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Leap of Faith (01/02) by Livengoo -Broken into two pieces by the Archivist
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Heh heh heh. You folks probably thought I had retired into decent
lurkership, ensnared in studies. No such luck. And here's a
challenge. Someone, Ron I think, tossed this little stink bomb out as
a suggestion. Trust me, you'll know what that means very
shortly. Okay Ron, here it is, I'll write my version you write yours
and let's see where coincidence happens. *snicker* Oh, and just in
case I really repeat stuff anyone else has written, remember I've only
been around here about 3 weeks and that the ftp sites keep declining
me. Nasty things. So, let's see what happens when I goo Ron's topic.

Oops, not having been around here very long I'm doubtless treading
well trod ground, but let's see if I can wring a little new blood out
of this turnip. Shoot mepetitive, let me know if I should keep
writing this critter!

By the way, the small type remains the same. X-Files, Mulder and
Scully property of Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen productions, Sam
Beckett and Al Calavicci and company property of Bellasarius Prod.

Leap of Faith, 1/?
blame livengoo for this one, too, at bcvms.bc.edu!

Sam Beckett saw a blinding flash of blue light, but it didn't fade.
Explosions and screams sent him into a hunch of quick fear until he
realized the screams weren't terrified and the explosions were
. . . pink? purple? green? What kind of colors were those for
explosions? And, wait a minute, something else was wrong. He looked
down at himself, or rather herself, as soft lines and shapes where he
wasn't accustomed to having soft lines and shapes registered in the
light of the fireworks.

"Didn't I tell you that you'd see lights in the sky if you stuck with
me?" The dry, amused tenor right in Sam's ear startled him half to
death, but he couldn't have heard the man any other way over the
crowd, and the fireworks, and the concert. He tried to make out the
man's face but the light wasn't reliable and the crowd was starting to
get up as the finale wound down. He, they really, were perched on a
tiny plot of picnic blanket. He could see the Washington Monument at
the end of the Mall, and the air was muggy enough to drown in. At
least now Sam knew where he was, he just had to learn when, why, and
who. Relieved, he noticed that the crowd was starting to pack up as
the show finished. At least packing the picnic that surrounded him
and this stranger would give Al time to get to him before he made a
fool of herself by not remembering his . . her . . date? Lord,
genders and relationships got so complicated in Leaps.

The streetlights along the Mall illuminated the crowd as they milled
around in search of cars. The man with him was wrestling ahead with
the picnic basket and Sam followed with the blanket. Fortunately,
Sam's companion was tall enough that he could keep him in sight
through the crowd. The crush made small talk impossible but they had
to walk almost a mile to find a blue Ford of a make he didn't
recognize. The silence between them was beginning to feel strained by
that point. The man opened the trunk to sling in their picnic gear
and Sam Beckett got his first good look at him. He was tall next to
the car (he'd seemed taller still next to whoever Sam had become. Sam
sighed at the thought of another leap altitudinally challenged. He'd
never thought he was that tall until he wasn't.) The colors of the
man's skin and hair and eyes were washed out in the streetlight, but
he had a good face, a little long, with sad eyes and a quirky mouth.

He caught Sam watching him and gave a quizzical grin. "What? You
haven't said anything since the 1812. Is something wrong?"

"Ah, um, nothing really. It must have been something I ate."

"Scully, (Scully?) I keep telling you not to eat at the FBI cafeteria.
That's where they get rid of impounded produce from Customs."

Her name was Scully? How feminine could you get? thought Sam. And she
worked at the FBI? O-o-o-o-kay. Now what.

"I'm pretty tired, would you mind driving?" Sam had almost said
"dropping me off" but didn't even know if that was right. What if
they lived together. WHERE was Al?! take advantage of me? Here, your
date stands you up so I take you to the fireworks and now you want me
to drive? You're just lucky I didn't have a date tonight myself."

Oh thank god! Now Sam knew about one relationship! He smiled and
settled back in the seat, memorizing the route home as he drove it.
He looked around but couldn't find anything with a name on it to
indicate who his companion was, so he was still asea on that. All in
good time.

They drove most of the way in silence, with the man occasionally
glancing at him. Sam had the uncomfortable sense that the stranger
was offering half a conversation, and that Sam couldn't support his
own half. He heaved a sigh of relief when they stopped at an
apartment building, and fished in his purse for a key ring and some ID
that would tell him which apartment to walk up to. Fortunately, the
man got out and walked Sam to the door, giving unconscious cues to
where he had to go. He guessed at the key and was amused at the rush
of relief he felt to have the right one. The man was watching with a
worried expression, but didn't offer to step inside. Sam thanked
whatever sent him hurtling on these pinball trips through time that so
far he hadn't made a serious mistake.

"Scully, . . . Dana, you really look out of it. Are you sure you'll
be okay?"

Sam gave him a bright grin, or what he hoped was a bright grin, "I'll
be fine, really. I just need sleep. Look, I'll see you tomorrow"
pure guesswork, "just go home and sleep well." His answering look was
disgusted amusement, but it seemed to have worked. He waved and went
back to his car. Sam shut the door carefully, then spun as an
automatic light went on. It must be one of those ones triggered by
sound or motion, he realized. Still, Sam's nerves could use some calm
right now. He was very good at adapting to whatever came his way, had
dealt with fights and panic at the drop of a hat, but holding a
conversation with someone who knew you without letting on that you
didn't know them had been difficult even when he really had been just
Sam Beckett. Now it was overwhelming. He put the purse down and
started exploring the apartment to see what he could learn.

A mirror offered a pretty woman, late twenties or early thirties, with
an oval face and large, blue eyes. Her light auburn hair was pulled
back in a practical clip. He looked at the hands, her hands were soft
and well-kept, but strong. A flash of knowledge, of physiology.
Whoever this woman was she had some kind of medical knowledge, he was
relieved to find. He'd be able to remember some of what he was, then.
Be able to remember being a doctor. He dumped the purse out on the
floor and ransacked it, finding that he was Dr. Dana Scully, Special
Agent with the FBI, the address, emergency numbers, and that she had
an amazing assortment of junk sitting in the bottom of her purse, none
of which told Sam much more than that she liked to have things like
pocket knives that might be useful, and that she had a gun. The spare
clip was in her purse in a box to keep purse lint off of it. Sam
really hated guns.

He started to wander, finding the kitchen, the living room, then he
found the alcove with the computer. Sam pounced on it, praying that
it would tell him who Dana Scully was and, therefore, some clue as to
why he was there.
************************

Al Calavicci clenched his cigar in his teeth as the person who was not
Sam Beckett slowly came back to consciousness. He hated this, he
already knew the first thing that would happen, but felt he had a duty
to be here and to watch. Sam's eyes opened and looked around the
room, slowly, then the person who was not Sam screamed (almost all of
them screamed), and curled into a ball. Al sighed. Ziggy had once
told him 93.7% of their guests did that. Familiarity bred neither
contempt nor comfort. He waited, knowing Verbeena Beeks would soon go
to work trying to calm the leaper down. He wasn't expecting any
answers before she got there, and almost dropped his cigar in shock
when the person in the waiting room, in Sam Beckett's body, stopped
screaming and looked up with a suspicious frown. The head was
turning, slowly assessing everything in the room. The - man for want
of a better term - looked down at his hands and worked them,
considering what he was seeing. When Beeks walked in her unbuttoned
lab coat matched the bland, white walls but her tunic under it was a
splash of humanity in color that caught the visitor's eyes. He
frowned as he watched her step in and stop.

"Hello," she held out her hand, having found that the familiar gesture
was soothing. The authority implied by the lab coat sometimes calmed
them, sometimes not. This one just watched. "I'm Verbeena Beeks,
please don't worry, don't be afraid. You're safe here."

"Did Mulder put you up to this? This is NOT funny." The voice was
assured, much calmer than Al would have expected. He felt himself
warm to whoever this was, this person was a fighter!

"How did you do this? Some kind of drugs, suggestion? I'm going to
kill him!" Yes, there was a lot more anger than hysteria there.

"No, please listen." Beeks was stepping further into the room,
glancing up to the mirrored surface where she knew Al would be
watching. Al nodded as though she could see him and headed for the
door. If this jumper was that resilient he probably wouldn't freak at
two of them. Al stepped in behind Verbeena and the visitor stood up,
seeming startled by his own height. Al pitched in, trying to keep his
voice soothing but using all his military training to hold this
person's attention.

"Listen to us. You are safe, and we are going to try to help you. I
know this is hard to believe" hard? Try impossible. " but we are
trying to help you, and we need your help."

"If Frohicke is involved in this I'll kill both of them!" The visitor
stepped forward and then got a look in the mirror out of the corner of
his eye. He turned, hypnotized, and walked up to stare in it. "How
did you do it? This is incredible! How can I see you," turning back
to stare at them," but I look like this? What kind of suggestion did
you use?" The visitor was turning back now, a puzzled frown on his
face. "This isn't an abduction. I don't know what it is, but why not
just fake up an abduction? Why go to all this trouble?" He looked
down then slowly ran his hands down his chest, over his body. This
person was resilient, but the truth must be sinking in by now and the
face was going pale. He sagged and Al and Verbeena lunged to catch
him and got him settled back on the bed.

"Look, I can try to explain a little but we really need your help
right now. We need to know your name and anything else you can tell
us." Their visitor was looking truly annoyed by now.

"You already know all this. What are you playing at?"

"Please, we don't know it." Al smiled his friendliest smile, ignoring
Beeks' shake of the head. "Look , just your name if nothing else?"

The visitor sighed, but clearly decided to play along. "Scully. I'm
FBI Special Agent Dana Scully. Why do you need to know?"

AL grinned and slapped Verbeena on the back, "you take it from here,
I'll get Ziggy on it!" The visitor watched skeptically as he dashed
out the door.

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

Sam was about to tear his hair out with frustration over the passwords
and security on Scully's computer. He was saved from baldness by the
sound of the door opening behind him. He leaped up and spun to smile
foolishly at Al, standing framed in the middle of the living room
table. The small, dark man in the hideous cerise flamenco suit
sidestepped, adjusted his silver cummerbund and smiled back.

"I wish a babe like you would really smile at me that way," he
leered." Sam sighed, caught between annoyance and relief that things
were back to normal, or as normal as they ever got for him. Her.
Him, damnit!

"So, I'm Dana Scully and I can't get into this computer."

"You are, indeed, Dana Scully, MD, forensic pathologist, super cop,
and bonafide cutie. As to the computer, try the password "spooky".
Sam did and was rewarded with access. He started exploring while Al
talked.

"You are thirty, you live at" - "I know where I live." - in
Washington, DC." Al continued, "you work for the FBI, you eat healthy
foods and you have a partner named Fox Mulder." "What?" "You heard
me. Fox Mulder."

"What kind of name is that?"

"Foxy? No, his name really is Fox."

Sam sighed. "And why am I here, pray tell? Do you have any idea?"

"Well," Al waved his cigar around and looked somewhere between
amusement, frustration and disbelief, "We can't get a lot of
information. Almost everything on you and this Fox character is
sealed in files Ziggy can't break yet. But, if Ziggy is to be
believed you are here to keep Fox Mulder from being abducted by little
green men. Aliens, that is, son, space aliens," finished Al in a
Foghorn Leghorn drawl.

Sam turned to face him. For the second time that night he felt winded
and totally off guard. "Oh boy."

**********************************
**********************************
Verbeena Beeks was getting frustrated. She was used to panicky
people, people in denial, violent people, desperate ones. She wasn't
used to someone who believed that the waiting room was a practical
joke that someone was pulling. Beeks now knew that Dana Scully was
female, and that whoever her partner was he must have real connections
for anyone to believe that this could be just a gag. She said as much
to Admiral Calavicci, over a truly awful cup of coffee that should
have had a biohazard sticker on the side of the cup.

"Al, she really thinks this is some joke. She's mad as hell and won't
give me anything to work with. Absolutely NOTHING. Keeps telling me
that the password is "trust no one" or some such paranoid nonsense.
She's calm, but she keeps saying the joke wasn't done right and making
suggestions. She's already told me we should have had the lights
brighter and have rented costumes to get it right. She said if it
wasn't a joke it was interrogation, and that as interrogations go it
was still as joke. I don't know if she's going to help us at all."

"She's got to help us." He sighed. "Ziggy has been trying to get
into those records for hours, but all the computer records were erased
or stored on CD," he shuddered. "And we can't get ahold of the hard
copies. They're under some kind of lock and key. Everything we've
got so far we put together from passing mentions. It's all inference
and guesswork. We really, really need what she might know about this
Leap or Sam's gonna be working in the dark." The small man looked
despondent despite his cheerfully garish outfit.

Verbeena took a deep breath, if Sam worked blind his chances were very
poor. He'd never done a Leap with NO support. But Scully wasn't
going to simply cooperate out of hand, and she was too self-possessed
to get information from ramblings the way they did with some of the
more incoherent subjects. If Ziggy couldn't support the Leap from
records, Verbeena could see only one alternative.

"We may have o break a rule. The Second Commandment? Thou shalt not
tell secrets to Leapers?" The First, of course, was Thou shalt not
tell secrets to Sam. Al stared at her, chewing his unlit cigar into a
repulsive mess.

"What makes you think that would work?" Verbeena knew he was worried
if he was seriously considering it.

"Nothing else will work. She WON'T talk to us. For some reason she's
very suspicious. I don't promise it will work, but if we can convince
her she may give us what the records won't. I can't think of any
other way to get what we need, can you?" Al's dour expression was all
the answer she needed.

"Let's go talk to the lady."

*************************************
Sam hitched up his bra strap, tried to get the pantyhose more
comfortable, and breathed at prayer of thanks that women no longer
wore girdles and garters. Vague memories of a Leap long past, of
trying to work those stupid little catches, made the pantyhose look
good by comparison. Unfortunately the shoes were still balanced on
heels, but Scully was small and light enough that they didn't hurt
much.

He was sitting at the dining room table and drinking coffee, with the
Washington Post spread all over the table and his own notes on top of
that. It had been a long day and it wasn't even 8:00 am yet. Al had
almost no information to give him, but Scully's computer files had
some very strange information in them. Sam found many of the
incidents she described disquieting. He found some of her
observations on Agent Mulder even more so. A page of notes caught his
eye, "obsessed with the existence of aliens who he believes kidnapped
his sister"; "Post-traumatic stress disorder"; "open to extreme
possibilities", whatever that meant. And Al talking about aliens and
disappearance? Sam felt a shiver run down his spine. Not another nut
case!

When the phone rang he jumped, feeling guilty, and reached for it.

"Hello?"

"Scully, I got home and realized you left your car at the garage.
I'll be by in about 20 minutes, I can give you a ride in . . ."

"Thanks," the voice from last night, and if he called her Scully,
"Mulder. I'll have a cup of coffee for you." He laughed.

"That's okay, I'll steal one from you at the office." The click
coincided with his sigh. One more bullet dodged! Of course, with a
name like Fox, Sam wasn't that surprised he might prefer his last
name. It should be an interesting day.

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

The horn honked right on schedule and Sam ducked out, carrying
Scully's purse, umbrella, the paper and a cup of coffee in a car mug.

"You didn't need to do that," his delighted grin gave the lie to the
pro forma comment. He'd drained half of it by the time Sam was
buckled in. Mulder handed over a paper bag, stained with grease
spots. "I picked up breakfast, there's one in there for you."

Sam carefully held the thing away from Scully's suit and wrinkled his
nose at the smell of fried eggs, bacon, cheese and grease. He
couldn't help it, "I can feel my arteries harden just holding this
thing, Mulder! Why aren't you dead yet, eating this stuff."

"You always say that. If you don't want it I'll take it home for
dinner." Sam cringed at the idea. "No reason to look like that,"
Mulder was watching him, grinning like this was a regular routine he
really enjoyed. "I've been eating those for years and I'm perfectly
healthy."

"Yeah, right." Sam bit the side of his mouth. He hadn't meant to say
that, but a late night reading files about a guy who saw little green
men left him with a shorter temper than usual. At least, he thought
that's why his temper was short today. Now that he really saw Mulder
in the daylight, the circles under his eyes and tired, slightly
underfed look of him didn't strike Sam as perfectly healthy any more
than his diet.

The ride was thankfully short. Sam hadn't slipped yet but if he kept
sparring with this man he was bound to make a mistake. He NEEDED Al
to show up with some idea of what was going on.

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

Al recognized the look Dana Scully gave him the minute he stepped into
the room. He'd seen it at divorce mediation from his . . . 4th? 5th?
wife. Scully was clearly prepared to disbelieve every word he said.

She opened fire first. "I don't know how you got me here or how
you're pulling this off, but I know you aren't aliens. I am not
prepared to answer any questions until I know why you're holding me
and what's going on." The voice was in Sam Beckett's register, but
had an authoritative edge very foreign to the easy-going physicist's
nature. Only a fool could mistake this for Sam.

"You're right, we're not aliens. We do, however, need some answers."
Al sighed and plunged on. "Look, we had no choice about bringing you
here. A friend of ours is with your partner," she stiffened just a
little. "We think he's going to be in real trouble and we want to
help. We need to help, and we need anything you can give us."

"If Mulder's in trouble he doesn't need your friend. Whatever games
you're playing, this is just too far. Nobody carries a joke this far
and this is the stupidest interrogation set-up I've ever seen. What
are you after?" Her voice was level, but very cold.

"Can't you just trust us?" It was not the right thing to say. He
could see her face shifting between a laugh and fury, finally settling
on a tightly held anger.

"You want me to trust you? Then tell me why I'm here. Better yet,
show me. You want trust, it goes two ways." Verbeena, behind him,
grunted a brief "I told you so."

Al groaned, but five divorces had taught him when to fold. Even his
lawyer wouldn't try to push past this point, it was stalemate. "Okay.
Okay. Grand tour first and thHe looked to Verbeena, they'd never
tried to actively bring in someone from a Leap. She nodded. "She
isn't going to believe it on our say-so." Scully snorted agreement at
that.

"Alright, Dr. Scully. But be prepared for some odd looks and odder
sights."

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

Sam thought he was braced for the unusual, but the X-files office was
a bit more than he was prepared for. The maps and posters on the
walls ran heavily to UFO overflow of wadded paper. Sam was not
surprised but was relieved when Mulder settled behind what might have
been a desk (the piles of papers and files made identification iffy)
where he proceeded to devour the killer-sandwich he'd bought for his
breakfast. The other went into a mini-fridge marked with bio-hazard
stickers.

Mulder was stealing Scully's coffee cup about the point that Sam
headed out the door, looking for the restrooms. He got badly lost in
the warren of hallways, all crammed with file boxes down here in FBI
Siberia, but finally found the ladies room next to the elevators. He
breathed a sigh of relief as he locked the door behind him, and
crossed his fingers that Al would show up, but not for about 5
minutes.

Sam Beckett, MD, PhD several times over, could do quantum physics,
surgery, the Moonlight Sonata, and New York Times Crossword puzzles in
his head. He could not, however, pull up a pair of pantyhose without
putting a run in them. He stood there with his skirt hiked, finger on
the snag, trying to figure out how to stop the ladder.

"Clear nail polish." Al's gravelly voice made him lose the spot and
he cursed - by his standards, at least.

"Drat."

"I'm telling you, look in her purse. You don't live with women as
long as I have without learning this kind of thing." Al smirked and
rolled his cigar, lasciviously, from one corner of his mouth to the
other. "Pretty good. I like a real woman, there are too many social
X-Rays out there as it is."

Sam fished around in Scully's purse, finally finding a small bottle
under everything else. "Ah ha!"

"Okay," Al's nose was down next to Scully's leg, ostensibly to help
advise as to proper application of nail polish. "Careful, too much
and you'll stick it to your leg and snag it again."

"I can do this part, do you know anything or are you just here to leer
at Scully?"

"Actually, I both do and don't know anything. Scully says that you
have a close, but not too close, relationship with your partner" -
"He's not MY partner," - "that he doesn't trust anyone else and, for
the most part, neither do you. Apparently the government has tried
several times to . . . " Al frowned and slapped his handlink,
"ah. Eliminate both of you at various times. At least Scully's pretty
sure they were government. Mulder, of course, has absolutely no
doubt. If you read her case files you'll have a good idea of what
they've investigated. If you just remember you're the skeptic, and
question everything he says, he should believe you." Al grinned.
"Just remember, HE's the one open to extreme possibilities. You don't
believe it unless you can see it."

Sam shook his head at the irony of working with someone who would
probably be more than willing to believe the truth, and who absolutely
could not be allowed to learn of it. "So, are you guys still sticking
by that alien abduction disappearance thing?"

"Well, Ziggy still can't get into the sealed files. We've got
newspaper reports that in four days, in North Carolina, there are a
lot of UFO reports and Fox Mulder disappears. He reappears in 18
months, comatose, spends six months in coma, and has absolutely no
memory of what happened. He never quite bounces back, winds up
wandering off and vanishing who knows where, but no more UFOs. Ziggy
posits at least four murderers - multiple murderers - escape as a
result, with the kind of havoc you can imagine. This guy's a real boy
scout, Sam! Ziggy can't project the effects beyond a certain point,
there's just not enough information. But what we have, well, all we
really know is you're here to save one of the good guys. Weird, but a
good guy."

"Great. Maybe I can start a fan club to follow him around everywhere
and make sure he eats three square meals a day."

"Four days, Sam. Four days."

Sam was reading Scully's files, trying to find the details that
weren't in her reports on the computer. He was thankful for a strong
stomach - and for not having eaten the breakfast Mulder got for him.
The violence these two had investigated was cloaked in medical jargon,
but Sam knew how to read through that. The X-files were not conducive
to peace of mind. He could see why Mulder might have a bizarre view
of the world in light of these cases.

Speak of the devil, here came the man himself. He was carrying a
thick file and looking oddly enthusiastic, a man who loved his work.
He tossed the file to Sam and loaded a video tape in the VCR.

Okay, Scully," a jerky, handheld film of a laughing young woman
appeared. "Joan Kateras and her fiance, Michael Benning were on
vacation in North Carolina, a tour of haunted houses and supernatural
sites. Here, they were looking for the Devil's Circle." His eyes
were crinkled with suppressed laughter as he waited for the inevitable
look. Sam had never seen the Scully-Look in his life, but he
performed it perfectly. Mulder turned back to the video. It was
showing a night scene now and Mulder wasn't laughing anymore. The
young couple was cuddled together on an overlook, taking turns filming
each other, Mulder suddenly froze the frame.

"Look here, behind them. See the lights?" Several flashes traced the
sky behind a pleasant, round-faced young man.

"Aircraft?" hazarded Sam. "Heat lightning?"

Mulder's face was intense, his concentration almost painful. He
inched the video forward, frame by frame, as the lights etched a path
halfway across the screen then suddenly changed direction, arcing
straight up in an unnaturally short curve. Sam could hear Mulder
swallow.

"There were no flight paths in this vicinity, not even military
flights. And I can't find any record of an aerial maneuver that might
register on video this way. Lights have been seen in this area
before, as well as other unexplained phenomenon." He was watching his
partner now, expressionless, waiting for some attempt to explain what
the film showed. The couple had noticed the lights and turned the
film to track them through a few seconds more of unnatural aerobatics.
The tape abruptly ended in static.

Sam paused, "There are records of unusual forms of lightning, ball
lightning, perhaps this is another atmospheric anomaly. There has to
be some natural explanation."

"Why? So far we haven't found a natural explanation for their
disappearance. Their camera was found on the overlook where they
filmed this. There was no sign that they had left, no indication of
foul play. No explanation. The camera was only found because of
hikers curious about the lights. You'd better buy another pair of
hiking boots, Scully, and pack plenty of Off(tm)."

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

"So we are not who we are." Scully sighed. She'd been on the grand
tour and there was simply too much detail, too many integrated
elements, for this to be a prank. She'd seen enough strange things,
some real and some not, to know a real one when she saw it now. Time
travel? She didn't like it but was prepared to accept this particular
instance in a way she hadn't been prepared to accept that an American
cruiser had time warped into old age. Somehow, not having Mulder here
to throw bad theories at her made this more believable.

"Mulder's off hunting UFO's in North Carolina? And your friend is
along for the ride? Tell him to keep an eye out for the military.
The UFO's may or may not be there, hard to say with Mulder. I'm
inclined to think that it's military testing from what you say, but
that could be just as much trouble as your UFO's. We've had run-ins
with them in the past."

Al sipped his lousy coffee and payed close attention, not just to what
Scully said but to her mannerisms. Any cue that would make Sam's
performance more believable could be important with a person as
watchful and suspicious as Mulder. "Sam says they go at 11:40
tonight, on the red-eye. They're out shopping right now."

Scully's eyes widened. "Shopping? Mulder?! Tell Sam to keep him
away from the ties. If I ever saw evidence of UFO influence on Earth
it's the ties Mulder wears. That's got to be trauma induced, no
normal person wears ties like that."

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

Sam had been surprised when they went shopping. Somehow he'd assumed
that they'd leave immediately, but whatever government travel office
controlled their transportational fate was saving money by sending
them to North Carolina in the middle of the night. It suited Mulder
just fine and he used to time to get some new clothes. Apparently he
was rough on suits, he said he was down to his last few since the
cleaner hadn't been able to get the blood out of the two he'd sent
out. Sam wasn't comfortable letting Mulder out of his sight, and
didn't know what to do with himself anyway, and that was how he came
to be standing in the Boutique Youkneek while Mulder eyed a tie
decorated with mice in sombreros.

"But it's classic Chuck Jones, Scully." He was clearly tempted. "And
it'll drive Skinner up the wall."

Sam wondered briefly if he was there to save Mulder from UFO's or from
his fashion sense. "It's rodents in sombreros, Mulder. If you have
to get a tie how about this one?" He offered a tasteful silk with
little starships on it. The suits Mulder picked were fine, but these
ties! Al would wear something like this. On cue, he heard the door
open behind him and tensed, waiting for fashion crimes on two fronts.

"Wow, look at this! I haven't seen a hula tie like this in years!"
Al's gravelly voice played counterpart to Mulder's tenor exclaiming
over a tie that seemed to feature The Jetsons. Sam shuddered. He
might not remember what he'd actually worn, but knew it was better
than this. "Oh, and Scully said he liked bad ties." Al was hanging
over Sam's shoulder now, where he could look down Scully's blouse.

Mulder had wandered over to the counter with a couple ties,
(thankfully, he'd foresaken the Jetsons but still had a Tasmanian
Devil and some little martian character along with two acceptable
Frank Lloyd Wright patterns) and was . . . flirting?! with the
manager. Her tag said she was Sheryl Martin, a name Sam set Al to
analyzing in case she was involved.. He stepped up next to Mulder in
time to hear her tell him his work number would do, but that she'd
MUCH rather have his home number. The smile she got back said she'd
probably make more sales to this customer. Sam decided to leave
Mulder to the ritual and started pricing the dust-catchers on the back
shelves. Little Warner Brother figures and bowling balls in helmets
ignited vague flashes of memory, but nothing firm enough that he could
remember the names of them. A character named Yakko reminded him
somehow of Mulder, tall, thin and loopy. He glanced up and definitely
identified flirtation now, with the store manager fingering his tie
(ostensibly to judge the silk). Time to break this up, before Al
drooled on himself watching her, or before Mulder bought another tie.

Sam rallied up to the counter and hooked an arm under Mulder's,

"Hate to interrupt, but I've still got to get hiking boots." Mulder's
eyes came back into focus, Ms. Martin looked distinctly put out.

"Sorry, Scully. Didn't you get another pair to replace the ones with
spores on them?" Sam couldn't quite remember if he knew what Mulder
was talking about, but didn't much care either.

"I splurged on a blue suit. Let's go." He finally managed to
extricate Mulder, his suits and his horrid ties from the Boutiqe
Youkneek and out to the sane streets of Georgetown. Another two hours
shopping without incident left Mulder bored stiff with women's shoes,
Sam awed by the sheer complexity of buying women's shoes, and a
wilderness outfitters with almost $200.00 for women's shoes. Sam
atoned by buying dinner, though he wouldn't let Mulder pick the
restaurant. An Ethiopian hole in the wall yielded excellent food and
a quiet place to pump Scully's partner about what he expected to find
in North Carolina.

Sam woke from dreams of being interrogated by men who flashed lights
in his eyes, and from dreams of being buried and lost forever when
stacks of paper fell off Mulder's desk onto him. He was used to
flashes from former leaps, but the file-o-phobic dreams were new.
They weren't anything compared to his neighbor's nightmares, from the
sound of it. He could hear Mulder through the cheap wall-board,
screaming at somebody to bring someone named 'Sam' back. It put
chills up his spine as he sat there, and he was glad when the Al's
door appeared.

Al glanced at the wall and raised an eyebrow, then back to Sam. "I
was going to tell you about that, but I guess you already know. Did
Scully's files tell you he believes his sister was abducted by aliens?
Her name was Samantha."

"They told me, but I didn't really think about it before. Does he do
that often?"

"Scully figures probably every night or so." The voice cut off with a
gasp and they heard water running, and clothes rustling. Sam got up
and glanced out the window in time to see Mulder take off into the
pre-dawn fog, almost invisible in his gray running suit, and silent.
"She said that on an abduction case like this he'd probably have some
bad nightmares, worse than usual." Al shook his head. "Maybe you can
"If she couldn't I doubt I could." Sam sighed. He could sympathize
with someone missing a huge chunk of his life, with no real control
over the effect of that loss. Sam remembered losing someone dear to
him, but couldn't quite recall who it was. At least Fox Mulder knew
who he'd lost.

"So what's the plan, Sam? You got something in mind?"

"We just got here! What do you expect me to do, call 1-900-psychic
hotline for a road map how to handle this?"

"You must have some idea?"

"Stick close to him and hope I'm there when it hits the fan."

"Well, you've got a couple more days to come up with something better.
'Night, Sam."

"Night"

**************************
Day 2.

The next time Sam woke the sun was heating the room up like a pressure
cooker and Mulder was knocking on the door. Sam struggled into a robe
(how did women get Sam growled at him and retreated for a fast shower.
The FBI-blue suit felt like an iron maiden in the prickly heat. If it
was bad inside the motel room, it got worse the instant he stepped
outside. He feet were slipping from sweat in the high heels and the
pantyhose were strangling him from the waist down. How Mulder managed
to look comfortable in his summer suit was incomprehensible. The only
thing that kept Sam from running back and throwing himself in the
hideous, red pool was the promise of air-conditioning in the car. As
it was, by the time they pulled up to the sheriff's offices in town
Sam had decided to take up full-time residence in the car. How could
anyone have deliberately chosen to live in this sweltering place? No
wonder they called it Devil's Circle.

The 50 feet to the front door was enough to utterly wilt him. The
blast of air-conditioning from inside chilled the sweat on him and Sam
got an insight into what his next nightmare was likely to be,
vacillating between the staggering summer heat and this chill that
would make Mrs. Paul's square fish feel right at home.

The sheriff was a man who looked half melted, as though he had been
fat until he stepped out the door this morning. His neck draped his
snug collar, and his short sleeves revealed arms that hung like
tapestries from his bones. His drawl dripped off his tongue as he
answered their questions.

"Nah, no one seen them up there a t'all. They was celebrating in town
first night, then went up to camp and we never saw 'em no more. Aint
the first time. They's always been strange things hereabouts, lights
and people missin' and the Circle of course.

"Maybe you could tell us about that?" Sam wanted to hear an
explanation from someone other than Mulder.

"Well, there's this round track up in the hills. Put something on it,
it's kicked off by morning, nothing grows on it, and sometimes people
claim to hear hoofs on it. Folks stayed and tried to watch it, but
never see nothing. They'll blink and whatever they put on the track
is off. Puts a chill up your spine, I tell you. First folks up there
found it. Indians never went near it, said it was cursed. Settlers
figure it's the devil guarding a lost soul he's hidin' up there.
Maybe he's what took those two, livin' the way they were without holy
matrimony."

The look Mulder gave Sam clearly said "and you thought *I* was bad?"

"We didn't find anything out of the ordinary," the sheriff continued.
Their campsite was in order, no bodies or sign of trouble by the
overlook, their car not touched, just like they vanished off the
planet. I don't think I can really help you, that's all we saw when
we went up there."

"Thank you, we appreciate every bit of help. Do you have the names of
the hikers who found the camera?" Mulder sounded calm and
professional, following up on details. Sam waited for the inevitable
line of questions after the sheriff handed over a list. "And you
mentioned lights, noises up by the Circle, what kind of lights?"

"Oh, you know. Same thing you always here about in these bad places,
lights in the sky, screams, weird weather," the sheriff was grinning
now, clearly not believing any of the stories he was passing on.
Mulder was writing them down, adding to his amusement.

"Any cattle mutilations, crop circles?"

Sam decided this was a good time to jump in. "There could be activity
people are trying to cover with an appearance of the supernatural or
strange, to discourage idle curiosity." The sheriff seemed to be
planning who he'd get drinks and dinner from on this story.

"I suppose, but never heard of the like. Look, we don't have cattle
getting mangled and you cain't grow enough crops on these dirt-farms
to make a circle in. You just gonna have to look for these kids the
hard way, on foot. Now if you don't mind?" He was up and holding the
door for them. Sam looked out into the cruel splash of heat and
hesitated,

"Can you recommend a good restaurant? Someplace with lots of air
conditioning?"

That got a sympathetic grin. "Try the Horn cafeteria down the road,
they the coolest place in town."

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

Lunch was a planning session, they'd split up the hikers and interview
them, then go through the stacks at the local paper tracking similar
disappearances. One of them would hike up the mountain to where the
couple vanished and check the site, just in case the evidence was not
long gone from exposure. Mulder had been planning to take the hike,
but there was no way Sam was letting him into those hills on his own.
So long as he stayed around witnesses there was no way he could
disappear without a trace.

"Scully, you're usually better dealing with the questioning on the
first round, and I'd like to see that overlook."

"You'll see it, and you're the psychologist, they should open right up
for you." Sam grinned, "besides, most of them are women, just go
charm them."

Mulder looked exasperated but caved. "Just wear your sunscreen. If
we show up with tans Skinner will never let us hear the end of it. He
thinks you live in the morgue." Sam let him have the last word,
satisfied with winning the battle.

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

Fox Mulder braced himself before he stepped out of the shade. He
wasn't terribly fond of cold, but he absolutely hated this kind of
heat. It made the FBI-look painfully sticky to wear. Washington
wasn't any better in the summer, it just had more parking garages
where you could keep your car out of the sun. It was like living in a
St. Bernard's mouth to be out in this kind of weather.

He abandoned his jacket as soon as he got in the car, rescuing the
cell phone before he tossed the coat into the back and rolled up his
sleeves. The next interviewee, Pamela Whelan, was home and would be
glad to talk with him. He got directions (three miles past the
barbecue joint, over the railroad tracks and look for the dirt road
with the pink mailbox at the end. Fourth trailer on the right.) and
took off. He would much rather have been hiking up to where the
campers had disappeared, but Scully had poached that assignment. He
wasn't certain what was going on, but she was acting very oddly. Of
course, she'd been through so much, it was no wonder if her gears
sometimes slipped, but he still worried. He had considered suggesting
she see a shrink, but couldn't think how to do it without sounding
like the pot calling the kettle black. (Roses are red, Violets are
blue, I'll see a shrink, If you see one, too. Or maybe, Look, my
shrink's got some extra time after I finish ignoring him, why don't
you drop in and I'll spring for pizza afterwards? He shuddered. He
had some clinical training, but not enough to teach him how to field
this. It took a theology degree to handle miracles.)

He turned the car off the two lane highway, and it locked into the
ruts of the dirt road like a toy slot car. He reminded himself that
Scully was a grown-up who could take care of herself and girded his
loins for the experience of getting out of the car.

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

Sam stood at the overlook, just enjoying himself for a minute. It was
cooler up here, but any comfort the temperature might have offered was
more than compensated for by the humidity. Even so, the beauty of the
view was worth the hike.

He turned to inspect what he supposed was the crime scene. Almost an
hour's close searching failed to add anything to what they already
knew although it did offer the theory that mosquitoes might have
carried them away. Sam had turned to grab his backpack when a loud
crack startled him. He'd dropped flat before he understood that he'd
heard a gunshot, close, and a whine that said he was the target. His
heart was beating so hard he couldn't hear anything and he was trying
to scrabble back behind an outcropping while remaining smeared on the
ground. The sound of Al's door registered an instant before another
*crack* and a shower of splinters told Sam he wasn't out of trouble by
any stretch of the imagination.

"Sam! Is it the aliens?!"

"If it is someone better tell them they're hunting out of season,"
hissed Sam through clenched teeth. He peeked over the small cliff
below him, gauged his chances, grabbed his pack and rolled over the
edge, followed by another *CRACK* and more splinters. A warm trickle
on his cheek told him one hadn't missed.

"Where is he, find him Al!" The hologram peered around, then
vanished. A few seconds later he was back, and guiding Sam around
another outcropping and out of sight of the shooter.

"He's in camouflage, Sam. I'd bet my last cigar he's military.
Weapons make it almost certain so keep your head down." Al was
beckoning Sam into a short chimney between two rock faces, and then
into a shallow cave. "Stay here, Sam. I'll go see what he's up to."
Sam was alone again, desperately pawing through his pack for anything
that might help.

Scully's gun was the first thing he came up with. He'd had to carry
it, it wasn't safe to leave it in the room, but lord he hated these
things. The cell phone was his next find, his hands shook as he
unfolded it and punched the first speed dial number, sure it was
Mulder's. He was even more sure when the line was busy. The second
was the Bureau, too far away to help. The third was Scully's mom's
machine, what else was there?

The fourth, "Hello, this is Jackie. I'm out shopping at a sale for
. . . Leather Goods.. Leave your name, number and favorite position
after the whiplash and I'll call when I get done. If it's Mulder,
quit smiling." No-o-o-o, not that one. Sam wondered briefly what
that person was doing on nice Agent Scully's speed dial, and why
Mulder would be smiling, then gave up on the phone. Al was back.

"I think we've got him. He's coming over the top, and he can't get
down that chimney without slinging his weapon. I'll cue you and you
take him when I say."

"ME?" mouthed Sam soundlessly. Scully's build suddenly seemed very
small, and this cave very shallow.

"You don't have a whole lot of choice. You aren't getting out of here
past that guard, and if he doesn't find you soon he'll call in
friends." Sam didn't like it, but he could see the sense of it. Al
stepped back and started signaling. In all too little time, Sam could
hear the faint sounds of the patrol. Al waved him still. Still,
still, still . . . a sudden slash of the hand and Sam exploded from
the cave, grabbing the man's legs as he emerged from the chimney and
PULLED. The armed man yelped, then all Sam was aware of was the quick
scuffle of limbs and breath as they grappled, a fist grazing his
cheekbone, then he jackknifed and kicked and saw his opponent's eyes
widen with alarm as he slid down the curve of stone, then nothing,
nothing, a faint scream. When Sam crept forward to peer around and
down, he saw that the cliff above him might be small, but not this
one. The man lay 40 feet down, his neck at an angle Sam recognized.
He'd get no answers from this man.

Sam shivered for a long time. Al stood by, respecting fear, and
adrenaline, and release. It was late, the sun dropping, before Sam
gathered his pack and started back down the mountain. It was long
past dark when he reached his car. His cell phone was buzzing as he
slid into the car. It was Mulder, trying not to sound worried. Sam
assured him he was fine, on his way back, and would talk with him
shortly.

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

"They SHOT at him? I was afraid of this. Are you sure that man was
military?" Al nodded.

"After my career, I'd know 'em anywhere."

"Were you able to get any idea if there's a base close, or a site or
ANYTHING?"

"North Carolina's got several bases doctor, but nothing near there.
Whatever that guy was guarding it wasn't on the map. Unless, of
course, he wasn't there guarding anything."

Scully's confusion showed plainly on Sam's features.

"Agent Scully, what if he was there because you were there, or near
enough. You said the military had tried to kill you and your partner
before, and that you both knew of things they'd rather you not know.
I can vouch from experience that these guys can get awfully touchy
about their secrets."

Scully was nodding. She didn't like it, but she could see it. It had
happened before, after all. "Tell your friend to keep his eyes open.
Mulder's going to want to find out what they're hiding. And he's very
sneaky when he wants to be."

Sam was leaning against the wall, waiting, when Mulder stepped out at
1:15.

"Very nice outfit. Hard to see and stylish all at once, how can you
beat that." Sam gestured to his black jeans, gray pullover and
light-weight, black windbreaker. "If I didn't know better I'd think
you were trying to sneak past my door."

"In space, no one can see you blush." His voicel. Sam was willing to
take that as an apology. Of course, you look pretty shifty yourself.
I like the black-on-black look."

"I take it you want to visit the overlook? Take in the
constellations? See what all the beautiful people are doing?" He
could hear Mulder starting to chuckle.

"And here, I was thinking you might have had enough climbing after
today."

"If I could survive tie-shopping with you I can survive another hike
tonight."

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

Mulder had been a little too embarrassed to talk on the drive out. He
let the radio talk shows full of angry farmers and college professors
cover for the silence. The road tunneled into a summer mist ahead of
them, with the pine that seemed to grow everywhere here eating
whatever light escaped the road and the mist. They passed one or two
pick up trucks full of shouting, men going home from bars, but the
roads were mostly empty. When they pulled into a rutted, dirt road it
felt like driving on construction rubble. Sam's teeth rattled in his
head, and he was very glad when Mulder pulled over in the deep shadows
of a stand of pine and sweet gum. They stepped out, boots crunching
in dried, spikey gumballs, and breathed in the still-sticky, wet night
air. A scent of earth, and trees and a faint note of mildew made the
air heavy in their lungs.

It took Sam a few minutes to find the path he'd followed that
afternoon, but Mulder was waiting patiently now. There was almost no
talk. Neither one felt like breaking the quiet and they had no way to
know who might be listening. Once Sam had found the path and the two
of them tackled the upward trail they no longer had breath to talk,
even if they had wanted to. The trail that was clear and open in the
daylight seemed overgrown and pitted on a moonless, foggy night.
Mulder managed well enough, but Sam really missed the long legs and
strength he was sure he should have. Scully had to work that much
harder to climb over logs and jump streams, that Sam was out of breath
by the time they reached the peak. He was very, very glad when Mulder
stopped. Maybe Scully herself knew ways e easily, but Sam was
climbing as though he was, well, Sam!

The overlook was deserted, bare stone dark with moisture from dew.
Faint lights were scattered in valleys they could see at a distance,
but none close at hand. Mulder was turning, now. Looking or
listening for something. Sam's blood was still pounding too loud in
his ears to hear anything until he got his breath back. By then
Mulder had chosen a direction and was just waiting for Scully before
he was ready to start off again. Sam looked up at him (a long way up,
too far, said something in Sam's memory. He wondered for a moment if
Scully was as disconcerted by being as tall as Sam thought he had
been, as he was by being her height).

"Do you hear it," Mulder's voice was almost a whisper. "That hum, and
a clank every so often." Now that he knew what he was listening for,
Sam heard it too, a sound that clashed with crickets and tree frogs by
its harsh, manmade character. He wondered how he could have missed it
that afternoon. Must have been something on his mind.

They traveled more slowly now, shadow to shadow, listening for the
trouble they doubted they'd be able to see. A guard with a night
scope would see them before they'd ever track him, but they might hear
a tired man wearing a heavy piece of equipment The air felt congealed,
loaded with the scents of forest, and an odd smell like hot metal.
Mosquitoes buzzed and dove at their heads. Mulder was counting on
just those mosquitoes to irritate any guards, make them twitch and
slap, sounds that would give them away. Or wear some kind of
repellent he and Scully just might smell before trouble could see
them.

They were lucky. They'd reached a crest with no interference. By
that time the humming was loud enough to cover their own movements,
and lights from below shown bright enough that they could see clearly.
Sam felt his skin crawl. If he'd had balls they'd be riding high from
stress and fear. Mulder dropped and crawled to the crest, Sam right
behind him.

"Helloooo, nurse!" breathed Mulder softly.

Blinding lights blasted a crumpled mass into visibility. Men in
camouflage swarmed in its vicinity, but no one touched it. Mulder's
face in the reflected light was pale. Sam might be a skeptic, but he
didn't think anything like that had ever been built on Earth.

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

Agent Scully was tired of sterile, white walls, tired of people who
watched her as though she were a ghost, and most of all, tired of not
knowing what was happening. Waiting for Al Calavicci to walk out of
the Imaging Chamber and brief her was wearing on her nerves. Now the
computer was chattering about aliens and space craft and she had no
intention of standing here spectating anymore.

"Let me in there, Gooshie." She was using her best "Doctor's Orders"
voice, the one that made people jump, and Gooshie was dithering as he
tried to reconcile conflicting authorities.

"B-b-b-b-but the Admiral said . . .and, well, Ziggy won't . . .but I
can't," Agent Scully was glowering at him, it was like Sam was
glowering at him. All Gooshie's instincts wanted to obey and let her
in there, and all the guidelines ordered him to keep the door locked.
The problem was, thankfully, solved when the door opened and Al peered
out, squinting in the light.

"Scully, I think I need you to see this." He wasn't happy about
taScully stepped in, the door shut, another blank, white room. Al
reached for her hand and suddenly she was in the North Carolina woods
at night. She'd known he had contact somehow, known that the
time-travel story he told her could well be true, but looking at
Mulder and herself lying on the ground in front of her froze her. Her
first thought was, "am I really that short?!" She never saw herself
as short, or at least not until she wasn't short anymore. Then she
tracked past them, to the lights and the crumpled, dark artifact below
and her mouth dropped open. It was clearly not of a natural origin,
and she knew of no terrestrial craft that looked that way, even taking
the effects of crash into account. She suddenly looked away from it,
looking for Mulder's reaction.

Her partner was watching it, almost hypnotized. He started to get up,
bracing his arms to pull into a crouch. Before he could get past the
push up she, Al's friend, put a hand in the middle of his back, used
leverage and slammed him back down. His glare almost made Scully
grin, it was so familiar. But Sam was hissing now,

"You are NOT going down there, just forget it!" Scully had thought
her voice was lower than that. "All else aside, the guards won't let
you get close."

Mulder glanced from her to the craft, and back. "I want a closer
look. These could be . . ." he let it trail off. Scully knew what he
was thinking.

"Al, tell Sam. He's got to get some sense into this discussion. Tell
Mulder, I don't know, Yes, tell him that even if that ship is the
right kind, it's clearly crashed. His sister can't be on it, or
they'd have already found her, that getting caught by these people
won't help, and they won't let him see the thing."

Sam could hear her clearly, and it made good sense. Leaving aside the
strange sense of hearing your own voice as a stranger's, he turned to
Mulder and lifted her comments almost word for word. Mulder looked
back, listening, wanting desperately not to see the good sense of what
she said.

"Scully, I may never get this close again. Maybe there's something
there, of I can figure out how to get close . . ."

"You want to just disappear one day? Even if you got past those
guards and everyone in there isn't dead, what do you think they'd do?"

"I want to learn about them, not take a tour coach class! If they
took my sister . . ."

"Even if there's only one species visiting, even if this is it and
they took your sister, this shn't the time or place." Sam badly
wished he had the strength of his own body. Arguing against Mulder's
compulsion was a pitched battle. He'd have laughed to know how
similar Scully's thoughts were at the same moment. "Mulder, if you go
down there I will follow you and I do not want to get killed down
there." He was watching Sam now, looking at him more than the ship.
Scully was still holding Al's hand, leaning down in frustration trying
to talk him into backing away as though Mulder could hear her. Sam
and Scully both held their breath, waiting. When Sam felt the tension
go out of Mulder's muscles he drew in a sob of air, and slowly backed
down the dark side of the slope, Mulder close behind him.

Al had watched, and entered data. This had been Scully's show, back
seat driver or no. She watched them crawl, military low and careful,
back through shadows until they were far enough clear to stand and
leave. Then she relaxed, giving a faint smile to the Admiral. "I
feel almost as tired as they must. Don't you get exhausted, having to
watch and knowing you can't touch a thing?"

Al took his cigar out and watched her. "Yes. Yeah, I get exhausted.
But nobody else can do this, reach him in here. Sam'd be alone if I
gave up. We don't leave our people behind. And I don't leave my
friends behind. You wouldn't either, that's why you're in here."

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

Sam sat on the motel bed entering notes into Scully's laptop. He felt
like he might be trespassing, but she'd need this information if all
went well. He was careful to mimic her style. They'd come back
almost silently. Mulder had retreated to his room, with a quiet
"Goodnight, Scully." He hadn't heard a sound from him since he'd
stopped moving around an hour or m

Al stepped through his door and wandered over, looking over Sam's
shoulder but not down Scully's top for once. He seemed shaken by what
he'd seen. Sam knew how he felt.

"Do me a favor, Al. Go check on Mulder. I don't want him sneaking
out on me."

Al went through the wall like Casper the Friendly Ghost (tm!). When
he came back his jaw was a little tight, but he nodded. "In bed and
sleeping."

"What, no nightmares?" Sam almost hoped that exhaustion might have
helped. Mulder had been so quiet.

Al glanced back. "I don't know, Sam." He sighed. "I think maybe the
nightmares are just quiet ones, tonight." Sam shivered. Silent
nightmares? What a lonely, terrifying thought. It would be like
being alone with them if you couldn't even scream at them. He turned
his thoughts away from that.

"You never told me what happens to Scully, Al. Only Mulder."

"It's changed once already. It changed this afternoon."

"What was it before?"

"She tried to stick it out, but resigned the FBI after Mulder vanishes
the second time. Moves midwest with a nice neurologist, gets married,
two kids, teaches pathology, divorce. She winds up eccentric, a
single mother, teaching medicine and writing articles for some
magazine called The Lone Gunmen."

"And now?"

Al looked very uncomfortable. "Well, since that guard went over the
cliff today," delicately avoiding mentioning how the guard went over
the cliff. Sam did not take such things lightly. "After Mulder
vanishes she takes over the X-Files, she keeps looking for him. 11
months after he vanishes her body washes up on the Eastern Shore of
Maryland, murdered. The case is never solved." Al looked up at Sam.
"And Mulder still vanishes day after tomorrow."

"Any idea when?" Sam felt nauseous, afraid of what the future was
starting to look like. He couldn't let this happen, couldn't let this
future come to pass.

"No idea. Near as I can tell you were together until early afternoon,
so sometime after that. The information we need is in those sealed
records. We've been trying to bribe and borrow, but these things are
guarded tighter than Fort Knox."

"Keep trying, Al. Just keep trying." Al vanished. Sam sat with his
chin on Scully's knees, hugging his legs and shivering. "I feel like
I'm in one of your nightmares, Mulder. Like the horror's happening
right in front of me and I can't move or scream to make it stop." It
was a long, long time before Sam could crawl under the sheet and let
go of the future he kept seeing. Even then, he left the lights on.

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

Day 3.

Al was not happy with Dana Scully, and the feeling was reciprocated.

"I don't think it's a good idea for you to go back into the Imaging
Chamber, Agent Scully. I'd rather keep the contacts down t "You are
not keeping me out here while you brainstorm on insufficient data."
Scully's voice was low, controlled, and furious. "You are taking
risks with my life and my partner's life. I have a right to be there,
and I know him better than anyone else."

"I'll be frank," Al was glaring back at her, no longer even noticing
Sam's feature. He was seeing Dana Scully's expressions and not much
else. "If you could have done this job you would be there now, not
Sam. You blew it, Agent Scully. We need your information but we can
handle this situation without you." Years in command put steel in his
voice. It didn't phase her.

"You've already changed the situation. I don't think your man knows
this kind of matter well enough to deal with it . . ."

"And you're the expert on UFOs?"

"I'm the expert on Mulder. That's your problem, isn't it? You never
did tell me what happens that Sam Beckett has to stop. I don't like
dealing blind any more than you peoelped because I'm convinced you're
for real, but it's time to ante up. Exactly what are you trying to
prevent?"

Al sighed and fidgeted with his cigar. He'd been able to keep her in
the dark so far. They had no evidence that Leapers ever remembered
what had happened to them, no rumors or National Inquirer stories, but
he didn't want to take the risk either. Particularly not with someone
like Scully, who would know this might not be just an hallucination.

"This project is a top-flight, ultra-classified secret, Agent Scully.
Telling you anything could put both you and us at risk." The
expression on her face said she was not impressed. "Look, you've seen
the UFO, help us out here. What kind of risk does this represent? We
can figure a lot of it out, but your information is very important."

"What - are - you - trying - to - prevent."

Al watched her. He hated these showdowns. He always lost against
women. "Look, isn't it enough that I have to go through this every
divorce? I don't need it from you, too." It didn't defuse the
situation any. "Agent Scully, would you believe me if I said things
are changing? That the situation's not stable?"

A muscle twitched on Sam's long jaw, and Scully stood up and leaned
over him, appreciating for once how well Mulder had used this
psychological trick. "Admiral, I can help you. I want to help you.
But obviously your situation has to do with my partner and you have
got to tell me what you believe is going on." Pound fact, she
thought, and when you can't pound fact pound table.

"Agent Mulder disappears sometime tomorrow. He vanishes for 18
months, is in a coma when he reappears, and never completely recovers
even after he wakes up." Al's voice was soft and expressionless.
"From the nature of the investigation and reports of unusual
phenomenon we inferred that he was abducted by aliens. The records
are sealed and we have not been able to access any firm data." Scully
was listening intently, face pale. Please, please, don't let her ask
about herself. Al's hands were sweating, he felt nauseous telling her
this.

"Where was I? Why didn't I stop him?"

"That's in the sealed files. We just don't know. Ziggy thinks you
weren't there because you were arrested by the guard who shot at Sam.
If you'd been in military custody he would be alone tomorrow. Sam
. . . dealt with the guard. We don't know why you, Sam, doesn't
interfere at this point. So far the record still shows him
vanishing."

Scully was quiet a long time. Her hands, Sam's long, surgeon's hands,
were locked together as she ran through every path she could think of.
"Will you let me talk with Sam now? I think we need to put our heads
together." Her voice matched his, soft, expressionless. Al had to
grin. If she'd been wearing her own skin he'd have proposed to her.
Always looking for the next ex, he thought to himself.

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

The buffet offered the usual breakfast range, plus grits, fried okra,
fried tomatoes, fried bread, and any number of other lethal dietary
weapons. Mulder's plate was loaded with a deadly looking assortment
of bacon, eggs, toast, fried tomatoes and a few other items Sam's
medical knowledge identified as coronary inducing. Sam wondered if
he'd already been abducted and had his metabolism modified to cope
with the ruinous things he ate. How he stayed thin and alive on this
stuff was a mystery.

Sam had begun to nibble a weird hybrid of grits and fresh strawberries
when the door appeared next to their table. Al and . . . hard to
know how to identify him, as Scully or as himself, stood looking oddly
pale, lit as they were by the Imaging Chamber rather than the violent
spill of southern-summer-morning sunlight. Scully looked distinctly
relieved to see everything apparently normal.

"I think we'll come back later, Sam. We need to conference." Al
looked grim, as though he'd just been through a battle. Considering
Scully's presence and the stubborn look turned on Al a battle was a
good bet.

Mulder had been quiet since returning from his early morning run.
They'd sat in his room - it was already inundated with notes He'd
finally looked up at Sam, watching for a minute. Sam felt oddly
vulnerable, as though Mulder could read his mind. "You're the
skeptic, but even you have to believe what we saw last night."

Sam had been braced to give a fight, not an opinion. "I'm not sure
what to make of what we saw. I know what it looks like, but I can
think of other explanations."

"What, experimental weapons testing went wrong? A new stealth bomber?
Scully, that thing had no aerodynamic structure I could recognize,
could you?" A shake of the head. "Kateras and Benning, the young
couple, doesn't it seem likely to you that what we saw could have been
responsible for their mysterious vanishing act?" The ironic
inflection told Sam that Mulder had already made up his own mind.

"I don't know, Mulder. I was shot at yesterday. Kateras and Benning
might have been arrested."

"Their tape featured no sound of humans approaching, no gunfire,
there's no blood. All there is on that tape is flying lights. More
than one set of flying lights."

Sam sighed. "So you think there are more aliens? Why didn't they
just do their shopping and leave."

"They haven't finished, they want their lost man back, I don't know!
I just know that the army aren't the only people up there, and humans
aren't the only people up there." He ran his fingers through his
hair, frustrated to be so close. "Hell. I can hear your stomach
growling from here." He looked up with an apologetic smile warm
enough to smooth over the tension in the air. "Horn Cafeteria again,
or do we gamble on my pick?"

So they wound up eating at a surprisingly good little restaurant, with
Mulder telling stories from Oxford, beginning with an illicit box of
condoms.

"So to hide, them we blew them up and lodged them in the chimney. Of
course, when we lit the fireplace the air in the condoms expanded and
they jostled loose and floated out the chimney like giant soap
bubbles, until they cooled and drifted down over the campus . . ."

Sam was laughing so hard he could barely finish his grits. Mulder's
recounting of a ghost that turned out to be a humidifier carried them
through coffee. Sam summoned up a medical school myth, gambling that
Mulder didn't know all Scully's stories, and enjoyed the effect when
the punchline left Mulder wiping tears of laughter away. Sam was
grinning when they left, wishing all his leaps could be like this,
just this moment. He wondered if Scully knew the stories they'd told
this morning.

The ride back to the motel was a lot less tense than the morning
review session. As they pulled around the red pool Sam even grinned
and suggested a swim. Mulder shuddered.

"I'd feel like I was swimming in blood!"

"You have a disgusting imagination."

"Little do you know. Look, we still have a few interviews to finish.
You want the rest of the hikers and I'll take the witnesses to the
UFOs?"

"Sounds reasonable, since we don't have an autopsy to let me earn my
keep." The door opened behind him, Al and Scully stepped through and
watched them, waiting. "Just one thing Mulder, promise me you won't
go hiking on your own up there, and keep in touch." The fleeting,
guilty expression on his face showed reflected a direct hit. Mulder
nodded to show he knew he'd been caught out.

Sam had met better liars than Fox Mulder.

Sam decided early on that North Carolina only had one road and it went
in circles. Or at least, every road he drove looked so similar that
they could all have been clones. Al and Scully rode along, with Al
appearing to sit in the back with a hand on Scully's shoulder. She
was quiet and worried.

"Look, as soon as we have some kind of plan hammered out, is there any
way Al can trail Sam's act. Sam smiled fleetingly and glanced at
Scully.

"Did Mulder ever tell you about the Rain of Condoms at Oxford?" He
wasn't sure why he'd asked, but her odd look was a clear no. "I hope
you remember to ask him someday. He'd love to tell it again." Scully
and Al were watching him with a strange mix of expressions. Confusion
on Al's face; amusement, sadness and a little jealousy on Scully's.
It must be strange to watch someone else step into intimacies that
were yours alone. Maybe stranger to watch than to live them.

"I'll do my best to remember. You do know he'll try to get back up to
the site." Sam nodded and swerved a little to avoid a snake sunning
itself on the road. Have you thought of any way to keep him away from
there?"

Sam considered a moment. "I thought about trying to find a saucer nut
who'd only talk with him at night, maybe distract him that way, but I
don't think that would do it. Maybe drug him? Would he ever forgive
you for that?"

Scully sighed. "He might. He's snuck off on me often enough I could
probably get away with some trickery myself, but I usually don't carry
anything that would do the job and the pharmacists here might not
cooperate."

"What about getting him arrested?" Al chipped in. If he's in a cell
he can't get into a lot of trouble."

"Except whatever I get him locked up for," Sam's reply was dry. "And
I don't think Southern courts take Yankee malefactors well."

"Besides," chimed Scully, "I wouldn't put it past him to be able to
make bail or pick a lock."

"You could sleep with him," Al suggested. "Easier and more fun than
jail or drugs!"

Scully and Sam gave him a perfectly matching Look and he shut up.

"I think we're back to plan Acully shook her head. It was just as
well that they had arrived, as Sam couldn't think of another thing to
say.
******************************

Mulder was still licking barbecue sauce off his fingers as he left the
little rib joint and sweated his way back to his car. He'd
interviewed two hikers and answered three calls from Scully making
sure he was at his appointed rounds. The ribs were a reward for
putting up with aggravation, hovering, and passes from the last hiker.
He hadn't been sure he was going to get out of her trailer in one
piece. He could have used a call from Scully when she'd crowded onto
the couch next to him, and put her hand on his knee ("You don't mind?
We southerners are an affectionate people!"). She wasn't bad looking,
he was just a little put off by women who cornered him, literally, as
soon as he held still. He'd take Scully as a body guard if he needed
to go back there.

He climbed back into his car and opened the windows, hoping teh breeze
would cool it off a little since the air conditioning couldn't kick in
right away. He flipped through his briefcase, wondering how to spend
the afternoon without violating Scully's prohibition on hiking. He
considered it, but after his arctic hike, and a few other solitary
excursions, he really didn't want to directly cross her. She seemed
stressed enough at this point.

He rolled the windows back up, turned the ignition and pulled out,
thinking about his partner and how leery she'd been of late. He could
understand, she had good reason to fear anything relating to
abductions and visitations, but he needed to see that ship. He needed
to know.

Mulder didn't exactly break his word. He didn't hike. He did drive
around the valleys, using binoculars and scanning for any odd movement
on the hillsides. The roads were long, with few exits, and he tended
to travel in company when anyone turned onto the road with him,
although he did notice that even the pickup drivers were fearless
about passing on the two lane highways.

He wasn't alarmed to see another truck come flying up behind him, at
least until it was filling his rear view mirror. He screamed a curse
as he realized it wasn't pulling around, it was going over him. The
Ford bucked violently and he was crushed back in his seat as the truck
rear-ended him at sixty mph. The truck hit him again, and the car
veered across both lanes of the blacktop in a wild, barely controlled
skid. Mulder was trying to steer into the skid but the wheel and
brakes locked as the tires left black streas the car spun off the
shoulder. The axle sheered and the left rear wheel collapsed under
the car as it rolled up onto its side and over. Mulder never really
knew it when the car finally went over.

The truck paused, then pulled away. Quiet descended back over the hot
road. The only sound was the ticking of hot metal and the buzzing of
a cell phone.

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

"He's not answering." Sam felt his muscles tense. "Where the hell
are you, Mulder. What are you up to?" Sam was alone, where was that
hologram when he needed it? He broke speed records back to the hotel
and bullied the manager into opening Mulder's room for him. Fox's
hiking boots and jeans were still tumbled in the corner where he'd
left them, so Sam didn't think he was on the mountain, but that didn't
tell him where Mulder was.

A frantic search of town yielded nothing. The last time Sam had
contacted Scully's partner he'd been heading for lunch at a little rib
house. A call to the sheriff left Sam with directions and he left a
long trail of red dust up the dirt road getting there. The woman at
the counter remembered Mulder - the suit had made him stand out like a
whore in church, as she put it - but he'd left over two hours before.
After that he might as well have evaporated for all that Sam knew.

Al showed up with Scully as Sam was turning back onto paved road and
trying to decide what to do next.

"Al, he's gone. You told me I had another day." Sam's voice was
tight, worried. "Can Gooshie center you on him?"

Al didn't need to ask who. Scully held her tongue as he rapped an
order at the handlink. Sam pulled over under a stand of pines and
waited, barely aware he was holding his breath. He'd only just drawn
a new breath when Al reappeared, alone. "Okay, Sam. He's in his car,
and it's rolled. Ziggy's figuring out the roads, go . . . " Al looked
up and pointed, "that way." The only comments were when a turn was
needed, and it took far less time than it seemed to tear down a two
lane state highway and see the thick, black marks of a skid. To the
left a car showed it's ugly belly to the sky, rear wheels askew,
facing back the way it had to have come. Sam pulled off, far enough
to be safe, yanked Scully's medical emergency kit out of the back and
ran for the wreck.

Sam breathed a rare curse and dropped to look through the side
windows. There was no smell of gas, thank god. Fox Mulder was
hanging from his seat belt and shoulder strap, and Sam could see a
smear of blood on the side window where he must have hit his head.
The blood in his hair was still red and sticky looking, he hadn't been
here long enough for it to clot all the way. Sam climbed around to
the shattered back window and kicked out most of the glass left
behind. He crawled into the cab and reached around, checking Mulder's
pulse, relieved to feel it strong and steady. The agent moaned
softly, and murmured something about too much Southern Comfort,
reaching muzzily for his seatbelt release.. Sam grabbed his hand
before he could release it and fall.

"Hold on, Mulder. Had a little car trouble here." Mulder's eyes flew
open, then he squeezed them shut again as the light made his head hurt
worse.

"Why do I feel like I'm hanging upside down?"

"Because you are. Hold still, can you feel anything? Does anything
hurt? Can you feel your legs? How's your neck?" Sam realized he was
babbling. Mulder turned his head very slowly to look at him.

"I feel lousy, everything is definitely letting me know it's there.
My neck may be the only thing that doesn't hurt right now."

"Hold on, let's get you out of here." Sam felt pretty certain by now
that Mulder wasn't badly hurt, at least that his neck was fine. The
FBI man braced his hands against the roof to catch himself while Sam
climbed into the passenger seat and released the shoulder belt.
Mulder slid down the seat until he could follow Sam back out the rear
window, then sat in the grass and held his head. Sam found plenty of
bruises and the lump over his ear, but nothing worse. He wasn't sure
whether he was relieved or upset. A hospital stay in traction could
have solved his little problem.

"Do you remember what happened? The car looks, well, it looks like
you had help getting into this ditch."

Mulder leaned against Sam, who was trying to get both of them back
into the other car. The tall man's weight kept knocking him off
Scully's high heels, and the dry, summer grass was scratching his
legs. Sam wished again for his own six-foothey were both in the car,
with the air conditioning going and the other agent leaning back
against the headrest.

"I don't remember rolling over, but this truck slammed me. I think it
was camouflage-painted, no front license plate. I never got a chance
to see the driver."

"I think it's a hint, Mulder. Somebody knows we're here and they
don't want us inspecting the real estate." Sam smiled, enjoying the
relief of having found him alright. Al had vanished, Sam had no idea
when. "So I've been shot at and you've been rolled. I guess you and
I can match war stories on this one, now.

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

Scully was worried and furious. "Maybe if we had been there earlier
that crash might not have happened! He nearly got killed. Do you
still think we're looking at UFO trouble? Have you considered it might
be humans who make him vanish?"

"Agent Scully," his voice was as soothing as he could make it, sort of
like hot fudge over sandpaper. "Look, I understand how you feel.
Believe me, I understand. It's hard to just have to stand there and
watch someone you care about get hurt. You want to act and there's no
way you can. You can't let it throw your judgement off."

"My judgement? Look, I know Mulder believes that aliens use Earth as
the Home Shopping Network. I've seen enough to know that things
aren't aren't always what they look like, but where there is a simple
explanation more often than not it's the right one. The army is a
simple solution here, and I don't want you ignoring it. Mulder's
likely to do that, and you can't afford to."

"You saw that ship as well as I did." Al was wondering if Mulder
wasn't the only one with an obsession. She was working so hard to
find any other explanation. You know he won't be up there trying to
see what the latest Hum-V looks like. Do you really think the
military is good enough to induce the state Ziggy says he shows up in,
induce it in him and the other people who've been taken? It's too
consistent, too regular a pattern. I am military, the guys I know
wouldn't play around inducing comas and implanting useless metal
chips. They'd just kill. And they don't do that without a reason.
So why would they kill? Why did that guard shoot at Sam? Why did
they run your partner off the road. Fox Mulder is going to need you,
need you thinking clearly, not trying to prove a point." That was
doing it, she was backing down, letting her own pet theory go.

"You don't really know why he vanishes. I need to know you and
Beckett will keep an open mind, and watch for any possible danger,
Admiral. If you're only looking for ghosts you may miss the real
monsters."

"I promise you, Agent Scully. I'll look for more than shadows. Sam
and I both will. We need this to work out as much as you do."

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

Mulder sprawled on his bed, ice-pack in hand, and groaned.

"Skinner is going to have me writing an expense report longer than
'War and Peace' to explain the car." Sam was somewhat bemused that
the man could be more concerned with paperwork than an attack on his
life, but happy that he'd followed orders. They'd come back to the
motel, Sam had bullied Mulder into taking a hot bath to unknot some of
the muscles a crash could strain, and plied him with painkillers. Now
he was stretched out in blue jeans and a jersey, trying to prevent a
black eye from the crash. He was lucky not to have a concussion or
worse.

"God, I'll be doing paperwork until the turn of the century. Last
time I lost a car, I almost got carpal tunnel justifying the expense."

Sam grinned, "does this mean you'll lie low and avoid trouble the next
couple days?"

Mulder eyed him from under the bag of ice. "You know better than
that. Why are you even asking?" He sat up, slowly, watching Sam and
frowning from more than his headache. Sam waited for it,. and got
some of his details ready, the ones Scully had given him to defuse
this particular time bomb.

"Don't go getting paranoid on me, Mulder," he said, softly, walking
through a mine field. "It makes me nervous to hunt little green men
these days. They're not as funny as they used to be." Sam found a
smile somewhere, and clipped the red wire. "Keep this stuff up and
one of these days I'll find you reading crystals with Melissa to see
if my aura's changed. Don't be weirder than you have to, Mulder."

Mulder lay back down with a groan, "Don't even think things like that.
I'm sorry, it's probably a loose connection from hanging upside down
too long." Sam relaxed, unclenched his fists.

"Go to sleep, Mulder. I ordered a pizza. I'll wake you up when it
gets here." At least he'd stay put tonight. Sam was staying with him
on pretense of making sure he had no concussion, a sensible precaution
for more than one problem.

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

Mulder sat crosslegged on the floor, holding pizza in his left hand
and a colored pen in his right. Maps were spread out all around him,
marked up to show the UFO sightings he'd gotten from some hotline or
other. Something vaguely familiar was on the TV, a horror film with
three silhouettes delivering rapid-fire commentary.

"Are you paying for that out of your own pocket, or are the taxpayers
picking up the bill for that?" Sam was trying to recall why the
program seemed familiar. Mulder pulled half the cheese off his pizza
and grinned like his namesake.

"I'm making sure aliens and Republicans don't insert subliminal
messages to brainwash liberals watching the Comedy Channel." He
yawned on the last word. About time, with three Tylenol 3's worth of
codeine in him it was amazing he hadn't nodded off where he sat.

"Go to bed, Mulder. You're going to fall asleep sitting there and
spend the night on the floor. You can take your maps with you if you
want." Sam got a sleepy smile in response. Mulder finally gave in
and dragged himself into the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later he was
sound asleep, curled up around a pillow. Sam went back to the list of
hospitals and garages he was ranking for phone calls the next morning.
He'd like to find whoever ran Mulder off the road, without a military
base in the area they were likely to take a damaged truck to a local
garage.

The hospitals were a common sense follow-up on local police work,
looking for the missing couple, Kateras and Benning. Sam had about
finished locating all of them in the phone books when he heard
Mulder's breathing change. The physicist looked up, noting that his
patient had rolled onto his back and no longer seemed relaxed or
peaceful. The FBI man was lying there, muscles rigid with tension,
soundless. Sam wandered over, wondering if he should wake Mulder up.
Clearly he was in a nightmare like the one Al had seen. His T-shirt
was dark with sweat and his jaw was clenched, teeth grinding.

"You gonna wake the kid up?" Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when
Al peeked over his shoulder.

"Would you stop that?" Sam was hissing to keep from waking Mulder.
Maybe if he left him alone the Tylenol and exhaustion would get him
past the nightmare and through a night's sleep. Sam headed for the
bathroom, his usual refuge for conversations with Al.

"Oooh, you gonna take a shower? I can tell you if you miss a spot?"

"Al, are you just here to pester me or do you know anything?" Sam
turned on the taps and leaned over the sink to inspect the cut the
rock splinter had left on Dana Scully's cheek. Healing beautifully,
she wouldn't even have a scar.

"I know plenty of things. I know UFO activity is supposed to hit a
fifty year high tomorrow, I know Scully gets very grumpy when she's
hungry, and I know that Kateras and Benning are in Mercy Hospital in
Springfield. Anything else you want to know?"

"Mercy?" Sam brightened. Thirty miles away if he remembered the map
correctly. "If we go see them, won't that get us out of the area long
enough, get him safe?"

Al sighed. "No such luck. We already ran that one. You still get
back and the kid still disappears."

"He's hardly a kid, Al. He's thirty-four and been getting along on
his own for some time."

Al snorted. "To me, you're all kids. Look, Sam. I want to suggest
something, and I don't think you'll like it much." The hologram
suddenly looked nervous. "When you're at the hospital tomorrow, well,
you might want to check Mulder in for a stay. For his own good."

Sam watched him, then sighed. "I'd be lying if I said I hadn't
thought of that, but I just can't do that, Al. He's got problems,
sure, but I don't think a hospital would do him any good. Mulder's
problem isn't that he's so strange, it's that he's so normal. He's
having a perfectly normal reaction to the kind of stresses that nobody
should ever have to go through. A psych ward isn't going to make his
sister come back, or the strange things he's seen go away. It's just
going to undo all the coping mechanisms he's developed and leave him
at square one. It'd get him out of range tomorrow, but it wouldn't
put things right. I can't do that. That's no solution."

Al shook his head. "Then you better come up with something good,
because he still goes AWOL tomor- row. Anything you want me to ask
her royal agent-ness?"

Sam grinned. "She giving you a hard time? You probably deserve it.
Thank her for the tip about her sister, it really did the trick
today." He watched Al wink out, and turned off the tap.

When he left the bathroom Mulder had relaxed back into drugged sleep.
Sam watched him for a few minutes, making sure he was in normal sleep,
and thinking. He'd stick to Mulder tomorrow like a cop to a donut
shop. Sam liked most of the people he Leaped to help, but Mulder
struck a chord with him. Helping Mulder and his partner wasn't
business anymore, it was personal.

***********************
Day 4

Sam woke up with the kind of stiff neck that only comes from sleeping
in chairs. He wondered, bleerily, which exam he'd been up late to
study for, then felt his heart jump as he heard the unmistakeable
sounds of someone taking a shower. His reflection in the mirror
across the room snapped time back into place. He was sure Scully
would be horrified to be seen with her hair like that, but Sam had
bigger concerns. The bed was empty, that better be Mulder he heard in
there . . .

"Mulder, you okay in there?"

"Fine," his voice was muffled. "Except I can't reach the middle of my
back, want to help?" Sam rolled his eyes. It seemed appropriate
somehow, when Al's voice rasped behind him,

"Yeah, that I'd like to see! That way you'd know it was really him
and not a tape recorder in the shower." Al leered hopefully.

"Go away. Unless you have something useful I can do without your
fantasies before lunchtime."

"We found out why Scully, or maybe it's you, won't be there tonight
when . . . " Al was waving his hand like a drifting saucer. Sam
raised his eyebrows to encourage him to continue.

Apparently he leaves you stranded in Springfield after visiting the
sleeping beauties today. Forewarned is forearmed. Oops, better be
off!" Al punched a button and stepped back through his door.

"Hi," Mulder's eye had gone black on the side where he'd hit his head.
Not uncommon, the skin around the eyes was soft and bruised easily.
He looked like his head still ached, but the sweat suit and sneakers
on the floor by the bed were testimony to the strength of the urge to
jog.

"You do know you really should be taking it easy? You were in a
serious crash yesterday."

"I needed to work some of the stiffness out, Scully. Come on, I
didn't fall over dead in a ditch out there. What have you got?" He
was looking over Sam's shoulder.

"I may have our missing persons. We've been so busy chasing your
phantoms we didn't do the basics."

"Why should we? The locals had already done them very well." He had
a point, but Sam wasn't going to concede it. Mulder had to be kept
away from here today, out of the path of trouble.

"Obviously they didn't do it well enough. I found two patients
matching the descriptions of our couple. Let me get ready and we'll
go," Sam headed for the door.

Mulder had taken the note with the hospital names and was staring at
it, clearly puzzled. "Alright, you followed up my leads. Let's go
follow up yours."

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

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Leap of Faith (01/02) by Livengoo -Broken into two pieces by the Archivist
===========================================================================