeth?"

"It's possible.  Although, don't forget about the vagrant--she said 
almost the same thing."

"Well, maybe we're looking in the wrong part of the Ridge." Lou 
spoke thoughtfully.  "When I get another break tonight, we can look 
again if you want to.  We can head farther North this time."

"Okay, sounds good."  Beth replied, looking up to offer him a smile.

Beth moved down a steep incline in the trail first, Lou extending a 
helping hand around her upper arm as they carefully picked their way 
through the loose rock.  As they rounded a bend, they ran right into 
two men huffing their way up the trail.

"Mornin' ranger." 

The older of the two men spoke first, his head slightly balding, his 
body surprisingly lean and muscled, looking odd underneath a dirty 
pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, sleeves rolled up above the 
elbows.  Beth decided he was probably some New York businessman 
trying to fit in with the locals for a few days.

Lou politely touched the brim of his hat with two fingers, "Mornin' 
folks.  It's a beautiful afternoon for a hike."

"Sure is." Grinned the second man, a couple inches shorter than the 
first, but also dressed causally.  He was cautiously climbing up the 
incline in front of the older man, taking tiny steps as if it was 
his first time ever to do something so 'dangerous.'

"Oh!" Beth suddenly gasped, a large group of rocks rolling beneath 
her shoes, unable to grip onto anything solid with her feet.  She 
landed square on her back, feeling the tiny jabs of rock down her 
spine.  She then felt the tight grip still on her arm, noticing Lou 
had attempted to break her fall, almost sliding down himself, but 
had managed to stop her body from sliding down the trail any 
further.  

"Are you alright, miss?" the older man asked, only a few feet above 
Beth's dazed eyes.  She squinted from a patch of sun that was 
bearing down on her face, her eyes moving up to the man, her cheeks 
already red hot from embarrassment.  "Oh...er...yes, thanks.  
Accidents happen out..." her eyes suddenly widened as she caught a 
glimpse under the flannel. "...here."  

Her face had grown a record-breaking pale in less than a second, her 
heart beating a rush of panic through her veins.  She made a mad 
rush to get to her feet, trying as hard as possible to stay calm on 
the exterior, rocks and dust scratching and clouding around her.

"Wait...wait, take it easy." Lou was instructing, his eyes finally 
looking into hers, registering alarm in the silent message she was 
sending.  "What is it?" he mouthed, without any sound, Beth reading 
his lips immediately.

"He's got a gun."

Less than a second after she mouthed those words, she immediately 
felt her body being whipped behind Lou's with a strength she didn't 
even know Lou was capable of.  She knew Lou had never been in any 
kind of situation like the one unfolding, and the reality of them 
being injured or murdered in the woods was right upon them.  Beth 
was frozen in terror, but aware of Lou's protective arm holding her 
back.  She had no idea what he was going to do.

Lou didn't say a word.  He slowly removed his hat, possibly deciding 
it was inappropriate for anything that was about to transpire next.  
He once again glanced at Beth from the corner of his eye, and she 
had never realized how much she loved him as she did right then.  
His chin was held high, his lips tight together, and a glint of 
steel was present in his narrowed eyes.  Even though he was a young 
man who loved birds and nature, he was undoubtedly no coward, 
especially when it came down to her.

"Everything's alright now?" asked the younger man, looking across 
his buddy to the pair down below.

"Not exactly." Was the cool response from Lou, his jaw slightly 
twitching.  "There are no firearms allowed in the park."

This surprised the men, although the older one quickly regained his 
composure to answer, "Why, we know that.  Thanks for the info, 
ranger."

They thought they were going to get away.

"You have a gun--under your shirt." Beth accused, barely able to 
make out the words.  She had never been so brave in all of her life.  
The scene from her first trip to the cafeteria flashed through her 
mind, how she could hardly stand to eat near other people, and now 
here she was speaking up against a man carrying a gun.  A man who 
could have easily whipped it out and shot them both.

"You must have hit your head, young lady," the man continued, 
keeping a cool exterior.  "That's okay--all of us get confused."

"Okay, sir, then lift up your shirt and we'll clear up this matter 
once and for all."  Lou continued, now feeling Beth opening his 
backpack and digging around for his own weapon he kept.  He was 
wondering how he could reach it, but Beth had picked the perfect 
solution since she was behind him.

"Now, mister, I don't know what's..."

"Put your hands in the air!" came the wavering female voice from 
behind, a gun flashing in her hand.  She had absolutely no idea how 
to use it, but so far she could have won an Emmy for best actress.

Lou grabbed the gun, a huge wave of relief sweeping over him as the 
cold metal made contact with his hands.  He rapidly jogged up the 
incline, the men holding their hands in the air, annoyed expressions 
across their faces.  "Which one?" he asked Beth, frisking the older 
man at Beth's answer.  It took less than ten seconds to pull a 9mm 
from the man's waist.  

"This is an awfully big gun you've got here." Lou went on, checking 
the other man while holding up his own gun.  "What were you planning 
on using it on?"

Both men were silent, their faces stone-cold.

Lou immediately moved to the smaller man, which seemed to be the 
weaker of the two.  "You know," Lou hissed, moving until he was 
face-to-face with the man, "you won't need these pretty buttons on 
your shirt when you have a row of bullets from your navel to your 
nose."

The young man looked nervously over to the other, squeezing his eyes 
shut at the mental picture.  He seemed to be waging an inner war 
with himself, fear finally winning the struggle.  "We were sent!" he 
finally blurted.

"Sent by whom?" Lou prodded.

"I don't know.  We just get the orders--never see who makes them." 
The man went on.

"What were the orders?" 

"We're supposed to kill something.  They said we'd know when we'd 
see it.  That's all I know, I swear!"

"You snitch!" came the angry voice of the other man.

Lou exchanged a look with Beth.  "Can you grab my radio?  We need to 
call these guys in."

Beth nodded, forcing her frozen limbs to take action toward Lou's 
bag, her hands trembling violently as she searched.

The next moments were a blur to her, her ears picking up the sounds 
of scuffing dirt, her eyes darting upward to see the younger man had 
made a bold attempt to kick the gun from Lou's hand.  She knew Lou 
would never shoot another being, and his reluctance to fire at the 
two men confirmed it.  She didn't know what to do, the 9mm and Lou's 
gun both skittering down the hill at lightning speed, rocks and 
debris falling with it.  The older man skillfully whirled around 
with his fist, making a direct hit to Lou's stomach, hearing his 
familiar voice make a loud "oomph" as he fell to his knees, his hat 
being the next item to tumble down toward her.

"Get the gun!" the younger man called, the older one resisting by 
giving his buddy a hard push in the other direction.  

"No, you fool--she's closer to it--come on!"

And with that statement the men had clumsily took a running start up 
the hill and had disappeared from sight, their footfalls fading from 
earshot.  Although the woods were now eerily silent, the threat of 
the two men would never escape Beth's memory for as long as she 
lived.

Beth's breath was caught in her throat, her lungs burning for a 
refresh of oxygen.  Her body attempted a mad scramble to the 
doubled-over form above her.  She slipped and strained up the trail, 
her feet scrambling for security against the loose rock.  Her hand 
reached out, but hesitated, her newfound bravery once again 
propelling her to wrap an arm around Lou's back.  The dark brown 
cloth was damp with sweat, the same condition her own clothes were 
in, not to mention huge smears of dirt on her backside. Lou was 
still in a semi-circle, clutching his stomach, breathing rapidly 
next to his knees.

"Lou, are you okay?" Beth asked in a voice that almost sounded 
tearful, unsure.

"Yeah, yeah." He wheezed, "Just got the wind knocked out of me." He 
slowly began to unfold his body, his face, still covered in tense 
lines, contorted with pain as he moved.

Beth's arm didn't move away, but attempted to encourage his motions.  
She could now feel the tears springing to life in her eyes, unable 
to hold back the range of emotions and sheer terror she had just 
been through.  But they were also tears of thanks, of gratefulness 
that they were both still alive, breathing, and barely scathed.

"Beth." Came Lou's throaty whisper, easily and softly grabbing 
behind her neck and pulling her in for a tight hug.  He also 
understood what could have been, reveling in the strong pulse of 
blood beating just beneath the surface of Beth's skin, the heat of 
her rapid breath against his own neck.

Although Beth felt a tinge of awkwardness, their touching had always 
been a minimum, it felt wonderful to be able to have her arm around 
him, alive and well.  They stayed together in the hold for several 
minutes, although it was too short for Beth's taste, Lou slowly 
released her to add, "We've gotta' keep this quiet."

Beth nodded grimly.  She understood.  "No one would ever believe us 
when we have no proof."

"You're right." Lou continued, stretching his legs out a little 
further, "But they were sent to exterminate something that's up on 
the Ridge.  We've got to find it before the next set of goons do, 
whatever life that is up there depends on it."

"Tonight, then." Beth conceded.

"Tonight." Was Lou's confirmation. >>

It was there the last entry stopped, Scully suddenly feeling very 
chilled by the last events, the images so vivid and real in her mind 
that her own heart was rapidly drumming in her ears.  She checked 
the rectangular clock on the night stand, the red digital letters 
registering 6:40.  The dance would be starting soon.

--------------------
7:22 PM - SATURDAY
SKYHIGH DANCE HALL
--------------------

The evening weather at Skyhigh Bird Camp was unusually muggy and 
humid, the hovering clouds above seeming to have dragged the 
moisture with them.  Yet the throngs of people drinking and dancing 
inside the dance hall located next to the cafeteria didn't seem to 
be affected by it.  A local band was playing what Mulder guessed was 
supposed to be their rendition of a popular country tune as he 
entered the scene, the speakers onstage emitting a slight buzz when 
the bass player strummed across his instrument, guitars colliding 
together in harmony.  The band of five men moved their bodies and 
stomped their boots with the rhythm, one main singer leading the 
way, with the other four voices occasionally jumping in to back him 
up.  Dressed-up bodies were crowded onto the tiny dance floor and 
spilled into the dining area, swaying and sweating in time to the 
music's rhythm, tipping back drinks from inside brightly painted 
bird glasses.  The ceiling was a mixture of cloudy smoke and 
flashing colored lights, one of the bird crepe paper strings were 
sagging dangerously toward the dancer's heads.  No one seemed to 
notice as a large group of campers formed a circle with joined 
hands, two-stepping happily as they dizzily swung around.

Mulder craned his head around the swirl of dancing bodies, his 
dark eyes straining for a glimpse of the person he wanted to be 
there most of all.  He sighed deeply, inhaling the warm night as he 
patiently searched, knowing his pounding heart would be appeased the 
moment he laid eyes on her.  Whether she was sitting in a corner 
giving him one of her famous distasteful looks, hands folded across 
her chest, all that mattered was that she was there.  

His movements slow, he took one last sweep through the crowd.  He 
looked past the twirling skirts, cowboy hats, and glittering 
jewelry, his findings a disappointment when he couldn't spot a 
familiar glimpse of red hair within the entire room.

"Well, I'll be!  You made it, Henry!"  Came Dorothy's boisterous 
voice, diverting his attention to a large table near the back of 
the room.  The elderly woman had stood up, revealing a modest blouse 
and skirt, looking odd without her bird-watching battle gear that 
Mulder had become used to from all of their previous meetings.  
Her bony hand motioned with excited circles for him to join the 
table.  "Come join us.  Sit a spell!"

A crooked grin appeared across Mulder's lips as he strided toward 
Dorothy and the two men she was sitting with.  An older man, very 
close to Dorothy's age, and a younger man in his fifties eyed him 
closely as he pulled up a chair.

"I saw you looking around here like a lost lamb."  Dorothy leaned in 
close to Mulder's ear, the blue in her eyes sparkling wildly, "Don't 
you worry, though, I was late to every cotillion I ever went to--it 
used to drive the beaus wild."  She winked again knowingly, "The 
beautiful ones are always late."  

Mulder endured another squeeze of his cheek as Dorothy piped up with 
introductions.  "Well, here he is, boys.  This here is Henry who I 
became better acquainted with on the hike this morning.  You should 
just hear this fella' talk--and I thought we had it bad."  Her 
infectious laugh filled the table as she went on to tease, "And 
contrary to what his lady friend may think, this one here is all 
mine."

Mulder exchanged an amused look with the men, fidgeting 
uncomfortably against the hard oak chair as he nodded a greeting.

"So I've been bumped from being the youngest, eh?" Retorted the 
younger man, leaning across the table to extend his hand.  "At 
least, Dorothy dear, my cheek can rest in peace.  All that squeezing 
reminds me of Christmas when I was growing up--my Aunt Bessie never 
failed to leave a mark that would last for days."

Dorothy chuckled lightly while Mulder and the younger man shook 
hands across the table.

"I'm Nigel." The young man continued, letting Mulder know how 
athletic he was as he offered an iron-grip handshake. 

"Ah, I had one of those Aunts too--I think every family does." 
Mulder mused, relaxing his lanky frame against the knobbed posts on 
the back of the chair.  It had been difficult to try on a variety of 
different clothes back at the cabin, Andrew's goggled eyes staring 
at him every inch of the way, but his final choice ended up being a 
crisp pair of khakis accented by a dark blue polo shirt.  He had 
decided it had made him look rugged and refined, revealing an 
inherent strength and sureness in him that masked a lot of his worry 
about playing along with the mixer...and with knowing Scully would 
be there--sooner or later.

"And this here is George." Dorothy prompted the elderly man next to 
her as he sat stiffly in his chair, arms folded squarely across his 
chest.

"Humph."  George grumbled, the hard creases from wrinkles deepening 
around the firmness of his jaw.

Mulder simply nodded, holding back the impulse to smile at the man's 
amusing grumpiness.

Dorothy jabbed the older man with her elbow, George returning an 
irritated scowl.  "It's his birthday." Dorothy whispered into 
Mulder's ear as if that explained it all.  "When you move past 75, 
any birthday after that makes anyone depressed."

"I'm not depressed." George ranted, turning to Mulder.  "I'm George 
Washington Hartford--named after our very first president.  No 
matter how old I get I know not to be as trusting as these two--how 
do we know who you really are and why you're here?  A little proof 
never hurts anyone."

Before Mulder could open his mouth, Dorothy had jumped in with an 
amused chuckle, giving Mulder's arm a pat.  "Questioning him would 
be questioning me, George.  You know I can sense bad from good a 
mile away.  And don't be an old fool--you know what happened this 
afternoon."  

"Humph."
  
"His chirp is worse than his bite." Nigel supplied, suddenly perking 
up as the band played the ending notes to a song.

"Okay, all of you bird-lovin' honky-tonks listen up!"  The lead 
singer from the band drawled through the microphone, drowning out 
the crowd completely as a high pitched feedback squealed from the 
speakers.  The drummer jumped down and started tinkering with it as 
the lead continued,  "Today we have a special event here at Skyhigh!  
Let's all give a 'tweet-tweet' for George..." the man put his hand 
over the microphone, whispering something to a woman, then returned, 
"...ahem...this seems to be the correct name...for George 
Washington!"

"Tweet-tweet!"  The crowd chorused at the top of their lungs, 
throwing glasses into the air and laughing.

"Oh no."  George grumbled, sinking lower into his seat.  
"Dorothy...you deliberately left out my last name.  People will 
think I'm crazy!"

"And where's our first president out in the crowd tonight?" the man 
enthusiastically called, a white spotlight zipping across the room.

Dorothy was laughing at her friend.  "I know that, you 'ol coot, but 
that's the point.  Now stand up so the folks can clap."

Nigel was practically rolling from laughter across the table, 
earning him death rays, Mulder noted, that Scully would have been 
proud of.
 
"You just wait."  George warned, half-standing for a second as the 
white light flooded across his wrinkled, pasty face, sinking back 
into his chair faster than an anchor hitting the water.

"I bet George has some great stories about crossing the Delaware to 
share." The singer joked, laughter coursing through the hall.

Mulder could just make out the "Hmph" from George as the band keyed 
back up into a Brooks & Dunn number.  He could see that George 
treasured Dorothy's company far more than he let on, and from the 
tiny exchange of smiles between them, she knew it too.

Mulder made a sidelong glance toward the double-door entrance, his 
eyes catching a glimpse of Gil entering the hall.  He was wearing a 
huge, silver belt buckle that glittered against the lights, a new 
pair of jeans and a crisp western shirt that seemed to be saved for 
only special occasions.  It didn't take long for one of the ladies 
to sweep up next to him, and after a courteous oblige, they skipped 
into the teeming crowd.

"There goes 'ol Gil." Dorothy commented to the table, "He never 
fails to pass a woman's reputable radar as being the perfect, sweet 
guy, so most women aren't afraid to come up to ask him to dance.  
Too bad he's more interested in birds than in finding a nice little 
lady."

Mulder nodded, still starting into the crowd, not finding his 
partner.

"So," Dorothy piped up enthusiastically.  "Who's going to do the 
boot scootin' boogie with me?"  She grabbed Mulder's arm before 
there were any responses.

"Oh, no, no, no."  Mulder replied instantly, a sudden deadpan 
expression crossing his face.
  
"Now, come on.  It obvious you and Kate certainly aren't dance 
partners.  Now, when is the last time you danced?"

"Country style?  Never."  Mulder replied quickly, trying to remove 
Dorothy's firm grasp from his arm.

"Well, now, it's past time you learned.  Can you seriously leave 
this world knowing you haven't learned as much as you possibly could 
have?"

Mulder gave a helpless look to the men who were now staring at him 
with amusement.  "Give it up, son."  George spoke up.

"She always wins...especially when she adds the Grim Reaper into the 
picture."  Nigel added.

"B-but..." Mulder protested, his eyes wide.

Dorothy dragged him to his feet, "You heard him--better to give up 
now and make the pain easier on you."  She gave him a wink.

"I-I don't know the steps."  Mulder continued his pleas, moving to 
the dance floor slowly behind the tiny, elderly woman.

"What's to know--you just hop around, have a good time, and you're in 
the club." Dorothy chuckled, moving amongst the dancers.

Mulder sighed, now glad his partner was not there to witness his 
downfall into country dancing.  He decided that the sooner he got 
the dance over with the better as he started jerkily swaying while 
Dorothy grabbed his hands.
  
"Now move those fine hips of yours, Henry, this is not a waltz."  
Dorothy instructed in a high-spirited voice, her feet zigzagging 
across the floor, her tiny body moving as light as air.

It had been years since he had done any kind of dancing, and 
although awkward at first, the feint memory of why most everyone 
loved dancing tingled in his mind. It felt good to let loose a 
little, especially with someone else, and slowly, Mulder began to 
feel the beat of the music in his legs.  Instead of moving against 
the crowd, gradually he began moving with the rhythm, a hint of a 
smile threatening to break at his lips.  

His dancing partner was laughing as she spun in a circle, her gray 
bun loosening to the point stray gray hairs were breaking loose from 
the tight swirl.  Mulder noted Dorothy's cotillions had paid off, 
since she was moving gracefully and with ease for a woman over 
seventy.  Together they weaved around bodies that were glistening 
with sweat, tassels and bolos flapping, the scents of different 
perfumes sweeping by for only an instant.  It wasn't as bad as he 
imagined, the scene becoming almost surreal, but he knew if it 
wasn't for Dorothy's insistence, he would have never been there in 
the first place.  He never dreamed of doing something so unorthodox 
from his character, but the whole point was that no one noticed or 
cared if he knew the steps or not, or that he was out there at all.

"There's Big John and his little boy." Dorothy chatted as she 
twirled, "that's who you're staying with, isn't it?"

Mulder felt a sudden chill along his spine at the thought. "Yeah, 
that's them."

"Aw, such a sweet shy boy he's got." Dorothy went on, "He's always 
in his cabin.  I feel so terrible for the little guy."

Mulder had to bite his tongue as he joined hands with Dorothy and a 
stranger, the dancers making a line at the lead singer's call.  No 
one would ever believe his accusations against Andrew, a grown man 
making accusations about a little boy was hopeless.

The line moved up and down the dance floor, the man calling out, 
"Swing your partner round 'n round..." as Mulder broke away from the 
group, giving Dorothy another twirl.  It was then his eyes caught a 
familiar glimpse in the doorway at the back.  He waited for a couple 
to move away from his field of vision, but he already knew who is 
was before he caught sight of his partner once more.
  
Scully's eyes were meticulously searching the dance hall, not yet 
finding Mulder's whereabouts.  She was wearing a light blue top, a 
sleeveless linen that looked comfortable and simple, alongwith a 
sleek, black skirt that looked familiarly like a piece that went 
together with one of her work suits.  She was so perfectly put 
together, almost intimidatingly so, and her eyes were even brighter 
than normal as they swept across the crowd like a lighthouse beacon.  

Mulder immediately remembered one of the first things he'd noticed 
about her when she had first walked into his office.  It was those 
wide, clear eyes, the color of mountain blueberries--a fathomless 
indigo with a touch of purple in their depths.  And now she wore an 
elegant top smothered in that same color, nearly taking his breath 
away.  Her chin length, reddish-gold hair was like a pair of shining 
parentheses framing her face, and with a self-confident toss of her 
head, the strands moved slowly, only to settle immediately back 
where they belonged.  Her image was cool and collected, as always, 
as her head slowly turned toward Mulder, making eye contact with 
him.

"Oooh, lordy, Henry."  Dorothy called theatrically, giving her 
tongue a click, "If any man can resist that entrance there must be 
something wrong with them.  She's a woman on a mission--you go get 
her before someone else does." The elderly woman encouraged.

Mulder turned toward Dorothy mechanically, weakly looking away from 
Scully's potent entrance.  He noticed Nigel had cut in to dance with 
Dorothy, an envious grin on the man's lips.  Mulder nodded 
courteously, holding in a grin himself as he walked his numb legs 
and body from the dance floor.  Scully was waiting for him at the 
edge, staring at the surroundings.

"I feel like I'm holding a third class ticket on Titanic."  She 
commented, looking around her at the noisy, crowded dance hall full 
of partygoers.

"I guess you decided to read your book later?"  Mulder taunted, 
remembering Scully's words from earlier that afternoon.

"Actually I finished it."  Scully replied casually, not missing a 
beat.  "I had nothing else to do this evening, so here I am.  I see 
you've wasted no time getting into the bird spirit."

Mulder smiled inwardly.  "Just making an old woman happy."

"You make it sound like community service."  

"Well, I don't see you up there on the dance floor." 

"This is for appearance's sake, remember?  And..." Scully paused a 
moment as she looked over toward the refreshment tables, "Is that 
Andrew over there spiking the punch?"

Mulder snorted as he noticed the red-headed menace dumping brown and 
clear liquids into the punch.  "Would you like a cup?"

"Henry, that's not funny." Scully reprimanded with a scowl, making a 
move toward the punch bowl when she collided into Paul's enormous 
frame, both of them startling.  It was Mulder's turn to scowl as he 
saw that dimple appear in the ranger's cheek.

"Ma'am." Paul said politely, tipping his hat in apology, as if he 
was totally surprised by 'accidentally' running into Scully.  

Mulder's features turned darker, being a guy himself, it wasn't hard 
to see a pick-up line being carefully constructed.  He was sure 
Scully had to catch it as well.

"Wanna' dance?  They're playin' a catchy tune." Paul boldly 
continued, managing to weed Mulder's steely glance away as he 
blocked Scully's vision with a massive arm.  

Mulder counted down the seconds, predicting Scully's famous, 
business-like demeanor to reveal itself and to put this mammoth in 
his place without even hesitating.  Paul's proposal was so obviously 
ridiculous--Scully would never accept such a thing.  He waited 
another moment, his brows furrowing at the silence, a burn igniting 
in his stomach.  

He noticed Scully had opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated.  He 
didn't realize that she had been unsure how to make peace between 
her partner and Paul, the silent glares between them not hard to 
miss.  To Mulder, the pause had relayed a wrong message, his veins 
turning into an uncontrollable fire.  She was actually considering 
it, Mulder fumed, how could she after discovering the emptiness that 
hid beneath its flashy exterior?!  He desperately wanted to grab the 
tree-trunk arm in front of him, move it aside, and whisk the woman 
he didn't want to share into the colored lights, twirling skirts, 
and melancholy country notes.  To only hold her in his arms, hands 
clasped, hips inches apart and swaying together in harmonious step 
were the images flooding his mind with hurricane force.  His 
emotions were running wild across his skin, his breath was short and 
labored, but he knew he had to move away while he still could.  The 
only thing worse than watching a dance between his partner and Paul 
was allowing his romantic thoughts to escape into the open in a 
moment of jealousy he couldn't help but feel; to ruin a friendship 
he never wanted to lose...ever.  That pain was the most unbearable 
of all.

Mulder rushed over toward Scully, leaning into her hair's fragrance 
of mountain wildflowers, but able to whisper in a hurried rush, 
"Don't let me stop you."  

Scully was absolutely stunned as she tried to whip around to look 
into Mulder's face, but he was already making a bee-line for the 
door, disappearing into the black night in a matter of seconds.  

X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X 

-------------------
8:38 PM - SATURDAY
-------------------

" 'Whoever you are
   In the evening go outside
   Out of your room
   Where you know everything.'"  

Mulder whipped around as the wind carried Scully's soft voice to his 
ears.  He was perched precariously at the end of the dock, his shoes 
hastily kicked to the side, while the cool lake water flowed between 
his toes.  He strained his eyes into the darkness toward the other 
end of the dock, the white of the moon stubbornly shining in between 
a gap in the clouds, illuminating his partner as she emerged, 
immersed in silver, like an angel full of grace.  

"Rilke."  Mulder cited, feeling the warmth of a smile form on 
Scully's face in the darkness.

"I didn't know you've read his work."  Scully openly observed as she 
reached the end of the dock, the material from her skirt brushing 
against the back of her thighs in a soft rustle as she seated 
herself next to Mulder.  She slowly removed her sandals one by one, 
the wispy scrape of the leather never breaking the night's utter 
silence or the soft music of the lake.  She took a moment to soak in 
the heavens through the sky's cloudy veil, the pale moonlight 
illuminating the curve of her neck while the lake gurgled below as 
her feet hit the waters.  "And you know, I definitely think he was 
on to something."

This brought a smile to Mulder's face as his eyes joined Scully's 
into the infinite space above them.  The tiny, white pinpoints of 
light shone stubbornly through the cloud's mask, a photograph of the 
past, the future hidden in the dark depths behind them.  The night's 
full moon cast silver rays across the Appalachian Mountains and the 
lake, cresting each ripple of water with a silver lining, like a 
perfect white diamond glittering on the surface.  The air 
was laden with the threat of rain, but the persistent wind was fresh 
and light, intermingling Mulder's well-placed cologne with Scully's 
flowery shampoo that she had used only a few short hours earlier.  
Now the only sounds were the tired creaks from the dock and the soft 
wind brushing through the treetops, listening to the evidence of two 
breathing souls at the water's edge.

"You know," Scully continued as she circled her tiny feet in the 
cool waters, "sitting here like this reminds me of something that 
happened a long time ago."

Mulder nodded, eagerly hoping Scully wouldn't stop there.

"One year when my father came home from sea duty, my mom got 
all of us dressed up and took us out to the docks to greet him.  She 
started talking with friends of hers, which usually happened while 
we were waiting, and being kids, it didn't take long for us to get 
bored.  So we snuck away down to the water's edge where Missy and I 
threw off our shoes and my brothers hiked up their pants.  We went 
wading.  Bill started a water fight by flinging water at Charlie, 
and it didn't take long for everyone to get involved--we all ended 
up being soaked.  Next thing we know, mom is standing there, totally 
horrified that our good clothes were soaked and our hair looked like 
something out of Rugrats.  We were all grounded for a month, but 
even though mom would never admit it, having all of us confined to 
the house with her was more punishment for her than us." 

Mulder chuckled as he stole a glance at Scully's silver, smooth-
skinned face, quickly drawing in a breath at the beauty he beheld.  
It was rare that they shared stories about their past, but Mulder 
immensely enjoyed it when Scully did open up those secret hiding 
places from within her guarded exterior.  Of course, he quickly 
reprimanded himself, he was just as guilty of the same crime by 
never sitting down with his partner to talk about anything besides a 
case they were working on, and it bothered him that someone who 
had impersonated him could do it so easily.  Plus, the worse part of 
that whole ordeal was that all it had taken was a bottle of wine and 
some firelight to relax his partner, and when he had barged in, they 
were way too close on the couch for his comfort.  It had all been so 
easy, it seemed, but what it really came down to was who was going 
to take the first step--the most challenging and difficult move of 
all.  At one time fate had been set into motion in the hallway, but 
just as a VCR left on pause long enough would burn a hole in a tape, 
the pause from the hallway was slowly burning a hole in his heart.

And now, here she was next to him, talking to him, and so absolutely 
stunning Mulder couldn't even look at her to keep his heart rate 
steady.  The moon swathed her in it's bluish-white fire, every 
strand of her silky hair shone like delicate crystals of light, each 
eye a blue abyss of beauty as they projected their most innermost 
thoughts into the heavens.

Scully looked at him out of the corner of her eye, knowing him too 
well not to sense that something important was preying on his mind, 
something he couldn't bring himself to say.  She continued slowly, 
her voice subdued to only one decibel higher than the wind's 
whispers.  "Mulder, why in the world did you run out back at the 
mixer?  Right after you left they started playing 'Rockin' Robin' 
and the place turned into a complete madhouse.  There were more 
tweeting and arm flapping going on in there than in something you'd 
find on the Discovery channel."

Mulder slowly exhaled and uttered something that sounded like an 
abrupt laugh. 
 
Scully noticed that he had stiffened and seemed suddenly 
uncomfortable.  She wondered if she should backtrack from the 
question and change the subject, but her instincts were telling her 
Mulder had an answer, but not one he wanted to share.  Her curiosity 
outweighed her last thought, it was certainly a surprise to her to 
see him hastily excuse himself when Paul had stepped into the 
picture.

Mulder's thoughts were reeling at lightning speed for a safe answer, 
but he was well aware of how well his partner knew him, and he 
didn't want to sit there and fumble around with an obvious made-up 
story.  Over the years he had slowly realized Scully had an uncanny
attraction to rugged men in uniform.  First there was the local 
sheriff in Cheney, although he never understood the turn-on with 
those teeth the sheriff sported.  Then of course, there was the time 
she came back from vacation from Maine, going on and on about 'Jack' 
and his poster in the office.  He was no fool, of course.  The 
minute she had headed out of the office on her way to M street he 
was using all available FBI resources to find out who this 'Jack' 
was.  He was surprised that it turned out to be an older man with a 
bit of a cherub-looking face.  Both times he couldn't understand 
what Scully was thinking, but at least with Paul, the physical 
reasons were more obvious, the confusion starting with the fact that
Paul was undoubtedly dumb as a post.  But he knew he couldn't lie, 
couldn't stand to see that disappointed expression on her face 
because of him.  Finally he spoke, his words touched by a wry 
melancholy, "I didn't want to be in the way of a budding new 
romance."

This brought a roguish smile to Scully's lips and a glowing flash of 
pink to her cheeks at the thought that Mulder had been bothered by 
the image.  She was only way too familiar with what he was feeling 
herself, remembering her run-in with her partner and Phoebe in the 
hall, Detective White on his bed in the hotel, Dr. Bambi...of all 
names, and...she shuddered at the name...Diana Fowley.  "Mulder," 
she said slowly, taking another quick peek from the corner of her 
eye to read her partner's expression, "Whatever gave you that idea?"

Mulder moved immediately into his previous struggle to produce 
another ambiguous answer, but was saved as Scully noticed this and 
continued in a non-committal tone, "I think Dorothy has deemed 
herself our keeper, because it wasn't two seconds after you left 
that she stepped in and took Paul off to dance.  Of course, she also 
whispered to me that you owed her one later."

Mulder brightened at the mental picture, giving a light chuckle as 
his shoulders relaxed.  Scully knew just how to comfort him and make 
light of the situation, no matter the circumstances.  He turned to 
face Scully, their eyes instantly locking, a smile playing at both 
of their lips.  Mulder stared longingly into his partner's indigo 
pools, their gaze seeming to hold forever.  "What's going to happen 
to us, Scully?"

Scully's brow made a slight furrow.  "What do you mean?"

"You know, thirty years from now, when we're so old the best 
paranormal case is about who put the tooth in the Jell-O."

"Well, who's to say that you won't turn out like Dorothy, watching 
the skies until your last breath?  Your spirit is too strong, 
Mulder.  I can't see you willingly ever wanting to stop."
  
Mulder nodded.  "Me and my backhoe, right?  Always digging further 
on a quest where the end is only a mirage.  But what has happened to 
our normalcy, an object we made the choice to abandon so many years 
ago."

"Like having 2.3 kids, a dog, and a house with a picket fence?" 
Scully paraphrased, looking down at her feet as she swirled them in 
the water.  "I believe I've brought this up once before, which you 
casually brushed off."

Mulder didn't confirm or deny Scully's last statement, but added, 
"Well, maybe it's normal to want that cozy American Dream at some 
point in your life."

"Everyone is different, Mulder, there really isn't a concrete answer 
as to why our instincts search for that ideal.  As Yazid once said, 
'This thing we tell of can never be found by seeking, yet only 
seekers find it.'"

Mulder's eyes turned dark and thoughtful.  "Ah, more words of 
wisdom, but that's coming from the guy who also believes 'a single 
atom of the sweetness of wisdom in a man's heart is better than a 
thousand pavilions in Paradise.'  Do your lifelong religious beliefs 
just completely agree with that? Eternal paradise is nothing 
compared to just one atom of kindness in a man's heart?"

Scully's eyes froze toward the dark depths of the lake, her body 
suddenly growing still.  She let out a long breath as she boldly 
turned her head to connect with her partner's shadowed eyes.  The 
drifting clouds above had momentarily filtered out the white glow, 
making Scully feel more protected than she had been moments earlier.  
Her eyes had already betrayed the answer she had concluded, shining 
bright with strength through her soul's blazing windows.  She 
hesitated, her mouth open, feeling as if she were leaning over the 
edge of an abyss.  For some reason she felt compelled to answer, 
unable to hide her honesty.  Her voice was as slow and throaty as 
the night winds.  "It takes finding that one atom to know if it's 
true.  When I read it back in college, I didn't pay much mind to it, 
but since then...my beliefs have changed."
        
Mulder's heart agonizingly ached to believe she was speaking about 
more than being 'older and wiser', but didn't have to go far for an 
answer as the moon peeked through the clouds, a moment of unguarded 
emotion offered to him as a sacred gift in his partner's eyes.  It 
was paralyzing.

Scully had quickly reproached herself for her honesty, but all of 
her secrets felt invaded, looked-over and unfolded like clothes in a 
fancy store.  She was the clerk, running frantically to put 
everything back in the correct places, preparing the merchandise for 
the next big sale.  A pang of anxiety clenched her stomach as she 
snatched her gaze away and back down to the waters.

Mulder had been waiting for such an invitation since their moment 
together in his hallway.  Now that it had actually happened, it had 
been so quick he wasn't certain if it was something his own wistful 
imagination had concocted.  Scully had withdrawn whatever it was she 
was just offering, and he knew it was crucial not to push or pursue 
the fragile coil that connected them.  He could feel her heavy dread 
and uncertainty like a dam being opened above them, and he quickly 
took hold of his senses to devise a way to put her at ease once 
again.  Their conversation had become too intense too quickly, and 
it was his turn to correct the direction.

"How about this," Mulder proposed, his voice cracking on his opening 
words, "You know how good friends will sometimes make those pacts so 
they're assured they won't grow old alone?  Say, in thirty years if 
they haven't gotten married they'll marry each other?"

Scully raised a curious eyebrow, his voice sounding quite normal 
after his opening, assisting to help her feel much calmer.  She 
sliced her feet through the cool waters below, the coolness helping 
to reconcile her and to lend her a small measure of detachment.

"Why don't we do that, Scully?  Then we'll never have to investigate 
Jello alone."  Mulder kidded, rolling back onto his hands into that 
distinguished pose of his that was by no means calculated...well, 
maybe at one time, but now it was just natural.

His proposal provoked a subterranean joy from within the pit of her 
stomach as she observed him with interest.  Her comeback was already 
at the tip of her tongue, her voice ringing out clear and soft.  "It 
would never work."

"And why is that, Agent Scully?"

A playful smile ignited at the corners of her soft, reddened lips.  
"I don't think calling each other 'Mulder' would last very long."

Mulder grinned ruefully.  "Immediate annulment for name calling.  
Well, you could always talk Frohike into being a Jello assistant."
 
"My arteries would be clogged from all of those huevos rancheros by 
the time I'm 60." Scully snorted, "I'll pass."

"Would you pass on this?"  Mulder asked quickly with the slightest 
of smiles touching his mouth as he pulled his large frame to its 
feet.  He outstretched his arm, offering one of his sturdy hands, 
his fingers tipped with smooth, rounded nails.

Scully's eyes moved from the hand to her partner's face.  A deep 
voice inside her was already whispering for her to take it, to grab 
hold of the person she desperately wanted.  She wasn't sure what 
Mulder was planning, but she instinctively slid her palm into his, 
the warmth between them igniting a fire they only pretended not to 
notice.  His hand immediately gripped over hers with a tender 
strength and with deliberate slowness assisted her to her feet.
  
"I should have asked you this back at the mixer, and it has nothing 
to do with being undercover." Mulder whispered into the wind, his 
heart pounding with hurricane force as his nerves set his skin on 
fire. "Dance with me."  

"Is that a question?" Scully chided with a smile.

"Maybe not, but I don't want 'no' for an answer."  Mulder persisted 
in a serious tone, his memory blurring to only one other time when 
they had danced.  They had left their inhibitions that night, 
discovering a victim with many more serious problems than the ones 
they had with each other, and had proudly swayed together to the 
music, ignoring the throngs of noisy people behind them.  But now 
they were in front of no one but themselves and the shadowed 
mountainous earth cocooned around them.

They shared a respectful silence, a perfect stillness as Scully's 
bare feet moved closer to Mulder's across the damp wood that had 
grown dark with age.  No sound was emitted from their movements, but 
the silence was absolute, reverential.  There was no need for music, 
their connection far more harmonious than any note could produce.  
Mulder's touch was faint and nostalgic to the deep recesses of 
Scully's memory, sadness seeping from her soul at the thought that 
these touches were from her partner, her friend, but not from a 
romantic love, an uncharted territory waiting between them.

Mulder could barely contain his feet to stay in their place as he 
allowed Scully as much time as she wanted to move into his arms.  
Even though he felt the impulse to rush close to her, he knew after 
six years it wasn't suddenly going to change into a lightning round.  
It had to be right and comfortable for both of them, and he may have 
had ideas where he would like this dance to progress to, but he knew 
it was important to leave the future unwritten and open, glad that 
Scully had accepted his invitation at all.  He felt the softness of 
her skin run along the outside of his arms, her hand moving to his 
back to find a natural place in its embrace.  The other hand stayed 
firmly in his, their lock unbreakable.

Scully had stopped her body about a foot away from his, cautious at 
that distance.  She moved her gaze back to her partner's face, the 
moon's gentle, silver light accentuating the slight shadow under his 
eyes.  She was conscious of the smell of myrrh, of him, her chest 
struggling with her mind to give up the fight.  She feared to keep 
her guard, that guard that she had dropped for only a second just a 
few minutes earlier.  This fear had always been an unexpected 
factor, something that used so much energy to be constantly covered 
up, hiding a sudden, shattering discovery of a reality that had 
always been there, refusing to ever look at it.  He was so close, 
his arms all around her, his smell, his breath, his eyes, his 
soul...her heart didn't want to break the closeness.

Mulder began to lead Scully in a slow, swaying step, their bare feet 
still inaudible against the heavy wood.  All Mulder could hear was 
the steady lapping of the water along the lake's shore, the wind 
sending its whispered secrets into the trees, and the beating of his 
own heart roaring through his ears.  Words were unnecessary.  The 
perfect language was shining through his partner's eyes, being 
returned back through his own.  She was slowly relaxing in his arms, 
their steps becoming hypnotic and dream-like.  He could feel her 
body inch closer, cautious and asking, and he quickly responded by 
drawing her next him.  His senses soared as her moon silvered hair 
rested comfortably beneath his chin, the fragrance of her deafening 
his sense of smell, the feel of her body pressed against his making 
his sense of touch melt into a pool of fire.  He couldn't sort his 
thoughts, couldn't rationalize, couldn't deny, but instead, his 
heart had taken over.  It was far more powerful than any other part 
of him, and it had begun living again, after so many years of 
keeping it subdued.  His heart, his love, was undeniably in control, 
turned on by a switch only Scully was able to access. 

Scully was engulfed in Mulder's strong arms, her feet in harmony 
with his.  She could feel the soft beat of his heart against her 
cheek, it's steady rhythm taking her to places she had only 
imagined.  This had to be a dream, so many of them that had taken 
her to this point only to open her eyes to see a ceiling, a sweat-
covered bed, and to realize that she was alone...so very alone.  She 
moved her head back and lazily opened her eyes.  Her partner was 
there, reflecting the moon as two tiny white spheres from the pupil 
of his eyes.  Behind the white reflection was a depth of emotion 
that stole her breath, and their feet stopped.

Mulder's hands moved deliberate and slow to frame Scully's shadowy, 
sliver face.  His fingers gently tangled themselves in her hair, 
their gaze never breaking.  He was looking down into an abyss, an 
abyss he had stepped up to before.  He knew once he jumped he could 
never go back, and just as the time before, he had never been so 
sure about anything in his life.  The storm of emotions raged 
through him as he faced her, his breath quick and shallow.  He was 
very conscious of the touch of her arms as they moved behind his 
neck, each aware of the other's closeness.  His mouth was dry by the 
overwhelming sense of what was to come, but the current flowing 
between them was unmistakable.  His eyes continued to look at her 
steadily; the skin was smooth across her cheekbones, the curve of 
her lips softening everything.  He felt a shiver of fire inside of 
him as his feelings ran deep, far deeper than he could ever find on 
his own.  His hands tightened their grip, not wanting what was 
between them to slip away, ever.  Suddenly his head was in motion, 
his lips aching to touch the soul only his eyes had previously been 
allowed to see.  He was hurtling through space toward his partner of 
six years, who occupied a place in time in his very being, the 
residue of another life already implanted upon his character, she 
was a part of him that would last forever.  

The earth and heavens held their breath as the two souls on the dock 
were about to mark the end of a chapter of life and ready to open a 
new one as cleanly as a cut with a scalpel.

Scully was buffeted by conflicting emotions, but she was magnetized 
by the forces deep inside, acutely listening to the secrets 
projected by her partner, her companion.  She leaned forward toward 
his advances, the answers seeming so clear and raw.  Their lips were 
now only centimeters apart, both of them pausing once more to give 
each other one last confirmation.  The hesitation was almost 
unbearable, their anxious breaths showering against each other, warm 
and moist against each other's skin.  Scully closed her eyes slowly 
as she moved toward her partner, the heat of his face radiating 
against her own.  He was so close to her, her heart pounding in 
every section of her body.  It was only a matter of seconds.  

Warmth descended upon her lips, a light brush of flesh, so innocent 
yet intimate, revealing an entry into the darkest shadows of the 
soul, the echo of a contained silence screaming to be heard.  Yet 
the touch she only began to know suddenly disappeared, leaving her 
wanting it to return, confused at the sudden disruption.

"Henry!  Kate!  I've been looking all over for you!"

Mulder had pulled back, startled by the voice that shattered the 
mountain silence, both of their bodies frozen in time, dazed by the 
broken spell. 
 
"I just, ah," Gil slowed down as he approached the dock, obviously 
noticing what he had interrupted, "...um, I, uh, just got a page.  
They found Beth about twenty miles from here--over at Skyland 
Mountain.  Come on, I'll drive!" 

X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X 

-------------------------------
9:34 PM
GIL'S TRUCK
DESTINATION: SKYLAND MOUNTAIN
-------------------------------

Relentless red-to-amber-to-blue car lights reflected on the asphalt 
surface of the road as a police car rushed by.  Tiny drops of rain 
were spattering against the windshield while Gil switched the wipers 
up a notch, the tires making a soft swishing sound as they traveled 
across the wet terrain.  The narrow beams of light from the old 
Chevy stretched out a narrow path ahead of them, illuminating only 
segments of wet asphalt, making it gleam like fresh varnish.  The 
pitch black forest around them threatened to leave the tiny, amber 
beams crushed and annihilated in its vastness.

Gil, Mulder, and Scully were piled into the Chevy's unaccommodating 
bench seat, in that order, and the silence was far thicker than the 
infinite expanse of blackness outside.

Mulder searched the oblique night with his eyes, the moldy, damp 
smell from Gil's truck irritating his nostrils.  The truck's dash 
was sun-cracked like an empty river basin, one mat on Scully's side 
was missing, not that it mattered much to the scrap of carpeting on 
the floor.  His senses were still scorched from the interrupted 
moment between him and his partner, now a moment that was twenty 
minutes behind him.  His hands curled into a ball at the thought, 
palms damp with sweat; his thoughts were anxious, full of questions, 
laced with a heightened sense of aliveness.  For all of the 
rationalizing and analyzing his work had fine-tuned in him, he was 
at a loss of words when it came to explaining how he had just kissed 
Dana Scully.  Of course, he wasn't sure if it really could be 
considered a kiss since he barely touched her, but the intent was 
there, and she had followed through on her end.  She had been a 
magnetizing force that had finally conquered his last barrier, but 
now sitting in the truck, his senses back under control, he could 
only ask himself how could he have been so foolish to jeopardize the 
relationship he had with his partner.

He desperately wanted confirmation from Scully that everything was 
alright, reviewing the last twenty minutes over in his mind once 
again.  They had been startled on the dock, feeling like a pair of 
adolescents being caught making-out by their parents.  What was 
worse that it had began raining, a barely imperceptible drizzle from 
the clouds above, their hair and clothes damp as they had 
mechanically grabbed their shoes and took off after Gil, 
professionalism giving them both a hard shake.  It was easy to stare 
at Gil than at each other, and even easier to part ways to grab some 
dry clothes and the proper necessities they would need for the crime 
scene.  It got harder when they met at Gil's truck, now both clad in 
long, dark coats to protect them from the rain threatening to 
intensify, Mulder catching his coattail on a hook as he climbed into 
the truck's cab, feeling Scully free it behind him as she worked her 
way in.  Scully rubbed up against him, not on purpose, as she 
squeezed herself between the door and his body.  For a moment it 
looked like she debated whether to grab his forearm, but instead she 
turned her head to the window, staring out into nothingness while 
Gil relayed the sketchy details he had received over the phone.

Mulder refrained from letting out a sigh, stealing a glance toward 
Scully.  She was heart-wrenchingly quiet, her enigmatic eyes never 
revealing what they were looking at or wanted to look at, what they 
were thinking or feeling.  He knew Gil, over to his left, was 
feeling very much like a third wheel in the awkward moment, not 
knowing what to do except drive as fast as possible, looking as if 
he was concentrating on his driving and switching the groaning gears 
on the truck.  

Mulder grimaced as his thoughts turned to Gil.  If it wasn't a bee, 
it was a bird lover from the Appalachians with a cockatoo named Mac.  
Not that the man had done it on purpose, but as Dorothy had said 
before, "Fate, Henry."  So, he questioned, was this fate's oh so 
unsubtle way to tell him this was wrong, that every time he 
attempted to change the course of history, a divine intervention 
occurred to steer him back on track?  If so, it was time he had a 
little talking to with the gods of fate.  

Most of all, Mulder's entire being yearned for the finish of that 
attempted kiss.  He wanted to touch her soul, let her touch his, 
release the dark silence that caused so much misery and loneliness 
within his heart.  Although she was about to return his kiss, he 
wondered if she felt the same, because if so, why had she never 
mentioned their first attempt?  It was hard enough waiting a whole 
entire year after that moment, but this time he promised himself the 
kiss by the lake would not go forgotten.

"Where could Lou be?"  Gil muttered with a strained sigh into the 
thick silence, his knuckles white against the wheel.

"That's what we're going to find out." Mulder answered calmly, "You 
said yourself that Beth was in critical condition, but she was 
conscious for a short period of time right before the paramedics 
arrived.  I'm sure the police have been trying to ask her that very 
question."

Gil made another audible sigh, his face white against his gray hair.  
"It's just not making sense, none of it!  Lou has been a ranger here 
for five years, he knows his way around.  Why would he not be with 
her..."

"Lets not assume the worst, Mr. Hahn."  Scully purposely cut in, 
never turning her face from the passenger window, but clearly 
understanding what was on the worried proprietor's mind.

The truck fell silent. 

Rubber scraped against glass, the wipers whirring in a steady rhythm 
to toss the raindrops from the window, more rain drumming against 
the metal roof above their heads.  The weak beams of light flashed 
by a road sign, a sign familiar to Mulder and Scully on a personal 
level:  'Ascend to the Stars.  Skyland Mountain.' 

We should just buy a cabin and live up here, Mulder mused to himself 
with sarcasm.  This would be their third trip to the mountain, this 
trip as equally unpleasant as the last two.  The first time he had 
lost his partner to a psychotic and the unknown forces waiting at 
the top of the mountain, swinging for life from a ski gondola in a 
failed rescue attempt.  The second, he and Scully had gone together, 
looking over a mass of brutally burned bodies.  Not long after that 
he had thought he had lost Scully again.  And now here came visit 
number three, to find a severely injured young woman, her hiking 
partner still missing.

"We'll be up there in about ten minutes." Gil spoke again, his voice 
heavy, strange.

Mulder acknowledged the comment with a slight nod, checking from the 
corner of his eye to see Scully resting her chin on one hand, making 
a perfect imitation of The Thinker.  Damn, Mulder cursed to himself, 
was she even breathing?!  This was Scully in her purest form, so 
patented with her protective shell there was no breaching it from 
any angle. It angered him that he couldn't prod her to open up, to 
try anything to break the silence.  He knew she was terrified beyond 
recognition.  So was he.

In the history of time, Mulder was positive the next ten minutes 
were the slowest ever recorded.

------------------
9:52
SKYLAND MOUNTAIN
CRIME SCENE
------------------

The crime scene wasn't hard to miss.

The Chevy pulled into a tangled web of police and ranger SUVs, blue, 
white, and red lights silently strobing across the heavy wet leaves 
and saturated pavement.  The rain had subsided into a misting 
drizzle once more, and Scully clutched the rusted door handle next 
to her, ready to pounce on the scene as soon as Gil slowed the 
vehicle.

Skyland wasn't as important to her as the young woman she had grown 
close to from the vivid writings of the journal.  While she had 
given some thought, actually she was sick with confusion over it, to 
what had happened between her and Mulder back at Skyhigh, the 
urgency as a medical doctor, with a life waiting for her help, was 
keeping her focused and sharp for what was about to come.  

The wheels slowed, Scully's body coiled like a spring, hand on 
the coarse piece of metal that would free her from the truck's cab.  
She pulled it abruptly, exiting into a pool of rainwater, its wet
coolness seeping into her socks, down between her toes.  Her feet 
sloshed through the puddle, relentless, moving through the wildly 
parked police cars still rushing to the scene around her.  She 
dodged a bumper, ignored a horn blowing immediately behind her as 
her legs pounded across the wet earth, determined, professional.  
She moved toward a group of police officers, droplets of water 
falling from the brims of their hats, flashlights illuminating white 
sheets of paper as pens slowly moved.  She reached in her pocket, 
feeling the familiar piece of leather, moving it in slow-motion as 
she pulled her badge free, pushing it into the air with an 
unmistakable boastfulness.

"Special Agent Dana Scully.  FBI."

Pens hung in mid-sentence as if the realism had been so sudden it 
had paralyzed gestures that had barely begun.  The soft hush of 
water trickled onto the treetops, playing musical notes into the 
pools of dark water around them.

"This is my crime scene, Miss." Spoke a gravel voice as its 
owner appeared.  He was a man in his fifties, stomach shaped like a 
barrel, protruding over his belt.  His jowls hung limply around his 
face, his tiny eyes growing into a horizontal line as he squinted at 
Scully's polished demeanor, wrinkles crosshatching at the corners.  
A movement of a flashlight across his uniform revealed a shiny 
silver star.  "I don't remember anyone callin' the FBI out here."

Scully wasn't phased, her piercing stare finally making the officer 
withdraw his attacks.

"Sheriff Logan."  He introduced, extending his hand.

Scully kept her handshake brief, her impatience obvious, her concern 
unmistakable.  Her chestnut hair was already frizzing in the light 
rain, drops beading on the shoulders of her jacket before whisking 
away down the sides.  "I'm a medical doctor--I can assist in 
treating the victim if you'll please take me to her."

"Already taken care of." Sheriff Logan answered contritely as if 
passing a dead husband's unpaid bills to an unsuspecting widow.  
"Mountain rescue has already brought in the chopper and evacuated 
her by air.  She was in no condition to waste even a second, so some 
of the best doctors around these parts are workin' on her down at 
the University hospital in Charlottesville."

Dammit, Scully muttered to herself, the bitter realization that 
their one big chance in solving the case and finding Lou just got 
moved 40 miles away.

"She's been flown to a hospital already?"  Boomed Mulder's voice 
from behind, gasping for breath as he and Gil caught up with 
Scully's quick getaway from the truck.  He sheltered Scully with an 
umbrella he was carrying, his frame only inches behind hers.

"Another fed?  How many of 'em got called out here...ah..."

"Mulder." The agent supplied quickly, throwing his badge into the 
light as Scully had done minutes earlier, ignoring the officer's 
remarks.  "So what can you tell us, Sheriff?"

Sheriff Logan looked irritated, as if Mulder and Scully were wasting 
his time.  He took his own time grabbing for his notepad, scratching 
an armpit in the process.  "Well," he began in his thick, southern 
drawl, runoff from the rain forming a tiny trickle off his hat as he 
looked down, "a ranger found her on Limberlost Trail, about a 
quarter of a mile from here.  Stuck back under a sheltering shelf of 
rock, pretty safe really."

Scully could feel Mulder's hand press to her damp shoulder, the 
warmth spreading across her skin.

"But she must not have been there long--she was marked up pretty 
bad.  Cuts, gashes, blow to the head.  She was unconscious when we 
found her, but thankfully alive.  After we got her on a backboard, 
she woke up a little.  She didn't say anything, but she looked 
pretty scared.  It was only a few minutes before she was out again, 
then the paramedics flew in, packed her up, and took her on."

"Anything else, Sheriff?  Maybe something unusual at the crime 
scene?"  Mulder pursued.

"Well, no, no funny business that we could see."

"Sheriff!"  Called a ranger, jogging up to the heavy man, a walkie 
talkie intermittently squawking in his hand.

Sheriff Logan grunted as he turned to the call of his name, 
acknowledging the camouflage-brown ranger with an inquiring eyebrow.

"The press had gotten wind that something's going on up here--they 
must have heard the call to Mountain Rescue.  Right now they're 
lining up at the entrance stations.  We've got the guards down there 
holding them off, but they're claiming their amendment rights to get 
up here.  We can't hold 'em back much longer."

Sheriff Logan nodded his square head grimly, a tired sigh escaping 
from his large frame.  "Alright, Bob, tell 'em to let 'em on 
through."

The ranger stopped short, giving the Sheriff a questioning glance.  
At the Sheriff's confirming nod, the ranger pressed the button on 
the walkie-talkie, sending through the message.

"Alright, boys, listen up!"  The sheriff yelled out, his voice 
gritty and raspy across the quiet mountaintop.  "We've got twenty, 
maybe twenty-five minutes to clean this up before the press arrives!  
I want some of you to start headin' down there, and if you catch any 
of them speedin', write 'em up!  And check their decals while you're 
at it!"

As the sheriff continued with his commands, Mulder and Scully heard 
Gil's voice behind them, shocking them both with it's sudden high-
pitched crack, a sound overwhelmed by anger.  "What is the meaning 
of this?!"

Scully spun around, her eyes darting from behind Mulder's black-clad 
frame to see a large utility truck pull up.  Men were jumping from 
the back, rifles in hand, camouflage covering their bodies, blending 
them into the dark night. 

Hunters. 

"No rifles are allowed in the park!"  Gil shouted with a sickened 
tone, racing toward the group of five men, his grey eyes ablaze with 
a sudden aplomb.

"Is he with you?" Sheriff Logan asked distastefully, as if Gil's 
actions were the craziest thing he'd ever seen, the hunters now 
yelling "tree-hugger!" as Gil tried to block them off.

"Sheriff, what is this about?!"  Scully asked, spinning 
face-to-face with the pudgy man.  She could smell cigarettes and 
coffee lingering on his breath.  

"The hunters are here from a direct order straight from Capitol 
Hill, approved by the NPS.  It's over both our heads."  Sheriff 
Logan explained, as he stroked his ill-shaven chin with one hand, 
tiredly pulling a sheet of paper from his pocket with the other.

Gil raced back toward the sheriff, however mediocre he had been 
before, this threat to what he held dear had turned him into a 
driven man.  His face contorted with a purpose Scully never imagined 
this man was even capable of.  The precious animals of the park were 
clearly emblazoned in his eyes as he yanked the offered paper from 
the sheriff's hand with a crisp snap, anger adding years to his 
face.  "You can't do this!"

"Oh, did I mention, those marks on Beth," Sheriff Logan continued in 
his calm, pretentious manner, "were not made by a human."

Mulder head snapped up from reading the paper with Gil.  "What's the 
fastest way to get to Charlottesville from here?"

The sheriff gave a hearty chuckle, taunting Mulder for asking such a 
question, belly jumping up and down.  "You drive, Mr. Mulder.  Like 
the rest of us."

X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X~*~X

----------------------------------------
University Medical Center
University of Virginia, Charlottesville
10:50 PM - SATURDAY
----------------------------------------

"Mulder, I have to tell you something."

Mulder's heart seized in his chest at the words, a tingle of fear 
gripping him at the unknown subject Scully was about to address.  
Mulder had ended up driving the old Chevy down to Charlottesville, 
the entire twenty-five minutes had been silent inside the truck.
  
Gil had stayed behind, refusing to leave the hunters alone.  Scully 
was sure the wiry man would have chained himself to them if it was 
possible.  She wasn't sure how that was going to turn out, but the 
sheriff's "don't worry, I'll take care of it" didn't sound very 
promising.  

Mulder was now weaving the dilapidated Chevy around the hospital 
parking lot, looking for the first available space to park.  He 
would have gladly parked at the hospital curb, but when he equated 
Skinner's face with a parking ticket, he decided against it.  Now he 
had to brace himself--was Scully going to mention what happened on 
the dock?

"The book I was reading before the mixer was actually Beth's 
journal."  Scully went on.

The cramping in Mulder's stomach immediately let up.

"She had an entry on the day they disappeared." Scully continued, 
still looking out the window and not over at Mulder.  She explained 
how Beth and Lou had confronted the two men with the gun and how 
they had decided to go back into the woods as soon as they had the 
chance.

"You got all of that from a journal entry?"  Mulder asked in an 
incredulous tone.

"It was eleven pages long--the girl knew how to write."

"That just proves beyond a shadow of a doubt there's something big 
out there, and someone is trying to cover it up.  Beth said two 
people saw strange lights on North Ridge?  Sounds like we've got two 
witnesses we can question, not to mention that ranger that found 
Beth."  Mulder added determinedly, bringing the truck to a halt in a 
tiny space, a car on Mulder's side parked over their line, making it 
difficult for Mulder to squeeze out.

Their conversation ended abruptly as they wasted no time rushing 
inside, the sting of antiseptic and formaldehyde greeting their 
nostrils as their shoes clapped against the slick vinyl flooring.  
It was quiet in the hospital that evening, their ministrations 
causing eyes to look their way, irritated for the peace being 
disturbed.  The environment was sterile and gray, a tired nurse at 
the front desk patiently awaiting for Mulder and Scully approach 
her.  She stayed primly in her chair, a Styrofoam cup of steaming 
liquid clenched in one palm.  "Can I help you?"

"Where would they admit someone brought in by air rescue?" Scully 
asked crisply, shaking the rain from the folds of her long coat.

"Try the Trauma Center--just follow the blue line." She answered 
mechanically, taking a small sip of her drink.

"Thank you." Mulder spoke out of courtesy, already at Scully's 
heels, rushing by the front desk and the nurse. 

The hospital was a maze of hallways, the only saving grace being the 
painted colors of lines that led visitors to the correct 
destinations.  It only took a few minutes to find the Trauma Center, 
a large nurse's station standing protectively in the front to ward 
off any unwanted visitors.  

"Special Agent Mulder with the FBI," Mulder introduced, flashing his 
badge, "and my partner Special Agent Scully.  We're here to see Beth 
Andrews--she was brought in by air around an hour ago from Skyland.  
It's vital that we speak with her."

An older nurse, facial expression stern and unyielding, stopped 
typing on the computer to give the two agents a once over with her 
eyes.  "Beth's condition is extremely critical.  We're doing 
everything we can, but the prognosis is not good.  She can't take a 
lot of stress right now, so unless you're family, I can't let you 
in."

Scully could feel Mulder's frustration level begin to rise. 
"Shirley," Scully pressed, reading the tag on the nurse's shirt, "I'm 
a medical doctor.  I assure you we are extremely concerned about 
Beth's condition and will keep our questions to a minimum.  A life 
depends on her knowledge, and as close as she was to this person, I 
don't doubt she is willing to help him any way she can."

Shirley looked dubious, cocking her head to one side to ponder the 
decision she had to make, deep creases forming on her brow.  "You're 
saying there's another one out there in the mountains?"

"That's correct." Mulder jumped back in, feeling the nurse's steel 
wall giving way.  "And we want him to come back alive as well--but 
only she knows where he is."

The nurse nodded, her black curls bobbing from beneath her white 
hat. "If I let you see her, it's on my conditions."

Scully raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"I go with you, and you've got five minutes." The nurse continued, 
reaching over to pull a chart from a large pile of folders next to 
the computer.  "I've contacted her family--they're coming here from 
Virginia Beach, but it will take them a few hours to drive.  It's 
important they see her...just in case."  She walked around the 
nurse's station, motioning for the two agents to follow her.  She 
turned to hand Scully the folder.  "You can see for yourself what 
she's been through.  I'm warning you both, she's had a lot of work 
done to her, so prepare yourselves in advance."

Scully flipped open the folder as she walked behind Mulder and the 
nurse, passing tiny cubicles of critically sick patients to her 
left, high-tech machines monitoring their every breath.  Her eyes 
narrowed, then widened as she rapidly read, "Good lord, Beth is 
lucky to be alive at all, Mulder.  She's suffered a subdural 
hematoma, atalectisis..."

Mulder cleared his throat, giving his partner a questioning glance.

"...which means a punctured left lung." Scully quickly supplied, her 
eyes moving back to the doctor's scrawl on the papers. "The hematoma 
seems to be the most serious problem she has, which is bleeding in 
the dural space of the brain.  Depending on the severity, it can be 
deadly."

"Well, that and the blood loss from her wounds.  Some of them are 
more than four inches deep." Shirley supplied as she walked in front 
of the two agents.  "We haven't been able to determine what caused 
them, but we did find some foreign fibers which we sent to the labs. 
By some miracle, she lucked out with only a perforation of her 
bladder.  If that cut had been a couple inches higher it would have 
hit her liver, in which case, she wouldn't be here at all."

Scully exchanged a horrified glance with Mulder, her eyes confirming 
that the rest of the file was just as brutal.  How any human had 
survived such a traumatic, painful ordeal was beyond her 
comprehension.

"When she first got here she was cyanotic," Shirley continued, 
rounding a corner.  "Once we inserted the chest tube that brought a 
little color back to her.  She received three blood transfusions, 
the OR doctors wanting to take her up for immediate emergency 
surgery.  The Trauma doctor that took care of her, Dr. Koch, finally 
came to an agreement with them to wait.  She would no doubt not be 
able to survive surgery.  It's a terrible shame--she's one of the 
youngest patients we've ever had with this much complication."

Mulder's mouth was unpleasantly dry after hearing the details from 
Scully and Shirley, his heart racing with pain and sympathy as the 
nurse stopped in front of one of the cubicles.  The blinds were 
drawn shut across the window so no curious eyes could peer in.

"But what amazed us the most was that she wasn't in a deep coma, as 
one would think with these conditions." Shirley continued in a soft 
whisper.  "She was out cold when they brought her in, but she did 
open her eyes for about fifteen minutes before the morphine put her 
to sleep.  She's had a blow to her larynx, but she does respond by 
blinking her eyes and trying to move her lips."

"So you talked to her?" Mulder inquired, growing warmer by the 
second under his coat.

"Just to ask if she understood where she was and we explained to her 
what we had done to help her."  Shirley answered.  "She may or may 
not wake up when we go in there, but I guess you two can give it a 
try.  Beth is lucky to be alive."

"Or unlucky." Mulder mumbled in a grave tone.

"Thank you." Scully nodded, closing the folder and inhaling a deep 
breath through her nostrils.  She walked in first, her eyes
catching sight of the blurry silhouette of a human smothered in 
white blankets, resting calmly in a single bed.  The dim glow from the 
hallway cast a narrow rectangle of pale light on the array of 
monitors positioned along one side of the bed.  The radiators along 
the floor kept out the night's chill while rain pattered on the 
window.  

Scully stepped closer, holding down the sickened lump in her throat 
as a wave of mousy brown hair was askew across a white pillow. The 
hair immediately reminded her of the picture she had found with 
Beth's belongings, of the images that had been introduced into her 
mind from the beautiful words written from this young woman's very 
hand.  Another step revealed Beth's face to Scully--a far cry from 
the face imprinted in her mind.  Beth's skin was as white and 
lifeless as the nearby pillow, deep red cuts contrasting across her 
brow and cheeks, snaking around her neck.  Medical tape and bandages 
zigzagged and crisscrossed around her hairline and into her hair, 
also disappearing under the carefully placed blankets.  Scully's 
keen hearing immediately picked up the gurgling breath sounds 
emanating from Beth's chest and mouth, knowing only too well the 
familiarity of the sound.  She had seen countless sick or injured 
victims, even autopsied more bodies than she could count, and yet it 
was heartbreaking to look at Beth, so innocent and young, being 
robbed of years with her family, of loving embraces, of 
disappointments and tears, of life.  

"Good God." Mulder whispered, "No one should have to endure such a 
nightmare.  No imagination could come close to what she's been 
through."

Scully acknowledged her partner with a grim glance, her teeth firmly 
gritted together as she pulled an edge of the blanket back, 
revealing a bare leg and foot.  She moved to the long bandage on 
Beth's pasty white thigh, a jagged spot of red had already oozed to 
the surface.  Scully gently removed it, Shirley turning to grab a 
fresh bandage.  "Mulder...this gash is like nothing I've ever seen." 
Scully spoke with an incredulous tone, "It's at least a foot long, 
and by the looks of it, it certainly wasn't made by any kind of 
manmade object."

"Still holding to the bear theory then?"  Mulder asked seriously.

"Well, by the width of it, it would have to be a mutant bear claw." 
Scully answered quickly, still studying the wound with precision. 
"No, no bear could do this...but *something* out there did."

Mulder nodded, turning to Shirley who was waiting patiently for 
Scully to finish so she could redress the wound.  The elderly nurse 
was keeping a watchful eye on both agents, her curiosity with their 
findings obvious.  

"You said they sent some evidence to the lab?" Mulder asked the 
woman.  "When do you think they will have the results?"

"Well, in cases like this, just a few hours." Shirley responded, 
taking Scully's cue to redress the wound.  "With any kind of crime, 
we try to process any evidence we run across when a patient comes 
in."

"Good." Scully stated with a sigh, moving toward the head of the bed 
to let Shirley work.  "When they come back, please call us 
immediately.  I'll leave my number with you before we go."

"No problem." Shirley answered, holding up an empty spool of tape. 
"Shoot--I'm going to run over to the supply room--I'll be right 
back."

Both agents nodded as Shirley stepped out of the room, immediately 
giving each other glances that spoke a thousand words.  Scully 
reached underneath the blanket, threading her warm palm through 
Beth's cold, clammy hand.  "Mulder, something dangerous is out in 
those woods, and you know as well as I do that it has nothing to do 
with...with..."

"Those space critters?" Mulder supplied dryly, walking toward Scully 
and Beth, putting a hand on his partner's forearm.  "Our only link 
to the truth of what did this is through Beth.  Only she knows what 
really happened out there."

"I know--I know..." Scully drifted, her voice full of anguish for 
the suffering Beth was enduring.  She felt Mulder's sympathetic 
squeeze on her arm, the desire to step one foot closer into the 
comfort of his chest almost unbearable.  She inwardly punished 
herself for the thought, wanting to stay strong and professional for 
Beth, to find the cause of this young woman's interminable pain.  
She felt the pressure once more, looking down to find Mulder had 
withdrawn his hand, but the feint, urgent grip continued against her 
palm.  

Beth was awake.

"Mulder!" Scully hissed, her hand responding against Beth's, moving 
in closer to the pale face.  

Mulder was already in motion, moving close to Scully and noticing a 
quick flutter of eyelash from Beth's face.  

They patiently held their breaths, observing Beth endure the 
struggle to leave the unconscious world and return to the present.  
A tongue moved across cracked lips, the rattling in her lungs 
increased as her brown eyes opened and shut, fighting the drugs that 
were coursing through her body.  Her pupils were large and distant 
as they strained to focus on the two faces looking down at her, once 
more grasping the hand that held hers.

"Beth," Scully spoke with a soft whisper, noticing the girl's eyes 
had made a sudden, wide-open stare.  It was a look of panic, of 
unfamiliarity, spurring Scully to quickly continue.  She remembered 
Beth was extremely shy with strangers, so she had to make her best 
attempt to put Beth at ease. "My name is Dana, and this is my 
partner, Fox Mulder.  We're from the FBI and have been investigating 
your disappearance from Skyhigh--trying to find you and your friend, 
Lou.  You were found and brought to this hospital just a few hours 
ago, but if you can remember anything at all about where Lou might 
be it would be a big help in trying to locate him.  Can you tell us 
what happened out there?"

Beth's eyes dazedly darted from Scully to Mulder, eyeing them over 
meticulously.  She quickly closed her eyes again, growing still.

"Did she fall back to sleep?"  Mulder asked, concern and weariness 
etched across his brow.

"I don't know." Scully whispered quietly, "It looks like she closed 
her eyes--maybe she needs to rest a little."

Mulder let out a long sigh, the trilling of his phone startling them 
both.  He quickly reached in his coat pocket, giving Scully one last 
glance before stepping outside the room.

"Hello?" Mulder asked quietly, the black object pressed against his 
right ear.

"Henry?" came the elderly voice he had come to learn only too well.

"Hello, Dorothy.  Yes, it's me."

"Oh good.  I couldn't remember if this number was yours or Kate's, 
but thank goodness I guessed right."

Dorothy's voice sounded distracted, Mulder noted, quickly asking, 
"So what's going on?"

"It's not good, Henry." Floated Dorothy's concerned tone to his ear, 
"We're still over here at Skyhigh, keeping an eye on the party-goers 
for Gil.  We think someone might have added some booze to the punch-
-I've never seen so much staggering and throwing-up since the 
Bonanza food poisoning incident of '79."

Mulder contained a tiny smile as Dorothy continued.

"It's just a big mess, Henry.  And to make matters worse we just got 
a call from Sheriff Logan.  He said there was a big squabble between 
the hunters and Gil, and he was going to arrest him for disturbing 
the peace when Gil just bolted into the woods." 

"What?!" Mulder hissed into the phone. "It's too dangerous for him 
to be out there alone!"

"We know that, Henry dear." Dorothy continued, her long sigh coming 
through the phone.  "I'm working on sobering up George with some 
coffee and then we're going to take Mac up there.  Knowing Gil, he 
hopefully hasn't gone too far, and seeing Mac will probably bring 
him back to his senses.  He's so passionate for the animals up here, 
Henry, but his doings are going to get him hurt this time.  What if 
he gets mistaken for an animal?  Those hunters are notorious for 
having their 'accidents.'"

"You're right." Mulder agreed gravely, "And the hunters are only 
half his worries."

"What do you mean?" Dorothy asked suspiciously, realizing Mulder 
knew more than he was saying.

"I don't know yet--that's what we're trying to figure out."

"Well when you do, call me back.  This phone should stay in range 
for a while, depending on how far we hike into the woods looking for 
Gil.  I need to know--for Gil's sake."

"I understand.  Thanks for calling, Dorothy."

"Hey, the more backup the better...oh no...George, get those people 
off the roof..." Dorothy was yelling as the other end of 
the phone suddenly went dead.

"Who was that?" Scully asked absentmindedly as Mulder returned, 
watching him stuff the phone back in his coat pocket.

"The latest update with Gil.  Dorothy said he..."

Scully visibly startled which broke off Mulder's train of thought.  
A sudden, cold grip had overpowered Scully's hand, her eyes 
connecting to the brown depths of Beth's eyes, two clear, burning 
spheres begging for communication, to be heard.

"Beth?" Scully whispered softly, leaning her ear close to the girl's 
ashen lips.  She held her eyes steady with Beth's, feeling an 
instant connection spring between them, reading the sheer terror and 
pain as if it were her own.

Beth's eyes flickered toward Mulder once again, desperately wanting 
Scully to understand her silent message.  

"What...Mulder?" Scully asked in a tender tone, making a glance to 
her partner and back to Beth, the wheels spinning in her mind.  She 
glanced between them again, catching a luminous clarity in Beth's 
eyes that not even the morphine could restrain.  "Dorothy and Gil?  
Is that it?"

An elated response from Beth's eyes prompted Scully to continue. 
"Yes, we're friends with Dorothy and Gil.  It's okay to trust us, 
Beth," Scully added genuinely "I promise.  We want to find Lou and 
get him out of those woods and away from whatever hurt you out 
there.  I know you've had a hard blow to your head, but are you able 
to remember anything that happened out there?  Where Lou might be?"

Beth's opposite arm, which was scratched, punctured, and attached to 
an IV tube feebly moved across the white blanket, only three fingers 
moving as she worked to scratch away the covers.  Scully quickly 
scrambled to lift the covers for her, Beth continuing to scratch at 
her hospital gown, dried red patches covering the garment.  

"I-I'm not sure I understand," Scully mumbled, glancing at Mulder 
for help.

"Um, something about your gown?" Mulder supplied, uncertain.  

Beth had crumpled a handful of gown into her wobbling hand, pulling 
at it frantically.

"Clothes?" Mulder continued, getting an excited response from Beth.

"That's it, Mulder, she wants her clothes." Scully hissed, feeling a 
quick, confirmation from Beth's hand.

Mulder was already a man on a mission, jumping to the tiny two-
drawer dresser behind the IV monitor and scrambling through the 
contents.  He pulled out a plastic bag and untied the knot at the 
top to peer inside.  "Got 'em."  He placed them on the bed next to 
Beth's hand, the clothes were damp and black from dirt, soiling the 
white sheets with gray smears.  They looked more like scraps of 
cloth than something a person could wear, more than likely being cut 
off of Beth's body by the Trauma Center doctors.  Mulder was sure 
Shirley would have their butts in a sling when she found the dirty 
mess on Beth's bed.

Beth's fingers worked carefully at a piece of jeans, the strangled, 
watery sound in her lungs growing harder and stronger than before.  
Her chest worked twice as hard to grab oxygen, even with the extra 
oxygen flowing through her nose.  

Scully glanced at the monitors, taking note of the numbers before 
quickly adding, "Beth, take it easy, there's no rush.  Sit back and 
rest a moment."

Beth's eyes pooled with tiny, clear tears, her hand pulling out a 
dirty, torn piece of cloth, no bigger than a tag on a shirt.  Her 
hand only raised a couple inches from her body, offering this item 
to them with a glimmer of hope in her eyes.

Mulder gently took the cloth from her hand, watching the tired arm 
fall limply back onto the bed.

"Mulder?" Scully asked in a warning tone, the seriousness of her 
voice making him look up at lightning speed.  Beth had fallen back 
against her pillow, her chest heaving for breath, the lines on the 
monitors jumping wildly.  "Get Shirley and the doctors--now!"

The cloth still clutched tightly in his hand, Mulder made a mad 
scramble out the room, his shoes leaving scuff marks against the 
floor from the pressure of his weight.

Scully had already hit the button that connected to the nurse's 
station, but she was sure someone had already seen Beth's monitor 
readings and was heading toward the room that very second.

Scully grabbed Beth's hand tighter, holding her hand up so her 
forearm was touching against Beth's, the other hand checking over 
Beth to see how she could help.  To her dismay, it wasn't one thing 
affecting Beth, but her wounded, tired body was simply giving out, 
ending the hopeless fight. 

"Hang on, Beth.  It's going to be okay." Scully tried to comfort the 
young girl, her own voice betraying what they both already knew.  
She looked into Beth's face, tears burning hot from the corners of 
her eyes as she stared at Beth's wide brown eyes, at a heartbreaking 
beauty, purity.  

Beth made a frantic grab on Scully's hand, focusing Scully's eyes on 
her own, conveying her last message, the most important thought in 
her entire being.  Scully's heart stilled with shock, a gasp 
catching in her throat as she recognized the message, almost 
unbearable in its intensity.  Scully realized that might as well 
have been her in that bed, taking with her unshared secrets and a 
regret that would last eternity, a shadow as black as night that 
would exist as long as time itself.  Silence.

"When I find Lou, I'll tell him." Scully garbled, rounded tears 
falling from her cheeks,  "I'll tell him."

Beth's hand slowly became limp against Scully's, one last sigh 
escaping her battered lips before silence engulfed the room.  Scully 
didn't hear the monitors wildly beeping or the multiple footfalls 
pounding through the room.  She numbly moved backwards as hands 
pushed her out of the way, finally one hand landing on her upper 
arm, the grip faintly familiar.  She was being led from the room, a 
group of white coats and uniforms lined up around the tiny single 
bed, her vision cut away from Beth's still form.  

The hallway was a blur of gray and white, more uniformed nurses 
running by and into the room.  Scully bitterly thought about Beth's 
last image of this world, taking with her an intravenous drip 
hanging over her head, of a stranger who she had no choice but to 
share her innermost secrets with instead of with the person she 
wanted to know most of all.  Sure, she was a medical doctor and an 
FBI agent, she told herself, death was all around her.  And yet, 
this had hit close to home in many more ways than she could fully 
comprehend.  It should have been her in that bed because she wasn't 
really living at all, but hiding behind the darkness within her, not 
giving what she could give, not loving like her heart was capable 
of.

Her face contorted in anguish at the last thought, her hands 
automatically reaching behind her to the tall, dark form waiting 
against the wall.  She was surrounded by warmth as Mulder embraced 
her in a tight hug, squeezing her tenderly as his chin rested 
against her hair.  

"I'm so sorry, Scully, I never realized how close you had become to 
her." Mulder whispered hoarsely into her ear.

"I'm sorry, folks, but Beth has slipped away." An older doctor spoke 
as he walked out of the room, his nameplate telling them this was 
Dr. Koch.  "We did everything we could."

Mulder and Scully nodded, separating from their embrace as the 
doctor walked on with a sullen expression across his face.

Scully looked back into the room, seeing the nurses turning off the 
monitors, pulling the sheet, half covered with dirt from the 
clothes, across the still form in the bed.

Beth's life had only just begun, Scully thought, the young girl 
finally finding one special person to break her shell, to show her 
that life had been worth living in.  But most importantly, Scully 
knew, Beth didn't take that one chance to tell Lou the truth, to 
love, and neither had he.

Dreams turned to ashes.


-----------------------------------------------
11:59 PM - SATURDAY
OUTSIDE UNIVERSITY OF VIRGINIA MEDICAL CENTER
CHARLOTTESVILLE, VA
------------------------------------------------

"What is it?"  

Mulder had pulled the scrap of cloth from his coat pocket as he 
stood underneath the hospital awning, Scully huddled close to him 
while the rain swirled and whipped around the tiny shelter in front 
of the hospital entrance.  The rain had stopped them from running 
out to Gil's truck, giving them a moment to remember the item Beth 
had handed them in her last gesture.

Mulder carefully unfolded the delicate scrap of material, his eyes 
squinting at the red scrawl covered with dirt, trying to make out its 
message.  "It looks like some sort of...number?"

Scully pulled his hand close to her face, her eyes straining to 
decipher the hieroglyphics across the cloth.  "It's blood."

"I noticed that." Mulder added absentmindedly, holding the cloth 
against the white light of the hospital's sign.   

"Wait...I see it."  Scully insisted, finally taking the cloth from 
Mulder's hand.  "It's CPH-941006577-T."

"Yeah, now there's a smoking gun."

"I doubt it's even a warm gun." Scully added disappointedly.  "What 
on earth are we supposed to do with a number?  It could literally be 
anything."

Mulder could hear the upset in Scully's voice, her face turning dark 
before his eyes as she leaned back against the wall, pulling her 
long coat tighter around her body.  He knew his partner was thinking 
they had hit a dead end yet once again, and she was clearly upset by 
what had taken place in the hospital.  He had some fast decisions to 
make, quickly grabbing into the folds of his coat and pulling out 
his cell phone.  He was the one who had talked her into 
investigating this case, and he was going to make it right no matter 
what.

"What are you doing?  Who are you calling?"

"Beth gave us this as the most important thing to her.  It has to 
mean something--it's a link.  It's got to be."  Mulder went on as he 
pressed the speed-dial on his phone, pressing it against his ear 
while he covered his other ear with his hand, enabling himself to 
hear over the rain.

He could hear Scully let out a frustrated sigh as an answering 
machine switched on in his ear, impatiently waiting for the beep. 
"Okay, guys, it's me, pick it up."

There was a moment of clicking and shuffling before Frohike's voice 
boomed through the earpiece.  "Hey, big guy, how's it hanging out 
there in the wilderness?  Did the lovely Agent Scully wear that 
'Virginia is for Lovers' shirt I picked out?  I bet she looked 
smashing."

Mulder made a guilty glance out of the corner of his eye toward his 
partner, who was looking out into the rain, before continuing.  "I 
will talk to you about that later."

"Oh come on, man, you're holding out on me." 

"Listen, Frohike..."

"Hey, don't use my name--what the hell's wrong with you?"

Mulder made a face before restating his question.  "I need a 
favor...where are the other guys?"

"We're about to make technological history."  Frohike spoke in an 
excited hush.  "Are you sure this a secure line?"

"As far as I know." 

It sounded like Frohike had taken a moment to think it over, his 
voice muffling into the background when a "The CSM-twenty-five 
countermeasure filter is crap, try that new CGB-forty-nine" called 
back to him.  

Mulder starting tapping his foot, daring not to look at his partner 
as he waited, listening to his stubby, paranoid friend shuffling 
items on a desk, his voice coming back in an excited rush, "We're 
working to be the first people on  record to immerse a functioning 
computer into a vat of supercooled laxative.  Pretty cool, isn't 
it?"

"Sorry I asked." Mulder mumbled under his breath.

"We've removed all the innards from our old Intel Celeron, but we 
left the motherboard still wired to the hard drive, monitor, and 
power supply and stuck it in a container of mineral oil...you know 
the kind--the edible stuff used in food processing and enemas."

Mulder opened his mouth to cut Frohike off, but he was too late.

"Nine inches of mineral oil.  Then we took a rack of coolant coils 
out of a window air conditioner and put them across the top, using a 
garden-fountain pump to..."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa.  Listen, you guys can tell me all about that 
later."  Mulder practically yelled, receiving an estranged look from 
Scully.  "Look, I'm calling because we need a favor."

"Mi casa es su casa.  Whatcha' got?"

"It's a number."

"What kind of number?"

"That's the favor." 

"That's all you got?"  Frohike asked increduosly, "That's like 
finding a needle on an elephant's..."

"It's really important--lives are depending on it." Mulder insisted, 
"Got a pen handy?"

"See how good we are to you, Mulder, your ideas are weirder than 
ours, but we still help you out." Frohike mumbled on, papers 
shuffling and drawers opening in the background.

"I don't know, I think that laxative thing wins hands-down."

"Alright, buddy, shoot."  Frohike answered, ignoring Mulder's last 
comment.

Mulder relayed the number to him.  "And if you find out anything at 
all, call me back immediately."

"Well, we'll run it through some databases, but there's no 
guarantees."  Frohike sighed.

"Thanks--that would be a big help." Mulder finished, turning off the 
phone with a press of a button.

"Well?" Scully asked, a hint of skepticism in her voice.

Mulder shrugged.  "It's better than nothing."

"Now what?  We wait for Frohike, Byers, and Langly to drop a golden 
nugget in our lap?"  

Mulder made his best effort not to grimace at her apparent 
irritation, knowing that what had happened in the hospital went far 
below the surface, the depths beyond a mystery.  He scolded himself 
for choosing the articles over the journal--he was convinced his 
partner had unknowingly formed a bond with the young girl from 
reading the passages.  As he looked into Scully's melancholy face, 
tracing the shadows creasing her forehead and around her mouth with 
his eyes, he wanted nothing more than to be her shoulder to lean on.  
He could only imagine how much Beth's death was ripping her apart 
inside, and yet, she always had to be so stoic, so strong in front 
of him.  It infuriated him as much as it saddened him, and now 
looking over at her small form against the stone wall of the 
hospital, she looked so shaken, so tiny, so lost.

"Mr. Mulder!" A shout echoed from the automatic doors, a white-clad 
nurse briskly walking outside with a folder in her hands.

Both agents quickly stood taller, moving to meet Shirley halfway.

"Thank goodness--I was hoping to catch you before you left.  You 
remember those lab tests I mentioned?  We just got the results back, 
so I figured you'd probably be more interested in looking at them in 
person than listening to me on the phone."  Shirley huffed, 
attempting to catch her breath after her race through the hospital 
corridors.  Tiny beads of sweat had already appeared along her neck 
and brow, the back of her forearm taking a wipe across her temples.

"Yes, this is great, Shirley, thank you." Scully spoke politely, 
receiving the folder from the nurse's outstretched hand.

"Glad to help." Shirley spoke genuinely, "I don't want what happened 
tonight to happen twice.  Maybe this will help you find that other 
poor boy out there."

Mulder and Scully both nodded in unison.

"The local PD have already called and are trying to get their hands 
on it.  They claim that this has now turned into a murder case, so 
they're already on their way.  If you'd leave this at the front desk 
before you leave, you'll make my job a whole lot easier."

"Will do." Mulder called politely as Shirley turned to head back. 
"Thanks again."

Scully waited until the automatic doors closed behind the white 
form.  "That was nice of her."

Mulder nodded in agreement, peering from the manila to Scully's thin 
frame.  She was looking even more tired than usual, but he equated 
that with her intake of a plate of fruit for breakfast and an apple 
Dorothy had brought for lunch.  Not even a bird could live on that 
for long, Mulder decided, quickly taking the line back in the fear 
he was starting to think like the campers at Skyhigh.  They had been 
working on the case since six o'clock the previous morning, and 
while he didn't understand Scully's need to eat so light, he wasn't 
going to let her get by with it if he could help it.  "So...hungry?"

Scully sighed.  "Not really."

"Coffee?"

"Yeah, that would be good...caffeine and all."

"You're on."  Mulder smiled down at his partner, pressing his hand 
firmly against the small of her back as they made their way out of 
the bitter, angry night and back into the hospital.  Mulder decided 
he would get Scully to eat something, whether she wanted to or not.  
He had his ways.