"What If...Fox Disappeared Instead of Samantha?"
(Part XI)
Written by:  Christine Finecy

7:58 am
Monday
February 25, 1974
Camden, Maine
New England School for Girls

Sam walked into her first class of the day and took her seat.  She
opened her notebook and prepared to take down the notes from
today's lecture.  She thought taking notes was silly when you can
remember every detail perfectly, but she still did not feel
comfortable letting any of her classmates know about her ability.

The teacher, Isabel Holmes, walked into the room and put her books
and stack of papers down on the top of her desk.  She shuffled
around in the pile of papers until the bell rang signifying the
beginning of the school day.

"Class..." she said in her calm and friendly British accent.  "I
have the tests from Friday.  I must say...you all did very well. 
Some did better than most, however.  I would like to commend the
study groups.  They had the highest marks.  Taking top honours this
time were Samantha Mulder, Lisa Barron, Nicole Jacobe, and Michelle
Botti.  Congratulations, girls.  Keep up the good work."

As Miss Holmes passed the test papers back and the students looked
at their grades, there were many different reactions.  Sounds of
elation and dispair could be heard around the room.  

When Samantha and her friends, the ones which Miss Holmes had
referred to as having the best grades on the test, got their papers
back, they didn't look at their own.  Instead, they passed them to
one of the others to look at it first.  The girls flipped the
papers over simultaneously.

Samantha had Lisa's test.  She flopped it over so that Lisa could
see her score.  

Michelle smiled.  "Lisa, you got a ninety-eight."

Lisa looked a little disappointed with herself, but she recovered 
quickly.  Lisa had Nicole's test.  

"So...How did I do, Barron?" Nicole asked anxiously.

"Ninety-eight percent."

Nicole breathed a sigh of relief.

Nicole then looked at Michelle, who's test she had.  "Do you want
to know, Botti?"

"I don't know.  Do I?"

"Well...Ninety-nine percent is nothing to sneeze at."

Michelle looked very relieved.  "I was kindda worried.  So what
about you, Sammy?"  She looked over at the "silent partner" as she
had come to be known.  "Do you want to know your score?"

Samantha nodded.

"How about one-hundred five percent?  You got the entire bonus
section right.  If you keep this up, you're going to make the rest
of us look like idiots," Michelle teased.

"Alright, that's enough, Botti," Nicole said coming to her
roommate's defense.

The girls each took their own papers back just as Miss Holmes
finished passing out the rest of the papers.  She came to the front
of the room and stood directly in front of Samantha's desk.  "If
anyone wonders what perfection was on this test, you can find out
from Miss Mulder."  Miss Holmes turned around and said nothing more
until she was seated at her desk.  "Now...it's time to start
today's lesson.  Please open your grammar books to page two-hundred
thiry-seven."


8:48 a.m.

Miss Holmes dismissed the entire class, except for Samantha, a few
minutes early.  "Samantha, I wanted to speak with you for a moment. 
I've looked over all your class work and tests.  You are an
outstanding student.  I have noticed that you often do not take any
notes and then in your papers quote passages from the lectures.  I
don't want you to get the idea that I think you are cheating.  I
know you would not do that.  You don't need to because you have a
perfect memory."

Samantha was not suprised when Miss Holmes said this.  'I knew she
would find out sooner or later.'  Samantha looked up at her teacher
with her sad, dark brown eyes pleadingly.

"It's okay, Samantha.  You're secret is safe with me.  I know how
hard it is for you.  I understand why you wanted to hide it.  I
remember what it was like to be the new kid in school and different
too."

Samantha was confused.

"You see there weren't any mulato children in my school in London. 
I was the only girl in my class who had been adopted too.  After
the teasing died down, I found out who my real friends were. 
Michelle doesn't mean to hurt your feelings.  She's probably a bit
jealous."

Samantha looked shocked and confused.  'Why would anyone be jealous
of me?'

"You're a very special little girl, Samantha.  I hope you aren't
burdened by that, but I do want you to realize that it's a good
thing as well."

Samantha smiled.

Miss Holmes reflected the girl's infectious smile.  'I think this
is the first time I have seen her smile.  I hope to see it more
often.'  "Well...you should hurry along to your next class.

The rest of Samantha's day went a little more smoothly.  Not only
had someone other than one of her friends shown her some kindness,
but she was beginning to understand that it was okay to be
different.


6:50 p.m.
Mail call

As the girls on Samantha's floor waited impatiently for letters
from home, Samantha couldn't help but wonder if she would have any
mail.  She usually got one letter a week from her parents and
another every two weeks from her grandmother in Florida.

"Samantha Mulder," the floor mother said, as she handed the
envelope to Sam.

Sam looked at the return address as she went back to her room.  She
sat down at her desk before she opened the letter.  She was
confused.  'I don't know anyone in Baltimore.'  She ripped the
sealed flap off and unfolded notebook paper.  'Remy!'  Her friend's
unmistakable scrawl filled the page.

     Sammy,
     
     Sorry I haven't had a chance to write before this, but it has
     been pretty hectic around home.  My dad got transferred at the 
     beginning of January to Baltimore.  Mom and I just joined him
     three weeks ago.  It took him that long to find a house.  

     You should see it, Sammy.  It's two times as big as our house
     in Chilmark.  Maybe your parents would let you come down here 
     to visit sometime.  The best part about the house is the
     attic.  It's huge.  It has these really neat windows at each
     end.  Mom says the house is Victorian, whatever that is.  All
     I know is that it's a pale yellow, three story house with a
     basement and an attic.

     The new neighborhood is pretty neat.  It has really tall trees
     on both sides of the street and most of the houses have white
     picket fences in front of them.  Ours has a big black iron
     fence.  It's the only one on the block like it.  There are a
     lot of kids our age in the neighborhood.  On Saturdays, we all
     get together and play street hockey if there isn't too much
     snow or traffic.  

     I'm in a new school now of course.  It is huge.  There are
     probably 70 kids in my fourth grade class.  My teachers are
     okay.  (Mom said I had to tell you about them.  I told her you
     would be bored.)  This is the first school I have ever heard
     of that isn't named after a dead president.

     Mom says it's time for dinner so, I guess I should stop
     writing and put a stamp on this.  Dad said he would take it to
     the big post office downtown so it will get out yet tonight. 
     They take the mail out more than once a day here.  WOW!  This
     is a big city.  I bet it's even bigger than Boston!     

     Mom says for you to take care of yourself and that she misses
     having you around the house.  I do too!  I miss you and Fox a
     lot.  Mom says that when Fox comes home we'll go back to
     Chilmark for the weekend.  I hope the police find him soon.

     Your best friend (or at least I had better still be your best
     friend),
     Remy
 
     p.s.  I hope you will write to me soon.

     p.s.s.  I will send you a picture of the new house as soon as
             I get one.

Samantha smiled as she finished reading the letter and got her
stationary and a fountain pen with blue ink in it out of her top
desk drawer.  She thought for a moment about what she wanted to
tell him.

     Remy,

     I was really suprised to get a letter from you.  I miss you a
     lot.  I thought maybe you had forgotten about me.  Mom told me
     that you had moved, but she didn't know where.  

     I don't think Baltimore is bigger than Boston.  It might be
     though.  There can't be too many places in the US that are
     bigger than Boston.

     I have started to make some new friends here.  My roommate is
     pretty neat.  She's Nicole Jacobe.  Her parents live in
     Providence and she's nine.  Michelle Botti is ten and her
     parents live pretty close to the school, but Michelle lives
     here.  She's almost eleven.  Lisa Barron is nine and her Mom
     and Dad live in New York City (NYC is definitely bigger than
     Boston and Baltimore).  We all stick close to each other
     because we all like The Beatles.  The kids on the floor I live
     on call us the Fab Four.  
 
     How is Rufus?  Does he like Baltimore?  Can you see the ocean
     or a river from your house?

     Camden is right on the coast and when I look out my bedroom
     window I can see the lighthouse and the whole harbour.  It's
     really pretty here.  I like it, but I wish you and Fox could
     be here with me.  I miss him a lot too.  If he would come back
     right now, I would promise not to ever fight with him or make
     him mad ever again.  

     Maybe if I wish hard enough on the stars, the ones that took
     him will bring him back.  If I tell you something, you have to
     promise not to tell anyone else ever.  You have to cross your
     heart and hope to die, stick a needle in your eye if you ever
     tell a single soul what I am about to tell you.  

     I think someone from another planet took Fox.  They didn't  
     look like any men I had ever seen before.  They didn't look
     like the aliens in the movies either.  They looked scary.  I
     have been having nightmares about them a lot.  I hope I never
     see one in real life again.

     I have to start reading my book for a book report now.  I'm
     reading House of Seven Gables.  Does your house have gables?
     A lot of Victorian houses do.  Victorian houses are houses
     that were either built while Queen Victoria of England was in
     power or in that style.

     Forever your very best friend (next to Fox, that is),
     Sam

     p.s.  I will send you some postcards of Camden the next time
           I write so you can see how pretty it is.


******************************************************************************


2020 hours
March 15, 1993
Omaha, Nebraska

Sam was filled with disbelief.  "What?!?!  You must be mistaken. 
My father can't know anything about this.  If he did, he would have
contacted me by now."

Senator Matheson disagreed with Sam's accessment of her father. 
"No...I don't think so, Sam.  Your father worked for the military
intelligence division in the war.  He knows how to keep a secret."

"If this is supposed to be so hush-hush, then why are you telling
me all of this?"

"Because I know what finding Fox means to you.  Your father on the
other hand..."

Sam cut him off.  "I'm sorry, Senator, but whatever else my father
might be, he is not a monster.  I have a right to know and he is my
father...  I'm sure that if I ask him, he would tell me what I want
to know.  He's always been very honest with me.  Besides...I have
security clearance.  That must count for something."

Senator Matheson did not take offense at what Sam had accused him
of.  Rather, he stayed calm and reasonable.  "Sam...I'm not saying
that he is a monster.  I'm simply saying that he would see nothing
wrong with keeping this from you."  He paused a moment to consider
what else he should tell her.  'She has just as much right to know
as anyone else does.'  "Bill Mulder has kept his secrets for all
these years.  What makes you think that just because you have
security clearance now that he will suddenly have a change of heart
and decide to tell you everything he knows about Project Bluebook
in all its forms?  Your father had a higher security clearance than
even the president...in fact, he still does."

The room fell silent.  The other occupants looked as though they
felt out of place.  Dana was beginning to feel like she was
intruding and even Remy looked somewhat uncomfortable in this
situation.  Mike fidgeted in his chair a bit.

After a few minutes of this uneasy silence, Dana stood up and went
into the kitchen.  "I think I'll check on dinner," she said, trying
so sound as casual as she could.

"I'll help you, Dana," Sam said in a quiet, emotionless voice.  She
joined Dana in the kitchen, leaving the others to talk.

Remy leaned forward, resting on his elbows.  "She's been through a
lot recently," he said quietly so that Sam would not hear him.

Senator Matheson sighed.  "I know...and I hate to be the one to add
to her burden.  She's like one of my own kids.  When I met her
eight years ago, she was a young idealist girl.  She had just
graduated with honours from Cambridge and she was ready to take on
the world.  I wanted to give her that chance, but sometimes I
wonder now if I did the right thing.  What if she could have had a
different life?"

Remy looked perplexed.  "It's not your fault that all of this has
come crashing down on her at once.  She's an officer in the Air
Force.  She is trained to deal with stressful situations.  She's
coping."

"That's right!" Mike chimed in.  "Sam's a tough one.  She knows
life isn't fair or easy.  She has learned through experience the
answers don't come easily or instantly.  You don't give her enough
credit.  She'll pull through just fine."

Remy smiled.  "Yeah...just give her a chance to get a handle on
everthing and she'll be her old self again.  Right now, it's just
a bit overwhelming."

Senator Matheson smiled.  "I'm glad she has the two of you watching
out for her.  I wish I could be there for her more.  She has missed
out on so much...being at odds with her father and all..."  He
paused briefly, then continued, "I feel like I should be there for
her sometimes and I can't."

"Understandable..." Mike said.  "Like you said, she's like one of
your daughters.  You want to protect her and try to do what's best
for her, but just like you will have to do with your own children,
there is a time when you have to let go.  You have to trust that
your kids will be all right.  Maybe it's time to let Sam test her
wings."

Remy looked astonished, "Mike...I don't think I have ever heard you
say something that profound before."

"Well...I was a psychology major back in college.  Sometimes stuff
like that slips out and I don't really know why."

Senator Matheson smiled.  "Sam is very lucky to have the two of you
as friends...  Speaking of which, Remy, did you ever talk to Sam
about the conversation we had a few months ago?" he wondered.

"No...I tried but the words just weren't there.  I think I'll wait. 
I need to think about it more before I say anything to Sam about
it."

"Say what to me?" Sam asked as she went through the living room to
the dining room with the main course.

"Nothing..." Remy said quickly.  "Just something about your
birthday suprise."

"But that isn't for another month..." Sam said, as she came back
into the living room empty handed, looking a bit confused.

"Yeah...I know.  That's why I'm going to wait."

"Oh...I see," she said as she went back into the kitchen and took
the salad to the table.  'Remy doesn't lie to me often.  He's not
very good at it.'


2245

After they had finished dinner and had their dessert, the Senator
left a copy of the document he had mentioned to Sam earlier with
them.  "I want you all to be able to go through this.  Maybe you
can find something in it that I missed that could help you.  I hate
to eat and run, but I have a budget committee meeting tomorrow
morning at eight."

"Take care, Senator," Sam told him as she kissed him on the cheek. 
"Thank you for coming.  I really appreciate everything you have
done to help me."

"I'm happy to do it.  You know you can count on me for anything,
don't you?"

"Yes...I do," she said, blushing slightly.

"Take care of her, Remy."

Remy shook the senator's hand.  "You know I will, sir."

Dana stepped forward and shook the senator's hand.  "It was good
seeing you again, sir."

"Yes...it is good to get to spend time with my friends.  With all
of you I don't have to pretend to be politically correct the way I
do in Washington," he said with a boyish grin.  "Be careful, Dana."

"I will."

Mike stepped forward and gave the senator a hearty handshake.  "It
was a pleasure meeting you, Senator Matheson."

The senator smiled.  "Mike, you're a good man.  Sam is lucky to
have you as her partner.  Don't let her do anything wreckless."

Sam mocked a horrified expression.  "Who, me?"

"Yes...you do have a way of finding trouble.  Don't go lurking in
any shadows if you don't know what else is there.  I wouldn't want
anything to happen to you."

"Don't worry about me, Senator.  I'm more concerned about you. 
Those sharks you work with in Washington are merciless.  You can
never be too careful where your career is concerned."

"Thank you," Senator Matheson said with a smile.  "I hope I never
let you down."


2330
Omaha Regional Airport

Senator Matheson picked up his boarding pass and checked his
briefcase through just as the first call was made for his flight.

The public address system broadcast the voice of a stereo-typical
female announcer.  "American Eagle flight 937 from Omaha to Iowa
City will now begin boarding at gate C-4."

Senator Matheson decided that he should take advantage of this
opportunity to go to the restroom to freshen up before getting on
the plane.  He had never liked those small commuter planes.  'They
are cramped and don't have facilities.'

He headed for the closest men's room.  Once inside, he loosened his
tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.  He went into one
of the stalls.  When he emerged, he went over to the wash basin in
front of the mirrors.  He looked at his image and saw that his eyes
were becoming bloodshot.  'Hope I can catch some sleep on the
trip.'  He splashed his face with water and and then washed his
hands.  

As he turned off the faucet, a tall man in a dark suit came in.  He
looked like your typical Midwestern businessman.  He was carrying
a dark brown, leather attache case.  He walked right up to the
senator.  "Excuse me, but aren't you Senator Richard Matheson?"

"Yes..." the senator replied.  He was somewhat perplexed.  He knew
he was definitely not a household name.  'Why would this man know
who I am?'

"I'm Joe McIntyre.  I'm one of Bob Kerry's marketing advisors for
his presidential campaign.  He would love to get more supporters in
Washington on the Hill.  He would probably give me a bonus if I
could get an appointment set up for the two of you to meet."

"Well...I really can't make any commitments right now.  I don't
have my calendar with me and I am in a bit of a hurry to catch my
flight.  I have to be getting back to Washington."

Mr. McIntyre was not taking no for an answer.  "You don't seem to
understand, Senator.  I must have you meet my employer."

Senator Matheson was no longer fooled.  He knew he was in danger
now.  "You don't work for Bob Kerry, do you?"

"How perceptive!  I am what you might call an independent
government contractor.  My employer likes to call me a black
project agent."  The man took a syringe out of his pocket and stuck
it in the senator's arm before the other man had a chance to react.

A second after that, the world went black for the senator. 


******************************************************************************


1:40 pm
April 12, 1974
Easter Break
Chilmark, Massachusettes

"Samantha...there's a letter for you from London," Elyse Mulder
said as she entered the room.  She gave her daughter the fat
envelope and turned to leave.  When she got to the door, she
turned to say something, but changed her mind.

Sam had accepted the letter and put it on her desk, as if it
meant nothing to her.  In reality, she was quite anxious to read
it.  She knew it could only be from Phoebe and she wanted to know
how Phoebe's holiday was going.

     08 April
     Sam-
     Hope you are well.  

     I am including a few photos of the estate in the country.   
     At school, you said you wanted to see it, so I thought I    
     would let you.  

     Unfortunately, I am not there.  I am stuck in dreary old
     London.  Mum and Dad went off to the Bahamas and left me
     with "Hilde-guard."  Oh, that's not her real name, just my
     pet name for her.  She despises it...and me.  Her real name
     is Hilda and she's a stern, German governess.  I hate her
     almost as much as she fears me.  I love finding new ways to
     scare her into next week.  Right now, she is up in her
     bedroom trying to get fake spider webs (also known as  
     chewing gum) out of her hair.  I love making her life a     
     nightmare.  I think I might actually miss it when I go back      
     to school next week.  It's fun to see her face turn bright  
     red when I call her "Hilde-guard."  Her face shrivels up and    
     then she calls me "a spoiled little girl."  True as it is, I     
     always act as if I have no earthly idea what she is talking      
     about.

     I hope my Mum and Dad get back from the Bahamas before
     Easter.  That's my birthday, you know.  I *was* really
     looking forward to having my birthday over Easter because,
     for once, they would get to celebrate it with me.  Most of
     the time, I am at school and they send me my presents via
     the post.  While it is nice getting packages at school, it
     isn't the same as having Mum and Dad with me.  I suppose I
     shouldn't get my hopes up too high.  "Hilde-guard" said that
     she was paid through to Tueday...the day I go back.

     It's Monday evening here, so that would make it Monday    
     afternoon in Chilmark.  Hope your holiday is going better
     than mine.  See you next Tuesday evening at school.

     Phoebe Green  


Sam smiled a little.  'Sounds like she is actually having a lot
of fun.  I wish I were.  I'm not liked here any more.'  Sam was
just as sad now as she had been four months ago when she left for
Maine.  'At school, it's different.  I have friends there.  They
like me and accept the fact that I don't talk.  Here they make
fun and call me names.  I wish Remy were here.  I miss him so
much more when I am here...and Fox too.'

As if on cue, the doorbell rang.  

Sam heard her father open the front door.  The next thing she
heard was a most welcome sound. 

"Is Sammy here?" a boy's voice asked.

"Yes, Remy, she is.  She's up in her room.  I'll have Elyse go
get her," Joshua Mulder's voice boomed with some happiness in it. 
"How do you like Baltimore, Remy?"

"It's certainly different.  Nothing is the same as it is here in
Martha's Vineyard.  The ocean is further away too."

Joshua laughed.  "Yes...I suppose it is."

Sam hadn't heard her father laugh in quite a while...even before
Fox disappeared.  'He doesn't laugh very often.  He's so stern.'
Sam put Phoebe's letter in the book she had been reading when her
mother came in and closed it.  She practically ran down the
stairs and into the living room.

"Samantha...don't run in the house," her father scolded.

Sam frowned and went to stand in front of Remy.  She took his
hand and tugged on it gently.

"Do you want to go play in the treehouse, Sammy?" Remy asked.

Sam continued to tug on Remy's hand.  

"Is it all right, Mr. Mulder?" Remy asked the older man.

"Sure...go have fun, you two," Joshua said with very little sign
of the stern tone in his voice that Sammy had grown up with.  

Remy allowed himself to be pulled by Sam out to the backyard. 
Once they were outside, he asked her.  "What's with your dad? 
I've never heard him laugh before and he didn't sound angry."

Sam just looked at Remy.  'Fox isn't here.'  She let go of Remy's
hand and began to climb up into the tree which she had spent most
of her childhood in with Fox and Remy.

Remy followed Sam up into the tree.  When he got up to the
treehouse, he sat down in the hammock.  "I've missed this place a
lot.  The trees on my street in Baltimore are too big to do this. 
Their branches are too high up.  I've missed you, too, Sammy."

Sam nodded in agreement.  Her eyes looked sad and pensive.

"I miss Fox.  The guys in my neighborhood just aren't like him. 
Most of them don't even know how to play street hockey.  They
play street ball all the time.  Gets pretty boring...especially
because the streets are always so busy.  We are always having to
get out of them for the traffic to go through."

Sam continued to look sad.

"Hey...I'm sorry, Sammy.  I didn't mean to make you sad.  I won't
talk about Fox if you don't want me to.  Do you want me to stop
talking about Fox?"

Sam shook her head to tell him 'no.'

"Good..." Remy said with a smile.  "In Baltimore, all the guys
are tired of hearing about you and Fox.  I guess they have never
moved away from their best friends before."

Sam shrugged her shoulders.

"Did you get my last letter?  The one with the pictures of the
house in it?"

Sam nodded.

Remy smiled.  "Good.  I didn't know if it would get to you before
you left school for the break."

Sam mirrored Remy's smile.  'It's good to have you around,'she
thought, wishing she had a telepathic link with him, like in the
science fictions stories she read.  If she and Remy could
communicate like that, she wouldn't have to feel so alone.  She
thought about the way that she and Fox had seemed to understand
each other so well.  Sometimes, she wondered if they had not
shared something like a telepathic link.  'I always knew when Dad
was going to get mad at him.  At least then I could warn him. 
Fox had a knack for making Dad mad without even trying.  Dad
didn't understand Fox the way Remy and I do.'

"You know something, Sammy?"

Sammy shook her head to indicate a negative response.

"I think Fox might not come back."

Sam looked sad again.  'I know.  He's been gone a long time.'

"My dad says that kids who are kidnapped and there isn't any sort
of ransom demand for who and aren't found within the first month
don't usually come back.  He talked to Chief Rennie last night. 
I was supposed to be asleep, but I heard them talking about Fox
and I had to find out if Chief Rennie had anything new in the
case."

Sammy looked much more interested than she had a few moments ago. 
'Go on...  What did they say?'

"Chief Rennie said that your dad wants to close the
investigation.  He said that your dad said all the press coverage
and questions are hurting your mom.  My dad said that it was
probably best so that your parents could get on with their lives. 
Is that what their doing?"

Sam nodded.  She looked sad again.  'I don't want them to get on
with their lives.  They will forget about Fox.  If they forget
Fox, I want them to forget me too.'

"I don't want them to stop looking for Fox.  He can't have just
disappeared off the face of the earth, could he?"

Sam shrugged her shoulders.  She thought back to the night that
Fox disappeared and wondered who it was that had taken him.  They
didn't look like anyone she had ever seen and they made Fox float
through the air.  She didn't think that magicians had taken him. 
Fox wasn't very good at magic...but he did like it.

The two old friends sat up in the treehouse together for several
hours.  Remy talked and Sam listened.  

When the sun started to go down, Elyse Mulder came out and told
them to come down out of the treehouse.  She invited Remy to stay
for dinner.  

"I'll have to call my mom and dad to ask them if it's okay."

"Of course.  I wouldn't want them to worry about you," Elyse
said.


******************************************************************************


0645 hours
16 March
Tuesday
SAC Headquarters

Sam unlocked the office door and flipped on the lights.  The sound
of her footsteps echoed through the room.  She put her briefcase
flat on her desk and unlocked it.  After taking out what looked
like a small, hand-held volt meter and it's wand attachment, which
resembled a microphone, and turning on its power, she began
checking the office for electronic listening and surveillance
devices.  She had almost finished the sweep and was about ready to
put the equipment away, when she pointed the wand toward the
ceiling.  She saw the needle on the meter go haywire.  She zeroed
in on the disturbance, then put the meter down on her desk.  She
climbed up in her desk chair and quietly disassembled the light
fixture.  In it, she found an electronic bug.  Sam removed the bug
and took a quick look at it before dropping it into the glass of
water on her desk.

Just as Sam had finished reassembling the light fixture and
climbing down off her desk chair, the phone rang.

"Captain Mulder here."

"Captain, this is Sargent Weis in Security.  A routine sweep of the
base phone lines detected a tap on you office phone this morning. 
The system is now clear.  We just thought you might want to know,
sir."

"Thank you, Sargent Weis.  Please make note in your duty log that
just a few moments ago, I found and disposed of an electronic
listening device in my office light fixture.  I have conducted a
sweep and the room is now clean."

"Very well, sir.  Do you need Security to come pick up the bug,
sir?"

"No...I think I would like to hang on to it...for my collection,"
she joked.

"Very well, sir.  Is that all, sir?"

"Yes.  Thank you for reporting the phone tap to me.  Oh, by the
way, do you know how long the tap was in place?"

"Less than six hours, sir.  Anything else, sir?"

"No...that is all, Sargent Weis."

"Very well, sir."

Sam hung up and stared down at the bug in the glass of water.  She
grinned.  "Trying to learn my secrets, were you?" she asked the
piece of now useless electronics.  "Well...you will have to do
better than that."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

0700 hours

Mike strolled into the office whistling merrily.

Sam gave him a curious look.  Her face became red and she looked as
if she might bite off his head.

Mike, however, was not phased a bit by his partner's harsh
disposition.  His smile took on a more devilish quality as he
realized that he was having great success at egging her on.
 
"What are you so *bloody* happy about?" she snapped.  The words
were tinged with her very authentic-sounding, British accent.  She
was prone to slipping into it whenever she was irritated about
something and did not know what to do about it...or knew that Mike
was trying to tease her.  It was a habit formed during her time in
England. 

Even though Sam's British professors had found the habit to be
amusing, Mike did not.  "Sam...I really wish you wouldn't do that!" 
Mike smiled, trying unsuccessfully to act mad at her.  "It's
really...well, kind of eerie."

Sam was amused by Mike's attempt at being mad at her, but she
refused to let it show.  Instead, she continued in the manner which
had caused his "anger".  With a completely straight face, she said
in the British accent, "After the morning starts out with a bug and
a phone tap, how else am I supposed to act?"

Mike suddenly became more serious.  "What are you talking about?"

Sam held up the water glass.  "Exhibit A...an electronic listening
device...found by yours truely in the light fixture."

Mike stepped forward to get a closer look at the glass Sam was
holding.  As he looked at the small piece of submerged technology,
he said, "Looks like CIA issue to me."

"Very good," Sam said, looking rather pleased.  "You have been
paying attention...and all this time, I thought you were only
staying around here for the travel opportunities," she said,
loosening up a bit.

Mike laughed gently.  "You are getting into a better mood rather
quickly.  What gives?"

"Well..." Sam said, reverting back to her natural New England
accent, "If I don't keep myself convinced that the next news I hear
will be good news, I am going to have to find myself a personal
submarine and go to the bottom of the Marianas Trench just to get
away from everything.  With everything that's going on right now,
I need some good news."  Sam tried to smile, but it came out
looking more like a whince of pain instead.

Mike put the glass with the electronic bug in it on the desk and
opened his arms to Sam.

Feeling as if a hug was exactly what she needed at that moment, she
accepted his offer, though timidly at first. 

"Better?" he asked.

"Yeah..."

"I know it seems like your world is crashing in around your ears
right now, but we have to push forward.  This is a new day.  So
what if it already has two minor strikes against it.  It still has
seventeen hours to make up for them.  In the grand scheme of
things, what are two strikes?  We still have eight and a half
innings to play" he asked, using his favorite metaphore for
life...baseball.

"I see your point," Sam said quietly, not wanting to tell him how
much she hated baseball.

"Okay...now...I have with me a load of *boring*, *predictable*
paperwork with me.  Care to join me in this exercise of
bureaucracy?"

Sam looked at the stack of papers on the corner of Mike's desk and
laughed.  She had never thought of paperwork as an escape...tension
reliever.  For the first time, she looked at it with a different
perspective.  "Sure...  Why not?  Give me the requisition requests. 
I think I'll start with those."

"Good...I thought I would get stuck with those again.  I always
feel like I am going to get carpal tunnel syndrome from filling out
those damned things.  Thank God you're the administrative one in
this department."

Sam smiled and took the pile of forms from Mike.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

0930 hours

Sam finished filling out the last page of a report and put down her
pen.  "Time?" she asked, sounding somewhat like a runner who wanted
to know how fast he had run his last lap.

Mike smiled as he looked down at his watch.  "A new record.  One
hour and twenty minutes.  That's cutting twenty minutes off last
month's efficency report.  Either the purpose of those oxy-moronic
things has actually come to the surface and you are actually
becoming more efficent because of them or you've been taking short
cuts."

"How'd you know?" Sam asked with a devilish grin.

"The only way to do it any faster would have been to zerox it, but
then...since you don't have the luxury of forgetting, some would
say that's a short cut."

Just then, the phone on Sam's desk rang.

"Captain Mulder," Sam said, sounding rather official suddenly.

"Hello.  This is Marilyn Gentry...Senator Matheson's secretary."

"Oh...hello!"  Sam's voice became a little more lively.  "It's good
to hear from you.  Did the Senator make it back to Washington
okay?"

"Actually...that's what I need to speak with you about, Captain,"
Marilyn asked.  Her voice still sounded official...almost
concerned.  "Did Senator Matheson say anything about making a side
trip before coming back to Washington?"

"No...he said he had a budget committee meeting at eight and he
needed to get back for it immediately.  He didn't say *anything*
about a side trip.  Why?  Has something *happened*?"

"Well...I don't know...  I thought at first that it might be due to
some sorto of a delay in Omaha, when he didn't make it in to the
meeting at the Capitol building this morning.  His wife called the
office around eight-thirty concerned because he didn't come home
last night.  I checked with the airline that he was booked on last
night and he didn't get on at Iowa City."

Sam's brow became furrowed.  "I'll do what I can to check things
out from here.  If he should call or show up in Washington, please
give me a call...  If *I* hear anything from him or come up with
any answers, I will let you know."

"Thank you."

"Please tell Mrs. Matheson that I will do everything I can to find
out what is going on."

"Thank you again."  Having said that, Marilyn hung up.

Sam placed the receiver back in the craddle with some care.

"So...what's up?  You look like someone just died.  That was about
Senator Matheson, right?"

"Yeah..." Sam said with a hint of shock in her voice, as the phone
conversation began to sink in.  "Senator Matheson never made it to
his budget meeting this morning.  His secretary checked and he did
not get on the flight from Iowa City.  No one has heard from him
since he left dinner last night."

"Which means he may not have gotten on the flight here in Omaha..."
Mike said flatly.

Sam nodded.  "I'm going to call the airline.  They should be able
to tell me if he got to his flight."

Sam picked up the phone again and dialed information.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

1045 hours

After being shuffled around to several different airline
information operators, Sam finally found out that Senator Matheson
had indeed picked up his boarding pass, but did not make it to the
plane.  She also managed to find out that his baggage, a briefcase
and overnight bag, had been claimed at the Iowa City end of the
flight.

Sam hung up with the head of Security at Iowa City's airport and
leaned back in her chair.  She ran her fingers through her hair and
resisted the urge to start pulling it out.  A low rumble escaped
her throat.

"Problems?" Mike asked with a raised eyebrow.  He was still in
relative good humor.

Sam stared coldly at him.  She wasn't in the mood to try to deal
with her partner's better attitude.  "Where should I begin?"

"How about with the thing that is the *least* aggravating?" he
suggested.

"Sounds simple enough..." Sam said with a wicked grin playing
across her lips.  "The security at the airport here in Omaha is
deplorable."  She waited for a reaction from her partner before
going on.  When she saw him let out a long sigh and shake his head
slowly, she went on, "Next on the list is the fact that in an
airport terminal with people in it...mainly flight attendants and
pilots, I might add...no one noticed that an unconscious man was
brought out of a men's restroom by paramedics, even though no one
called 9-1-1 or airport security for assistance.  If it weren't for
security cameras, we wouldn't even know that."

"Do you think the man on the stretcher might have been Senator
Matheson?" Mike asked.

"It's all I have at this point," Sam said, sounding as though she
thought she had been beaten.

"Hey...don't give up yet!  There must be something else.  No one
disappears without a trace these days.  Someone is bound to have
seen the ambulance drive away.  People tend to notice those types
of things.  We might be able to find out if it really was the
paramedics or someone pretending to be."  

Mike tried reasoning the situation out, but even he had to admit
that the hour was late when the Senator had disappeared and the
airport was probably not very busy at that hour.  There would have
been more people inside than outside.  He knew that if he heard the
rest of the list of stumbling blocks that Sam had come across, he
would be in just as foul a mood as she was.  "Okay...I guess I
don't want to hear the rest of the list after all."  He was happy
to still be sporting a good-natured smile.

Sam looked relieved that she would not have to dredge all the
things which were bothering her about the Senator's disappearance
to the surface.  Instead of dwelling on them, she went back to
making phone calls.  

 
******************************************************************************


1200
The Treehouse Restaurant
Downtown Omaha

The popular downtown restaurant was crowded.  Business meetings of 
all kinds were being conducted over lunch and the clientele was just as 
varied as the types of business being conducted.  The only patrons in the 
restaurant who were in uniform were sitting at a quiet table in the back 
of the restaurant, away from the noise of the kitchen and the other patrons.

"Okay..." Sam said as she put her fork into a piece of lettuce.  "I want 
to know what those crazy, paranoid friends of yours in Arlington had to 
say about the photo."

Remy finished chewing the bite of salad before answering his impatient 
roommate.  "Well..." He paused to take a drink from his glass.  "Fohike, 
Byers, and Langly debated about your location for the photo, but they did 
manage to agree that it is authentic."

Sam looked a bit irate.  "Debated the location?!?!  Have any of them 
actually been to London?"

Remy had a blank look on his face.

"I didn't think so.  Who do they think they are?  They're just three 
grown men who are still caught up in playing cops and robbers.  They 
wouldn't know what the real world was like if it came up and bit them.  
Maybe it should..."  Sam said, trying her best not to sound too upset.  She 
didn't think much about the Lone Gunmen, but they were Remy's friends.  
She had to respect that for his sake, but she didn't have to like it 
necessarily.  "The Gunmen are fanatics."

Remy smiled slightly.  He knew that Sam didn't see eye-to-eye with his 
friends all the time. 'Heck!  I don't always agree with the Gunmen, but 
they are experts in information gathering.  They know more about the
information superhighway than the people who designed the systems.  
Granted...they do get a little caught up in their conspiracy theories 
from time to time, but they should be allowed that.  They are an underground
government watch-dog group first and foremost, after all.'  

Remy took another bite of his salad before he gave Sam the next bit of 
information he had learned from his friends.  "Also...the guys wanted me 
to let you know that Senator Matheson's mysterious disappearance was
not just an unfortunate coincidence.  They have a source on Capitol Hill 
that told them the Senator's enemies are closing in for the kill, so to 
speak.  The Gunmen don't think he is in any real danger.  It's his own pet
projects that will be killed," Remy told them.

Dana looked confused.  "Pet projects?  What could that mean?"

"I suppose 'Division X' and the 'X-Files' could be considered his own pet 
projects," Sam said.  "He is the one who pushed to get them opened and we 
have always had a clear line of communication with him."

"Mike...you're awfully quiet today.  What do you think about all of 
this?" Dana asked.

Mike had been staring out across the restaurant.  When he heard someone 
say his name, he snapped out of the daze.  "Huh..." he replied 
inarticulately.  "I'm sorry.  I guess I'm a bit shook up by it.  Why 
would anyone want to close down the Senator's projects, if the 'X-Files' 
and 'Division X' can even be called that?  It must mean that someone has 
something to hide."

"All the more reason why we should continue what we have been doing... 
searching for the answers," Sam said.


1322
SAC Headquarters

Sam heard the phone ringing as she got off of the elevator with Mike.  
She sprinted down the hall to their office to answer it.  She unlocked 
the door as quickly as she could and picked up the receiver.  "Hello, 
Captain Mulder speaking."

A man, who's voice Sam did not recognize answered.  "Captain...or should 
I call you Spacy...like your friends at the Academy?"

"Who is this?!?!" Sam asked as Mike came in the door.

"Well...let's just say that I am a friend of a friend."

"What do you want?!?!" Sam was getting irritated.  The simple fact that 
he had used her much hated nickname from the Air Force Academy was enough 
to do that.

"I just wanted to inform you that the Senator is fine...for now.  When I 
have confirmed that you have stopped searching for information about the 
boy in the photo who you believe to be your brother, I will release the 
Senator...unharmed.  If you continue this search...he will meet a slow, 
agonizing death. Now...you don't want to put your friend the Senator
through that, do you?"

"Of course not..." Sam said softly and slowly.  She could not stand being 
bullied into giving up, but she could not take the chance that the 
Senator would be killed.

"Good...Do I have your word that you will stop this pursuit?"

"Yes..."

"The Senator will be released in thirteen hours.  He will be flown to 
Washington and will call you at eight a.m.  Do you agree to these terms?" 
the man asked, sounding as though he was talking to a young child.

"Yes...but, why--?"

"NO QUESTIONS!  I am in charge of this situation.  If anyone asks 
questions it will be me!"

Sam didn't have to have a psychology degree to know that she was dealing 
with someone who had a few screws loose.  "I'm sorry," she told him, 
hoping she had not angered him enough that he would take out his anger on
Senator Matheson.  "If I could talk to the Senator..."

"Ah, no...That is against the rules also.  You are playing my game and in 
it, I make all the rules.  You are to follow them if you want to get 
ahead in the game.  So far, the Senator has been following my rules
very well.  He is a good player."

Sam was now sure that whoever this was needed professional help.

"I must go now.  We have all ready talked too long.  Oh...and 
Captain...don't bother calling Security to see if they were able to trace 
this call.  They probably were if they were on their toes, but their 
computers won't figure out where the call originated for another
two weeks.  GOOD-BYE."

The call disconnected.

"Damn it!!!!"

"It was the kidnapper?"

"Yes...he made me agree to quit looking for the origin of the photo in 
order to have the Senator released.  Unless I have missed my guess, this 
man is a genius."

"Most of the truly insane ones are.  Didn't someone once say, 'Genius 
breeds insanity'?"

Sam arched her left eyebrow.

"Well...if they didn't, they should have.  No offense."

"None taken...this time."  Sam couldn't help but smile a little.  "Wait a 
minute.  He may not have been as smart as he thought he was...  I think I 
heard something in the background.  If we can isolate the sound..."

"But we didn't record it."

"Security's computers did."

Mike smiled.  "This place is sneakier than I thought it was."


1700
Sam and Remy's Apartment

Sam opened the front door and put her keys down on the table.  "I'm 
home..." she said, her voice trailing off. 


Remy rolled out of the kitchen.  "You sound exhausted.  How'd the rest of 
the day go?"

"Well...I just spent three hours with headphones on and I am exhausted.  
I was listening to a phone call from Senator Matheson's captor."

"You got a call and you didn't tell me?!?!"

"I'm sorry.  I wanted to...but this guy is really on his toes.  He knows 
how the SAC Security system works.  He knew his call was being traced by 
computers and he bounced the signal all over the globe.  I couldn't take
the chance that he could tap into my line and listen to me telling you 
about the call.  He made me promise not to investigate the photo of Fox 
anymore."

"I understand.  Oh...by the way, there's a message for you from
someone named Jose.  He wanted me to ask if you were still planning on 
meeting him for coffee at 'BEANS AND CREAM'?"

"Oh..." Sam knew immediately what Remy was talking about even though she 
had not made the coffee date.  It was code speak for:  'Meet with me' 
from her contact. "Yeah...with everything that happened this afternoon I
completely forgot.  I should really go upstairs and change into some 
decent street clothes.  This uniform is comfortable, but not as 
fashionable as I would like."

Remy smiled.  "So..who's Jose?" 

"This guy that was in a few classes with me at Cambridge.  He's an 
insurance man here in town now."

"From Cambridge to insurance..." Remy shook his head.  "What a waste..."

Sam smiled.  'Good thinking, kid.  Lie a little.  He'll never know that 
Jose is actually owns brokerage firm in New York."


1800
Beans and Cream Coffee Shop
Omaha

Sam arrived at the meeting place after taking a quick shower and fighting 
the tail end of rush hour traffic.  'Lord...I wish we had a 'tube' in 
Omaha.  It would make things so much simpler.  'Unfortunately, the only mid-
western city large enough to constitute a subway system is St. Louis, 
Missouri.  Practicality out rules convenience,' she thought with some 
remorse.  She sat down at a table next to the window and waited for her
informant to arrive.

In the meantime, the waitress came by and took her order, brought it to 
the table and left again to help some more customers.

Fifteen minutes passed before the man Sam was waiting for finally 
appeared.  He was just over six feet tall and was balding.  His silvery 
hair formed a horseshoe around the back of his head and was combed back 
neatly. He wore a dark grey, pin-stripe suit of fine cloth with
newly polished, black shoes.  The expression on his face was grave as was 
typical for him.

"You're late," Sam said flatly.  She could not recall ever seeing this 
mysterious man react to her with anything more than a grin or a grimace.  
'Someday, I will succeed in getting a rise out of him,' she thought
with secret pleasure.

The older man did not like to have to explain himself to the young woman 
he had chosen to help out every now and then, but he made an exception 
this time.  "I was followed.  I had to make sure no one knew I would be
here with you."

Sam accepted that.  "So...why did you need to see me?"

"I know about you little phone conversation with Mr. Jefferies."

"Jefferies?  How do you know who I was talking to?  For that matter, how 
do you know his name?"

"I have my sources," he said, non-commitally.

Sam hated it when she couldn't get a straight answer from this man, whose 
name she did not even know.  She had been told to call him Jose.  'He 
certainly doesn't look like that is his real name.'  Sam moved back to
the topic she needed information on.  "He told me to stop my 
investigation.  I don't want to, but if it will save the Senator's life, 
then I will have to do it.  I can't let any harm come to him because of 
something I have done."

"This man is a terrorist.  Just because he says he will release the 
Senator if you stop your investigation does not mean that he won't come 
after you or go back on his word.  He cannot be reasoned with.  Eight 
years ago, he escaped for a prison for the criminally insane.  He had
been sentanced to life imprisionment for killing a presidential candidate 
and conspiring to kill the president."

Sam looked at the man across the table from her with a skeptical mind.  
"Why would someone like that be interested in Fox?  Or for that matter, 
why would he care what I know?"

"If he is involved in the events which took place in November of 1973 
then keeping that a secret would be very benificial.  Your brother's 
disappearance was not the only one in 1973 that would keep the attention of
someone like that."

Sam was bewildered.  She had done searches for disappearances under 
similar circumstances but found no Earthly reason or explaination for any 
of them.  In each of the cases she had investigated, alien abduction
was the only logical choice.  "Why would anyone care...unless some 
'black agency' was involved in some way..."

"I cannot confirm or deny that, Captain Mulder, but I can tell you that 
the people who know about what happened to your brother hold very 
powerful positions."  The man looked down at his watch.  "I must be going. 
It was nice chatting with you, Captain.  Keep your nose clean and watch 
your back.  I would hate to read your obituary in the paper."  The man 
known to Sam only as Jose scooted his chair back and left without another
word to her.


1845
SAC Headquarters

Sam drove frantically to the base and rushed to make copies of everything 
they had compiled on the case thusfar.  She had that feeling she got just 
before something big and dangerous happened that told her she would need 
to have proof these things existed.  This feeling drove her crazy, but 
there was nothing she could do to turn it off or predict what it actually
meant.  All she knew was that it had never let her down or been wrong 
before.  In a way, she was glad for the warning it gave her, but in 
another, it could be very annoying. 


1930
Sam and Remy's Apartment

Sam came up the elevator with an arm load of folders and computer 
disks.   As soon as she got into the living room, she put the mess down 
on the coffee table and spread it out.  Taking off her shoes, she sat down
on the couch and started to sort through the mess.

Remy came out of the den and scowled.  "Where have you been?  I thought 
you would probably be home a half-hour ago."

Sam thought quickly 'on her feet' so to speak.  "Jose and I hadn't seen 
each other in quite a while.  We had a lot of catching up to do.  He's 
married now and has a young daughter.  She's quite pretty.  He had a whole
packet full of pictures which had just come back from the developer."  
Sam didn't feel so bad about having to tell Remy that, because most of it 
was true.  Jose, her friend from Cambridge, really did have a wife and
daughter.  He had even sent her pictures from the wedding and the little 
girl's birth announcement with a picture.

Remy seemed satisfied.  "So...what's all that?"

"Oh...this...it's just some work from an old case...  Now that I'm not 
working on the photo's origin any more, I thought I should finish up some 
paperwork which I had been putting off." 


******************************************************************************


March 17
Wednesday
Omaha

<Crash.>

The sound of breaking glass broke the dead silence of the very
early morning.

Sam woke with a start.  It took a moment or two for her to be
coherent enough to realize she was awake, but once she had, she
looked over at the clock.  She groaned as the green numbers
registered in her mind.

2:45 a.m.

"Too damned early..." she grumbled.  Completely unaware of why
she was awake at such a dreadfully early hour, she stumbled out
of bed and decided to get a drink of water.  As she flipped the
bathroom light on, she heard something that reminded her of
someone fumbling around in the dark tripping over furniture.  She
decided she should investigate.

Her first thought was that Dana could not sleep so she might have
gone down to the kitchen for a snack.  As Sam walked past Dana's
door, she peaked inside.  

Dana was in her bed breathing deep and evenly.  The cover was
pulled up almost all the way to her chin. 

'Sound asleep,' she thought.  Deciding for the first time that
something was not quite right, she went back to her bedroom and
took her pistol from the holster, which was hanging on the
bedpost.  She shoved a clip in it and snuck downstairs.

Sam had almost made it to the main floor when she heard another
noise.

<Thud.>

She locked her grip more tightly around the gun.  She was a
little more than simply nervous by now.  'There's an intruder
here,' she told herself.  She tried to remain calm, but she felt
another presence very close to her.  Her instinct for danger was
telling her to shoot now and ask questions later.  Her reason and
better judgement won out, however.  She looked around the dark
room cautiously.  The only light was coming from the top of the
staircase where she had left on the bathroom light.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a dark figure moving.  She
tried to follow its motion, but before she could find it again,
she felt something cold and solid make contact with her head. 
She fell to the floor.  Her head smacked the grated metal stairs
and came to a rest on the bottom one.  She was aware for only
about a second after she hit the stairs, but it was long enough
to feel the pain and the warm liquid coming down across her face.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

0645 hours

<Eernn...eernn...eernn...>

"Samantha..." Remy yelled, "Shut that damn alarm off!"  He rolled
into the hallway toward Sam's door.  He saw that it was open and
Sam was not inside.  He turned the alarm off and headed for the
bathroom.

Before he got there, Dana came out of her room rubbing her eyes. 
"What's going on?"

"I'm not sure."  Remy was trying not to sound too grumpy, but the
fact of the matter was that he did not appreciate having to get
up an hour early just to turn off someone else's alarm clock. 
"Sam's alarm had been going off for almost half an hour before I
turned it off just now."  He peaked inside the bathroom.  "It's
not like her to leave the bathroom light on and not turn off her
alarm clock before she leaves."

"Do you think she went to the base early?" Dana asked.

"It's possible.  With Sam, almost anything is possible.  However,
Sam is one person who does not forget little things like light
switches and alarm clocks," he told her flatly.  He rolled past
her and went to the elevator.  "I'm going down for some breakfast
since I am up.  Care to join me?"

"Sure.  There's no way I'm going to be able to get back to sleep
now," she said as she joined him in the elevator.  When they
reached the main floor, she headed straight for the kitchen. 
"I'll make the coffee."

Remy smiled and went into the living room to turn on the stereo,
however, before he got all the way in, he saw Sam lying on the
floor next to the steps.

"DANA!"

Dana rushed into the living room and looked totally shocked.  It
did not take her long though to switch into automatic mode. 
"I'll call 911."  

As Dana dialed, Remy leaned down over the side of his chair to
feel for a pulse and check Sam's breathing.  "She has a faint
pulse and her breathing is shallow."

"Nine-one-one.  What's your emergency?" a woman with the standard
mid-Western accent asked. 


"My friend appears to have fallen down a spiral staircase.  She
has a laceration on her head that has stopped bleeding, but I
don't know how serious it is.  She is unconscious and her
breathing is shallow.  I need an ambulance sent to 315 Conagra
Drive.  Tell them to take the elevator up to the second floor."  

As soon as Dana had given the essential information to the 911
operator, she rushed over to Sam's side.  Very carefully, she
checked the motionless form for injuries.  "Her neck isn't
broken.  She has two distinct lumps on her head in addition to
the cut."

Remy felt useless for the first time in a long time.  One of the
things he had prided himself on was his positive mental attitude. 
It had been one of the most important factors in allowing himself
to go on with life when many people would have given up to self-
pity and seen only an end to their lives.  Now, however, all he
wanted to do was curse the chair and all the reasons for it.  'If
I weren't in this *damned* thing, maybe there might be something
I could do for her,' he thought as he looked down at his best
friend.

As if she had read his mind, Dana looked up at him briefly.  She
saw the look in his eyes and scolded him sharply.  "This is not
the time or the place for self-pity.  I need a cold compress."

Remy snapped out of it and went about the task Dana had given him
obediently.  A moment later, he returned from the kitchen with a
damp dish towel.

Dana took the towel and laid it across Sam's forehead.  "I'm
hoping to reduce the swelling of these lumps," she explained. 
"They could, quite possibly, be serious.  She hasn't regained
consciousness yet and that leads me to believe that they are.  We
won't know for sure until she's had a CAT scan."  Dana's face
suddenly turned ashen.  "Her pulse is getting weaker."  She
didn't want to alarm Remy any more than necessary.  Her fingers
found her small gold crucifix on the chain around her neck.  She
said her rosary to herself and prayed for guidance.

Remy pulled his chair up closer to Sam.  He reached down and
stroked her hair gently.  "It's going to be all right."  He still
felt somewhat helpless, but the thought that maybe she was aware
of his presence put his mind somewhat at ease.  He spoke softly
to her again, "Everything will be just fine.  I promise.  Just
hang in there.  Help is on the way.  Don't leave me."  Remy was
unsure if he was trying to reassure Sam or himself...or possibly
both.  He had never been very religious, not since he was a child
and not even after his accident, but at that moment, he felt that
he and Sam needed some help.  'If there is a higher being out
there...a God...please, help Sammy.  She's all I have.'  A few
moments passed and he felt as if he had done the silliest thing
possible.  

Dana kept her fingers at Sam's neck and gradually she felt a
slightly more encouraging strengthening in her pulse.  "It's a
bit stronger," she told him with a smile.

Remy tried to smile too, but he was still very worried.  "Where
the *hell* is that ambulance?!?!"

Several minutes passed before the ambulance arrived.  When it
did, Remy went to the outside elevator to meet the paramedics. 
When the two men, who appeared to be in their twenties, came out
of the elevator with their equipment and a stretcher, Remy led
them to the foot of the staircase.

Dana stood up and got out of the paramedics way.  She gave them
all the information she could about Sam's condition.

One of the paramedics gave her a look of query.

"I'm an M.D.," Dana explained.

The paramedic was inclined to take her at her word, considering
her medical knowledge, which he knew surpassed his own simply by
her comfortable use of medical terminology.

Within a few minutes, the paramedics had Sam's heartbeat
stabilized and were ready to move her.

"We're going to take her to Richard Young Memorial's Trauma Unit. 
You can follow along," the one who had acknowledged Dana's
medical expertise told them.

Remy nodded.  "Dana...will you ride along with her in the
ambulance.  I'll call Mike and bring him up to date, then be
along shortly."

"Of course.  I'll take my cellular and keep you filled in on her
condition."

Remy turned up the corners of his mouth slightly and gave her
hand a gentle squeeze.  "Thank you."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 
0700 hours

Once the ambulance had left, Remy was restless. He called Mike,
filled him in on the situation with sketchy details and promised
more information at the hospital, then went back upstairs to
dress.  On his way out the front door on street-level, he noticed
something odd.  The outer lock and the security system had both
been tampered with.

After deciding that this could not be ignored, he returned to the
loft and looked around for other signs of a break-in.  He found
his den in a shambles and one of the floor lamps in the living
room had been broken and was laying hap-hazardly behind the large
curved couch.  He immediately picked up the phone and dialed 
9-1-1.

"Nine-one-one.  What is your emergency?"

"My home has been broken into."

"Are you home alone?"

"Yes...I am now.  My roommate took a fall down the stairs and our
houseguest just went with her to the hospital."

"What is your name and address please?"

"Remmington McClough at 315 Conagra."

A few moments passed in silence as the 9-1-1 operator dispatched
a unit to the address.

"A patrol unit is in the area and en route."

"Thank you."

The line disconnected.

Just then, Remy heard the door chime.  He pressed the intercom
button on the phone, which was connected to the system which ran
throughout the loft.  "Yes?"

"I'm Officer LaGrange.  I came to investigate the break-in."

"Yes...take the elevator to the second floor."

A minute later the officer was stepping off the elevator.

"I'm Remy McClough."

"Officer James LaGrange.  When you first notice that the house
had been broken into?"

"About five minutes ago.  I went down to the street to get in my
car and go to the hospital.  As I was about to lock up, I noticed
that the lock and security system had been tampered with."

"Yes...I noticed that.  Was anything stolen?"

"I don't know...  So much has happened all ready this morning
that I wasn't really thinking about that.  You see, when I woke
up this morning, my roommate's alarm had been going off for about
a half hour.  I got up to turn it off and when I came downstairs
with our houseguest to make some breakfast, I found my roommate
unconscious here," Remy said, pointing to the blood stained
hardwood at the bottom of the stairs.  "We assumed that she had
fallen down the stairs."

"But you don't know that for sure," Officer LaGrange stated.

"No...I guess we don't.  I hadn't considered anything else up
until now because when the ambulance left just ten minutes ago, I
didn't know about the break-in." 


******************************************************************************


0800 hours
17 March
Wednesday
Robert Young Memorial Hospital
downtown Omaha

The automatic doors opened, allowing Remy to pass through.  He made his 
way to the information desk, having to weave around peiople waiting to be 
discharged and all the others who were simply waiting.

The nurse on duty at the desk asked, "Can I help you sir?"

"Yes...or at least I hope so.  I'm looking for Samantha Mulder.  She was 
brought in about forty-five minutes ago with a head injury," he explained,
suceeding in keeping his cool for the moment.

The nurse typed Sam's name into her computer terminal and a few moments 
later, the information Remy wanted was on the screen.  "Are you a family 
member?"

"No...but I'm the closest thing she has to family.  My name is Remy McClough.
I'm her closest friend and we are living together.  Her living will lists me 
as next of kin."

The nurse hit a key and the screen with Sam's administrative information 
popped up.  Sure enough, his name was on the appropriate line.  "Ah...
yes...I'm sorry, Mr. McClough.  She was taken into surgery about five 
minutes ago."

"Thank you...Oh...one more question, where would I go to wait to hear when 
she gets out of surgery?"

"The second floor lounge.  There are some coffee machines and a nurses' 
station near by, as well."

"Thank you..."  As Remy hurried to catch the elevator before the doors 
closed, his mind began to swarm with thoughts of Samantha.  He could not 
remember ever being more worried about her. In a way, he was beginning to 
understand what must have been going through her head when she woke up 
in the hospital and found out her best friend would never walk again.  He 
caught the elevator and asked the man next to the access panel to push two, 
since there was a rather large woman between him and the panel itself.  
When the doors opened, he got out as quickly as the cramped area would 
allow and found the lounge the nurse at the information desk had 
described.

Dana, who was sitting next to the windows on the far end of the lounge, 
stood up when she saw him.  "Remy, over here," she called to him in a 
normal speaking voice with a hint of urgency in it.

Remy approached her.  He couldn't help but notice how worried she looked.  
'If this is what she looks like, I must *really* be a wreck,' he thought.  
"The nurse downstairs said they took Sam into surgery five minutes ago.  
What's going on?  It must be serious if they had to take her in to 
surgery."

"It is..." Dana said quietly.  "She has a severe concussion.  The cut on 
her forehead is more serious than I thought too.  It was caused by a scull 
fracture.  They took her in to relieve the swelling on the brain caused by 
the concussion.  The doctor said not to expect to hear anything for at 
least three hours."  Dana could not guage the look in Remy's eyes.  'It 
must be somewhere between hysteria and denial.  This is the woman with whom 
he has shared his life.'

Remy went to the window and looked out towards the river.  "She hates 
hospitals.  When we were in the car accident, she was such a terrible 
patient.  She had a head injury then too...but nothing this serious...
just a mild concussion.  She was so lucky, then.  She always has been.
From what the police said, we both should have been killed in that 
accident."

"Sounds like you both have a guardian angel looking out for you," Dana 
said softly, with a caring tone to her voice.

Remy couldn't help but smile a little.  "You have to promise not to tell 
Sam this...but in the back of my mind...I always thought that if we had a 
guardian angel that it was Fox...  After almost twenty years of hearing or 
seeing nothing to support Sam's theory that he was alive somewhere, I was 
beginning to believe that maybe he had been dead all that time.  In a way, 
it was rather comforting."

"You didn't want him to have suffered.  It sounds quite logical to me."

A comfortable silence passed between them for a few minutes, but it was 
broken, when Mike came rushing into the lobby from one of the stairwells. 
"What happened?"

Dana anwered before Remy could.  "Sam fell down the stairs.  She's in 
surgery right now to relieve the swelling on the brain caused by the 
fall.  She also has a scull fracture."

Remy squirmed around a bit in his wheelchair, looking like he wanted to 
say something.  "That's not what happened."

"WHAT?!?!?" Dana and Mike asked in unison, equally confused.

"When I was on my way out, I noticed that the lock downstairs and the 
security system had been tampered with.  I went back up to the loft and 
looked around.  If we hadn't been so worried about Sam, we would have 
noticed that the lamp behind the couch had been knocked over and that 
the den was a shambles.  The only things that appear to be missing are 
the copies of the photo that Sam made last night and the paperwork she 
brought home.  I found the original picture under her mattress.  She 
probably heard a noise, went down to investigate and caught them in the 
act.  I called the police and they dusted for prints but couldn't find 
anything.  They said it was definitely someone who knew what they were 
looking for and where they might find it.  My guess is that the 
apartment was bugged."

The blank looks on Dana and Mike's faces were nearly identical.  Neither 
one of them could believe that this had gone this far. 

"What could be so top secret about the disappearance of a twelve-year-old 
boy twenty years ago that would warrant kidnapping a United States 
Senator and nearly killing an Air Force officer?" Dana wondered aloud.

"I don't know...." Remy said softly, "But I intend to find out."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

1030 hours

The noisy hospital floor was filled with people going about their 
business.  Orderlies took carts with cleaning supplies into the empty 
operating rooms.  Nurses in green surgical garments darted in and out of 
hallways.  Patients were wheeled into surgery and doctors prepared to 
operate.  However, the second floor waiting room was remained deserted, 
save for the three weary friends waiting to hear about Sam's condition.  

Mike was on one of the couches with Dana laying curled up next to him, 
sound  asleep.  Her head was resting on his lap at an impossible angle.  
Every time he tried to move it to a position which would be more 
comfortable for her, she shifted back into the original position.  He 
had finally given up and simply let her rest. 

Remy was downing his eighth cup of black coffee of the morning.  After 
each swallow, he cringed a bit at its bitterness.

Mike had been counting Remy's cups of coffee and estimated that his 
friend had taken the equivalent of a lethal dose of caffeine.  'I don't 
think I want to be around when Remy crashes.'  He had only seen Remy hit 
the caffeine one other time and even then, it was only a can of Jolt and 
a cup of coffee.  Remy had been so irritable for the next twelve hours 
that even Sam had avoided him a bit.

Just as Remy was finishing that all important eighth cup, a female 
doctor in scrubs came through of a set of swinging doors and headed 
straight for the threesome. 

Mike decided to wake Dana up.  He put his hand on her shoulder and gently 
nudged her.  "Dana...wake up."

A moment later, Dana's eyes fluttered and she sat up.  She recognized the 
doctor as the one who had talked to her before Sam was taken into surgery.  
"Dr. Greiner...how is Samantha?"

"Well...she made it throught the surgery.  We won't know much more about 
her condition until she wakes up."

"When do you think that will be?" Remy asked, sounding as on edge as he 
looked.

"I really can't say.  Right now, she is comatose.  Her head injury is 
quite severe.  Frankly, I wasn't sure she would be able to make it through 
the surgery...but she fought with everything she has."  Dr. Greiner's face 
went a little white as she pulled a vial filled with a greenish-yellow 
substance suspended in globs surrounded by blood in it.  "This is what 
really puzzled us.  We found that she had been injected very recently with 
this.  I've sent a sample to the lab and we should know later today what 
it is, but I have never seen anything like it.  We tried to flush it out 
of her system, but it's beginning to bond with the blood vessels.  Trying 
to remove it from her bloodstream, without knowing how it is affecting her 
could be worse than leaving it there."

Remy looked as though someone had just struck him.  "Can I see her?"

"Yes...she's been taken to the trama unit on the fifth floor.  We are 
going to keep her there until she is out of danger."

Remy couldn't help but wonder if Sam would be safe from harm from the 
outside.  "The police don't think this was an accident."

"I know it wasn't."  Dr. Greiner looked quite serious when she said, "I 
have never seen someone take a header down the stairs, even a spiral 
staircase, and sustain those kind of head injuries.  That, along with 
the fact that she was injected with the bacteria recently, is enough to 
convince me that she was definitely attacked."

"Would it be possible to put a military guard outside her door and have a 
list of authorized people who could see her?" Mike asked.

Dr. Greiner thought for a moment, then answered.  "Yes...I'll have to 
clear it with the administration, but considering her nearly critical 
condition, I'm sure they won't deny your request.  Now...if you will 
excuse me, I need to go check on another patient.  Like I said, she's up 
in the trama unit.  You can check with the duty nurse to get the exact 
room number."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

1145 hours Wednesday through Friday morning

As the hours went by, Remy sat alone with Sam in her room for the most part.
Sometimes Dana and Mike would suceed in getting him to go to the cafeteria 
for something to eat, while the other would keep watch over Sam.    

The glass windows behind him were so the nurses could see into the room at 
all times.  The windows in front of him looked out across the downtown 
area.  Sunlight filled the room and made it's white interior decor appear 
more hospital like than most.  An armed Air Force guard sat in a chair 
just outside the doorway.  He knew that only Remy, Dana, Mike, the nurses 
who worked on this floor, two orderlies and Dr. Greiner were allowed in 
Sam's room.  This was a grand total of eleven people.

Sam was still unconscious and breathing with the help of a respirator.  
She had tubes giving her nutricious fluids and antibotics to try to kill 
the bacteria in her bloodstream.  Her face was ashen and, to Remy's eyes, 
she was beginning to look more and more like the child he had grown up 
with instead of the woman she had grown up to become.

The nurses came in periodically to record Sam's temperature and other 
vitals on her chart and then leave again.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

1100
19 March
Friday
Trauma Unit #2

Mike paced the area of the floor extending from the window to the open 
door back and forth.  He had his hands shoved deep into the pockets of 
his Dockers (TM) casual slacks.  His navy blue roll neck sweater had 
the sleeves pushed up to the elbows.  Mike looked tired and frazzled, 
but somehow determined to continue.

Remy was just as uneasy as Mike, but he had somehow managed to look 
more calm than he actually was.  He looked up from the newspaper, which 
he had borrowed from a nurse, and folded the page over.  "Mike..." he 
said in his normal speaking tone, but still sounding a little irritated.

Mike continued to pace, but he looked up at Remy.  "What?"  He sounded 
anxious, like someone had given him too much caffine.  "Is she waking up?" 

"No...I don't think so...at least not yet.  Why don't you go see how Dana 
is?  She went down to the cafeteria to try to find something to eat." 

"Sure...send for us when Sam wakes up?" 

"Of course." 

Mike looked a bit concerned.  "You haven't eaten anything all morning I 
bet.  Do you want me to bring you something?" 

"Sure...that sounds great.  How about something that won't spoil?  I 
don't know when I'll want to eat, but it would be nice to have something 
for later." 

"Got ya...something with a half-life of at least half a century," Mike 
quipped quite naturally.

"Well...how about just a day or two?  I don't want to be trying to digest 
it for the rest of my natural life." 

Mike smiled.  "Good point." 

When Mike had gone, Remy sagged forward in his wheelchair.  The newspaper 
slid off of his lap and under Sam's bed, but he didn t seem to notice.  
The worry he had been trying to hide for the past twenty-four hours was 
finally coming to the surface.  Trying to keep it supressed was too much 
of an effort to continue.  Remy carefully uncovered Sam's right hand and 
put it on top of the covers.  He stroked it gently, like a kitten's back.

If Sam knew Remy was there with her, she showed no indication of it.  Her 
eyes stayed closed and her vital signs remained the same as they had been 
since she was brought out of surgery.

As Remy sat there holding her hand and stroking it alternately, Dr. Alana 
Greiner came in reading over Sam's chart.  

Remy looked up when he heard the footsteps of the woman who was only a few
years older than himself.

"Sorry it took so long for me to come check on her, but as soon as I got 
out of Sam's surgery, I was called down to the ER for another serious 
head injury.  It was a little boy who had been hit by a car while riding 
his bike without a helmet.  I did everything I could, but it just wasn't 
enough.  I stayed with him through the night and most of the day 
yesterday, but we lost him early this morning."  

"I'm very sorry..." Remy said, genuinely upset by this.  He could only 
imagine what the boy's parents were going through.  He prayed silently 
that he would not have to know what it was like to lose Sam.

Dr. Greiner looked down at Sam's chart and read over the new page.  "So 
far, the lab has not been able to identify the bacteria in Sam's 
bloodstream.  It isn't familiar to any of the technicians in the lab.  
We are sending a blood sample to Washington for identification.  We 
should have some sort of answer within a day or two." 

Remy nodded, but remained silent.

Dr. Greiner could sense that Remy needed some encouraging news.   Her 
vitals are good, Mr. McClough.  She's strong and in good health.  Those 
are both factors in her favor for a quick recovery.  However, since we 
don t know what the bacteria she was given is, or precisely what it is 
doing to her system, I can t give you an estimate of when she will wake 
up.  The antibotic which I put her on is not killing it.  Most of the 
time, I would expect a patient who has her type of injury to remain
unconscious for anywhere from a day to a couple of weeks.  With Sam, I 
just don't know."

Remy looked rather dejected. 
 
"We will keep her here in the Trauma Unit until we think she is awake and 
alert.  I would like to encourage you  to be with her as much as you 
can.  I have found that coma patients who are around friends and family 
recover much more quickly than those who are not.  I also want to make it 
clear to you that I am concerned about your health as well.  Let your 
friends come sit with her while you catch some sleep.  Sam won't mind.   
Alana paused for a second or two.  "What about her parents?  Have they 
been notified?"

Remy's expression slid into a frown.  "Her parents are in Massachusettes 
and I really doubt they will come to see her.  I have talked to them... 
but Sam and her father aren't on very good terms with each other.  Her 
mom is pretty unstable.  If she saw her daugher like this, it wouldn't do 
either Sam or her mom any good."

"That's a shame.  However, maybe it's best that they aren't coming, since 
they don't have a good relationship with Sam.  If they came, it could 
upset her."

"Do you really think she knows I'm here?" 

"Almost definitely.  The subconscious mind is almost always alert.  She 
is probably very aware of what is going on right now around her.  The 
sound of the breathing machine may even be getting on her nerves." 

"Probably so...Sam likes normal noises, but something as irregular as the 
breathing machine would, most likely, get to her." 

Dr. Greiner smiled.  "Well...I have rounds to make.  If you don't have 
any questions, I'll be on my way.  If you need me, the nurses can page 
me.  Right now, all we can do is wait...and pray." 


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

1145 hours

Remy's head was resting on the edge of Sam's bed and someone had put a 
pillow under it.  He was sleeping soundly, when he felt Sam's hand, which 
he was still touching, begin to move slightly.  His eyes flew open and he 
jerked his head up immediately to see what was happening. 

The newspaper had been picked up off the floor and was now on the night 
stand next to Remy's chair.  The door had been closed, presumably so the 
outside noise in the hall would not disturb him while he slept.

Sam's hand moved a little bit again.

Remy knew instantly what had woken him up and why.  He pushed the call 
button next to Sam's head.

Less than half a minute later, a pretty, red-haired nurse, whose name tag 
read "IRENE" had opened the door and was asking him, "Is something 
wrong?" with a touch of panic in her voice.

"No...I think she's beginning to wake up," Remy said, flashing his 
infectious smile.

Once again, his charm had worked its magic and the nurse was beaming as 
well.  She left the room immediately to have Dr. Greiner paged.

Within just a few minutes, Dr. Greiner was at Sam's bedside waiting for 
her patient to open her eyes.  She looked just as hopeful as Remy did, 
but she warned, "I don't want to get your hopes up, but she may not be 
waking up yet.  In fact, I think it is almost too soon to expect 
anything, but it's not impossible, either." 

"I understand...but she moved her hand." 

"Well...if she is waking up, movement in her muscles would be the first 
sign.  It could take her a while to pull herself out of the haze." 

Dr. Greiner had just finished her sentance, when Sam moaned softly and 
her eyes began to flutter.  A moment or two later, her eyes were half-way 
open.  

"Hey, sleepy-head!"  Remy greeted Sam with an exuberant smile.  "How do 
you feel?" 

Sam tried to say something but couldn't be heard because of her parched 
throat.

Dr. Greiner poured a cup of water for Sam and put a straw in it.  She 
lowered the tip of the straw down to Sam.  "Here...have some water.  
Your throat will feel better."
 
Sam took a few slow sips.  She looked rather dazed and more than a bit 
confused.

"It's okay, Sam."  Remy tried to keep his voice calm and soothing.  "I'm 
right here." 

Sam looked around the room almost frantically, like a caged animal.

"Sammy...I promise...You're safe here," Remy told her, in the same 
soothing voice. 

From the reaction he got from Sam, he could tell that she wasn't 
convinced for some unknown reason.  He looked up at Dr. Greiner for some 
help.

"Sam...I'm going to shine a light into your eyes.  I just want to check 
them.  I will flash the light away very quickly, so you don't have to do 
anything," Dr. Greiner explained.  True to her word, she did the 
examination very quickly.  When she had finished, she motioned for Remy 
to follow her out into the hall.

As Remy was about to go, Sam squeezed his hand and would not let go.  
"Remy..." she whispered hoarsely.

"I'm here.  I won't be gone long.  I promise." 

"Trust no one," Sam whispered almost inaudibly.  Her eyes had a pleading 
quality to them.  Her eyes held Remy hostage until she drifted off to 
sleep just a few moments later.  Her grip loosened on his hand.

Remy was able to slip away without disturbing Sam.  He followed Dr. 
Greiner out into the hallway, which was rather empty and quiet for this 
time of day.  "Was that normal behavior for someone who has just come out 
of a coma? 

"If you mean was the fact that she seemed rather out of it normal, then 
the answer is 'yes.'  Do you know what she might have meant when she told 
you to 'trust no one'?" 

"Well...Sam has been rather jumpy lately because of the events leading up 
to this episode.  She's had her office on the base broken into, ransacked, 
and bugged.  Her files have been stolen and the night before she was 
attacked, one of her superiors disappeared.  It is all related to her job." 

"Sounds like it may be time to take an early retirement," Dr. Greiner 
said with a total straight face.  

Remy could tell she was serious.  He was more than a little inclined to 
agree with her, but he knew convincing Sam would not be so easy.  At this 
point, he was sure the attack would only make Sam even more determined to 
find out why all of this was happening.  'Why don't the black agencies 
want Sam to find Fox?'  He would be lying to himself if he denied it, 
but first and foremost in his mind was Sam's safety.

"Sam's head injury has proven itself to be very serious...as I suspected 
it would be.  Like I told you when she came out of surgery, we were 
successful in releasing the pressure on the brain by the excess fluid, 
but the damage has already been done.  There is still a considerable 
amount of swelling and bruising. We won't know how severe this really is 
until she begins to recover more.  Her rate of recovery should give us a 
good indication of what to expect.  We will continue to monitor her from
here until she shows marked improvement."  

Dr. Greiner paused to take a long breath and exhale it slowly.  "Now that 
we know she has come out of the coma, we will begin waking her up every
two hours or so to try to prevent a relapse of the coma.  It is possible 
for her to still slip back into a coma even though we will be trying  
to wake her up every few hours." 

Remy nodded slowly to signify that he understood.

Dr. Greiner continued.  "I think that by you being at her side, she came 
out of the coma that much quicker.  It is very important for her to feel 
safe right now.  With you in the room, talking to her, touching her hand, 
and just being with her, she feels much safer."  Dr. Greiner paused and 
looked down at her pager on her belt.  "I have to go.  They need me in 
the ER again.  I check back with you later and if you need me you can 
always have me paged," she told him as she hurried toward the elevator,
which just happened to be coming up to that floor to stop.

Remy returned to Sam's room and took up his post again.  He picked up the
newspaper and found a section he had not read yet.  It was the FEATURES 
section.  "Let's see...book reviews or music?  he asked aloud.  Getting 
no response, he decided.  "Book reviews I think.  All the albums they 
reviewing are country albums and I know how you feel about those silly 
lyrics."  He chuckled to himself as he thought,  Besides, most of the 
time, country music is so boring it could put healthy people in a coma. 


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  

1225 hours

The door opened quickly.  Mike had nudged it open with his foot and 
then pushed hard enough for it to swing all the way open.  His hands 
were full, as were Dana's.  Each of them was carrying a paper sack in 
one hand and a cup in the other. 
 
Mike asked,  "Has she come to yet? 

"Yes...but only for about three or four minutes.  Dr. Greiner was just 
here and she examined her.  I could tell that she's a little worried 
about Sam.  When Sam was awake...she said 'trust no one' almost like 
it was some sort of warning to me...like everything depended on it.  I 
don't know what to make of it,"  Remy admitted. 

Remy laughed when he saw them come in with such a large amount of food.  
"What did you do?  Buy one of everything? Last time I checked, I was 
only one man.  I couldn't possibly eat that much food by myself." 

Dana smiled.  "Well...there was a bit of a disagreement about what to 
get so he got his picks and I got mine.  You can choose what you want." 

"She thought it should all be healthy. *I* know that there is only so 
much healthy stuff in a cafeteria with a decent shelf life."  Mike put 
the bag down on the table at the end of Sam's bed and began his show 
and tell.  "We have...Doritos (TM)...Twinkies (TM)...donuts...and 
finally, the staple of every Air Force cadet...Snickers (TM)." 

Remy eyed the selections. "Oh...peanut butter Snickers even.  Good job!" 

Dana looked a little disappointed and irritated.  "Okay...my turn.  
First off, from the fruit and vegetable group, we have an apple and some 
carrot sticks.  From the protein group, we have beef jerky and unsalted 
peanuts.  From the grain group, we have bagels.  And finally, from the 
dairy group, we have yogurt." 

Remy couldn t stiffle his laugh, even though he was trying valantly.  
"You have both managed to find all my favorites.  Congratulations!  
Now...help me eat it and we will be set." 

Dana handed Remy the apple and the beef jerky while Mike gave him the 
Snickers bar and a Twinkie.  

Remy put all of it, except for the beef jerky down on the nightstand 
beside his chair.  He opened the package and took a bite.

As Remy was trying to chew the sineu and swallow, Mike thought of 
something and decided to share it with the others.  "She told me once 
that when she was a kid, she used to have dreams that told her not to 
trust anyone because 'the Greys' were in control of some people, but you 
couldn't tell the difference between the real people and the aliens.  I 
think she said they started after Fox disappeared."

Remy looked up from Sam's sleeping form.  "Yeah...come to think of it, 
she did.  They were more like nightmares really.  I had forgotten all 
about that.  Do you think her subconscious dreadged that up again?"

"Well...we should ask her about it when she wakes up again?  Maybe she 
will be able to tell us what she meant by it," Dana suggested.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

1945 hours

Dana and Remy were sitting on one side of Sam's bed playing with a deck 
of cards which the nurse had found in the staff lounge.  

"Gin!" Dana called out as she laid down the last of her cards.

Remy put his cards down on the table with a bit of cermemony.  "That's 
the third time in a row that you beat me.  I guess by now I should know 
better than to play cards with women who work for the government.  It 
never fails.  Sam always beat
me...no matter what game it is that we are playing."

"It's a pre-requisite for all female government employees.  We all go 
through the same seminar:  How to Beat Any Man at His Own Game, Part One 
- Card Games," Dana couldn't help but snicker a little at her own joke.

<Ungh....> Sam moaned softly as she began to stir in her bed a little.

Remy's attention immediately snapped to Sam.  He remembered how thirsty 
she had been when she woke up the first time and poured her a glass of 
water.  As an afterthought, he remembered to put a straw in it for her.

Sam opened her eyes slowly and blinked more rapidly than usual while she 
allowed her eyes to adjust to the harsh brightness of the overhead light.  
"What time is it?" she whispered in an almost inaudible voice resembling 
the one she had used when she had woken up earlier in the day.

"Almost eight o'clock," Dana said as she looked down at her watch for the 
first time in several hours.  The last time she consciously remembered 
checking the time was when Mike had left for home to get some sleep.  
That had been around three-thirty.

Sam looked rather uneasy.  "Who are you?  Where have you taken Fox?  I 
want to know what you have done with my brother.  You're one of *them* 
aren't you?" she asked the stranger with a calm tone, somehow managing 
to keep the fear she was feeling out of her voice.

"Dana Scully..." the FBI agent replied, bewildered.

"Sam, you do know who I am, don't you?" Remy asked, hopefully.

"Of course, I do, Remy...  Why wouldn't I?" Sam asked, beginning to 
wonder where she was and what she was doing in a room looking up at her 
best friend and some strange woman.  She had a feeling that something was 
going that wasn't quite right, but as to why she had that particular 
sensation, she did not know.  "It's not like *they* wiped my memory or 
anything."  She was beginning to wonder if maybe Remy wasn't really 
Remy.  'He might have been replaced by one of the Greys and made to look 
like Remy.  It isn't inconcievable.  That must be how *they* got me in 
the first place.  *They* probably tricked me,' Sam thought trying to 
understand what was going on.

Remy chose his words carefully.  "You had a bit of an accident and you 
hit your head pretty seriously.  You're in the hospital."  He turned to 
Dana and asked her, "Could you go inform Dr. Greiner that Sam is awake?"

"Sure..." Dana replied, "I'll be right back."  Dana left the room and 
disappeared down the hall.

"What is it that you aren't telling me, Remy?  I know you to well to not 
know when I am being lied to.  *They* had me, didn't they?"  Sam asked 
insistantly, in her harsh whisper.

Remy wanted to stall for time.  'Sam is saying very strange things.'  
"You sound like your throat hurts a lot.  Why don't you have some water?" 
he offered as he held the glass out towards her and angled the straw 
towards her lips. 

Sam could not deny her thirst.  She felt like she had cotton in her 
mouth, the way it felt after she had been asleep too long.  When she had 
taken a few sips, which was all she felt like she could manage even 
though she wanted more, she asked again, "What has happened to me?"  The 
harshness of her voice had begun to fade and she was sounding a little 
more like herself, even if her voice was still a low whisper.  "I feel 
terrible...like I've been asleep too long.  *They* must have drugged me.  
How long was I gone?"

Remy was more than a little worried now.  'Sam sounds like she is having 
fever delusions.  It isn't terribly uncommon for her to hallucinate when 
she has a high temperature.'  Remy was hoping that his theory was correct.

A few moments later, Dr. Greiner came in, followed by Dana.  "Good evening,
Samantha.  I'm Dr. Alana Greiner.  How are you feeling?"

"How should I be feeling?  The drugs you gave me have made everything so 
dim that I can barely see you and my head feels like it has exploded and 
been put back together."

"Ah...I see," the doctor replied.  "I'll prescribe a pain killer for your 
headache.  With head injuries like yours, headaches are to be expected.  
In fact, I would be worried if you did not have one."

"Head injury?!?!  What the HELL did *they* do to me?  How long did *they* 
have me?"  Sam was beginning to sound completely paranoid.  Her eyes were 
darting around the room frantically.  "Where are *they*?  *They* must be 
watching.  *They* never leave an abductee alone right after returning them."

Dr. Greiner pulled an electronic thermometer out of her lab coat pocket and 
held it up to Sam's ear.  She pressed the button and a few moments later, 
the thermometer chirped, signalling that it had recorded Sam's temperature.  
Dr. Greiner frowned and wrote the number down in Sam's chart.  "You said 
everything is dim...  Has it been that way since you woke up?"  

Remy looked over the doctor's hand and saw the number "104.2"  'No wonder 
she is hallucinating.'

"Yes...of course it has.  You're the one who gave me the drugs which made 
it that way, aren't you?"  Sam sounded like a smart-ass, something that 
was totally out of character for her. 

"Sam...this may sound like an odd request, but can you tell me the last 
thing you remember clearly?" Dr. Greiner asked.

"Driving from Boston to Martha's Vineyard."

"What day was that?"

"December 6."

"Of which year?" Dr. Greiner asked casually

"What do you mean of which year?  1991, of course!"


2000 hours
19 March
Friday
Robert Young Memorial Hospital
Trama Unit #2

Sam closed her eyes uneasily.  She didn't want to, but whatever it was
the 'greys' had given her was too powerful for her to resist. 

Remy, Dana and the doctor went out to the hall to talk.

"What was that all about?" Dr. Greiner wondered aloud.

"Sam has a fixation with UFOs," Remy explained. 

As if on cue, Mike came down the hall.  "What's up?"

"Sam woke up for a few minutes.  She's delusional and has a fever."

Mike grimaced and looked to Dana.  "That's a bad thing, right?"

Dana nodded.  "You took her temperature...what was it?"

"103 degrees.  Whatever it is that's floating around in her system is
not being accepted by her body.  A fever is the body's way of fighting. 
I'm going to prescribe a stronger antibotic to help fight off whatever
this thing is.  The delusion was part of the fever," she explained.

"What about her memory loss?" Remy asked.

"It's normal for patients with head injuries as severe as Sam's to
experience some loss of memory.  It should return.  The only thing she
may never remember are the things surrounding the attack.  It's probably
best that she doesn't remember those details right now."

Remy was in full agreement with the doctor.  "I'm going back in to sit
with her.  I don't want to leave her alone."

Dr. Greiner nodded.  "That's fine.  If there is any change in her
condition, I'm only five minutes away.  The nurses know how to get ahold
of me in an emergency.  I'll be back in the morning to check on her again. =

Right now, I have to go home and crash."

When Alana had gone, Dana looked up at Mike.  "Would you mind taking back=

to the apartment?  I need some sleep."

"No problem," Mike said.  "I've got to get some rest too."

"Do you want me to bring you anything in the morning?" Dana asked Remy.

"Yeah...a change of clothes and a shaving kit would be terrific," he
replied.

"Will do.  Get some sleep tonight."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

For the next twenty-four hours, Sam slipped in and out of consciousness. =

Her fever delusions stopped sometime Saturday evening, when her fever
finally broke. 

She lapsed back into a coma Sunday morning.

Remy, Mike, and Dana took turns sitting with her.  The idea was that when=

she came to, someone would be there with her.  They hoped the fact that
she wasn't alone would be comforting to her, even if she didn't recognize=

the person sitting with her.

On Tuesday morning, the results of came up from the lab on Sam's blood
work.  The virus appeared to be genetically engineered.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *=


2325 hours
26 March
Friday

When Sam finally woke up, she thought 'The room is dark...it must be
night.'  Somewhere in that darkness, she sensed another "being" was
present.  This knowledge put her on edge.  As her eyes adjusted more to
the surroundings, she noticed that the bedside lamp was on and there was
a man she did not recognize sitting in its glow reading a magazine.

Mike heard Sam moving around and looked up from the article he had just
begun.  He smiled when he saw that her eyes were open.  "Ah...sleeping
beauty has awakened."  He could see the fear and general uneasiness in
her eyes.  She looks like a scared rabbt,' he thought.  "It's okay,
Sam.  Remy said you probably wouldn't remember me.  I'm Mike Gilford. 
I'm your partner."

Sam was still quite puzzled.  "Partner?!?!  What is it that we do?" she
asked groggily.

"We're in..." Mike had to pause for a moment.  Remembering Dr. Greiner's
advice not to let Sam in on too much of what she doesn't remember, he
decided not to tell her about Division specifically.  "...We're in a
special department of investigations connected to the Strategic Air
Command."

"So...I'm still in the Air Force?"

"Yeah...why wouldn't you be?"

"I don't know."

Sam seems willing to accept the tiny amount of information I've given
her,' Mike noted mentally.

Sam moved on to her next question with some trepidation.  "Who was the
woman with red hair who was with Remy and the doctor?"

"Dana Scully.  She's a friend of yours.  She works for the FBI in
Washington."  Again, Mike had to be careful how he chose to word his
answer.  "She came out to visit you for a few weeks..."

Sam looked somewhat suspicious, "FBI?  How did I meet her?"

"Senator Matheson introduced you.  She heads a division of the FBI which
he had re-opened earlier this year."

Sam began to nod her head gently, but stopped rather abruptly, whincing 
in pain.  "Remind me not to do that.  The Mack (TM) truck that
blindsided me must have left the imprint of that damned, bloody bulldog
in the back of my head." Mike laughed.

"How long was I out?"

"Well...you haven't been fully conscious for a week."

Sam's face went blank.

"Do you remember talking to Remy about the greys'?"

"No..."

"You were pretty out of it.  You had a fever and appearently you were
ranting and raving about the greys.'  After your fever broke, you went=

back into a coma."

"So now what?"

"Now...they'll probably keep a really close eye on you to try to keep
you from going into another coma."

"What are they going to do?  Deprive me of sleep?"

Mike chuckled.  "Probably."

"Don't they know that there are laws about that sort of thing?"

"Yeah...but they don't apply to people with head injuries, unless they
are being held prisoner."

"So this doesn't count?  I'm a prisoner.  Look at me.  I have tubes
coming out of my arms."

"Doctor's orders."

Sam looked unimpressed.  "What happened to me?  Why am I here?"

"I can't tell you that.  The doctor says it's best if you remember on
your own.  You probably wouldn't want to know...very long, dull story."

If Sam saw through Mike's lie, she showed no indication of it.

"Well...now that I'm up...let's play a friendly game of chess to get my
mind off my headache."  She struggled to move herself up higher on the
pillows.

Knowing that Sam must be to weak to do it on her own, Mike offered his
help.  "Let me."

Sam shot him a look that said, "What reason do I have to trust you other
than the fact that you know Remy?"

"I promise...I won't bite.  Once you get to know me again, you will see
that I'm just as nice as I appear...modest too," he said with a grin.

Sam kept trying on her own for a little bit more, but she finally gave
in.  "Pain is very exhausting.  I suppose I could let you help me."

Mike stood up and put his arms under her neck and knees.  He scooted her
up onto the pillows gently.  He fought back the urge to give her a kiss
on the forehead.  As he moved her, he could tell she was uneasy the idea
of being so close to a stranger.  When she was settled, he sat back down
next to her.

"Thank you," Sam said quietly.

Mike knew how hard it was for Sam to admit she needed help under normal
circumstances.  He was glad she hadn't lost her pride with her memory. 
This, in itself, gave him hope that her memory would be restored eventually=
.

"Now...how about that game of chess?" Sam asked.

"Sorry, I don't play."

"Don't play chess?!?!" she exclaimed without raising her voice.  "Are
you absolutely sure we work together?"

"Yeah..."

"Impossible.  How long have we been partners'?"

"Almost three months."

"And I haven't tried to teach you to play chess yet?"

"Tried and failed.  You said I'm a lousy strategian."

"But you do know how the pieces move, right?" Sam asked hopefully.

"For the most part..." Mike answered.  He knew that Sam must be going
stir-crazy. 

"Then you can play chess.  Is there a board somewhere?"

"Probably not.  Sam...this is an intensive care trauma unit."

"Intensive care..." Sam softly, letting it sink in.  She was still
having a hard time believing that she had lost time...or memories at
least.  As far as she was concerned it was sometime in December of
1991.  Suddenly it occurred to her that she had no idea how much time
she had lost.  "What's today's date?"

Mike cursed under his breath.  He didn't want to have to be the one to
have to lie to Sam.

"March twenty-sixth."

"Thursday, right?"

Mike grimaced a little.  He would have to tell her the truth and he knew
she would probably be able to figure out the details of why it wasn't
Thursday.  At least her photographic memory was still intact to some
extent.  "Actually, no.  It's Friday."

Sam's face went blank.  "I've lost a year?"

"Yeah," Mike told her almost cutting the word off.

Sam looked like a puppy someone had abandoned. 

"It's not as bad as you think.  Dr. Greiner says you'll get your memory
back.  It's just going to take some time.  You have a lot of healing to
do in the meantime."

Sam did not look moved by this.  "What happened to me?"

Mike knew he would have to be as straight with Sam as he could.  He
decided he would leave out the particulars, but he wouldn't lie to her
either.  "You were attacked at your apartment a week ago Wednesday. 
Someone broke in, you caught them in the act, and they tried to silence
you."


***************************************************************************


2340 hours
26 March, 1993
Friday
Robert Young Memorial Hospital
downtown Omaha
Trauma Unit #2

Finding out that someone had tried to kill her was very frightening to
Sam.  All of the sudden, she began to wheeze.  Her eyes were filled with
terror and pain.

Mike panicked.  "Sam...are you all right?!?!  Breathe slowly."

Sam tried to comply.  She willed herself to breathe in and out very
slowly and deliberately.  After a few moments, the wheezing in her lungs
ceased.  As Sam relaxed, she rolled her head over to look out the
window.  "Was it just a break in, or did it have something more to it?"

Mike, who had also managed to calm down, was astonished.  He didn't know
whether or not to go ahead and tell her the whole truth or not.  He
didn't know if she was ready to hear it all.  He didn't know if it would
make her have another asthma-like attack.  Finally, his decision was
made.  Knowing that Sam was a strong person, he would have to trust that
she could handle it.  He knew Sam well enough to know that if he lied to
her now, she would never fully trust him even after regaining her
memory.  "It wasn't a regular thief.  Whoever broke in wanted something
very specific...the information you were gathering for a case."

"What kind of case?"

"A missing person."

"Isn't that more of the FBI's type of work...I just can't see why the
Strategic Air Command would be interested."

"Well...It's not exactly their cup of tea, but the General has agreed to
it because of who is involved.  Besides, we have a FBI special agent
helping us out with it."

Sam laid quietly for a few moments and let what Mike had told her sink
in.  When she finally looked up at Mike, she asked, "Who is the missing
person?"  In her gut, she knew she had a personal stake in the case. 
She couldn't imagine taking work home with her if she didn't.

"Senator Matheson...he disappeared without a trace the 15th.  Since
then, you have received one call from the man who claims to be his
kidnapper.  He told you...to stop looking for information about a boy in
a photo which you received.  The photo was the reason the Senator came
to Omaha.  The boy in the photo looks like Fox."

"Where did the photo come from?" Sam asked anxiously.

"We don't know, but it was taken in London about 16 or 17 years ago. 
Anyway, getting back to the phone call...the kidnapper said that if you
complied with his wishes, he would release the Senator 13 hours later in
Washington, D.C.  So far, he hasn't kept his part of the bargain...even
though you have...albeit by force."

"Has he tried to make any further contact with anyone?"

"Not to the best of our knowledge.  I took a few days off this week to
sit with you here so that Remy and Dana could rest.  The only messages
on the machine at the office were from the General and some of you
friends around the base.  The General has cleared our docket until you
get out of here.  He knows you well enough to know that you would kill
me for going ahead and working on something you would rather do
yourself.  Besides, we just wrapped up a case and filed the paperwork
the afternoon before you were attacked.  The General said it wouldn't be
a problem for both of us to take an extended leave of absence.  He's
putting all the paperwork through for us.  He said we could come back
once this whole mess has blown over and you are feeling up to snuff,"
Mike explained with a smile.

Sam managed a weak smile.  Even though she had no idea who this General
was that Mike was talking about, she nodded and said, "Please be sure to
give him my thanks."

Mike nodded.  "I will.  If you're up to it, he could come by sometime. 
Maybe seeing more faces from around the base would help you get your
memory back."

Sam closed her eyes for a moment, then looked back up at Mike.  "No...I
don't think so.  I don't want my superior to see me in an intensive care
unit hooked up to machines.  It will make me appear weak and then when I
do go back to work he will pussy foot around me.  That's not something I
would relish."

"I understand.  I'll just tell him that you aren't up to having too many
visitors...and from the looks of you, it wouldn't be too far from the
truth.  Why don't you go back to sleep?  Someone will be here when you
wake up."

Sam nodded and moved her right hand over towards Mike's hand, which was
perched on the bed's rail.  She put her hand on top of his and said,
"Thanks..."

"For what?" Mike asked quietly.  

"For telling me the truth.  I know you didn't want to...I could see it
in your eyes."

"I thought you don't remember me."

"I don't, but there is something about you that makes me want to trust
you and your honesty simply reinforces it."

Mike smiled and slipped his hand out from under Sam's, then took her
hand in his.  "Go to sleep," he said quietly.

Without another word, Sam closed her eyes and drifted off.

******************************************************************************