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Leap of Faith (02/02) by Livengoo -Broken into two pieces by the Archivist
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9:35 a.m.

"Scully, could you pull into the next gas station, I need to get my
caffeglobin levels up."

"Caffe-globin? Where did you get that?"

"New England Medical Journal. Haven't you been keeping up, it's been
all over the news. The red blood cell receptor site that binds with
caffeine to improve brain function?" His deadpan was perfect. Sam
sighed and headed for the nearest gas station. He could do with
breakfast, too.

Sam grinned, "I'll get the coffee if you pump the gas. How do you
want yours?"

"High octane, no additives. And could you pick up some Twinkies(tm)
and sunflower seeds for me?"

"Right." Sam pushed open the door, managed to miss the five foot tall
Twinky(tm) display entirely, and left several minutes later with the
coffee, two yogurts, a bag of seeds, and several apples. Mulder
scowled at him, and fished suspiciously for the fruit on the bottom.

"This won't work, you know. I'll only eat this stuff under duress."
Sam rolled his eyes and wondered how Scully coped. Another half hour
of yogurt complaints and file synopses saw them at Mercy Hospital,
where a quick inspection of badges got them ushered in to see the
returned couple.

There wasn't much to see. Both were unconscious, seemingly comatose.
Sam picked up the chart for Joan Kateras and confirmed that, but also
learned something more startling.

Mulder looked up at his quick gasp, "she's pregnant?"

"Yes, did you know before, or . . ." The FBI man shook his head.

"It's not uncommon. Not universal, but I have a stack of x-files like
this," he might have been telling a fish story from the size he
indicated, "where abductees are returned pregnant. Frequently there
are unusual complications involved in the pregnancy, too. That's
where the woman doesn't simply vanish, of course." He looked sour,
and Sam got the distinct feeling that Mulder had lost more than one
returnee to unnamed causes. He didn't have a chance to ask, however,
as a short, balding man in glasses and a white coat nearly plowed into
him.

"Excuse me," the words sounded more hostile than polite. "This is a
private room, what are you doing here?"

"I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder," the badge was out again, "and this is
Special Agent Dr. Dana Scully." Hmm. Extra title. Sam admired the
tactic for getting this man's cooperation. "Do you mind answering a
few questions? This couple was reported missing over a week ago."

"I'm Dr. Corbett. I'm a neurologist, I was called in to consult
several days ago." Sam knew his cue and stepped in, questioning
Corbett closely about Kateras and Benning, while Mulder reviewed their
charts and histories. It didn't take Sam long to learn that Corbett
really had no idea why the young people were in comas, none of a
battery of tests showed any reason, they just *were*.

Mulder had looked up and was watching the doctor closely. "You took
x-rays, did you find anything unusual?"

"Unusual how?"

"Mm. Metal implants, possibly with what seem to be bar codes on them.
They'd be very small."

Corbett hesitated, then shook his head. "Of course, we weren't really
looking for such a thing either. You can see them, if you like."
Which was how Sam and Fox Mulder wound up spending the next several
hours going over x-rays with magnifying glasses. After the first ten
minutes Corbett excused himself to resume his normal life, satisfied
that two FBI agents weren't likely to make off with x-rays, or to loot
the supply closet.

"Scully, come look at this." Mulder's voice was low and intense. Sam
leaned down to see what he had found. A tiny rectangle, clearly not
natural, shadowed Benning's hip. Sam quickly found a similar mark on
Kateras' x- rays. He looked up to find Mulder staring at the tiny
shape with fascination tinged with dread. He looked up, meeting Sam's
eyes. "Do you remember the last time we found this?" His voice was
soft, concerned. Sam wished he had some idea what the man was talking
about. Al's voice suddenly sounded like a triphammer behind him.

"What're you kids up to in here? Did he finally make a pass at you?"
Sam started, violently, and saw a look of guilty anguish flicker
across Mulder's face. Curiouser and curiouser.

"Excuse me, Mulder. I think I need to take a break." Fox nodded, and
ran his hands through his hair as Sam escaped down the hall to the
ladies' room, his refuge of last resort.

Water on and door locked, Sam turned to glare at Al. "Don't you ever
get tired of doing that? Can't you give me some warning? I nearly
jumped out of my skin in there!"

"What was all that about, Sam? You two were wearing too much to be
doing what *I* would have been doing in there. And x-rays? Very
kinky."

"We were looking for something. I don't have any idea what it is, but
Mulder found something."

"Hold on, let me get Scully in here." he winked out, to Sam's relief.
Sam took advantage of the respite and was tidy and decent again when
Al poked his face out of the stall, followed by Dana Scully, more or
less. "Okay, tell her what you found."

Sam looked into Scully's eyes, concentrating on the person behind the
face. "We found rectangles, small ones, on the x-rays of both Kateras
and Benning. They were brought in two days ago, in comas. The
paperwork just hasn't sifted down far enough for the . . . " Sam had
been thinking of how the sheriff could have missed the returned
people, but broke off at the look on Scully's face. Her face had gone
paper-white in the light of the Imaging Chamber, and she seemed
stunned. "Are you all right," Sam almost reached for her, she looked
awful.

"Her hands just went ice-cold, Sam." Al was moving, keeping a hand on
Scully to keep her visible, but trying to keep her steady on her feet.
"I'd better get her out of here."

"No! Give me a minute." She made an effort, gathered herself.
"These pieces of metal, do they have bar codes?"

"I don't know, they're still implanted. Mulder thinks so."

"Sam, last year . . ." Scully swallowed, collected herself, "I went
missing for a more than two months. I have no memory of what
happened, but I know I don't ever want it to happen again. If the
ones who did that took Kateras and Benning . . . You have to keep
close to Mulder. He won't want you there. He'll try to protect me,
you, leave us behind. You stay close to him." She looked awful. Al
looked up and grimaced.

"I'm getting her out of here, Sam. You better get back before the kid
thinks a sewer thing got you. Be careful, Sam, I don't like this."

He wasn't the only one.
**************************

*****************************************************
When Sam Beckett stepped into the Quantum Leap accelerator he threw a
lot of lives into chaos. Every person working here had given up the
rest of his or her life until they could get Beckett home, safe.
There was no other way, the sacrifices were willingly made.

In all that time, the one thing Al Calavicci had never doubted was
that he had a job to do. Sam fixed things and Al guided Sam. For the
first time, Al was wondering if a Leap had two parts, if Al was
supposed to fix something, too.

Dana Scully had wrapped Sam's hands around the coffee mug so tightly
the knuckles were white. It was the only thing that kept them from
shaking. When Al sat down across from her, she looked at him with
that taut, frightened look he had hoped he'd left behind in Vietnam.

"Agent Scully, tell me what went on in there." He kept his voice
quiet and impersonal, the voice he'd learned to use in command, with
the strong ones who'd been pushed further than anyone should ever be
pushed. She swallowed and coughed a second, trying to defuse the
intensity. He just waited

"If I could remember what it was, I might tell you." Her voice was
harsh and hesitant. I . . . There was a hostage situation and Mulder
went in to help. There was this man, Duane Barry. Mulder thought he
was an abductee, he nearly killed Mulder. We got him out, and caught
Barry, and Barry had those tags in him. I ran them through a laser
reader . . . they were bar codes. We didn't know what they said.
Barry escaped and came for me, he was so scared. I remember he took
me, he wanted someone to take me instead of him. I can't remember who
they were or what they did except sometimes the flashbacks . . . the
flashbacks." Her voice trembled. Once she'd started she couldn't
seem to stop. "They hurt me and I can't remember how, I just know I
don't ever, ever, ever want it to happen again and those tags . . . "

"Is that why Mulder needs to see that ship? Something to do with
you?" Al wished he had Mulder's PhD in psychology. He was just
stumbling in the dark with this.

"Mulder saw aliens take his sister, he *needs* to find her. I think
he needs to protect me, too. I hate it when he does that." A faint
smile broke her tension for the first time. "He always gets hurt when
he does that."

"What will happen if he finds them, or if they find him?" Al wasn't
sure exactly why, but he needed her to understand what Mulder
couldn't, that she couldn't save people from everything, and never
from themselves.

She shivered. "He's so scared of them, he just needs to *know*, even
more than he needs to keep away. If they find him, I don't know.
I've seen him go nearly into shock before from just fear. He'll take
terrible risks to get close enough to something that scares him to
death. He's found them, and they've almost killed him more than once.
I don't want what happened to me to happen to him."

"You love him?"

She sat a long time with that one. "I don't know that I want to know
that. You know, I said I never wanted what happened to me to happen
again? I don't want this to ever happen to me again, either. Sitting
here and not knowing and not being able to do anything. If Mulder and
I started . . . the FBI would break us up as partners." She smiled
faintly. "Again, I mean. But it's against policy. And I don't want
to sit there in Quantico with him late, and wondering if he got pulled
over for speeding or if this is it, and the people who took his sister
came back for him. If I'm going to deal with Mulder, I need to be
there, where I can help him. Not sitting on the sidelines watching."
She looked directly into Al's eyes. "Don't leave me out again.
Whatever happens tonight, I have to be there too."

"I can't promise that." Al sighed. "It takes so much power to get me
there, and it goes up geometrically to take another person. It takes
so much Ziggy slows down, can't get all the answers when we need
them."

"If Mulder goes hunting little green men, Ziggy won't have your
answers. I'm not even sure I will."

Al didn't know if a Leap had two parts, but he damn well hoped Sam
could help Mulder more than Al had helped Scully.

**************************
Sam walked back into the reading room, lost in thought. It took a
moment before he noticed he was alone. Turning the light on didn't
make Mulder appear, either. Sam swallowed and looked at his watch.
How long had he been in the restroom? His stomach dropped and he
headed for the garage at a brisk walk, praying for a false alarm,
praying he'd find the car there and Mulder down buying a late lunch of
bad, hospital food. But he'd been praying to Leap home for a long
time, and that prayer hadn't been answered, either.

No Mulder in the cafeteria, and no car in the garage. Sam tore out
the front of the hospital, trying to run on Scully's high heels, and
looked frantically for a cab. Dammit! This was the South, not New
York. He raced back to a pay phone and called one. There wasn't time
to get a rental car now, he'd call ahead and have one waiting at the
motel.. It was after 4:00 in the afternoon. The cab would be there
within fifteen minutes.

Mulder was wearing a suit; allow at least half an hour to get back,
then to the motel for hiking gear. Cabbies should know the region,
the fastest way to get someplace, better than Fox Mulder could. Sam
might still catch him before he headed for the mountain. He just
might.

*******************
The rental car was waiting in the parking lot when the taxi pulled in.
Sam wasn't sure how many tens he threw at the driver, money was *not*
the main thing on his mind right then. It took a lot less bullying to
get the manager to open Mulder's door for him this time, but this time
the hiking clothes were gone.

Scully's laptop sat on the table where Sam had left it, but now it was
open. He begrudged the seconds needed to boot it up, but it was
obvious Mulder had left something on it. Sure enough.

"Scully, I'm really sorry to do this to you again. I know you don't
like these notes," understatement of the decade. "I'm off chasing my
demons again. Maybe I'll finally find the truth. I just can't let
you find it with me. You've been burned badly enough chasing after my
nightmares, Please, stay here. Don't tempt fate again. I'll talk to
you when I can."

He hadn't signed it. Maybe he just hadn't wanted to leave his name to
a sterile typeface. Sam didn't care.

"Damn-him-damn-him-DAMN-him!" Sam seldom gave in to profanity, but
nothing else came close to how he felt right then. He shut the thing
off and raced to his room. He didn't have time, but he'd never be
able to tackle that climb in Scully's suit and heels. He dressed in a
frenzy, finally belting on Scully's holster and pistol and bolting out
the door to the car. He wrenched the ignition on, and slammed it into
gear, leaving tracks as he roared out of the parking lot and headed
the way he knew Fox Mulder had to have gone.

Sam was halfway there, his forehead furrowed and his stomach clenched
with anxiety when his own ghosts showed their faces. For once he
didn't wonder how Al and Scully managed to look like they were riding
in the car. He had other things on his mind.

"He gave me the slip." Sam got it out before Al could even ask the
obvious. "He left a note," Sam distantly noticed Scully's curse, an
echo to his own, "and he's heading up that mountain." The blacktop
ate the late summer twilight, the grass smelled dry and hungry in the
lingering space between afternoon and evening. Sam had the surreal
feeling that time was holding still, but he knew it was really moving
much faster than he wanted.

"We'll get a lock on the kid and come back to guide you." Al's voice
was thankfully calm. Both Sam and Scully needed that anchor against
their own fears. Sam finally glanced sideways while his friend barked
orders to Gooshie. "I take he does this to you a lot." She nodded as
the two holograms vanished. Sam floored it.

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

Fox Mulder was terrified. It didn't matter, it was something he
simply had to accept. He carefully shut the car door and locked it,
using the small, normal motions as a kind of charm against evil. He'd
need every advantage he could get, even the ones he didn't believe in.

He didn't have a pack, he was traveling light. His cell phone had
rung constantly so he'd thrown it into the trunk. He knew it was
Scully, trying to talk him into waiting. He felt guilty about
ditching her, and about leaving her yet another of those horribly
melodramatic notes. A brief smile crossed his face, she could
probably write a best-selling gothic novel around those stupid notes.
He hadn't wanted to leave without saying ANYTHING to her, and he
simply couldn't let her come with him. Guilty as the notes made him
feel, it was nothing to how he'd felt when she'd disappeared. He just
couldn't take that risk again. If he could have found his answers
without taking any risks himself, he would have. That just wasn't
possible, so he took a deep breath and started up the mountain,
keeping a wary eye on the deepening shadows for the soldiers he
expected were patrolling these woods.

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

"Okay, Sam. He's about twenty minutes ahead of you, but he's got to
take it slow because of the guards. With me scouting ahead you should
be able to go a lot faster."

Al was back, and alone. "What about Scully?"

"She wanted to be here, but Ziggy's gonna need every kilowatt to keep
me running point for you. If she's here we can't work at any distance
and you won't be able to go fast enough. Once we're up there I'll
bring her back in."

"Good. She deserves to be there, and I'm afraid we're going to need
her." They rode in silence then. Al had no information to give, and
neither one felt much like talking. Sam was scared for himself, they
had no idea what would happen if he failed, and just as scared for the
two FBI agents. He wasn't sure why, but by now they both felt like
friends, and Sam didn't leave his friends in the lurch.

It took fifteen minutes of forever to pull onto the shoulder behind
Mulder's abandoned car. Sam tried the cell phone one more time, but
the buzzing from Mulder's trunk told him how successful he'd be. He
couldn't afford a chance call with guards around, so he left the phone
with his car. He wouldn't have breath to spare for phone calls
anyway.

Al took point, as far ahead as he could stay and be in sight, and they
traveled. Al would direct Sam, sometimes diverting or stopping him,
and they made time. Sam puffed hard, regretting Scully's small frame
again, and the time it would take her to tackle this hike, but Al
assured him he was overtaking Mulder steadily. It was dark up here by
now, on the back side of the mountain. By the time they reached the
peak it would be full dark. Sam shut his mind off and climbed, just
climbed.

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

Mulder had come in range of the peak. He'd had to stop several times,
frozen, waiting for a guard to pass. There was still enough light
that they weren't using night-sight goggles and that fact probably
saved him more than once.

The last twilit gloom hung to the peaks, warming the scented gloom and
the clouds of gnats that swarmed into his eyes. He stood carefully,
quietly, and took a moment to simply accept the beauty of the place.
It wasn't right to face his fears without taking a piece of this with
him.

As the last blue-violet light deserted the crest, Fox Mulder let go of
the evening and turned to what he had come to find.

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

"You're almost there, Sam. Take a break and catch your breath, I need
to go find the kid and make sure we're still on his track. According
to Al, Sam had narrowed Mulder's lead from twenty minutes to less than
two. Scully's blood was really pounding in his ears, he felt like
he'd taken the trail at a run, and wasn't far wrong at that. Gnats
buzzed him, attracted by the sweat that matted the auburn hair and
rolled down Sam's face.

Al was back. Sam couldn't muster the breath to ask, he just looked at
his friend and waited. "Okay, he's close to where you two were the
other night. He's under cover of a batch of brambles, I think he's
trying to decide on the best route down to the Unidentified Sitting
Object." Sam wasn't in the mood for Al's sense of humor. He heaved
himself back onto his feet and followed the hologram into the shadows.

Lights flared ahead of him, and the hum of generators. The big,
military spotlights were back on. Good and bad, it would light Sam's
way and confuse the light amplifying goggles the guards wore, but
would also make it easier for Mulder to move ahead. Sam drew on
reserves he didn't know he had and picked up his pace.

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

Mulder had been crouched still as stone, in the briars, when he heard
the rustling behind him, out of place in a still, dead-calm night. He
was careful turning, moving slowly enough not to catch the eye of a
watcher, until he could see behind him. Then he froze, appalled.
Scully was visible in light reflected down from the canopy. Her pale
face was still, focused, as if she were listening to someone he
couldn't see. Her face suddenly flickered into alarm, as she spun to
her left.

His eyes followed hers, his hand blurred as hers did, towards a
holster. The crack of the rifle was almost indistinguishable from the
sound of his handgun. Scully and the soldier dropped all but
simultaneously.

Mulder couldn't hear the briars crackle around him as he vaulted out
of them to where he'd seen her fall. The ringing in his ears drowned
her voice, too, as she smiled at him and said something he didn't
think was very complimentary. She was gripping her leg, trying to put
enough pressure to keep the wound in her thigh from bleeding so much.

He scooped her up and turned, running along the dark lip of the crest
where the actinic light cast everything into chiaroscuro, until he was
sure they were far enough around that the soldier's friends wouldn't
trip over them as they scrambled to his assistance. Mulder knew,
instinctively, that they wouldn't be able to help that young man. He
might not be the FBI's best gun handler, but that shot had FELT true.

He could hear Scully now, as he settled her in the cover of a tangle
of mountain laurel.

"Damn it, Mulder, what do you think you're playing at? Didn't your
Arctic trip convince you that this sort of stunt is stupid?" He had to
grin, only Scully would take the time to tick him off while they stood
a good chance of coming under fire. He was awfully glad he favored
belts and snug jeans over suspenders, his belt made a very good
tourniquet for her leg.

"To tell you the truth, Scully, this little scene is exactly what I
was hoping to avoid by ditching you." The wound was a clean one,
gouging the outside of her thigh. No involvement of bone, and the
blood was already clotting. He smiled into her eyes (strange feeling,
suddenly, like looking at a stranger). She was pale, and probably
slightly shocky, but this wound shouldn't be serious. "I thought I
was the one who was accident prone," he murmured. He put his hand
over her mouth as she got ready to give him another broadside.

"Ssshhh. They'll be looking by now." He'd leaned in to whisper in
her ear. "Look, do you think you can walk?" He helped her forward,
testing the leg. She went a shade paler, if that was possible, but
nodded.

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

A low whine droned, barely below hearing, but getting higher and
stronger. Insects and animals were falling silent. The soldiers were
too busy spreading out to catch the intruders to notice.

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

Al had vanished, and was back with Scully. The two of them crouched
on Sam's other side. Mulder must have seen his eyes track, because a
sudden look of alarm crossed his face. Al was babbling, apologizing
for missing the guard who'd shot Sam, worried. Scully was eyeing the
wound to see how serious it might or might not be. Mulder had looked
away, and was scanning the woods around them.

"You can't get clear in this condition. You'll make too much noise
and move too slowly." He might have been talking to himself. He
looked back at Sam. "And if I carry you they're bound to see us.
They'll get us both." Al and Scully were watching him now, and Sam
didn't like this train of thought at all. He knew Mulder wouldn't
abandon his partner, but what was he getting at?

"Look, you only need to get clear of the peak, Scully. Their priority
is here." 'You'? What was he talking about? "When they come after
me, you break for it. I think they'll have better things to do than
come after you." "NO!" Sam heard Al and Scully echo him, but Mulder
was gone, out of reach and heading back down towards that blasted
ship.

"Shit!" Al was punching at the handlink. Scully was trying to keep
her partner in sight and Sam was scrambling, painfully, up onto his
feet. Mulder was still under cover of the laurel that blanketed this
hollow, but Sam heard his Glock. He was making sure they wouldn't
miss the decoy. Sam spun, looking helplessly to Al and Scully for
help, but Al was fixed on his handlink with a growing look of alarm,
while Scully was craning back to try to see through the canopy. Sam
hadn't realized in the panic, but it was quiet, too quiet. A sharp
wind was rising but it made the only noise besides a growing,
tooth-aching whine. Al and Scully suddenly crackled with static,
flickered like a bad picture tube, and Scully winked out. Al looked
up at Sam, both of them pale and scared.

"It's Them, Sam." Al's voice was a choked sound. Ziggy says the
probabilities are multiplying faster than she can track, everything's
going shitty!" Sam looked down, into the hollow. Everything there
was frozen, the few soldiers not looking for him and Mulder seemed
petrified down there.

Mulder . . . Sam suddenly caught movement on the edge of the cleared
basin. Black windbreaker, blue denim. Then it all went as the big
spots exploded into sparks and blackness. Al was the only light left,
and the wind was a gale now, the droning so loud Sam couldn't think.
Al screamed something to him, something about probabilities and
electromagnetic frequencies, and warped out of shape and imploded,
leaving Sam alone in the dark, with the wind and the noise.

Sam's heart was drowned out by the drone, the air smelled like ozone
and every hair on his body stood on end. His palms were wet with
terror and he'd never remember how he kept his feet against the fear
that shook him like a leaf. A sudden punctuation of gunfire in the
hollow barely registered. Leaves and dust were thick in the air, like
being trapped in a funnel cloud, and Sam screamed with the cold and
fear and helplessness of the moment.

His shriek might have been a switch. A sudden mind- numbing glare of
light crushed everything in the hollow into two dimensional relief.
The light was a physical blow, felt more than seen, and Sam sunk his
face in his hands to escape it. The image of the hollow, the crumpled
ship, and two men caught in the flood of light was burned onto his
retinas. Time stood still.

Dana Scully and Al Calavicci stared at each other in the sterile light
of the Imaging Chamber. She suddenly lunged, grabbing his loud, gold
lame shirt and shaking him.

"Get us back there! Get us there NOW! Why did you pull us out?"

"It wasn't me! I didn't do it, let go." Scully, in Sam Beckett's
tall, broad-shouldered body had almost pulled Al off his feet in her
anxiety. "Let-go-and- let-me-find-out-what-happened." Al's steady,
precise words were hammering through her distraction. She let him
drop and headed for the door.

"Ziggy?" Their voices were almost synchronous. Gooshie and Tina
hovered over the surreal, colored console that let them manipulate
functions. They looked almost as shaken as Al felt.

The pause before Ziggy responded was no more than a few seconds.
Several centuries in computer years, translated Al's stunned mind.
"Admiral." The voice lacked the cocky, obnoxious tone that generally
marked it. Al hadn't thought anything could scare him more than the
presence that had cut his tie to Sam, but this hesitant, tentative
voice sent his pulse racing with fear.

He swallowed, and glanced at Dana Scully. She was standing frozen,
knowing she'd hit the point where nothing was left to do but wait.
"Ziggy, what happened back there? What cut the connection? What's
going to happen?"

"I don't know, Admiral. The data resulting from the encounter is
contradictory or unavailable. no projections are possible at this
time." Al shut his eyes and tried to get his lungs to take another
breath. Whether he'd be here when it was time to release it was more
than any of them could say. He turned back to the Imaging Chamber, if
things were still here in a minute, or an hour, or a day, Sam might
still need him. He looked back over at Scully. She didn't even
belong in this time. She looked like she had just realized she could
die here.

"I guess now we just wait." She gave him a sickly smile.

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

Sam opened his eyes to a full, cold moon shining down through the
trees. The unimaginable mass that had eaten the sky and left him in
darkness was gone. The night was still, except for faint stirrings of
insects and leaves. Sam slowly gathered himself and sat up. His
watch was blinking, repeating 8:23 p.m. Full dark and the moon gave
the lie to that.

He staggered to his feet, gasping at the sharp pain in his thigh. The
muscle had stiffened beneath the clot, and the wound burned. He could
walk, but slowly. He pulled Scully's tangled, auburn hair out of his
eyes and began to pick his way down from the lip of the hollow.

The view below froze him for a moment. Lights and vehicles were
tossed and scattered around the basin as casually as if a flood had
gathered then dropped them. The crumpled craft that had been the
focal point of the hollow was gone, and the earth where it had sat was
swept clean by the nightmare wind Sam remembered. No living person
was visible, and no sign of Fox Mulder. Sam collected himself and
kept climbing down.

Halfway down he found one of the young soldiers who had guarded the
craft. The man - not much more than a boy, really - lay on his side,
knees drawn up, staring in shock. He was breathing but seemed unaware
of his surroundings. Sam didn't think he could do anything for the
young man, and chilled at the thought of Scully's partner, caught in
the epicenter of whatever had left this man so shocked. He could
still feel the cold, helpless fear that had knocked him senseless even
at the edge of the effect. It must have been worse as you got closer
to the center.

Sam had to climb over tumbled light arrays as he got to the bottom.
The dust in the center was swept into swirls, obliterating any tracks.
Sam couldn't see anyone down here. He finally just knelt and shook,
too stunned and scared to cry or scream or do more than sit. The moon
had dropped and was spilling through a cleft in the trees when Sam
finally heard the sound of Al's door behind him. He looked up,
thankful for the first sign of life he'd seen since he found the
soldier. Al stepped through, with Scully, apprehensive and hopeful in
equal measures.

"Hey." He sounded subdued. Even his garish outfit seemed subdued.
"What happened, Sam?"

"Couldn't Ziggy tell you?"

"We couldn't make anything out. Zig said the electromagnetic
interference and probability fluctuations were overwhelming. We still
can't get clear data." Now that Sam looked at them, he realized they
were transparent. Ziggy must be having one hell of a time holding the
connection open, even though the alien was gone.

"I can't find Mulder." Sam hadn't realized how badly he, himself was
stunned until he heard the dull sound of his own voice admitting that.
Scully looked expressionlessly around her.

"Al and I can look." She flashed a smile at him. "Don't worry, Sam.
Mulder has a gift for getting through disasters." She didn't sound as
confident as she wanted to.

Sam took half the circle, searching in shadows, looking under strewn
tarpaulins, anywhere he thought an adult could go unseen. It was Al
who found him, though.

"Sam! Get over here." Al and Scully were crouched behind a tumbled
Hum-V. Sam ran, limping, and dropped to his own knees behind it to
find a man curled, tightly, in the shadow of the cab. Mulder had
wedged himself close to the truck, eyes shut and hands held
defensively knit around his head. His knees were drawn up, as the
soldier's had been, to protect his chest and belly. Sam didn't think
he knew anyone was near him.

Scully swallowed, leaning in close by Sam to see. "Can you get the
lights on in the truck, Sam? It's so dark, is he hurt?" Al watched
them, keeping a hand on Scully's shoulder.

"Has he done this before, Scully?" Sam spoke freely, somehow sure
that Mulder wasn't tracking anything around him. It was a surprise
when Al answered instead of Scully.

"I don't think he's injured, Sam. I think I've seen this kind of
thing before." Sam looked back and up. "You'd be shell-shocked too,
after something like that. Just hold him. He'll have to deal with it
on his own. All you can do is hold him, tell him you're here, that
they didn't take him." Al's voice was sad, lost, coming out of a
nightmare decades in his past. And it made sense.

Sam turned back and pried Mulder's hands away from his head, pulling
him out of his hiding place and wrapping Scully's arms around him. He
was still sitting there, stiff, with pins and needles in his arms and
legs when the sun rose. Al and Scully were clearer now, more concrete
to his eyes. Sam's voice was hoarse from repeating the same mantra
over and over.

"It's alright, they're gone. You're still here. I'm here."
Sometimes he thought those were the only words left in the world.
Mulder had relaxed a little from the terrified clench he'd held since
Sam found him. That was, if curled up with your arms wrapped over
your ribs could be considered an improvement.

Sam had heard sounds sometimes, probably soldiers, stunned and
frightened, waking and wandering away. He had drifted off when the
sky went pearl gray with dawn, drowsing over Mulder's head. Al woke
him.

"Sam? Sam!" He sounded worried. Sam looked up at him through grainy
eyes, a few flashes still sparking against the dawn clearing. "Sam, I
don't think you're out of the woods yet!" Scully was yanking on his
hand, looking at the handlink readout and cursing under her breath.

"Damndamndamn they must have got a call out or didn't answer one.
Sam," she looked up, "you've got company! It'll be military. You and
Mulder have got to get out of here, NOW!"

"What? How?!" Mulder was still completely out. "What am I supposed
to do? Carry him? Levitate him? What? Look, Scully, these guys work
for the same people you guys do. Won't they just arrest us, maybe get
us a doctor?" Sam's voice was suddenly hopeful.

"Sam, they are not going to be kinder and gentler with you. They are
going to make you disappear! Probably permanently!" There was no
shadow of a doubt in her voice. Sam looked to Al for some kind of
sanity against this sort of paranoia. Bad enough from Mulder, he
hadn't thought Scully was jumping at shadows, too.

"Sorry, Sam. I think she's right." He was looking toward the sun,
gauging the sound of choppers in the distance. Sam heard it, too. Al
punched at his handlink. "Ziggy says you're no better off if these
guys catch you on the ground. Sam, listen to her, get out of here!"

"How?!" He shifted, tried to lift Mulder. There was no way. Even if
his leg had been fine, it would still have been a five-foot, two-inch
woman trying to lift a six-one man. Sam wanted to panic, wanted to
panic RIGHT NOW!

Scully found his answer. "Look!" She was pointing up the hill, a
hum-v was still on all fours up there. It had clearly been picked up,
but by some chance had come back down right-side up.

"She's right, Sam. Get it down here." Sam scrambled for the vehicle,
hearing the faint whup-whup of helicoptors fading in and out as they
dodged in and out of the mountains. They were playing it cautious,
that would give them a little time, but not much. Sam pulled himself
into the truck and . . . stared at a dashboard that didn't make any
sense. "How do I start it?" Why couldn't he ever, ever have a nice,
simple Leap with none of this . . Al was there.

"Like this, Sam." He pointed. Sam finally got it started.

"What kind of mileage does this thing get?"

"You don't want to know. Now you have to get the kid in the back."
Sam drove, marveling at how the unweildy thing tackled the rough
stretch down to the bottom. He left the engine running, jumping back
to the ground, and wincing at the pain in his leg. Mulder hadn't
gotten any lighter since the last time he'd tried to move him. Sam
almost wanted to cry with frustration. He might be able to drag
Mulder to the back, but there was no way he'd be able to get him up
into the back. He looked around, desperate and wondering how the hell
Scully had ever managed to keep Mulder alive all this time.

Rope. That was it. He was a physicist, why hadn't he remembered!
One of the most basic lessons, distribution of force. He ran for a
pile of tools and rope tangled against an overturned light. Ten,
twenty feet. It was enough. Sam found a pocket knife in a buttoned
pocket and sliced off the length. He was panting from anxiety more
than exertion as he climbed back into the truck. It was empty, not
even benches, just a couple blankets, but supports of the cab would do
what he needed. Loop the rope around a stanchion in the back, yes,
pull both ends out. One tied under Fox Mulder's arms, the other in
Sam's hands. The younger man would have some bruises, but nothing
compared to what Scully figured the military would do to him.

Sam took a double twist around one wrist, and . . . pulled! Yes, it
was working. Pull again, again. Halfway there, again! Three more
and Mulder was in the back. Sam tossed the rope in and threw himself
back in the cab. "Sorry about the rough ride, Fox," he muttered and
shoved the thing into gear. It rolled over everything! Sam bounced
on the seat as it tackled boulders, hillocks! God, this would be
great in rush hour traffic! Al and Scully sat on the bench seat
screaming directions. They might just make it yet.

The thing hurtled over the lip of the basin and careened down the
trail. Sam kept his foot on the pedal, wrenching the wheel to get
them around trees, boulders too big to climb. The helicoptors were
drumming the air over the peak now. Al drifted up, letting his head
pass through the top of the cab. Sam shuddered and waited. Scully
was looking out the side next to her when she wasn't telling him where
to drive.

"Fuck!" Sam looked at Al, surprised. He usually saved that one for
when (oh no) things got really, really bad. "They're onto us, Sam!"
Hammer strikes and dust announced a strafing to one side. Loud
speakers were warning them to stop.

"What do I do whatdoIdo!"

"Get off the trail!" Scully's back seat driving. "Turn HERE!" Into
deeper forest, dodging between trees. The trees thrashed in the
downdraft, frustrating motion detectors. They couldn't burn this
forest, even the Army wouldn't dare fire live missiles here. Bullets
were something else entirely. They were firing at random now, hoping
for a lucky shot.

"Al, can you scout ahead, find me a hiding place?" The hologram was
gone on the instant. Sam was alone, or near enough. Mulder was going
to be black and blue, Sam felt a twinge of guilt. The choppers were
still overhead, but circling now. Maybe they weren't locked on
anymore, searching instead of finding. Al was back, shouting
directions.

"Left, left, between those rocks!" Thick trees at the top of the
grotto met overhead, the channel was narrow, getting narrower near the
top. It was perfect. Sam steered in close to the left wall and cut
the engine. And prayed. The whup-whup drummed the air all around,
dopplering back and forth. Sam held his breath.

"They're searching, Sam." Al's voice was a whisper. Scully was
watching the tiny line of light above them. A dark shape crossed it
once. Again. Then the sound of pursuit faded. Sam gave a sob of
relief and dropped to the ground, trying to remember how to breathe in
something other than a gasp. His whole body ached from the jouncing
ride of the hum-v. Oh, crap! He thought it, bit it off before it
escaped his lips (Al would never let him forget that!). He winced in
sympathy and peeked around the back. Surprisingly normal,
considering. No blood on the floor, no werewolves, or alien
face-huggers. Just Mulder, still drawn up in a tangle of blankets and
ropes in a corner. The split lip and bloody nose were no more than
Sam expected, but he didn't want to imagine the bruises he'd find on
closer examination. Fox Mulder was probably about to redefine black
and blue.

Sam rubbed his eyes and sagged against the tailgate. He was tired and
hungry and scared and lost. Kind of like Snow White, he thought
wryly. Al, his own, personal dwarf, was fussing around in the cab
while Scully hung onto his hand, managing to look disgusted, scared
and worried all at once. "What are you playing with? Hurry up." Her
voice was harsh with anxiety. She needed to check on Mulder and this
troll was playing treasure hunt.

"Sam! Look." Triumph? What had he found? "Just like I thought,
they've got a medical kit and MRE's behind the seat." A slow, idiot
grin lit Sam's face. He released the seat back and pulled out a big,
red metal box that proved to be a wonderfully well-stocked medical
kit.

"But what are MRE's?"

"Geez, you really are swiss-cheesed! Meals-Ready-to-Eat! Compared to
what I had in 'Nam it's absolutely gourmet fare."

"Oh, sure." Scully rolled her eyes. "Can we quit playing with food,
Admiral?" She was dragging Al by the arm, heading for the back of the
vehicle. Sam grabbed the kit and swung himself up into the back of
the hummer. Scully walked into the back, hauling Al along. She
hadn't bothered to pretend to climb in, and the two of them sprouted
like mushrooms from the truck bed. Scully frowned.

"You're a physicist, do you know what to do for those contusions? Do
you know what you're looking for?" Sam sighed and flipped the kit
open.

"*Agent* Scully, you are not the only one with an MD. Look, I know
you're worried, but unless your psych rotation was longer than mine,
you can't help right now." Sam was checking Mulder's pulse (strong and
even), his eyes (equal response, but very bloodshot and probably light
damaged), and everything else he could think of. He glanced at his
audience. "If you really want to help, get me some background." Sam
wracked what memory he had, and fished up his rotation in a Veterans'
Administration Hospital psychiatric ward. "He's obviously
dissociative, I need to know when he learned to do this, why, and
whatever other history you can get me. There must be somebody at the
Project who can help . . ." he looked up.

Scully nodded. "Dr. B*" Al's hand cut off the name, earning him a
radioactive glare.

"Good call, Sam. We'll get on it and back to you." They were gone an
instant later. Sam turned back to his patient.

"Okay, Fox. I need to put some stitches in that lip, I think."
Mulder didn't exactly resist when Sam pulled his chin around to see
more clearly. "I think this'll be easier if you sleep." He'd have to
remember to ask Scully if Mulder was allergic to anything when she got
back. The antibiotics would just have to wait until then. For now,
yes, good. The kit had sedatives. Sam checked the label and the
pamphlet (written for idiots, with illustrations, just in case some
soldier was left on his own) and drew what his fractured memory
assured him was the proper dose. Hold your breath and pray it's
right, then empty the syringe in Mulder's hip and go to work on the
cuts and bruises. Save the lip for last, when he'd be deep under
(tiny stitches, careful, you don't want a scar. Did he remember doing
cross-stitch to perfect this?)

It was a relief to turn to his own leg, and patch himself up. He
almost injected himself with antibiotics, and realized Scully might be
allergic. He sighed. So hard to remember who he was, sometimes.

The Meal-Ready-to-Eat was as awful as Sam had feared. He settled in
the back, with Mulder's head pillowed on the unhurt leg and diligently
consumed every bite. If Al had had to eat worse food it was no wonder
they'd lost in Vietnam. The enemy probably heard the rumbling of
upset stomachs. Sam wished he could get one of the MRE's down his
charge - it would be more merciful to feed it to him while he was
unconscious - but that wasn't a possibility.

He shivered. It was chilly up here. The summer heat didn't seem to
reach this shady place. If they were lucky the army wouldn't reach it
either. Sam doubted he could have that kind of luck, but for now he'd
settle for a few quiet hours. The sterilization crew would be after
them, but would have to track them on foot, on the ground. That would
buy them some time, and Sam couldn't run full-out any longer. He
curled up next to Mulder, taking advantage of the man's warmth, and
dropped like a stone into sleep.

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

"Listen, Scully. There's only one unbreakable rule. You can never
tell Sam *anything* about Project Quantum Leap. Not room sizes, not
names, nothing."

"I don';t see what it would hurt for him . . ."

"That's just it." Al cut her off. "You don't see. None of us does,
except maybe Ziggy. We figure he forgets because it's dangerous for
him to know. Look," he stopped her in the middle of the hall. "Your
partner's always pushing and you know how dangerous that is. ONE of
you has to follow the rules, because they're there for a reason. I
figure that's you. Please trust me on this. We made these rules
because, if there's a reason Sam Leaps, there's got to be a reason for
the rest of it, too. Bad enough you're on the spot with me. Please,
please, follow the rules."

"You sound like me, arguing with Mulder. Alright. As long as I never
have to dress like you, I guess I can follow your rules."

"Hey, what's wrong with my . . ." The door next to him opened and the
small, round-featured woman who had first greeted Scully eyed Al
quizzically.

"I would not suggest you finish that, Admiral." She smiled a welcome
to them both and lead them through to her office, a nest of
caribbean-print cloth and deep, old leather furniture that lulled
Dr. Beeks' visitors.

"Verbeena," Al was trying to sit forward on the soft edge of his
chair, trying to stay crisp and controlled. "Look, Sam's gotten into
trouble none of us saw coming. The UFO's come and gone, I don't know
why but they left Mulder," - "I know why." Ziggy's arrogant tones,
coming out of thin air, were jarring.

Verbeena turned brown eyes on the ceiling, where they tended to assign
Ziggy a place. "I thought you weren't going to snoop in my office
anymore, Ziggy." She sounded like she was reprimanding a child.

"You can explain it later, Zig." Al turned back to the psychologist.
"Look, the kid's freaked out and Sam doesn't know what to do. I think
Ziggy can grab his records from his hometown, can you pull them
together and give us some idea what to do next?" Verbeena nodded and
turned warm eyes on Scully.

"Where does he come from, Dana? What can you tell me so I'll know
where to start?"

Scully wondered when she'd become 'Dana', and why she didn't mind.
Verbeena was a lot like the furniture she chose, warm and colorful and
deceptively soft.

"You'll have to go to Chillmark for that."

Verbeena nodded. "We know a bit about his sister. Bad as that is, I
don't see it causing anything as severe as the dissociative trance
Ziggy and you say he's in."

Scully shivered. "You're right. His sister's only the most obvious
thing. There's a lot more and a lot worse. I don't have the details,
he doesn't talk about it, but I'm pretty sure his father battered him.
Repeatedly." Scully drew a deep breath. This felt like betraying a
trust. "I have no idea if he's gone into this before, or why or
anything else. He's never done this with me. You'll have to track
his records to find out. Maybe you'll find something there to help."
She looked back at Al. "Until she does, I want to be there. Mulder
trusts me. I don't want Sam playing guessing games if he starts to
come out of it."

Verbeena raised a hand, stopping them both. (How does she *do* that?
Too bad she never went military, she'd make admiral in half the time.)
"I want you to tell Sam some things." Quiet, soothing tones. "I'll
look into this and see what I can find. Sam needs to get both of them
someplace safe and warm. Try to get some sedatives, antihistamines,
something to make him sleepy, into your partner." She was watching
Scully. "He needs to sleep right now. If he knows he's safe, he
should come out of it. If not, we're in real trouble. Try to get him
to eat something. Does he have any favorite foods? Or do you wear a
perfume he likes? A familiar scent might help him feel safer. Now go
on, I've got work to do."

Scully and Al found themselves back in the hall before they'd even
registered the polite, pleasant dismissal.

Al checked his watch. "She's got a point." He wasn't heading for the
Imaging Chamber. Scully snared his faux-zebra lapel and hauled him
back. "You heard her, she wants us to tell Sam. NOW. You can look
after your stomach later."

"If I never married you, Scully, how come you sound so much like one
of my ex-wives?"

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

"Sam?" Was that Al already? Sam opened grainy eyes and groaned as
Scully's neck registered twinges of pain. Like falling asleep on your
books on the dorm floor. Deja vu, all over again and it was bad
enough the first time.

"Sam,are you here?" That foggy, quiet voice was NOT Al. Sam sat bolt
upright.

"You still with us, Mulder?"

"Scully? Sam was here. I heard people talking to her, but she won't
answer them. Dad always told her not to talk to strangers." He might
be awake but he was definitely not firing on all cylinders. Sam waved
a hand in front of his eyes to get his attention. Nothing. Okay,
first things first.

"Mulder, look at me. What do you see?" He wasn't sure what he
expected. Mulder's eyes were not focused anywhere Sam could relate
to.

"It's dark in here. Somebody's flashing colored lights, I think."
Geez. The eyes didn't bother Sam so much. He'd expected some damage
to the retinas after getting hit with such bright light, but Mulder
should have been reacting a lot more. This was not normal behavior.
Talk about spooky!

"Sam!" THAT was Al. Sam turned around. "Sam," the hologram looked
around the back of the truck.

"Sam? Where!?" That was Mulder. Sam looked back at him. Oh, boy.

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

Sam spun back to shush Al with his hands. Whatever was going on, it
wasn't going to help if Mulder could listen in on Sam's "imaginary
friend." Mulder had managed to find Sam's arm and was feeling around
him with the other hand.

"Scully, help." He sounded desperate, half frantic. "I'm only seeing
shadows, where's Sam, she's got to be here, who's talking to her?" Al
and Scully were staring, too shocked to say anything, thank god. This
was bad enough as it was.

"Mulder, calm down." Sam grabbed his wrists. "It's me, Mulder, it's
Scully. It's just you and me here, you . . ." what was he going to
say?! (You're hearing Samantha because a UFO knocked you silly? The
army injected you with LSD? You've finally gone around the bend?)
"Look, I know it's scary. You've got to trust me." He was holding
still, listening to her. Now what? He looked at Scully for
inspiration but she looked even more scared than he felt.

He took a deep breath and made stuff up. :"Mulder, we saw a UFO. It
had crashed, the army was guarding it. Something must have happened.
I don't really remember what they did. There was a lot of light,
that's why you're only seeing shadows. You're eyes will get better,
but they were injured." Okay, so far so good. "Whatever they were
doing, you got hurt. We're in a hum-v, hiding. We're up in the hills
somewhere, I got us here, but they'll be after us. You have got to
pull it together," he heard the frightened note in his own voice.
"They're going to be after us and I need your help. Please stay with
me, please." Mulder was listening, Sam really didn't know if the man
could pull out of this, but he was listening.

"Sam's not here?" His voice was shaky. Sam felt his guts twist with
sympathy. He pulled Mulder into his arms, and just held him. He
didn't know if Scully would have, didn't care if Al was going to make
cracks. Nobody human should leave another person alone with what he
heard in Fox Mulder's voice. "I'm going crazy. I kept hearing
voices." Mulder's voice was muffled against Sam's shoulder. "They
kept talking to Sam." He sounded desolate.

"It's alright, I promise you. You're not crazy. It's not you." What
else could he say? He glared at Al over Mulder's shoulder. Scully's
face wore an unreadable expression. He couldn't explain this.
Telling the truth was so tempting. If anyone would believe him, it
would be Mulder, but if it didn't wipe Quantum Leap out of existence,
it might wipe Mulder out. Right now, telling him a thing like that
would be likely to completely knock him off whatever moorings he had
left.

Al was waving and making little gun motions with his hands. Sam took
a flying guess and inferred that the army was tracking them on the
ground, and they needed to get moving. Leave the hummer? He
considered it, but Mulder was way too fragile for an overland hike
right now. They'd just have to leave tracks and bank on speed to keep
them ahead of the game. Sam tightened his grip on Mulder's shoulders,
then pushed him back. "Look, partner. We have to get out of here.
The army is still after us, and you don't want them catching us. You
can ride up front with me, this time."

He smiled faintly. "I was riding in the back? Then no one hit me?"
Hit him?

Sam nodded, then caught himself. "Yes. You're going to be some
interesting shades of purple when all that shows up." Sam helped him
down and lead him around to the passenger seat, belting him in.
Mulder followed well enough, but still seemed far away, dazed. Little
wonder. The only people who snapped out of something like this to
full function were on TV and the movies. Sam was grateful that Mulder
was even moving, much less able to follow what was happening. Al and
Scully sat between them, actually overlapping them was a better word
for it, and Al pointed the directions the handlink gave him. Neither
one spoke. Sam missed them, but breathed a sigh of relief when they
finally winked out. Somehow, having them silent was worse than not
having them at all.

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

"What the hell was that?!" Al cringed, even though he'd been braced
for Scully's first words. "Why did he hear us? What's going on, you
told me Sam was the only one . . ."

"Almost, I said almost! Kids and animals see me too. Don't ask me
why because I*DON'T*KNOW! Maybe your flaky partner's discovered his
inner child."

"Don't you say a word about Mulder." The voice that wasn't Sam's was
low and dangerous. Scully was feeling the strain of being a helpless
bystander. It was so hard to just watch. She didn't know how Mulder
had stayed even slightly sane when she vanished, if this was what it
was like.

Ziggy broke up what could have been an ugly fight. "Admiral, Agent
Scully, Dr. Beeks has asked for you." The computer sounded arch.
Scully and Al pulled in their claws, and headed for Verbeena's office.

She met them at the door, wearing a controlled look that Al hadn't
seen before.

"Please, sit down. I gather something's changed." She looked like
she had something on her mind, but was stalling it.

"You can say that again." Al was still agitated. "The kid's awake,
but now he's hearing US. How can we help Sam if he can hear us? What
is it with this guy? No wonder they called him 'Spooky'"

Scully turned on him. "I told you once," her voice was low and very
dangerous. Verbeena cleared her throat.

"I understand that you both feel . . . anxious. Please. This is not
going to help either Dr. Beckett or Agent Mulder. I think I know when
he learned to go into this trance, and I may know why he's hearing
you." She had the undivided attention of both of them.

"Ziggy was able to access the emergency room records for Chillmark
Hospital between 1960 and 1978. Fox Mulder was seen six times between
1960 and 1964, for broken bones, a dislocated shoulder, and
contusions. The records indicate household accidents for each
injury." Verbeena's voice was bitter, angry. Between 1964 and 1972
he was seen less often, only once every year or so on average. After
1972," she took a deep breath, and Scully watched the muscles twitch
in her jaw. Scully's felt ill at the implications of her partner's
records. "After 1972," continuted Verbeena. "He was admitted for
psychiatric care, was treated for concussion, broken ribs, broken arm,
repeated beatings and injuries. Each time he was released to his
parents' care, and household causes, or other children, or accidents
or sports were recorded as the cause of injury." She was forcing her
words through clenched teeth, furious and ill at what she had learned.

She looked up at Al and Scully. "I don't doubt he knew how to go into
this trance before he was five. If I could, I'd make certain the
doctors who treated him never practiced again."

Al sat stunned, his cigar forgotten in one hand. Scully's eyes were
closed tight as she drew breaths to calm her churning stomach.

"Why didn't the police or his doctors get him out of there?" Al was
appalled.

Verbeena's laugh was very bitter. "Think of the time, Admiral. Spare
the rod and spoil the child? The nuclear family? And this family had
some standing in the community. I imagine a lot of people had some
idea, and turned a blind eye. Even his mother may have ignored the
abuse for fear of becoming a target herself. This was a father's
perogative until much, much later. Children were the property of
their parents. It was normal. The only thing out of the ordinary was
that Mr. Mulder lost his temper a little more and 'didn't know his own
strength.'" She stopped to try and regain her composure.

Scully looked up, pale. "I knew he'd been beaten. I suspected he'd
been abused pretty badly. He has so many of the traits for it, but
how could anybody ignore that." She was pinching the bridge of her
nose, frowning to stop the threat of tears.

Al cleared his throat. "Look," his voice was softer now, carefully
modulated. "I wish Sam had leaped a long way back. I wish he could
have stopped what happened. But he didn't, and we need to know how to
snap Mulder out of it."

"You can't 'snap him out', Admiral." Beeks' voice was all but
expressionless. "You've said he's awake. That's good. As he
realizes he's safe, he should come out of it on his own. As to why he
hears you . . . I always thought animals and children could see you
because they had no expectation that they wouldn't. They don't defend
against the unknown. Agent Mulder is very, very receptive right now.
The only defense he's using is retreat."

Scully half smiled. "Mulder's normally open to anything under the
sun. Why didn't he hear us before?"

"Not that open. Nobody adult and, well, normal, is that open. He's
quite normal most of the time, for those purposes."

"Look, if the kid's so receptive, maybe we should just go ahead and
appear! We could talk with him, keep tabs on him." Al seemed pleased
at the simplicity of the idea.

"NO!" Verbeena was on her feet, alarmed. "He thinks he's hearing
voices as it is, Admiral. Do you want to push him right over the
edge? That is the worst idea I've heard from you, ever! If you have
to juggle things, you do, but you don't talk to him, and if his eyes
get better, you be careful not to appear. If he makes the connection
that he can reach his sister by dropping into that damn trance on his
own, well." She left the sentence unfinished. "Whatever you do, you
do not talk with him." She looked exhausted, eyed them. "Go talk to
Sam. I couldn't find anything but his sister that really helped in
his childhood. And we can't afford to play that card. We might lose
him forever if we tried that."

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

Sam tooled along, whistling 'Chitty-Chitty-Bang-Bang' and enjoying the
experience of not being shot at. Mulder dozed in the passenger seat.
Sam thought it was probably the most sleep he'd had in ages. Hell,
maybe they'd even cure his insomnia this Leap. There had to be easier
ways to do that.

They'd come perhaps forty miles from the grotto since early that
morning. The sun was mid-afternoon high, and the occasional chopper
drifted overhead, shadowing the forest underneath. Sam had pulled
over twice already, freezing like a frightened rabbit, as choppers
searched from the sky. He'd ducked the motion detectors that way so
far, but they would be out of fuel by evening and Sam still had no
idea how to get them to safety. They'd be too obvious on a road, and
he didn't know who to avoid in a town. He badly needed Mulder's
guidance.

Sam slid forward to change gears, pushing the clutch with a toe. He
sent a mild curse for the military height limits that put the seat so
far from the pedals. Didn't they know short people might have to
drive these things?

"You need to be sitting on a phone book!" Al's voice made Sam jump,
and he just pulled aside to avoid a tree. Mulder had sat up, alarmed,
and Scully was glaring at Al with her hand clapped over his mouth.
The small man waggled his eyebrows in apology.

"Look, I need to take a break, and you could do with a stretch too."
Sam pulled over, trying to get his heart to calm down. He might get
used to the hologram popping in one day, but it hadn't happened yet.
Mulder, thankfully, seemed to be chalking Al's comment up to
background noise. Sam found a sheltered spot under thick trees and
parked.

"I'm going to get out, I'll stay where I can see you, don't worry."
Mulder nodded, willing to accept that. Sam wandered off far enough to
talk without being overheard, and watched as Mulder got out of the cab
and carefully went through what looked like a series of runner's
stretches.

"Sorry about that, I'm not used to having to use hand signs." Al
sounded contrite. "The kid any better?"

"A little. He told me a lot about England this morning. Apparently
it made a big impression on him. He claims the lousy food was
perfected as an attempt to discourage Napoleon from invading, and it
just caught on."

Scully's smile was small, but relieved. "That sounds more like
Mulder. He's never exactly normal, but that sounds pretty close."

"I don't know, he's still pretty dazed. What did you learn?" Al and
Scully looked at each other. Al sighed, and did the hard part.

"Sam, it looks like he was probably pretty badly abused as a little
kid. Beatings, mainly. It got a little better when his sister,
Samantha, was around, then worse after she disappeared." Sam took
these things even harder than Al. His worst Leaps had been for
child-abuse cases.

Scully took over. "He's already coming out of it on his own. There
aren't any code words or quick fixes, but keep talking to him. Umm, I
know." She smiled. "When I was about eight, I went camping with my
class, and one of the kids thought frozen dinners were the same as
freeze-dried. You can dress that up and tell it to him. Or tell him
that Melissa used to forge our Mom's signature on school notes and
when Mom really wrote one herself, Sister thought it was the forgery.
He'll love that, he'll never let Mel live it down." She grinned at
the thought. "He's never talked much about anyone but his sister in
his family, but I think he feels kind of adopted by my Mom. That
should help." Sam was nodding, and feeling a sad flash of
homesickness. He must have stories like that of his own, when would
he get to tell them again? (Thanks, rodent!)

"Two things," he tried to shake the mood. "Are either of you allergic
to anything?"- "Besides poison ivy? No." - "And has Ziggy figured out
what I need to do now? Aliens aren't going to snatch the guy, and
we've solved the missing persons case. Am I supposed to get us away
from the army, or retire to a desert island, or what? I could really
use some guidance here."

Al glanced at his handlink, but didn't seem to really need what it
told him. "Right now it looks like you're supposed to make sure most
the the chips in the guy's motherboard are working again," Scully's
hand tightened on Al's shoulder until he winced, "and see that both of
you get back to the Bureau in one piece." The handlink whined. "If
you can get Mulder into therapy it would probably be a good thing,
too, but it looks like you're mainly babysitting."

Scully looked distinctly sour. "I wouldn't call it babysitting." She
looked at Sam. "The army has wiped his memories in the past, and
we're not sure but what they didn't have something to do with my
disappearance. Then there are the Men in Black."

Al and Sam both looked at her. She looked unhappy. "We really don't
know who they are, except that they are working within the government.
They've sabotaged a couple of our investigations, and nearly killed
Mulder at least once that I know of. I really don't know if they'll
show up, but you need to keep your eyes open. Just watch for anyone
who looks like a movie villain and that's likely to be them."

Sam couldn't believe what he was hearing. "How many enemies have you
people made?! Can't you get along with anybody? What do you do, go
looking for people to piss off?" This was too much. Sam combed his
fingers through his hair and looked back at Mulder, who leaned against
the hummer, looking towards Sam.

"Al, you remember all my Leaps. No secrets, just tell me. I'm never
getting out of this, am I? These people are so screwed up I'm never
getting out of here." His voice was climbing, even Mulder had heard
him and was looking roughly in his direction. Sam drew a shaky breath
and tried to get some control.

"Look," he glared back at Scully. "If you want to turn over hornets'
nests, fine, but I've got to get you and your partner out of this one,
whatever it is. Could you please go figure out what I need to do so I
can do it and get out of here? Because I really do think this must be
the most complicated, weird, uncomfortable Leap I've ever done. I
can't even remember the others, and this one is so strange it's got to
be the worst." Al was chewing on his cigar and trying to calm Sam
down by patting the air. Mulder was picking his way towards Sam,
working carefully. "No offense, but I just want to get out of here
and back to nice, normal, murder plots and whatever."

"It's okay, Scully." Sam didn't know what Mulder was getting out of
all this, but now he was making an effort to be soothing too. The FBI
man looked worried, nervous. Sam shook his head. It wasn't the guy's
fault if he was a weirdness magnet. It was Sam's own fault he was
here. He sucked in a breath, held it, and let it out. A nod to Al
and Scully, "It's okay, Mulder. I'm just a little tired and keyed up.
We probably need to get moving again."

"Scully," Mulder had leaned in close and seemed to be looking at Sam,
although he was sure the man was still only seeing shadows, "Who were
those people you were talking to?" Sam felt the world twist. "I
mean, you were talking to somebody, I'm sure I saw two people and
heard them. Do they know where Sam is?"

Sam looked desperately over his shoulder at Al and Scully. Al was
standing with a finger frozen in mid-stab at the handlink. Scully was
white as a sheet, watching them. When he flicked his fingers at
Mulder's eyes, not a blink. He was still seeing flashes and shadows,
so what was going on with the holograms?

Al shifted his cigar to the other corner of his mouth. "Verbena's
gonna have my guts for breakfast." The two of them winked out.
Mulder stared where they had been, and swallowed.

"You know Scully , if I weren't sure I'm still dreaming I'd be really,
really nervous. Don't pinch me. I don't want to know about it if I'm
awake."

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

Scully had hit the point where there weren't any words left. Al was
reduced to a plaintive "Ziiiiiigggy!" Verbena must have run to get to
the control room, she was out of breath and leaning on a dark-haired
woman who looked as worried as Scully felt.

"What's happened?" Verbena kept it short.

"He saw us. I don't know how, but he saw us."

"His eyes . . ."

"Are still screwed up! It wasn't my fault!" Al was waving his cigar
in the air in hysterical circles.

"Al, calm down." The dark woman held her hand out to Scully. "I'm
Donna Alisee. I was in Washington, funding hearings," she seemed
apologetic. "I got back as soon as I could. Ziggy gave me the bare
bones . . ."

"Dr. Alisee, I gave you all the relevant data available to at this
point." If computers threw snits Ziggy was in one.

"Look first things first. It's no mystery why your friend saw you, if
he's aware of you at all. Al would have figured it out once he calmed
down. Sam doesn't perceive Al with the optical nerve, but
telepathically. His brain just interprets it as a visual signal.
Once your friend, Fox,"-"Mulder," Scully's correction was
automatic.-"Got in range and he was ready for visual perceptions it
was only natural he "see" you too." Alisee was very calm. Verbena
looked like she was kicking herself mentally.

"So what do we do about it?" Scully felt trapped, every time she
turned around this got worse. At least this woman seemed more in
charge than anyone she'd met so far.

""Agent Scully, I'd like you to go with Verbena. You two know . . .
Mulder's profile best." She smiled. "Cook up something you think
he'll believe. Fever hallucinations or flashbacks, something. Al,
you and I need to strategize." Verbena nodded and drew Scully off.

"I wish she'd been here all along. We might not be in so deep, who is
she?" Scully glanced back over her shoulder to see Al deep in
discussion with the newcomer.

"That, Dr. Scully, is the only person I know who impresses me more
than Dr. Beckett. That's his wife."

Scully stared at her. "Come on," Verbena smiled. "I'll explain
everything, about her too, and we'll find some way to pass you two off
as little green men."

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

Fox Mulder leaned against the side of the Hum-V and contemplated
insanity. He'd always known he was skating on thin ice, but it had
never really given way before. He felt . . . odd. Suspended. Too
calm and quiet to be safe. Worse, he felt like his own reactions were
one remove away. Out of body experiences in body. He grinned at
that. He'd be doing crystals with Scully's sister if this kept up.
He hoped.

Scully was asleep in the cab, breathing softly and muttering every so
often. One more terror he was aware that he wasn't quite feeling.
Scully wasn't acting like Scully. She was talking to ghosts, and very
nervous. She knew the military as well as he did, by now, but kept
asking him questions about what they might do. If she hadn't told him
some things that only Scully could know, hadn't smelled like Scully,
felt like her, he'd have wondered if she wasn't someone else. That
thought should have had him shaking with anxiety. On some level, it
did. He just wasn't . . . quite . . . feeling it. So he was seeing
Scully's ghosts, and hearing voices talking to Sam, couldn't remember
how he'd gotten here and felt like he was watching himself go through
his paces.

He flashed on one of his old text books, (almost a relief to have a
variation from the flashes of light and the light-and-shadow patterns
he was seeing right now). The page was in his memory, down to the
scorch mark on one margin where Phoebe Greene had set his book on fire
the day he met her. His training found terms he already knew by
heart: conversion disorder, disaster syndrome. What disaster? He
wanted to remember, wanted to know. There had been bright lights, a
woman? Sam? Or Scully? Or maybe it was just him, now. Another book
came back to him, this one smudged with finger prints and the tears of
a fourteen year-old:

They cannot scare me with their empty space Between stars - on stars
where no human race is. I have it in me so much nearer home To scare
myself with my own desert places.

He smiled sadly and imagined Scully's face if he told her Robert Frost
had been an abductee. You could find plenty of desert places without
outside help, of course. Frost, he was sure, had built his own hell.
He hadn't had it bequeathed the way Fox had. It didn't matter, hell
was still hell. And he was watching the flames, and wondering when
he'd start feeling them.

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

Scully was having flashbacks to med-school all-nighters as she guzzled
her fifth cup of lousy, Project Quantum Leap coffee and flipped
through another anthropology text looking for an imaginary creature to
impersonate. Verbeena was sprawled on the floor, surrounded by more
books and munching popcorn.
"We could pass off Al as a leprechaun." Verbena'd already
abandoned pookas, pixies, nixies, sprites, demons on probation, and
high-school-genius-experiments. She'd never thought it could be so
difficult to find a delusion for someone to believe in.
"An Italian leprechaun?"
"You never know, archetypal spirits?"
"Even Mulder wouldn't fall for that one."
"You did say he believes almost everything."
"Almost. Just almost. He doesn't believe in vampires, or in
campaign promises so he's not totally gullible. He also didn't fall
for the thing about BMW putting ice-melting lasers on their new
models, though he did contact Macintosh to see if the new PowerMacs
could be networked to the coffee machine."
"You mean they can't? And I had such high hopes of good
coffee when I woke up!"
"Ver-b-e-e-e-na! Who cooked this idea up? Was it Al?"
"You know perfectly well it was Dr. Alisee, and it's a pretty
good one, if we could just come up with something that would explain
hearing you and Al without reinforcing his worst habits."
"That won't happen. Mulder's *worst* habits are dietary and I
don't plan to give him any advice on food." Scully sighed. "I feel
like George Carlin looking for Bill and Ted. He's not going to trust
advice from delusions. Maybe we should just tell him the truth."
"What, that you two are telepathic visitations from the future
trying to keep the bad guys from getting him and Scully? I hope
you're not thinking of telling him about Sam! Look, is there any
chance he'd believe you're angels trying to work off Purgatory?"
"I'm the Catholic. I don't think he's been to church since he
was a kid. Hey, hey! How's this one, we can tell him we're the
projected advisors of a government department trying to counter the
Men In Black!"
"God, that's so paranoid it might just work!"
"Right, and we're an underfunded black project, so we can't
afford to intervene directly. This is never going to work. He might
believe it, but he'll never believe I'd believe it."
"I don't know, you already believe some of what he's told you
and you know you're not delusional. He just might fall for this one."
"He'd go looking for us."
"Not if he believed finding you would compromise your
contact?"
Scully sighed and ground the heels of her palms into her
aching eyes. "This won't work, Verbena. What Mulder believes has its
own twisted logic. We can't outplay that game with him. He believes
in a lot of things but he's not stupid."
"Scully, do you have a better idea?"
"Dr. Scully, Dr. Beeks," Ziggy's voice was peremptory. "it
appears you will not have to create a new myth. The military has
withdrawn."
"What?" they chorused. "Why?" Scully continued. "Not that
I'm not happy about it, but . . .why?"
"The communique I have been able to find gives only one
reason, Agent Scully. Apparently they have just learned that Agent
Mulder is there."
Scully stopped, baffled. "That's it? Mulder's there so it's
cease fire?"
"Apparently." Scully and Verbena looked at each other.

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

Sam yawned and wished desperately that Al would appear. The only
sounds around him were crickets and Mulder's breathing from the bench
seat of the hummer. Sam had drugged him again, a powerful muscle
relaxant. A car crash two days before and the last days' accidental
battering had caused painfully stiff muscles that eliminated Mulder's
usual careless grace. He would have tried to get the drugs into
Mulder regardless, the man badly needed to sleep, to move beyond the
confusion and anxiety of a trance like the one he'd suffered.

"Sam." For a moment Sam looked for Al, then realized the voice was
wrong.

"Mulder?" but softly. He hadn't really sounded awake.

"I'm sorry, Sam. I was so close . . ." His voice sounded small and
young. "They wouldn't give you back, they wouldn't . . ." he faded
off again. Sam watched him, almost regretting the drugs. If Al was
right, Mulder hadn't had peaceful sleep for more than twenty years.
Leaving him to his dreams felt like walking out on him. Sam wrapped
his arms around himself and slid down the side of the truck to the
ground, miserable. He was supposed to make things right, and he
couldn't make this right. There just wasn't any way.

The only thing he could do was sit through the night, sharing Mulder's
nightmares in his own, lonely way.

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

Sam watched Fox Mulder try to work at least one knot out of his neck
and shoulders. Between the car crash two days before, the ride in the
hummer and sleeping in the back of the truck it was a miracle the guy
could even move. His fair skin had gone colors humans were never
meant to be, ranging from the impressive black eye to the delicate,
buttercup yellow of several of his bruises. Sam didn't have the heart
to complain about his sore thigh with Mulder so miserable.

"You know, Skinner's going to think you got kidnapped."

Sam stared at Mulder, utterly baffled. As Mulder gradually regained
some composure his sense of humor was returning, and it was very
strange. "Kidnapped?"

"That's right, he always assumes that if I'm black and blue,
you got kidnapped. Sort of like Pants Corral and Levis. He's
probably chewing pieces off his desk, wondering where we are and how
we caused this mess with the army. He'll assume it's our fault, of
course." Sam paused, trying to decide if Mulder was trying to be
funny or not. He had a sick feeling that the agent might be telling
the absolute, literal truth. Sam shook his head and pulled out the
remaining MRE.

"Here, why don't you split this with me."

"What is it? It better not involve vegetables." Mulder looked up
from the ground, where he was trying - and not really succeeding - to
work the stiffness out of his legs. He was saved from Sam's review of
the menu, however, as a low droning dopplered towards them. Mulder
shielded his eyes and squinted at the canopy, trying to make his
blurred sight come clearer. Sam looked up to watch as what seemed
like every helicoptor that had ever appeared in M*A*S*H left. Just
left. No searching. No strafing. Nothing. Just . . . left.

"Scully, did that look like what it sounded like?"

"Uhhh. It looked like a full retreat. Is that good or is it bad?"

"It could be either. It could be both." Mulder shook his head.

"Maybe we have friends in high places?"

"High places, probably. Friends I wouldn't be so sure about." He got
to his feet as though his joints weren't really there.

"You said we were out of gas. We'd better start walking if I'm going
to avoid eating vegetables." He sounded very, very distracted.

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

It was a long, slow, uncomfortable slog home. They'd walked upwards
of six hours, due west. Sam's childhood in Indiana came in handy as
his boyscout training let him find directions.

Sam had watched Mulder carefully, noting that he could see a little
better with great relief, but disturbed by the young man's quiet.

Al had never appeared last night. Sam really felt lost here.
Whatever Mulder and Scully were dealing with didn't make any sense to
him, and he already knew they had problems he would not have any hope
of solving in this Leap. He'd done what Ziggy said, kept Fox Mulder
alive and on Earth, but Sam couldn't believe that was the only thing
he was here to accomplish.

"Mulder," Sam pitched his voice low, partly because he was out of
breath, partly to not startle his partner. "You were talking in your
sleep last night." Sam almost ran into him, he stopped so fast. Sam
found himself fixed by a very alert stare. It took an effort to
remember that Mulder was still not seeing more than blurred shapes.

"I talked about Sam?" It wasn't really a question.

"Ye-e-e-s, about Sam. You talked about the lights, too. And about
being trapped. And . . .Mulder, you talked about being close."

The man swallowed and looked away. Sam sucked in a deep breath,
wondering why he'd started this, what he thought he could accomplish.
What was he going to say to Mulder that could possibly help?

"Mulder, I know sometimes you wish they'd taken you instead of her. I
know you've been hurt a lot because you couldn't find her," Sam was
rushing, blurting it on instinct and barely catching mistakes. He'd
couldn't help so much of the hurt, but maybe one thing . . . "and I
know Sam would have gone on her own to save you. She wouldn't have
wanted to lose you. And, Mulder, neither would I." Sam brought
himself up short, leave it, leave it, don't say too much, for god's
sake. And the odd thing was, every word was true. He didn't have to
speak for Scully, he could speak for himself.

Fox Mulder watched Sam as though he could really see him. He was
breathing hard, and Sam could see the muscles along his jaw working.
It took a few moments, a long time, but Mulder finally managed a grin.
"Then you'd better get me back to civilization or this rabbit food
will kill me. Eating this stuff, it's no wonder I was hearing
voices."

"That and the army's idea of drugs." Sam dropped into step, guiding
him past pitfalls and snags on the ground. "Considering what I had to
give you for those pulled muscles I'm surprised you think you're still
on Earth at all. You just let me know if you start hearing ET."
Mulder laughed, and Sam was glad to feel the muscles in his arm relax.

"If I could "phone home" I could phone for pizza! No more of those
MRE's you tried to force down my throat." Sam breathed a sigh of
relief. If Mulder hadn't wanted to believe he was sane, it would
never have worked. Deep down, he really didn't want to follow his
sister enough to disappear into an alien ship or, more to the point,
into a trance forever. When Sam showed him the door out, he took it.
It was good enough for Mulder, and it would have to be good enough for
Sam.

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

It was a full evening, suffused with blue light, when Sam's
directional skills had their greatest testimony.

"The cars! Mulder, there are our cars! We'll be home for dinner and
a shower."

"I've heard this before, somewhere." He sounded tired, but he was
smiling. "Good for you, Scully. I don't mind that you're an
excellent outdoorswoman. I make up for that by my unerring instinct
for D.C. parking spots . . ." Sam smiled. If Mulder could find
parking spots anywhere, as he'd claimed, he'd have long since been
recruited into private consultancy at quintuple his pay. ."but can
you use those skills to find us a cheeseburger and a bath?"

Sam unlocked the doors and settled behind the wheel, relishing the
feel of good seats in a way he'd never thought possible. Mulder
sighed with pleasure as he folded himself into the passenger seat.

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

A good dinner and a hot, hot shower had done a lot to improve Sam's
mood. A lot, but not everything. He sat cross-legged, painting
cortisone cream on the nasty mosquito bites on Scully had gotten.
She'd lied. She was allergic to something, and it was itching and
driving Sam up the wall.

Mulder was out like a light in his own room. Sam had shot him full of
muscle relaxants to take the edge off the bruises and strains from a
long hike, half-blind. His eyes were improving rapidly, but had still
cost him a few tumbles on their trek.

Now it was just wait for Al. Who showed up, like Marley's drunken
tailor's ghost, at midnight and dressed in a purple lame frock coat
with matching spats and a copper watch fob. Sam cringed at the
ensemble.

"Latest thing in Paris," growled Al around his cigar. "Haven't you
got any fashion sense?"

"Thankfully, no. Look, we're back. The missing kids are back. The
aliens didn't get Mulder. We've had a good dinner. And I haven't
Leaped, so what is going to happen next? Jack the Ripper? Mulder
gets bitten by a werewolf?"

"And turns into Jack Nicholson?" Al looked at him quizzically.

"Just tell me a couple things, Al, I have a right to know them. Why
didn't the EBE's take Mulder? Why didn't the bad guys get us? And
when do I finally get out of here and back to nice, sane, leaps?"

Al smiled and shook his head. "Ziggy says a Lieut. Ron Hayse was
reported AWOL the other night. He doesn't reappear for a year and a
half, and then in a coma. The waitress he would have knocked up goes
on to get a mathematics degree when she quits her job. He recovers
and runs a gas station in his home town. Does that answer question
one?" Sam nodded and painted cortisone onto another bite. "The kid
is out of the woods - for now." Al looked sourly at the handlink, hit
it a time or two and bit on his cigar in frustration. "He has more
run-ins with these people, these Men in Back," Thump on the handlink.
"Black. It seems they're the ones who reported his presence up there.
At some point in the future . . well, that's interesting." Sam looked
up.

"At some point he and Scully investigate the reappearance of Hayse,
when the guy shows signs of . . . Ziggy says the records only refer to
'singular behavior', whatever that means. Mulder starts remembering
whatever he saw down there and it has some kind of effect, from what
Ziggy can make out. She still can't get into the X-Files, but it
looks like you did it." Al smiled at Sam. He and Scully both
survive, we can't quite make out details, but the X-Files are still
operating in five years, with all present and accounted for. Beyond
that Ziggy says it gets too speculative."

"Huh. Everything about those two is speculative." Sam scowled at a
golf-ball sized bite on one arm. "And the Men in Black?"

Al looked at the handlink, puzzled. Looked up. "All Ziggy'll say is
that they don't exist. They exist but they don't exist."

Sam looked back. "Spooky." "Doo-doo-doo-doo . . . ."

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

One week later:

"Look, Agent Scully, *I* don't know why Sam hasn't Leaped yet! *I*
don't run this show! You want to file a complaint you can take it up
with God or whoever. You find out, you just let me know." Scully had
been there a week, reading issues of the American Medical Association
Journal that, as she put it, hadn't been written yet. She was bored
and nervous and letting Al know it in no uncertain terms.

Al Calavicci was ready to strangle her. *He* didn't know why Sam
hadn't jumped a week ago when they finally made it back to the hotel.
It would have been a logical time to do it.

Ziggy was still in a snit that she hadn't been able to absolutely her
identify the Men in Black or verify that Hayse, the army AWOL, was
taken, but it seemed likely that Hayse was the one who took a shot at
the Visitor, and paid for it. Every guess was that he'd been taken
instead of Fox Mulder.

If Sam hadn't been up there, been shot, if Mulder hadn't been trying
to draw off pursuit, Hayse would never have been down by the crash.
Sam had thrown up when he realized just how very close they'd come to
disaster.

Mulder had taken a lot of ribbing when he'd shown up at the FBI
wearing dark glasses to cover a black eye and to protect his scorched
retinas from light. They'd heal, but he'd have to wear the dark
glasses for a while yet. Scully thought he looked like a cartoon spy,
and "Spooky" jokes had been flying fast and furious. Skinner had
taken a look at Mulder, and at the medical reports and grinned evilly.

"Supposed to stay out of the sun for a while, eh, Agent Mulder. Good.
Then you should have plenty of time to take care of the paperwork
you'll need for the car, and the health insurance forms, and your
report, and the backlogged work you've been ducking." Mulder couldn't
have looked more dejected if he'd gotten a death sentence.

Sam had spent the week since recovering. The bullet wound was
uncomfortable, but superficial. The few autopsies he'd had to do were
easy, it was a pleasure to be able to use his medical skills again,
even in this capacity. A week of physical therapy and government
routine had seemed like a vacation to him, even with Scully dropping
in on Al's coattails every so often to rag on him (he was starting to
appreciate having just one minder).

He'd gone shopping again with Mulder this afternoon. Apparently
Ms. Martin liked the mysterious look, because he had a date set up
with "Sheryl" for later that night. Sam had occupied himself in the
back of the store, while Mulder told a series of utter lies to explain
the glasses, and cheerfully let himself be steered into dinner and a
concert. Sam had no trouble getting the junior clerk to ring up his
purchases while Mulder played fox to the manager's hound. His worst
problem was keeping a straight face as he corralled Scully's partner
and steered him back to work. While Mulder went to answer the
inevitable summons to Skinner's office over his paperwork, Sam quickly
pulled out his purchases, gift tags and a pen. He'd just finished his
work when a blue flash swept him up and he understood what it had
waited for.

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

Dana Scully staggered a moment before she caught her balance. She had
the strongest feeling that there was something important that she'd
forgotten. She looked around the office, trying to shake off the
feeling that the date on her calendar couldn't be right.

That was strange, there was a little cloth doll on her desk, black and
white, with a red nose and a pink bow on its head. She looked over at
Mulder's desk where a similar doll perched on top of a precarious heap
of folders. This one was taller than hers, dressed in pants and a
belt, and it had a really loopy looking grin on its face. it looked
familiar, somehow, and she wandered over to see the tag around it's
neck.

"To Fox Mulder, from a friend you haven't met yet. Some day we'll
have to trade war stories and fairy tales. Take care and watch out
for the bug-eyed monsters."

Scully shook her head. Mulder had some weird friends. She turned it
over to see who it was from and frowned as that strange flash of
familiarity hit her again. It was signed: "The other Sam."

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

Thank you all for coming on this little ride with me. This is only
the second piece of fiction (as opposed to doggerel or parody) I have
ever attempted, and the kind notes and encouragement were appreciated.
Sucker grew like slime mold! I'd originally thought I'd top out like
Vacation at about six parts, but didn't have a chance. Really big,
huge special thanks to rodent and Amperage for their help,
suggestions, rescues, encouragement, advice, information, and
outrageous stories. This would not have been half as good or half as
much fun to write without them. <Now remember, 'I believe in Goo!'>
(Oh, and my ftp karma is just as bad. Thanks to everyone who has
forwarded stories and full-court grovels to get you guys to keep
forwarding stories. Will write for stories.)

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