Blindsight by Wendiae

MSR. Casefile. Rating R

Prologue

*WARNING - this is not the beta'd version. I am doing my best to get rid of all those little mistakes that are so hard to see in your own writing. But there are still many present, if you find this a big problem then please don't read*

Feedback will be framed and worshipped at wendiae@yahoo.com.

 ~~~ 
  	

I glanced sideways for the hundredth time that evening. My driver was highlighted in profile, shadowed by the moon. My attention was not on the man next to me but the roll of the hills that raced passed the window. I was searching, looking for something familiar, something I would recognise. As yet there was nothing.

The peaks were becoming higher as the sky darkened and my search for the recognizable was hampered by the loss of light.

I had been here before. My mind may not have been able to acknowledge it but my body knew. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my palms slick with sweat. I grasped them in my lap and made a conscious effort not to nervously ring them together.

The car slowed and made an unexpected turn.

"The hospital?" I asked, surprised. I had been expecting the morgue.

"The body has not been removed yet. I thought it might help to see it in situ."

"In situ?" I mentally reviewed the few facts I had. "It was my understanding the woman had been found in the woods."

The horizon became obscured by trees and I momentarily gave up my visual search.

"By hikers, yes. They called mountain rescue and they transferred her to Blueridge General." He answered with hesitancy and I caught his tacit implication.

"She was still alive?" I couldn't help but raise my voice.

The man next to me didn't turn. I spoke towards the salt and pepper gray of his temple.

"She was," he confirmed.

I leant back in my seat contemplating calling him on it. The information was pertinent to the case and less than six hours after involving me in it he had withheld it from me. I sighed and decided to let it go. He had known the when he came to me that I would not refuse. I had known myself a second after his opening line.

My peripheral vision caught the muscles of his jaw working, for a moment he reminded me of Mulder and his sunflower seeds.

"I'm sorry," he said finally turning surprisingly green eyes on me. "You're right I should have been more thorough with my briefing."

I nodded as he looked back to the road. We had passed a sign indicating the hospital was approaching. I wondered if I had been here. I certainly couldn't recall but logic told me that if this was the place that Rachel Yves was taken then this was the place I was taken. Hiding my face from my companion I took several slow breaths, forcing myself remain calm. I would not show weakness.

"Tell me again," I said my voice somehow steady despite my apprehension.

"Rachel Yves disappeared six weeks ago," Agent William Granger started. "She was a tourist, originally from Maine, here visiting relatives."

"She went missing whilst out watching the stars with her fiancée," I took over the story, keen to prompt him to the parts I did not know.

Granger was a fast learner. He skipped ahead.

"The next bit is your area of expertise. Last night she was found with unconscious, hypothermic with a barely recordable blood pressure not fifty yards from where she disappeared."

A quote from medical school crossed my mind. You're not dead until you're warm and dead. I imagined Rachel Yves broken battered body clinging to the last vestige of life. Her soul already gone but the cold preserving a heart that beat slowly supplying neurons that no longer functioned.

"She was taken to Blueridge," he nodded forwards. "From what I understand, they tried to resuscitate her but despite their attempts she died this afternoon."

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard.

"About three hours ago."

I did a quick mental calculation.

"Then when you contacted me, she was still alive."

"Yes," he said quietly. "But the physicians had assured me that there was no chance of recovery."

I paused. That had been said of me, more than once in fact. My memories betrayed me again. The first time I couldn't recall the prognosis being made. I had no say in the outcome. I had wondered more than once since whether my life was saved by my medical science or saved despite it. The strength of belief, Mulder thought that is what swayed the conclusion. I had yet to yield that something so intangible could affect the fate of something so corporeal.

"Has there been any examination made of the body," I asked pushing aside my ruminations on an argument long past.

"A cursory external exam by the local coroner," he confirmed. "I asked them to wait for our arrival before proceeding with a formal autopsy."

I caught him sneaking a glance in my direction, seeking my approval I wondered.

"Good," I said, but not for his sake. An autopsy would give me time to focus. To process and gather my thoughts before I had to visit the crime scene.

Granger nodded, a flash of understanding in his brightly coloured eyes. It made me wonder if he had arranged events for this very reason.

"They stop running the cable cars at midnight," Granger said, matter of fact. "We can visit Skyland Mountain in the morning."

 ~~~
 

The woman before me lay naked. Her flesh had taken on the off white grey of a body whose heart was no longer beating. The skin was pulled tight over bone, overhead the harsh fluorescent lighting hid and forgave nothing.

The final indignity of the dead I mused. Of those who are inconvenient enough to die in a manner in which is neither foreseen nor understandable.

I resisted the urge to pull the shroud up and by reflex borne of experience looked past the person she had been.

After a brief discussion with the coroner and her treating team I had decided to at least begin my investigation here. Blueridge was an isolated community and the nearest morgue was an half an hour away. The facilities in the hospital's pathology suite were sufficient that I was satisfied that no evidence would be missed or compromised should the case reach court.

Granger had proposed he join me for the autopsy. I had agreed but made excuses to start immediately. There were certain parts of the examination I was keen to undertake alone. I glanced at the door and hoped that the he would be held up with interviewing the hospital staff for a while longer.

Satisfied that there were no sounds from the corridor I s closer stepped to the body. Rachel Yves had long blonde hair that now hung limp and dull against the metal of the steel trolley. It covered her neck and as I raised my gloved hand to move it I was surprised by my own hesitancy. Feeling foolish and nervous at the same time I pushed the strands aside and searched the base of her neck for a scar to match my own.

The skin was clean and stained with a faint residue of orange from the iodine antiseptic no doubt used to place the subclavian line that still protruded from her chest wall. There was no scar. I breathed half a sigh of relief and moved quickly to the other side, this time repeating the process with more confidence.

The skin was clean, relieved I pulled of my gloves and opened the xray folder. Most hospitals use computerised imaging systems, it was a testament to the remoteness of Blueridge that it still relied on old fashioned hard copies. I switched on the light box and one by one snapped a series of images against the fluorescent  glow.

I studied the chest x-ray's first. Not in the manner I had been taught, but by first focusing intently on the soft tissues of the neck. Satisfied that there was no abnormality I completed a less thorough survey of the rest of her thorax. An entotracheal tube sat just slightly to the right of the bronchial carina and I made a mental note to check whether it had been pulled back to its proper position. The subclavian line I had earlier noted was easily visualised. Otherwise Rachel Yves x-rays were unremarkable. Even just prior to her death, her heart and lungs had the normal appearance of a healthy twenty seven year old woman.

Next in line was the CT scan of her head and neck. The images had been compressed and each film contained sixteen slides. The resolution was compromised and I realised I would have to study the originals before I completed my report. Still I could see nothing out of the ordinary.

Engrossed in my scrutiny I didn't hear the door open and agent Granger enter.

"Find anything?" he said from behind my shoulder.

I startled and turned to face him. I was acutely aware that with my hair tied back the scar on my neck was visible. Rachel Yves, I reminded myself, had no such scar.

"I've not had time to reach any conclusions yet,"  I answered formally.

He nodded.

"The doctor couldn't tell me anything of use."

He said it almost as an accusation and I had to stop myself from jumping to the defence of my profession.

"What did you learn?" I asked instead.

I walked back to Rachel Yves body, feeling more at ease now I had confirmed the absence of an implant.

Granger settled back against the only wooden desk in the room, leaning against it and crossing his arms.

"Not much more than I knew already."

I leant over the woman replacing my gloves and starting my examination proper. Granger watched from his vantage point and I wasn't sure if he was studying me or the victim.

"I brought her medical notes. Like I said, this stuff will make more sense to you than me."

Still not very forthcoming Granger, I thought. But refrained from comment, focusing instead on some traces of dirt still clinging to Rachel's hair and nostrils.

I had skim read her medical file. Hypoxic brain injury was the working diagnosis. Rachel Yves had been found face down covered in leaves and dirt. The physicians treating her had assumed that her brain had been starved of oxygen so that all of what made her Rachel had died. Her brainstem had remained functioning long enough for her body to make it to the intensive care, but there it to had given up. Slowly she had stopped breathing and gradually her body had stopped responding to the drugs that kept her heart beating. The decision to stop treatment was made. It was medical sciences way of admitting defeat. The battle could not be won so the doctors and nurses merely stepped out of the fight. Sometimes it was kindest.

I used to believe that too. Before I met Mulder, and before I realised that there was so much more to the world I had once thought I understood.

"I'd like to hear your take on it all the same," I said to Granger.

"She was found in the mud, barely breathing. She was still wearing the same clothes from six weeks earlier, they were in good condition. The doctor confirmed that she appeared well nourished."

He paused glancing at me for confirmation. Though I had barely started the autopsy I nodded, the woman before me weighed as much as she had when she vanished, her muscles were still taught against her now greying skin.

"Wherever she was she was well cared for."

His words grated, and I answered snappishly.

"She was well nourished and uninjured, Agent Granger. It does not automatically follow that she was cared for."

He gave me another inquisitive look and I realised he was wondering about my own missing time.

"Will," he said finally, avoiding the subject. "If we are going to work together you may as well call me Will."

I nodded but offered no reciprocation.  Instead I reached for the dictaphone and pressed down the record button.

"Autopsy of Rachel Yves," I started. "Date 19th November 1998. Autopsy performed by Agent Dana Scully, also in attendance Agent William Granger."

I paused and looked at my brief notes.

  "Subject is a Caucasian female, age known to be twenty seven, height 164cm, weight 137lbs."

He had heard the catch in her voice. Five years together day after day and he could recognise the subtle inflictions in her tone no matter how hard she tried to hide them.

  *Mulder I'm going out of town for a few days, a pathology consult*

She had wanted to say something else. She probably would have had Diana not taken that moment to appear beside him. He had cradled his cell phone to his ear and waited. She hesitated and he knew he was right.

What is it you are keeping from me Scully?

There had been too many secrets recently. Their return from Antarctica and the months that had intervened had been unexpectedly difficult. Life rarely went to plan. The x-files were reopened but not by them. Whilst Scully had accepted their reassignment with obedience he had not. She was aware of his frequent forays back to the basement, she knew he was giving up his sleep to piece together boxes of burnt pages.

They didn't mention it. They talked rarely of extraterrestrials, ghosts, monsters or psychic abilities. Their near death experience in the snow and ice of the polar cap had been left unspoken for so long he sometimes wondered if she even shared the same memories.

He had waited, listening to her breathing at the other end of the phone.

  *Mulder..*

She had sounded hesitant, unsure of herself or maybe of him.

   *Fox*

Diana had said his name and placed a hand on his arm interrupting anything Scully might have said. He caught her quiet inhalation of breath and anticipated the change in her tone. She had overheard Diana's greeting.

She had signed off quickly, wishing him a good weekend in short, clipped words.

If the x-files and Antarctica were subjects unspoken then the topic of Agent Fowley was strictly forbidden. He wondered sometimes what Scully inferred about his relationship with Diana. She was part of his life now, that much was true. The only link to his files and for that reason he accepted her. He suspected Scully thought there was more to it and he had yet to correct her. 

He glanced down at his cellphone running his thumb over his speed dial. For a moment he considered calling her back and confronting her.

"Fox," Diana repeated.

Mulder slipped the phone back into his pocket and looked up to acknowledge his former partner.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt," she said smoothly.

He shrugged wondering what had enticed her up to his makeshift office.

"I have something I would like you to look at," Diana answered his unspoken question.

"The light not good enough in the basement?" he asked, wondering when she had become as paranoid as him.

Her fingers were still on his sleeve and she tightened them slightly as she spoke.

"No, can I come over later, say your place at eight?"

Somehow she made it sound like a date. He thought again of Scully and wondered anew what she had been about to say.

"Diana, I'm not sure that is a good idea," he hedged wishing she had not interrupted the call.

"Please Fox," she lowered her voice. "I found something."

 ~~~

 
I was standing next to him, arguing, something about needing me. I didn't believe his words. Then I was kissing him, or he was kissing me. I didn't know how we had gotten from shouting to this. His hands were in my hair, on my back. They felt cold.

Why weren't they warm? His hands should have been burning my skin, leaving scorch marks and searing a path into my memory.

His fingers inched lower and before I knew what was happening the world spun and my back was pressed against a wall of ice.

My arms felt heavy, I wrapped them around his neck, entwining my fingers in his hair. It felt stiff, frosty with not a trace of softness.

The cold of the wall seeped through my jacket making me shiver. He kept kissing me, devouring me like he was drowning and I was made of air. I focused on his touch, concentrated on the feel of my legs wrapped around his waist. But I was freezing.

Something was wrong. I pushed him and succeeded in placing a gap between us. His lips were blue, crystals of ice frosted his eyelids.

Mulder, I gasped his name but my voice was lost in a wisp of condensation .

Something was very wrong. I opened my mouth to speak but my lungs were frozen, the air and water in the alveoli turned to ice. Now I was drowning. My vision blurred and faded. My body was screaming but all I could feel was the snow.

I sat up gasping.

The room was dark and disorientated it took me a moment to realise I was in bed.

I forcibly slowed my breathing finding myself still shivering despite the multiple layers of bed clothes. The clock on the night stand blinked 5:55am.  

It was always cold in my dreams these days. Images were jumbled and the line between reality and make believe unclear but the cold remained.

Had I really kissed him? Or was my subconscious using fantasy to ease nightmare the way my traitorous memory protected me against fully knowing and understanding what had happened.

Maybe there is a reason for that Dana. I thought with more than a touch of irony. I pulled the covers up to my chest and looked towards the window. Somewhere behind the curtains and the veil of night was Skyland Nountain. My memories of this place were as scant as those of Antarctica, and perhaps for good cause. Yet here I was.

Time had all but healed this wound, but I was picking at the scar.

I thought of phoning Mulder, suddenly wanting nothing more than to hear his voice. My fingers made it to the keypad before I paused. Where would I wake him? Would he be alone?

I didn't want to think about the possible answers to that question.

Realising I would get no more sleep I swung my legs out of the bed and stood on shaky feet. The room was warm. I had turned the thermostat up before going to bed, hoping the warmth would ward off the nightmares. It hadn't worked and I realised my skin was slick with sweat from heat and fear.

Despite this I turned the shower up to as much as I could tolerate. The water was almost uncomfortably hot on my skin but I welcomed it.

I need you Scully. Dream Mulder's voice whispered in my ear.

What happened in Antarctica Mulder?  Why am I here alone?

I told myself this was personal, my own mini quest. To find answers as to what happened all those years ago. But maybe that was an excuse? Maybe I am just avoiding what is happening now.

I ducked my head under the spray, holding my breath for as long as I could and finally managing not to think.

An hour later agent William Granger was waiting for me in the car park. His back was turned and I took a moment to study him unawares. He was about Mulder's height but a few years older. His hair was a starting to grey at the temples giving him a distinguished look that a few years ago I would have found appealing.

Instead I regarded him with uncertainty, unsure of the his commitment to the case. True he had travelled across several states to ensure my involvement but conversation since had been scanty and details that I should have been told I had been forced to find out for myself.

I wondered again what he knew of my previous experiences on Skyland Mountain. The most complete case file had been lost, gone up in smoke with the rest of our work. I assumed he had the abridged version taken from the original Duane Barry investigation. And whilst I could quote paragraph and verse from the conclusions Mulder had penned to paper I was fairly sure the reports Granger had read mentioned nothing of ET.

Oblivious to me Granger took a sip of his coffee and I noticed a second cup sitting on the bonnet of the rental car. I wondered for a moment what he would say if I told him aliens had taken Rachel Yves. My lips curled at the thought. What was it Mulder had once said, the need to mess with their heads... At the time I had been uncomfortable with his performance, worried how it reflected on me. How ironic that I now contemplated the very same behaviour.

Granger turned and noticing me held out the coffee. I rearranged my features into an expressionless mask and accepted it.

"I thought we'd head up to the crime scene this morning, I have a meeting with local PD at lunch time," Granger said by way of greeting. "Oh and Rachel's fiancée is leaving town this evening."

"You want to talk to him?" I asked sipping the caffeine with gratitude.

"Yes, I've met him before. I thought it might be easier if he spoke to someone he already knew."

I nodded, somewhat surprised at the explanation Granger offered.  I had not pegged him for the sensitive type. Then again when I had asked him for information last night he had given me assumptions not facts, maybe he was more empathetic than I had given him credit for.

"You want to come with me?"

I shook my head, thinking of the slides of brain tissue I had yet to place under the microscope and the results of the toxicology that pended from the forensics lab.

"No, but there are a few questions I need you to ask."

I had not found much whilst examining Rachel Yves but I had found four small scars on her abdomen. They were hardly unusual and the size and place being typically for laparoscopic surgery. Adhesions within the abdominal cavity had offered their confirmation but I wanted to know for certain.

"Just write me a list, " Granger replied without asking me to elaborate.

He swung the car door open and slid behind the wheel without asking me whether I would like to drive.

I took up my usual position in the passenger seat, finishing the coffee as we pulled out of the car park. The motel was set in the backdrop of the mountain range. Skyland was a foot hill really, its peak sitting far below the others. Our destination was the cable car.

There were roads up the mountain but they were treacherous at the best of times and the winter chill had made them more so. Granger had told me that the forensics team managed to get a 4x4 up there but had advised him against trying the feat in a Taurus.

The cable car was easy to find, its location was signposted for tourists wishing to experience the views from the top. November made it quiet and we found the terminal deserted.

Granger pulled up opposite the entrance and paused before exiting the vehicle.

"Do you remember it?" he asked softly. Except for our initial conversation back in DC it was the first time he had mentioned my experience here.

I studied the building but it didn't spark any memories.

"No," I replied equally quietly.

Granger nodded.

We rode the cable car in silence. I barely noticed Granger as he leant against the window and stole suspicious glances in my direction. Instead my gaze swept the ground below. Evergreens created a carpet of green over the contours of the landscape. There was no sun and the scenery looked oppressive under the blanket of clouds. The mountain filled me with a sense of foreboding that I imagined having felt before but otherwise nothing I saw was familiar.

The climb to the top took less than twenty minutes but felt like much longer. By the time we reached the summit I had given up looking for something I might recognise and was instead thinking over the details of Rachel Yves return.

Hikers had found her body. It was pure chance that they had stumbled across her, this time of year the terrain was mostly deserted. She had been lying under the tree canopy partly covered with leaves. They had thought her dead. I pictured her limbs pale against the forest floor and understood how they made the mistake. There were no glossy crime scene photos to match my mental image, Rachel's rescuers had realised their error and called mountain rescue.

The cable car juddered and swayed as it pulled into the platform. For a moment I was thrown forwards. Granger reminded me of his presence by steadying me with a hand under my elbow.

"Thank you," I mumbled finding my feet but still feeling off balance.

The cold bit as we stepped out. The temperature up here was a few degrees below that of the valley.

"This way," Granger instructed even though he had no more idea than I where we were headed.

It took concentration to follow across the uneven forest floor. When I finally looked up I realised he had spotted the lights the forensics were using in lieu of sunlight.

"Mike," Granger called from ten paces ahead.

A man in a white plastic suit looked up and waved his recognition. Granger jogged the last few steps leaving me to struggle uphill after him.

"The rescue crew left a marker," the crime scene investigator was saying as I reached their side. "This is definitely where she was found."

Granger nodded then turned to introduce me.

"Mike Reilly, Agent Dana Scully, she's working this one with me."

Still a little out of breath from my climb I shook his hand.

"Good to meet you," Reilly offered. His expression was open and despite his familiarity with Granger I got the feeling he knew nothing of the real reason for my involvement.

"You too," I replied.

"Find anything yet?" Granger asked from beside me.

Reilly took a sweeping glance around before answering. The trees were thicker here, their branches met above our heads blocking out most of the meagre autumn light. The foliage that covered the floor cast shadows that would all but hidden Rachel from her rescuers. It was only the large studio style lights that let me see the features of my companions and the details of the wood around me.

"There is trace of what look like fibres on the forest floors. We've found hair on the branches above. Most likely they will all turn out to be the vics."

"What about how she got here?" I asked.

Reilly turned his gaze back to me.

"She ran," he said.

His statement surprised me, I hadn't expected him to have an answer.

"Where from?" Granger asked as I was wondering what from.

"Not sure yet," Reilly waved into the trees as he spoke. I followed his hand and found myself looking into the darkness. "My team are still following the trail."

"Mind if we take a look around?" Granger replied.

I looked back as Reilly spoke.

"Be my guest," he answered. "Will, I'll catch up with you as soon as I get any results."

Granger turned to me.

"Shall we?" he asked, this time offering his hand to help me up the bank.

I raised an eyebrow but accepted his offer.

"Why was she running?" I thought out loud but Granger had turned away and appeared not to hear.

This time I chose not to follow. I picked my own direction and took a few steps deeper into the woods.

That she had been running disturbed me. It suggested that she was cognizant of her circumstances. It suggested she was scared.

I hadn't realised how far I had wandered from the crime scene, until I looked back and I could no longer see the lights coming from the forensic tent.

Mulder had been out here.

I was suddenly sure of that. He had sat here under the stars, maybe looking up at them searching. For once he would have followed procedure, complied and aided the FBI with their road blocks and their witness interviews but at night he would have been out here. His gaze captivated by the sky, looking for a light that moved. A star that wasn't one and wondering if he would ever see me again.

Had he been looking in the wrong place all along?

I looked up. The trees were thinner here, I could see the sky, grey from the weak winter sun.

"Star gazing, Agent Scully?"

Will Granger's voice interrupted my thoughts. I turned sharply, aware that in his comment he had let slip he knew something of the original investigation.

He smiled, as I paused suddenly unsure of how to answer him.

"I shouldn't be here you know," I said finally. "I'm too close to this investigation."

Granger stepped forward into the clearing.

"Too close for you or too close for bureau procedure?"

There was an edge of genuine concern in his voice that surprised me.

"Did you have permission to contact me?"

He looked up towards the sky.

"Contact you, yes."

I caught his inference.

"But not enlist me in the investigation."

I looked up again and realised we stood side by side starring at the sky. It was a familiar pose, one I had adopted many times with Mulder. 

Granger shook his head looking back down towards me.

"Then why..." I trailed off. "You didn't believe me. When I told you I had no memory of this place."

He hesitated.

"No, I guess I didn't," He answered finally.

"And now?"

Again Granger didn't answer immediately. Instead he glanced around the clearing until his eyes settled upon a fallen tree. He crossed towards it and leant himself against the bark.

I followed him with my gaze, the height difference lessening as he sat. I crossed my arms, my posture telling him I expected an answer.

"Tell me what happened. What you do remember?" he asked another question instead.

Now it was my turn to hesitate. I remembered in fragments. So much and been taken from me, not just here from these woods but more recently too. I wasn't sure I could trust myself to recognise reality.

I closed my eyes momentarily, gathering my thoughts. When I opened them the sky seemed darker somehow. The trees closer and more oppressive. Granger was still watching me, his bright green eyes intense.

"I remember a window breaking," I started slowly still standing stiffly upright in the middle of the clearing.  "I remember hands around my throat, falling to the floor, shouting for help. My phone it fell out of reach and I didn't know if I could be heard."

I took a deep breath realising that I had spoken without pause.

Granger nodded encouragingly but said nothing.

"Then, then..nothing."

It was the same story I had told Mulder when he had asked. The same story I had told any law enforcement officer that had cause to interview me regarding my abduction.

"I.. I felt fear."

I surprised myself by continuing where I usually stopped.

"I remember feeling fear. I know I was trapped in a car, in the boot and I can sometimes feel the confinement but I don't remember the journey. Then lights, light everywhere."

I stopped and looked directly at him.

"I was gone for three months Agent Granger and what I know of it can be summed up in five sentences."

"I'm sorry," he said quietly and I finally got the feeling he believed me.

I looked down at my feet. I stood on a bed of leaves and they crunched as I shifted. If I leant down they would smell of autumn and the forest but I would not recognise the scent.

"I was hypnotised," I said to my shoes. "I wanted to remember."

"You still do." Granger said interrupting for the first time. "You're here aren't you?"

I looked up sharply, then nodded as I realised what he said was true.

"What about you, why are you here?"

It was a valid question. I had wondered intermittently since he had contacted me. Rachel had disappeared five years after I had, other than circumstantial evidence her case had no formal link to mine. Federal involvement wasn't strictly necessary.

"I told you I met the fiancée," Granger replied quietly. "I thought initially that he was involved."

I nodded. His assumptions made sense, statistically speaking most murders were committed by someone close to the victim. Skyland mountain in autumn was a deserted place, the perfect location to hide a body.

"What changed your mind?"

I shivered as I asked the question, for the first time feeling the late morning chill.

Granger shrugged and looked away.

"He was a broken man, he told me he had lost all in the world that mattered to him. And I made a promise I would give it back to him."

I was surprised, Granger was an interesting contradiction. Statistics and science had told him to suspect the partner but he had done just the opposite. Statistics should have also told him that it more than likely that Rachel Yves was already dead. His behaviour was almost Mulderesque.

"You must of known?" I asked suddenly intrigued. "You must have known she was likely dead."

He shook his head and avoided looking directly at me.

"You see, there was this case I had found. An FBI agent who went missing from the same place, in the same way and she returned, she came back alive."

For a moment his eyes caught mine and held them.

"Come on," he said finally, "Its freezing up here."

 ~~~
  	

I walked slowly to my motel room. After the brief but memorable conversation with Granger I had spent the afternoon processing slices from Rachel Yves brain and vital organs. It was a job that would usually be done by the histopathologists, and in fact in this case would be repeated by them once the samples reached the federal lab. But I wasn't sure they would be looking for the same details so with Mulder like paranoia I had opted to look at the slides myself.

I was disturbed by what I had found.

There were microscopic bore holes in three of the slides. Into the occipital cortex. I had nearly missed them at first, needing to magnify the tissue by several factors to see the tracks. I could not say what had caused them. There had been no medical need to perform a craniotomy and anyway the evidence would be much larger.

I had given up on wondering how or why they were caused and contemplated what damage they might have done.  The tracks were tiny but when I had reconstructed a three dimensional image I had realised that their placement was designed to maximise effect. Rachel Yves had been blinded.

I wondered how long she had lived on in darkness. Perhaps in sympathy I failed to turn on the lights as I entered my room. Choosing instead to cross to the table and deposit my files in darkness.

"When were you planning on telling me."

The voice came from across the room. Despite the fact that I recognised it immediately I still startled as I turned towards it owner.

"Mulder."

"Really Scully, it's a most unusual place for a vacation."

He sat shrouded in shadow. The window and the mountains were behind him. The clouds that had covered the landscape earlier had lifted and the small amount of light that illuminated his features came from the stars.

"What are you doing here?" I asked angrily, responding to his provocation.

"Following you," he replied, standing and pacing towards me.

I held my ground as he stood too close towering over me. I could feel his anger but I had never given an inch before and I would not start now. But somehow, alone together in a darkened motel room he emanated an air of danger I was unused to.

"I would have thought you had other plans for the weekend." I said caustically.

I looked up, his proximity forcing me to crane my neck back. I had referred to Diana and from his expression he realised.

"I would have expected more from you Scully," he avoided my inferred question.

"This isn't about you Mulder."

He raised his hand placing it roughly on my shoulder, his thumb sweeping over the scar at the base of my neck.  

"How could you come here?"

He was thinking about Ruskin Dam, remembering another time when he thought I was dead.

"I've been here twenty-four hours Mulder I haven't disappeared yet."

That wasn't fair, I realized, he was worried about me, it didn't take a genius to see his anger was rooted in concern.

"You shouldn't be here at all," he tried again his voice softening and his touch on my neck becoming more a caress.

"I know that, Mulder," I replied, suddenly feeling exhausted. "But wouldn't you be?"

He sighed and looked resigned.

"Yes," he answered honestly. "But you should have told me Scully."

I lowered my head and looked at the fabric of his sweater.

"I was going to."

I had genuinely considered it, I would have but at the moment I had been about to ask for his help I had heard Diana at his side. Bitterness, jealously maybe had interceded and I have left for Skyland alone.

"I know," my partner replied, quietly staring down at the top of my head. "I'm sorry you felt you couldn't."

He squeezed my shoulder softly and took a step back lowering himself to sit on the edge of the bed. Our positions were reversed and now I found myself looking down at him.

Our gaze held for a moment and in the dark I tried to read him. His expression was too carefully guarded.

"There are differences," he said finally, "A lot of differences between Rachel Yves and your case."

He statement presupposed a knowledge of the current case file. I didn't ask how he had obtained the information. This was Mulder, in the five years I had known him, confidentiality, policy or procedure had never once got in the way of his single-minded pursuit of the truth.

I nodded and took a seat on one of the wooden chairs opposite him.

"According to her fiancée Rachel simply walked into the night and disappeared. I was here when you were taken Scully, I saw things. Things that made me believe."

"Lights in the sky," I sighed as I said the words. Mulder had given me his account of what happened more than once that night. I was under no illusion as to what he thought had happened.

He nodded.

"I have yet to conclude how she disappeared. All I know is she wasn't just lost in the woods for six weeks," I choose my words carefully, not used to playing the believer to his sceptic.

"Stranger things have happened Scully."

"She had holes drilled in her head Mulder."

He looked taken aback, and for a moment I was pleased I had managed to surprise him.

"That wasn't in the police file," he replied slowly.  

"No," I said. "I was looking at the histopath slides this afternoon. She had at least three bore tracks into the occipital cortex. The holes in her cranium were tiny, too small to be seen with the naked eye, I missed them in my initial examination of the body."

"Vision?" he asked recovering quickly from the surprise  and repeating the same question I had been asking myself not long ago.

I nodded noticing that we still sat talking in the dark.

"I think she would have been blinded," I replied quietly.

"What about.. did you find any implants, anything else to suggest abduction?"

I shook my head.

"I didn't say that the bore holes confirmed abduction. They are small but there is no reason they couldn't have been created by human hands."

He smiled suddenly, and I realised he had also noticed the brief reversal of their usual roles. His grin was contagious.

For the first time since I had found him sitting in my motel room I was pleased he was here.

"Tell me what else you have found?"  he asked settling back for a more thorough briefing.

 ~~~


My cellphone trilled a few minutes after Mulder left my room for his own. For a moment I thought it would be my partner phoning to share some obscure thought that had just occurred to him.

Instead it was Granger.

"Will," I replied as he identified himself, surprising myself by using his first name.

"Just wanted to catch up," he said gruffly, and from the mumbled voice I got the impression he was driving.

"How was Michael Richards," I asked him about Rachel's fiancé.

"Devastated," Granger replied and I could tell that he had had a difficult afternoon. 

I sympathised with him and partly in an effort to distract him I told him of my findings. When I had finished he was quiet for a moment.

"What does that mean?" he asked eventually.

"I don't know yet," I replied honestly, thinking I should tell him about Mulder's arrival, but for some reason holding back.

"Get some sleep Agent Scully."

"You too," I answered deciding we would broach the subject of Mulder in the morning. I was about to hang up the phone when Granger's voice stopped me.

"Oh, the answer was no."

I paused for a moment unsure what he meant.

"The questions you had me ask, he said no."

"You're quite sure," I replied my skin suddenly like ice.

"He said he would have known if she had."

I nodded absently.

"Thank you Agent Granger. Have a safe trip back." I spoke automatically, my thoughts elsewhere.

He must have sensed the change in my countenance as I heard my name, a question in his voice as I hung up the phone. 

I sat staring numbly thinking on Granger's answer and the scars on Rachel's abdomen. If she had not undergone laparoscopic surgery then were did she get the scars. My blood ran cold.

I stopped thinking logically and stood in front of the small mirror. I shrugged my jacket off and unfastened my buttons. My shirt followed the jacket and I studied my reflection. I would have noticed, surely I would have known by know if I had scars to match.

My fingers roamed over my skin pressing harder than was comfortable searching but not finding anything. I tried to turn myself to look at the back of my head. I ran my fingers through my hair, I couldn't find any marks there either.

My nerves were not satisfied. Without thinking I pulled my shirt back on and not bothering  with the buttons headed for Mulder's room.

I knocked loudly. The night air was freezing and it bit into my skin raising goose bumps over my arms and chest.

"Scully.." Mulder answer surprised.

I pushed past him.

"What is it? What‘s happened?" he asked, anxious.

He shut the door and rapidly turned to face me. I let my arms drop to my sides, my blouse gapped revealing the soft satin of my bra below. His eyes widened.

"Scully," he said slowly misinterupting my intentions.

"She had scars Mulder," I replied quickly. "I just assumed they were genuine, from surgery. But she had no surgery, she had never even had an anaesthetic."

"What if...." I trailed off my voice catching in my throat.

What if I have them too, what if I just haven't realised, what if there was more done to me than I know about?

Mulder looked at me his expression changing as understanding dawned. His gaze softened and for a moment I thought maybe he could hear my thoughts.

I took a deep shaky breath as he paced two steps towards me. His hands only shook slightly as he hooked them over my shoulders and under the fabric of my shirt.

With my help he pushed it back and I shrugged it until the sleeves caught on my wrists.

"I've done this before Scully," he spoke quietly and I suspected it was to hide his nervousness.

I recalled with clarity the time he referred to. Our first case, I had barely known him, yet I had walked into his room and stripped to my underwear demanding he examine the marks on my back. He had taken me seriously and told no one of my momentary weakness, in doing so he had earned a portion of my trust.

This wasn't so different was it?

But his hands hadn't shaken that time. My dreams then weren't filled with snow, ice and his mouth over mine.

"Where?" he said seriously. I suspected Mulder knew my own search had been unsuccessful but to reassure me he intended to look.

"Lapropscopic surgery," I said quietly trying not to notice the fine tremor in my muscles. "She had scars by the umbilicus and throughout the left iliac fossa."

I waved my hand in the general direction. Mulder surprised me by dropping to his knees, his eye line now level with my bare midriff. I resisted the urge to take a step back, instead I focusing on slowing my heart, conscious of my pulse pounding in my ears.

He leant so close that I could feel his shallow puffs of breath on my skin. With shaky fingers and feather light touch he traced lines over my abdomen.

"No scars," he said softly and I realised I could feel as well as hear his words.

If it was possible he leant closer.

"Mulder," I breathed his name, my lips suddenly dry.

He didn't look up, didn't move. I let my eyes close, behind the lids seeing my dream, in my mind feeling him against me. His breath was a puff of air on my abdomen. It was cold and in an instant I remembered ice and snow and I gasped.

Mulder stood abruptly. My eyes snapped open as his hands closed around my biceps. He gripped tightly, then seemed to realise he was squeezing too hard. His hands relaxed as I watched him take a shaky breath.

"There's nothing there," he said finally.

"Thank you," I replied all at once feeling foolish and relieved.

Suddenly self-conscious I pulled my shirt back over my shoulders but found my fingers clumsy and I fumbled with the buttons.

Instead of stepping away Mulder caught my hands and stilled them. His fingers felt rough, calloused next to the smoothness of my skin. For a moment our hands hovered inanimate over the lowest fastening.

"I'm sorry for what they took from you," he all but whispered, his eyes avoiding mine.

"Then you know why I have to investigate this, if there is a chance I could find out what happened I have to take it."

He nodded, his thumb stroking over mine in slow circles.

"What was it like?" I asked the tenor of my voice falling to match his. "What was it like when I was gone?"

His hands stilled again and he hesitated long enough for me to believe he was not going to answer. Finally he raised his gaze.

"When?" he replied. "Last time or the first time?"

Last time, he referred to Antarctica. Another space in my memory I struggled to fill. I wondered if in five years I would find myself there looking for answers that did not want to be found.

"It was like my soul had died but somebody forgot to tell my body."

Lost in my thoughts it was a moment before I realised he had spoken again. By the time I focused his eyes were downcast.

"Mulder.." I started, not sure what I wanted to say.

He shook his head stopping me anyway. His fingers moved under mine, deftly closing the button then moving on to the next one.

"Scully, I don't think you are going to find your answers here."

I dropped my arms to my side and let him refasten my shirt.

"Then I'll find hers." I said softly, a promise to myself as much as a reply to him.

 ~~~
 

I slept poorly, woken again by my dreams. Morning brought with it pale rays of sunshine and a fine sheen of frost. My motel heating was still on high so it wasn't until I stepped out of the door that I noticed the later. I pulled my coat closed tighter and reassured myself with the knowledge that it was November and therefore unlikely to snow.

I had risen early, aware that I needed to explain Mulder's presence to Granger. My cellphone trilled as I walked the short distance between our motel rooms.

"Morning," Mulder's voice sounded distant in my ear.

"Mulder," I answered surprised. "Where are you?"

"Ascending to the stars," his response was muffled and I missed the first words.

"Near the top of the cable car," he added, clearer this time.

He had gone ahead without me. I bit my lip forcibly preventing an irritated retort. He must have inferred my anger from the silence as he made his excuses anyway.

"Look Scully, you've already been up to the crime scene, there's no need for you to come again. Go meet Ranger, or whatever his name is, I'll catch up with you at lunch time."

I considered arguing but had to concede he had a point, besides it would give me time to explain why he was here.

"Be careful Mulder, the techs left yesterday, there's no one up there."

"I'll be fine, at least this time I'm riding on the inside."

"What?"

"Nothing, I'll ring you when I'm down."

I slipped the phone back into my pocket and crossed the parking lot to Granger's door. I was about to raise my hand to knock when the other agent opened it. He too had his phone to his ear.

"Morning," I whispered my greeting so as to not interrupt.

Granger looked up, he didn't seem surprised to see me.

"Yes sir," he said finally.

The voice at the other end must have had more to say as he closed the door behind him and rested against it. His stance gave away a lack of interest in the conversation.

I waited patiently as Granger mumbled another couple of yes sir's and rolled his eyes.

"Absolutely, will do," he finished with and finally hung up the phone.

"Trouble?" I asked raising an eyebrow.

Granger turned to face me, his green eyes intense as he matched my gesture.

"It appears Washington is missing an agent, they thought I may have information as to his whereabouts."

My expression became serious as I comprehended his meaning.

"I told them I had not seen or heard from Agent Mulder," he added softly, seeing my discomfort.

"Thank you Will," I replied, meaning it.

I hadn't thought to ask him but in retrospect it should have been obvious, there was no way Kersh was going to give Mulder permission to investigate the death of a woman on Skyland mountain. I doubted my partner had even bothered to try.

"Where is he?" Granger asked.

I considered lying but decided I owed him honesty.

"At the crime scene."

Granger nodded as if this made sense.

"Agent Mulder was you partner back then?"

"He still is, our current assignments are temporary."

"You know he was removed from the initial investigation, your investigation, right?"

I hadn't, but the information came as no big surprise, the bureau would have deemed Mulder too close to be objective. I would have made the same judgement.

"The decision is understandable," I hedged.

"And that the man who abducted you was found dead minutes after Agent Mulder questioned him? "

As he spoke Granger watched me closely for a reaction. I kept my features carefully expressionless but his words hit home all the same. Mulder had not told me that there was ever any implication that he had been involved in Duanne Barry's death.  I paused before I spoke, thinking my response through.

"Agent Mulder believes himself in part responsible for what happened to me. That at the time this would have caused him to become distressed is also understandable. I do not believe that this emotion no matter how acutely felt would have caused him to take the life of another. Clearly the FBI do not believe this either as no charges were filed," I kept my voice low, my tone even.

"Agent Granger," I continued. "Mulder may not have been officially involved in my investigation but I can assure you he knows more about it than anyone else, certainly more than I do. If I were you I would not be casting aspersions against him but enlisting his help."

The man opposite me didn't answer straightaway, he shifted his weight, leaning his shoulder more firmly against the door and viewing me with an air of interest.

"Your dedication to your former partner is admirable," Granger replied finally, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Despite myself I bristled at the thought he was laughing at me.

"Relax Dana, I have no problem with him being here, it's my superiors who have taken issue. I would warn him if I were you."

"I'll take your advice under consideration," I said formally.

Granger smiled making me want to hit him.

"Come on, let's head down to the police department."

He started walking towards his car as he spoke. I followed, quickly falling in step beside him.

"Police department?"

"They've set up a room we can use and I want to review their files. I can see this case reaching a dead end and I don't want that to happen."

He hesitated as he reached the driver's door.

"Do you need me to drop you at the hospital?"

I thought of my slices of brain tissue all neatly packaged and labelled in the pathology lab. Rachel Yves' occipital cortex had given up all the information it could, now I needed to find an explanation. The police department seemed as good a place as any to start.

"No," I answered quietly, "I'll come with you."

 ~~~
 

Virginia state police had picked up the case first. A simple missing persons investigation which only became something more when the similarity to my abduction five years before was spotted and the FBI became involved.

I had to hand it to Granger the work during the first few crucial days had been thorough. At first it was thought most likely Rachel was lost in the woods, mountain rescue had hunted for her for a week before finally conceding she could not be found. Yet not content her investigating officers and torn her life apart searching for a more sinister explanation, and although they had not found it I admired that they had tried.

It was easy to see why they had failed. Rachel had lived in a comfortable Maine town house with her doting fiancé. She had an ivy league education and a good job. What should have been a pleasant weekend trip to the mountains ended everything. But there was nothing to suggest that she had any enemies and nothing that would explain why they would follow her to Skyland.

I looked at her smiling picture and sighed. The only explanation was that she was taken not for who she was but where she was. In that we shared a similarity and it made finding her captor that much harder.

"Find anything?"

Will Granger entered the room.

"Nothing new," I looked up from the files.

He handed me a slim folder.

"The transcript from my interview yesterday," he added by way of explanation.

I nodded and accepted the folder.

"Mike Reilly called, the preliminary reports on the fibres and hairs all came back, they all belonged to Rachel."

"That was expected," I replied.

Granger pulled up a chair and slide into it beside me.

"Reilly also sent over this," he pulled out a map and spread it over the table obscuring my files.

The chart depicted the route the forensic team thought Rachel had taken in her dash through the forest.

My eyes followed back and forwards over the path. Confused, I looked up from the map and back to Granger.

"That's not possible,"

Granger leant back in his chair as I leant forward in mine.

"She had been blinded, she couldn't have managed this."

"It would seem unlikely," the man next to me agreed without hesitation. I realised the same thought had already occurred to him.

"Could these tracks have been made by someone else?"

"I've asked Reilly and his team to go back and try and find out,"

 ~~~ 
  	

I checked my watch for what seemed like the hundredth time. It was past ten in the evening and as of yet my lunch date had not materialised.

Sighing I leant back against the headboard. The bed was covered in files, they sat open mocking me with the days meagre progress. I had left the overhead bulb off relying instead on the softer light of  the bedside lamp.

Next to me my cellphone was buried under the transcription of Granger's interview. My last attempt at contacting my partner had met with his voice mail. Ignoring the temptation to try again I picked up the transcript instead. The interview was harrowing to say the least. Just twenty four hours after being reunited with his fiancée Michael Richards had had to make the decision to turn off her life support. I reread the passage twice.

Do you know what that feels like? Richards had asked, even through the sterility of the words on paper I could hear his anguish.

Granger's response intrigued me, he had simply replied yes.

I raised my head long enough to look out the window. The mountains were barely visible under the blanket of night. In front of them was the parking lot, Mulder's car was still absent. I was about to return my attention to the pages in front of me when a silhouette caught my eye. There was a man shadowed by the dim light of the street lamp and he appeared to be looking directly towards my motel room.

My heart rate picked up. I looked away not wanting to him to think I had noticed him.

Was I just being overly paranoid?    

I fished under the paperwork and found my cellphone. Without turning I flicked the light off and plunged the room into black then in the cover of darkness I stood and looked out of window. The silhouette had not moved.

I crossed to the table, slipped my jacket on and holstered my gun. My palms felt warm, my breathing quickened. Through practice born of experience I quashed the feeling of anxiety.

I held the phone to my ear and moved my lips in fake conversation. There was no way out of the motel other than the front door and that was in direct eye line of my stalker. I wasn't sure if it would work but I thought I could belie my interest in him by feigning concentration on a phone call.

The night air bit through my suit jacket making me shiver as I stepped outside. I walked slowly towards Mulder's room, my route taking me closer to the shadow under the street light. I flicked my eyes up, he hadn't moved. Though I was nearer I could still not make out any details of his appearance.

I ducked behind a couple of the evergreens that surrounded the parking lot, my hand going to my back and finding my gun. I slipped the cellphone away and gripped the weapon with both hands.

Taking a deep breath I swung round.

"Freeze, FBI"

The shadow had disappeared. I ran over to where he had been standing. I turned quickly searching for a sign or a movement that would reveal where he had gone. There was nothing.

Frustrated I made my way back to my room. I was fumbling with my key when I felt a hand on my shoulder. My flight or fight instincts kicked in and I spun to face its owner, my fingers automatically searching behind my back for my weapon.

Mulder took a step back and raised his hands in fake surrender.

"Jesus Mulder, don't sneak up on me like that."

Annoyed I re-holstered the gun and turned back to the door.

"A little jumpy tonight Agent Scully?" he teased.

"Be careful what you say to a woman with a gun," I mumbled as I stepped into the motel room.

Mulder followed without invitation, he glanced around noticing the files spread over every inch of the bed.

"A little light reading by moonlight?" he asked, clearly not heading my warning.

For a moment I debated leaving the lights off, thinking I would be able to see more clearly should the figure return. Before I could make a decision Mulder snapped the bedside lamp on.

"Where were you at lunch time Mulder?" I asked, irritated.

"What were you doing out there?"

He shrugged off his coat and took up my former position resting against the headboard, one leg tucked up on the bed the other still on the floor. I turned to face him, standing in the centre of the room with my arms folded.

"It's a bit too cold for a night time stroll," he continued to press his point.

I sighed and moved some of the files, slowly perching on the opposite end of the bed before I answered.

"I thought I saw someone, a man watching my motel room. I went to confront him but he took off."

Upon hearing my words he shifted subtlety, his back becoming straighter, his eyes more alert. If I hadn't known him so well I wouldn't have noticed the change.

"Did you recognise this man?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"No, it was too dark to see."

He glanced out the window, the muscles in his jaw clenched tight.

"Mulder, what if I was not taken by aliens but by men, men with an agenda so secret that they seek to hide it by propagating a myth so preposterous and of such enormity it can never be proved or disproved."

I surprised myself by putting into words doubts that had long ago seeded in my mind.  

"Then my beliefs would ally with that propagation and I would be a party to what happened to you." he answered without looking back.

"I'm not disputing what you saw here Mulder, it's just after everything that we have seen since, everything that has happened, could it not be interpreted in a different way."  I spoke softly.

He still didn't face me. The soft glow of the lamp illuminated his profile. For a moment he was silent and I doubted that he would answer.

"I think we often believe what is easiest, what puts our mind at rest and lets us sleep at night," he replied finally.

His words grated, sparking anger along my nerves. I stood; my sudden movement making him turn to  look at me.

"How can you say that?" I replied. "Mulder your dedication to the pursuit of truth is one of the things I admire the most of you. Would you expect any less of me?"

"Scully.."

He started but I interrupted him.

"All I am asking is that you use that quality, that you open your mind to the possibility that I was taken by men, and that those same men took Rachel Yves. "

"I believe it was a man who took Rachel, one man alone."

I was taken aback by the statement. It was only then that it occurred to me he had not answered my question as to his whereabouts.  

"You found something?" I surmised.

"Blood, I found blood on the forest floor. I think it belongs to whoever she was running from."

I leant forward and shuffled through the files until I found the map. Mulder's eyes followed as I spread it to its full size on the bed.

"She wasn't running, she was blind, she couldn't have managed this."

I waved my hand over the terrain. Mulder followed my gesture, shifting position so that he mirrored my own.

"Maybe she could," he replied his voice surprisingly close to my ear.

"How?" I asked looking up.

"Blindsight," he answered his gaze intense.

I leant back and regarded my partner. Blindsight was an interesting idea. Images sent from the eyes were processed in the occipital cortex, but there was a theory that maintained that people with a primary injury to this part of the brain could still process these images through spatial awareness.

"It's possible right? The position of her injuries."

"Possible," I hedged.

Mulder smiled.

"Come on, Scully it's not that farfetched. There are many documented cases, it's a recognised phenomenon."

"But would it not make more sense that these tracks were simply made by someone else."

He shook his head.

"I met the forensics team up there, they found trace evidence that places Rachel along this path."

His statement explained his absence. I was still contemplating his revelation when he stood and retrieved his coat.

"Get some sleep, Scully," he said taking a couple of steps towards the door.

Maybe I was distracted by our location, I was off balance and ill at ease and I spoke without thought.

"Mulder, I don't sleep at night. I dream and it wakes me."

He didn't answer and for a moment I was relieved that he may not have heard.

"What do you dream of?" he said finally, turning and regarding me from the doorframe.

I looked down, suddenly interested in my hands, wringing them together in my lap. He took a step forwards and crouched in front of me. His fingers covered mine and the surprise made me look up. I considered dismissing him, but this was Mulder. I thought of frost and missing time and realised that if anyone could fill those gaps then it was him.   

"Snow, snow and ice and cold." I said finally.

He closed his eyes.

"Antarctica," the word came out more of a sigh and I realised he had expected me to say something different. Here on Skyland mountain with memories of my abduction all around it surprised him that I confessed to nightmares of somewhere else.

I nodded looking back at our hands. His fingers stroked absently over mine, I didn't think he consciously knew he was doing it. The touch was reassuring and exhilarating all at the same time.

"Mulder you once told me dreams were the answers to a question not yet known to ask. This time I know the question."

I willed him to understand. I may not ever fully know what happened to me out here but the more recent gaps could be filled. The jumble of images and sensations that assaulted my unconscious mind could be sorted. Categorized until they made sense, filed away or locked off in the appropriate corners of my brain. Until I could stop looking at him and wondering.

"What happened?" I asked simply hoping he could read the complexity of my request in my expression.

"What happened?" he repeated, looking uncomfortable, like he understood but wasn't sure where to start.

"I remember I was reassigned, then.. then very little until I woke up with you so very cold,"  I prompted him to go from the beginning.

"And your dreams?" he continued avoid the question.

"Are trying to fill the gaps."

An odd look of apprehension mixed with relief fleeted across his features. Something in his expression jolted my memory. For an instant I could almost feel his lips cold against mine.

Was that real Mulder?  Suddenly I had to know.

Without thinking I took my fingers from his and slid them behind his neck. The pose felt familiar even though the texture of his hair was not. My actions caused his head to jerk up in surprise. His gaze found mine and held it, his lips were parted, a question held back in his expression.

Stop me. I thought, say something, do something to stop me. Prove this never happened. Prove me wrong.

He stayed statue still as if he knew that moving would break the spell.

I closed the gap between us, abruptly pressing my lips to his. I must have caught him off guard as he swayed and had to put out his hand to the floor to stop us from toppling over. His mouth against mine felt different, his skin was warm, incredibly soft but with a scratch of stubble I didn't recall.

For the longest moment he didn't move. I was about to pull away embarrassed when his hand reached behind my head and he opened his mouth under mine. The world shifted on its hinges as he kissed me back.

He leaned into me, straightening himself out and rising from the floor without breaking contact. Much taller than I, his actions forced me to stumble back. The momentum propelled us until my head hit the mattress with an audible thud.

He hovered over me, his breathing, deep, too fast and mirroring my own. I tried to read the emotions that danced beneath the surface of his eyes but I saw uncertainty and I immediately wondered if I had made a mistake.

Suddenly self-conscious I motioned for him to let me up.  He didn't comply, instead his hands found mine and pinned them either side of my head. For a long moment he just looked at me a question in his eyes. Whatever he saw in mine it seemed was not the answer he sought.

Abruptly he sat up pulling me with him until we sat side by side, close but not quite touching. A normal equilibrium restored I thought as I forcibly slowed my breathing.

"I'm sorry," he said making me wonder whether he was apologizing for starting or for stopping. I glanced at him thinking I hadn't asked him to apologize for either.

"In my nightmares you kiss me," I told him quietly, an explanation offered for my behaviour.

My choice of words brought his gaze back to mine. He stared for a moment, his scrutiny making me uncomfortable. Finally his expression changed, he looked like something had clicked, like he had found the missing piece to a puzzle. Then he looked away.

"Scully, that's not really something a guy wants to hear," he spoke towards the window, his tone purposely flippant.

I made my lips curl at his attempt at humour but my heart was racing. I could feel him pulling away, putting the rules back into place, chastising himself for breaking them.

"It didn't happen," he added, barely audible and I knew he was right. We hadn't done this before. His touch was exhilarating, it took my breath away and stole my ability to think but it was unfamiliar.

"I know that now," I found myself matching his tone, unease stealing all the volume from my voice. I wrung my hands together, missing the calming stroke of his fingers over mine.

"That is what this is about right?" he said it softly, but it sounded like an accusation anyway.

I knew the answer was yes but I couldn't bring myself to admit it. I nodded slightly and remained silent.

"You know you have no obligation to me, not out of some one sided conversation that you don't remember."

He sat quietly letting me think through my response. His profile was highlighted by the dim light from the window and the dim glow of the bedside lamp. He managed to look familiar and like a complete stranger all at once. I looked at him, this beautiful tortured man who in five years had turned my world upside down. Who had made me see what was once black and white in every shade of the rainbow. My partner who willingly chased after monsters and who believed in the extremist of possibilities but when it came to me stepped with the utmost caution. 

Obligation was the wrong word.   

"Mulder, I.."

I managed only a few words before the room was flooded with light.

We both looked towards the window.  The mountain sat squarely in the frame and it was easy to see what had caused the sudden change in illumination.

Mulder stood and pulled back the curtains. I crossed to stand next to him staring out at the night sky. A beam of light shone from the summit of the hill, stretching from the trees to the stars.

"My god," I whispered.

"I have to go up there," he said, already heading for the door.

"I'm coming with you," I replied, irked by his immediate intention to go without me.

"Scully, I don't think.."

I placed my hand on his arm. I could feel the tension in his muscles,  sense his eagerness to race off into the unknown, or maybe just to race away from me.

"I'm coming with you," I repeated.

He studied me for a moment, my expression was resolute and he seemed to realise.

"Okay," he said grabbing his coat.

I did the same and followed him out the door. The night time temperature had dropped even further but I barely noticed, my attention was caught by the mountain. The  beam of light radiating from the top made it look like some bizarre interpretation of a volcano, the glow that disappeared into the stars a substitute for a fountain of lava.

We drove quickly to the cable car, the route now memorised it took less than ten minutes. Whilst Mulder watched the road I kept my eyes on the hilltop fearful that the phenomenon would disappear.

"What's causing it?" Mulder asked and I suspected his question was to break the uneasy silence.

"Weather conditions?" I suggested. "A sudden change in atmospheric pressure, lightening?"

"Lightening?" he said glancing sideways.

"There have been reproducible experiments that demonstrate lightening is an explanation for many supposed unidentified objects. Its well known that altitude creates more extreme weather phenomenon. "

"Yeah but I'm not buying that for as to why skyland is doing an impression of mount Vesuvius."

"So what's your take on it? You've already admitted you don't think there anything paranormal going on here."

"Who says this is directly related, this place has a long history of extraterrestrial sightings, that's why Duane Barry chose it, maybe that why Rachel's killer chose it."

I was about to tell him I found this unlikely when my cellphone trilled. I fumbled in my pocket until I found it.

"Scully."

"Have you seen it?" Will Granger's voice sounded in my ear.

"We're heading up to take a closer look."

"Where are you?"

The cable car came into view as he asked.

"At the terminal," I answered, his thought processes were easy to hear, he was contemplating asking us to wait.

"Let me know what you find," he replied, obviously thinking the better of his unspoken request. Granger clicked off the phone before I had a chance to respond.

"Granger?" Mulder asked as he pushed his door open letting a cold gust of air into the car.

I stepped out of the car before answering.

"He said to go on ahead," I replied in rough interpretation.

Mulder opened the trunk and retrieved a set of flashlights. As he handed me one I noticed that there was no illumination from the terminal building. The cars were not running. I turned to my partner, a question in my expression.

He shrugged apparently having caught my concern from a glance.

"How hard can it be, these things have a simple on off switch, right?"

"Mulder.." I started warningly but he had turned towards the darkened terminal and my voice was lost on a gust of wind.

I followed him through the door. The beams of our flashlights illuminated the room in small sections. My partner disappeared into control room.

"Mulder?" I tried again now shielded from the wind.

The cables creaked into life as I spoke.

"Easy," he answered his own question.

The cars started moving slowly. It occurred to me that getting into one was not without risk. With no attendant at the terminal if the cars stopped we would trapped suspended above the trees. I pressed my fingers against the outline of my phone feeling vaguely reassured by its presence.

Mulder seemed to have no such reservation, he strode past me and boarded the car. I made my decision quickly and crossed to join him.

A few seconds later the terminal disappeared from sight as we swung out over the trees. Mulder rested against the window, his eyes trained on the mountain top. I stood across from him without realising it putting a gap between us.

As we travelled I stared down , from this distance the evergreens were black outlines that created haphazard shadows across the contours of the landscape. Some moved in the wind and they made me think of insects scurrying across the forest floor.

We rode in silence forcing me to listen to the cables creak and groan overhead. I didn't admit it to Mulder but I was pleased when we reached the top and stepped off onto the platform.

The light that had looked so striking from the valley was eerie when viewed through the trees. I ignored the chill as we made our way towards it. I kept the flashlight pointed ahead, concentrating so as to not stumble over the uneven ground.

Mulder was faster than I, making it through the trees in larger strides. I quickly lost sight of him. The gusts of wind were stronger up here and I could hear as well as feel them as I rushed to keep up. The leaves that coated the forest floor hid a dip in the terrain and unaware  I tripped and fell, dropping my flashlight in the process. The beam swung as the torch hit the floor. It was only for an instant but in its illumination I thought I saw a figure. It stood ghost like between the trees.

I gasped drawing in the pungent smell of the wet leaves from just below my nose. Quickly I pushed myself to my knees and fumbled in the cold foliage for the flashlight. The wind caught my hair and blew it into my eyes as I found the light.

My hands connected with the torch and I picked it up pointing it at the location of the apparition. For the second time this evening there was nothing.

"Scully," my partner's voice carried on the wind, searching through the trees.

"Mulder," I answered whilst swinging the flashlight searching for the figure I had seen. "Over here."

I pushed my hair back, tangling the damp earth from fingers into the strands. My sight now unimpaired I made another survey of the forest. A movement in the corner of my vision caught my attention. My heart rate jumped then calmed as I realised it was Mulder. He approached quickly finding me still kneeling on in the bed of leaves.

"Are you okay?" he asked breathless and I realised he had raced back to find me.

"Fine," I replied quickly, taking his hand and pulling myself up.

"Floodlights," he said distracting me from brushing the earth off my suit. "It's the damn forensic floodlights."

"What?" I asked sharply.

"Someone has moved them all together and pointed them upwards," he sounded angry and I saw his point, it was a simple trick but whoever played had made us race up the mountain.

"Show me," I asked.

He nodded and grabbed my hand, this time keeping hold as we made our way over the uneven ground. Even with the creepy glow that shone from between the trees it was still dark. We came into a slight clearing and for a moment there was nothing but light. I blinked letting my eyes adjust to the sudden assault on my retinas. Once they had I realised Mulder was right.

He stood next to me, his stance matching mine, head titled back, gaze focused on the floodlights.  I stepped closer using the beam of my own light to search until I located the power supply. I fumbled in my pocket until I found a latex glove. Careful not to contaminate anything I flicked the switch into the off position. The lights immediately disappeared and for a moment we were plunged into darkness.

"That's a neat trick Scully," Mulder commented as our vision attuned to the new level of illumination.

"Let's get out of here," I said softly, thinking I had spent enough time chasing shadows and illusions for one evening. The forensics team would have to return to process the scene in the morning but they could achieve nothing in the moonlight with the wind gusting around them.

Mulder broached no objection. He remained quietly contemplative as he followed me back through the forest.

"You know Scully, I don't like this," he said finally.

I paused, pulling my coat closer and looking back at him. I wasn't sure I understood. The mountain put me on edge, made me see shadows and ghosts in its fissures, but I didn't think that is what he meant.

"Whoever did this, it bothers me that he knew this would get our attention," he continued walking as he spoke.

I took a few quick steps to catch up, this time careful to illuminate as much of the forest floor as I could. The light swung back and forth, creating a strange strobe effect that made me blink but stopped me from falling.

"It implies insight," he added from a few paces ahead.

"Or opportunity," I countered not willing to concede that the perpetrator of Rachel's death knew anything about us. "There was little else the forensic team left up here, besides we don't even know that this was done by the same man. It could just be a prank."

The cable car terminal came into view and I felt an irrational relief at the sight of the concrete building.

"It's the same person," he replied quietly.

The gusting of the wind and the creak of the cars prevented me from answering. Instead I followed him into the stark concrete building. We watched as the next car ascended the mountain and swung onto the platform. This time I stepped on first, perhaps more eager than Mulder to reach the valley. My partner followed and the doors swung shut granting us some reprieve from the wind.

I took up my previous position staring down at the terrain, this time Mulder came to stand next to me.

"I'm worried that our history here leaves us open to manipulation," he said softly. I mentally replaced the words our and us with your and you. I appreciated the sentiment but this was my assignment and I knew that the implication was that I was the one being manipulated.

I nodded willing to concede his theory at least deserved some consideration.

The cables groaned loudly overhead and the car swayed as the wind picked up.

"Do you remember this place Scully?"

His quiet question made me look back at him.

"No," I replied. "None of it."

He stared back out the window leaving me to look at his profile.

"The views are the same but they've changed the cable cars, made them automatic."

I remained silent not wanting to interrupt. A small part of me realised he had listened when I had sat opposite him earlier and asked for my memories back.

The car jerked forcing me to hold on.

"There were stars last time," he said softly. "It was warmer too, more trees and less clouds."

He turned to face me.

"I was too late and I'm sorry,"

I was about to tell him he wasn't responsible when the car lurched violently. I was thrown back and it was only Mulder's steadying grasp that kept me upright.

"Jesus," I mumbled finding my balance.

The car continued to sway, the cables creaked loudly above my head.  Mulder edged towards the window craning for a better view of the wires.

"Scully.."  he started, his tone urgent and worried.

Before I had a chance to find out what he had seen the car shifted again. I grasped the small ledge and sought out Mulder's gaze, my eyes wide, frightened. Even without looking I could see the view from the car clearly in my mind. The trees were at least eighty feet below, there was no way we would survive a fall from this height.

Mulder's eyes found mine just as the car jerked then dropped. I was thrown forwards as the floor disappeared from beneath my feet. For a heart stopping few seconds we swung towards one of the supporting pylons. The car and the metal tower collided violently. My head crashed into the window that had now become the floor as the whole structure ended up on its side.

Everything went black.

 ~~~
  	

I roused feeling nauseous. The car swung back and forward and splinters of glass fell from the now ceiling and showered my hair.

Next to me Mulder had already scrambled to his feet. The cables creaked again as I glanced up at him.  Struggling against the dizzying motion, he reached up to pry open the door.

"Mulder," I shouted, raising my voice over the groaning metal and the falling glass.

"We have to get out of here Scully," he replied urgently, panic evident in his voice.

I stood, feeling for broken bones but thankfully finding only bruises.  A little more orientated than before I remembered my phone and fumbled in my pocket to find it.

My fingers closed around it as the door shifted under Mulder's efforts and opened letting in a gust of cold air.

"Scully, help me here."

I hit 911 on the keypad but as I did the car shuddered forcefully and my phone was thrown from my hands.  I dropped to my knees and searched for the handset. The floor now had windows and I realised as I knelt that I could see the valley below. Despite the noise of the wind and metal I could hear my heart thumping in my ears.

"Scully," Mulder repeated louder this time.

I looked up sharply, he held one hand out to pull me up, the other hooked around the now open door. A streak of blood I hadn't noticed before covered his temple.

"My phone," I shouted back, my hand closing around the fractured handset.

"I have mine, but the wire is going to give, we have to get out of this thing,"

With his help I stood again.

"Where to Mulder?" I asked my voice shaky, "We're still seventy feet up."

As if to prove his point the car tilted and dropped again. This time he held on tight and I remained upright.

"Sixty eight," he said dryly then added "The tower."

I looked out the door and saw what he had been seeing, we had swung close enough to the support pylon that it could be reached from the car but the movement would make it difficult. From here I could also see the frayed ends of the wires, we held on by a thread and in an instant I understood his urgency.

I nodded, my expression serious.

"You first," he gave my hand an encouraging squeeze.

With the car on its side the door was at my waist height, Mulder helped me as I pulled myself up. The full force of the wind assaulted me as I leant further out of the car. My eyes watered obscuring my vision. The tower seemed to swing back and forth just out of my grasp. Up close I realised it was an intricate structure of metal triangles and squares, ten feet to my right was a ladder that I assumed ascended from the forest floor to the wires overhead.

I willed myself not to look down and focused on the motion of the car, preparing to time my grasp on the pylon.

On the next pass I grabbed the tower, its metal struts were cold but it fit well in my hand and I got a good hold. As the car swung away I took a deep breath and transferred my weight over to the pylon. I almost expected to find myself falling and for a moment I was surprised to realise I had made it. I shifted finding a firmer footing then edged a few feet towards the ladder.

The wind blew my hair into my eyes as I tried to look back for my partner.

"Mulder," I shouted but my voice didn't carry.

Above me the wires groaned, there was a loud snapping sound and a piece of metal fell past my shoulder. I instinctually turned and tried to cover my head.

When I looked back the cable car was no longer behind me.

"Mulder," My heart paused as  I screamed his name.

For the longest moment there was no answer.

"Scully," his voice came from a few feet below. "Get over to the ladder."

I inched closer to the rungs but only to get a better view of what was happening below me. I looked down and realised that the car had dropped another ten feet. The struts of the tower I had grasped easily were now just above my partner's reach. 

I watched, my heart pounding in my chest as he climbed the out onto the side of the car. He pulled himself up so that he stood on the door that was now on its side.

I forced myself not to repeat his name in case I distracted him.

The car swung back and forth its motion more violent than before. Mulder reached out towards the tower but a gust a wind pushed the car of course and his fingers fell short. I gasped as he missed and stumbled.

He steadied himself and prepared to try again, this time the wind pushed the car closer and he gripped the metal strut I now stood on. As the car swayed away he was forced to make the same leap of faith I had and cling on to the tower.

There was little grace in his movements as clambered onto the metal structure.

He finally climbed up next to me. I offered a small smile as his eyes found mine. Relief must have been obvious in my expression as he smiled back.

A loud noise from above was a stark reminder that we weren't safe yet.  Carefully I edged along the strut until my feet reached the service ladder. Mulder followed me with more confidence. Once my shoes connected with the rungs I moved with more assurance. We had made it half way to the ground when there was a noise louder than thunder. I looked up and saw the car in tangle of metal plummet to the forest floor.

It slammed into the ground sending metal and glass flying in all directions.

"Shit," Mulder commented from a few feet above me.

Suddenly even more eager to get down to the ground I quickly descended the last twenty feet. I had to step over shattered glass before I felt the solidity of the forest floor beneath my feet.

I wobbled a bit as I stepped sideways and looked at the wreckage, it dawned on me how easily we could have died here. Mulder reached the bottom of the ladder and made the same visual survey I had made.

"Shit," he repeated and I had a sudden compulsion to laugh.

I made a sound somewhere between a giggle and a cough and drew my partner's attention. He paced to stand next to me.

"You're shaking," he said quietly.

"Just the adrenaline wearing off," I replied suddenly self conscious.

He raised his own hand holding it between us, there was a fine tremor in his fingers.

"That was close," he mumbled, watching his hand. 

"You mentioned a phone," I prompted.

He patted down his pockets until he retrieved his cellphone. I listened quietly as he called mountain rescue and recounted events and our location.

The tower was surrounded by less foliage than the top of the mountain. Grass covered the ground instead of leaves, the terrain sloped steeply and  looking closer I could see where the ground had been dug away to allow for the pylon. The wreckage of the cable car had rolled down the bank.

I walked up the hill until I found a cluster of trees surrounding a spot where the ground evened out. I shook the glass splinters out of my hair and took stock of my bruises. The side of my head throbbed where it had connected with the floor. I tentatively reached up and touched the spot, I felt a lump, but the skin was not broken.

Mulder followed me up the hill.

"They're on the way up and the police are securing the terminal."

He lowered himself stiffly to the ground until he sat leaning against the tree. Without the flashlights it was nearly pitch black, I tried to scrutinise him for injury but it was too dark to see.

"Mulder give me your phone,"

He complied but I sensed a question in his expression. I flipped open the keypad and used the dim blue light to illuminate the laceration over his temple.

"It's nothing," he said leaning away as he realised what I had intended.

I placed my fingers on his jawline gently turning his head back.

"Just let me look."

Pushing his hair back I studied the wound, the bleeding had all but stopped. It was hard to tell with just the glow of the cellular phone but I didn't think it was deep.

"Anywhere else?"

"Sit down Scully," he said taking the phone back and tucking it into his pocket.

I considered arguing but he had moved faster than I and didn't appear to be bleeding to death. Conceding I could do no more in the dark I lowered myself next to him. From our vantage point we could see the entirety of the wreckage.

"This wasn't an accident," Mulder said quietly watching me survey the devastation.

I nodded. I had heard his request for the local police. Earlier I had wondered why someone would want to lure us up the mountain, now I guess I had my answer.  I shivered at the thought that we had been deliberately targeted.

"Cold?" Mulder asked softly, still watching me.

I started to turn my head towards him but my muscles protested and I realised  I must have suffered a degree of whiplash.

"A little," I admitted finding that I it wasn't only my thoughts making me shiver.

My head pounded and I shut my eyes.

"Come here," Mulder whispered his voice much closer to my ear than it had been. I snapped my eyes open and found I had drifted off for a moment. 

"I'm fine," I mumbled.

"Yeah, I know, but humour me or I'll start singing."

He tugged me towards him until my head came to rest on his chest, his arm around my back.

"I think you bumped your head harder than I did," he commented, his voice sounding far away.

I shut my eyes and the world disappeared.

 ~~~

I ran the water until it was as hot as my skin could tolerate. Unfortunately the small hotel room didn't have a bath. I longed for a long soak in my own porcelain tub but unsteady on my feet,  I would have to make do with a short shower. I stripped off, careful not to spread fragments of glass over the tiled floor and stepped under the spray.

Mountain rescue had been fast. We were lucky in that we were still close to the summit of the hill, they had been able to use the back roads and a 4x4 to get close to our position. Despite my intentions to the contrary I had rested against my partner and dozed. The effects of the head injury were more profound than I had realised.   

I roused to climb a further two hundred yards to reach the rescue all terrain vehicle. Our rescuer's had taken in the devastation caused by the cable car commented more than once how lucky we had been to survive such an accident. Mulder had waited until we reached the valley to explain grimly that he thought it was no accident.

Predictably my partner had been reluctant to accept any form of medical treatment. I surprised myself by parroting his demands, wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed. But bed had not been forthcoming, instead I had found myself back at the cable car terminal giving a statement in the back of a police SUV, my head still throbbing and Mulder stealing worried glances.

It was now well after three in the morning and the opportunity to rest continued to elude me. Still the shower was one step closer. I washed my hair mindful of the swelling on my temple. I felt battered and bruised all over and I suspected in the morning I would find more muscles that protested to having been thrown about in the cable car.

Finally feeling warm again I dressed in an oversized t-shirt and jeans. Uncharacteristically I left my suit in a dusty heap on the bathroom floor. I crossed to my case and fumbled until I found my first aid kit.

Mulder had also showered and I found him dressed in sweats and an old t-shirt, resting against the head board of his double bed.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as I let myself into his room.

"Fine," I replied automatically.

He watched me cross the room, my movements stiff and slow. He raised an eyebrow and I suppressed the desire to laugh at him.

"A little sore," I admitted.

I placed the first aid kit on the bedside table and looked again at his laceration. My initial assessment seemed accurate, it would need something to hold it together but it wasn't that deep. I manipulated the wound with my fingers, ensuring the absence of glass or metal.

Mulder stayed still under my hands, tolerating if not appreciating my attention.

"Will I live?" he asked as I turned to retrieve some steristrips from my kit.

"Only if you do what I say," I replied as he watched me warily.  "Did you clean this in the shower?"

"Yes doc."

I pulled the edges of the laceration together and gently placed the steristrips over them. I doubted he would keep them in place for very long but at least for tonight they would stay. I quickly ran my hands over the rest of his scalp checking for other injuries. I held a finger in front of his nose and asked him to track it then traced the bony prominences at the back of his neck.

Satisfied  I started to move away but Mulder caught my hand and stopped me. I glanced back at him, a question in my expression.

He reached up into my hairline and brushed back the strands that covered my own head injury. His feather light touch felt strangely intimate and for a instant I could vividly remember his lips over mine.

"Will I live?" I whispered.

"I wish you had got this checked out," he replied.

"I'm fine Mulder, just tired."

"Stay here tonight," he said softly, his eyes imploring.

My pulse raced as I considered the implications of his request.

"Otherwise I'll come wake you every hour anyway."

"I don't think that's strictly necessary," I replied, worried he really meant it.

"No but I can be very determined Scully."

"I know that," I said, my eyes straying from him to the bed.

"Then stay," he said again.

Against my better judgement I nodded.

Before I could change my mind, he stood and pulled back the comforter. Without looking at him I slipped my shoes off and climbed under the covers. Still dressed in my jeans and tshirt, I scooted across the bed and curled on my side. Behind me Mulder turned off the bedside light plunging the room into darkness. My breathing sped up as I felt the mattress dip. Closing my eyes, I unsuccessfully tried to will the tension out of my muscles.

His fingers on the back of my neck surprised me. I drew in a breath but otherwise said nothing. He traced the outlines of the bones, starting at the top and slowly working his way to the bottom. I realised he was imitating my earlier examination of his neck. His touch was soothing and I found myself relaxing.

Finished with the bones he moved to the side drawing the outline of trapezius, sternoclediomastiod and deltoid with his fingertips.

"Okay?" he whispered, his voice close to my ear.

I tilted my head in consent and allowed him better access. He pressed harder smoothing out the aches in my muscles. The warmth that started under his fingers travelled down my spine, just a normal reaction to tactile simulation so close to the nerve roots I rationalised.

"Mulder," I said softly. "I'm sorry about earlier."

I surprised myself by referring to the conversation that had preceded our ill-fated trip up the mountain. It seemed that in the dark without looking at him some things were easier say.

His movements faltered briefly then resumed.

"Me too,"

"I should have just asked you," I admitted, perspective giving me some understanding of his reaction. "I went about things the wrong way."

"What's the right way?" he asked his voice low and quiet.

He shifted propping himself on one elbow and I realised I could feel his breathing warm on the back of my neck. I found myself shivering and this time I wasn't so sure it was purely a physiological reaction to his hands so close to my spinal cord. I wondered how far he would have to dip his head before I would feel his lips against my skin.

His fingers roamed from the back of my neck to my collar bone, the careful movements becoming more explorative.

"This way?" he asked, barely audible.

My breathing quickened as it began to register that his touch had long ago become less medical examination more seduction.

"Lean back Scully," he said directly into my ear.

His request bypassed the higher centres of my brain and went directly to the motor cortex. Without thinking I found myself shifting as he slid one arm under my neck and used the other to pull me to him.

I rested my head on his bicep feeling the muscle tense beneath my temple. My back was now against his chest. The fingertips on my collar bone became a hand over my hip.

Time stretched out as I listened to his breathing.

"I've never held you like this," he mumbled finally, sounding drowsy. 

"No," I replied softly, closing my eyes, waiting for sleep to take me.

 ~~~ 
 
Blueridge library was an imposing building that looked like it had been built many years before the town became a tourist attraction. It was in a part of the centre that had little parking and we had to complete the journey on foot.

My limbs protested as we climbed the steep steps towards the main entrance. I glanced over to my partner, his movements looked comfortable, giving away little of last night's trauma. I felt him slow to allow me to keep up.  The only part of me that didn't ache was my neck, my face flushed as I wondered if I could convince him to perform the same miracle on the rest of my muscle groups.

At least I had slept well.

I had awoken late, the dim rays of the winter sun streaking through the curtains. The bed was empty and at first I had panicked sitting up faster than I should have.

Mulder sat at the small table opposite biting back a smile. I realised that disorientated with my hair curled in every direction and tangled in the sheets I must have presented an amusing image.

Returning to my own room I had found a note under my door from Granger. Apparently I had missed him when he stopped on route to the office.  I had yet to call him back instead finding myself now dressed in my normal business attire following Mulder.

He had evidently had a more productive morning than I, he had rooted through the files as I slept. I had found several pages of his handwriting chaotic with facts and speculation. The last line was a question underlined; what was he hiding?

Apparently Mulder thought the answer could be found in county records.

We negotiated our way through the foyer, ending up at an imposing looking reception desk. I listened quietly as Mulder made our introductions and explained his requests to the grey hair lady behind the counter. As she answer her eyes flicked briefly his temple, the skin around the wound had turned an interesting shade of purple. Self consciously I tipped my head letting my hair cover my own bruise.

Ten minutes later we were on our own in a large bright room lined with files.

"Where do you want to start?" I asked, looking up at my partner.

"Most recent missing persons," he suggested.

I nodded and went about locating the relevant shelf.

A couple of hours later and it felt like we had every file in the room spread over the small table.  My head was starting to throb again as I tried to focus on the page in front of me.  I glanced at my partner, he was engrossed in something, his chair tilted back dangerously far.

Mulder noticed me looking and swung back to the floor.

"Ready for a break?" he asked.

"Mmm," I answered, noncommittal.  "Mulder, some of these records are from the fifties, how much further back to you want to go?"

He looked down his notes and I realised he had written a list of names much shorter than mine.

"Until we stop finding disappearances that fit the profile," he said quietly, his words almost an admission.

Thinking back to the pages of scrawl he had created this morning,  I realised what he had been working on . I put down my file and turned my full attention to him.

"Go on," I said slowly.

"I told you I believe Rachel Yves was taken by one man, the mountains, this location it means something to him. We were targeted because there is a secret here he needs to protect."

"That he has killed before," I answered, already knowing that we were here looking for more victims.

He nodded.

"He's controlled, I find no evidence of rage and there is no sexual motivation for his crimes.  Rachel's brain injuries were terrible but very specific, there were no defence wounds, she was well nourished. It would take practice to pull that off. "

I looked down at my list of missing persons, there were at least seventy names from the last half century.

"They will all be women, not because of any deep seated issue but purely from a practical point of view, he wants someone physically weaker. He doesn't see himself as intentionally cruel but he doesn't care about his victims. Rachel was left face down in the earth, her identity was unimportant."

I leaned over and took the list he had penned. There were six names from the last thirty years. They were all women of varying ages. I mentally scrolled back through my own reading trying to make the connection.

"There were all found alive," I realised out loud.

Mulder nodded.

"Yeah, but all died shortly after being found."

He handed me a selection of manila folders, each relating to the names on the paper.

"Most of this is incomplete," he commented.

I opened the first file. Sharon Foster, aged forty seven had disappeared in 1979, she was gone for ten days before she was found nearly dead. I flicked to the back of the folder, searching for anything from her medical records. There was nothing, instead I found a brief statement from one of the detectives involved in the case, an attempt at interviewing Sharon had been unsuccessful due to the fact that she never regained consciousness.

"Scully, if you wanted to hide the fact that someone had been drugged, how would you do it?"

"It's actually very difficult to do, most sedatives are detectable for weeks after they are administered, even longer if the recipient has received multiple doses."

As I spoke I caught on to his line of thinking.

"You think these women were returned alive to hide the fact that they had been abducted in the first place."

He nodded.

"No-one is going to question the presence of drugs, or puncture wounds in a woman who's been critically ill in hospital for forty eight hours. Add to that a low index of suspicion and you get a killer who has gone unnoticed for years."

"My god," I mumbled as I thought through the implications of everything he had just said.

He leant back in his chair, watching my reaction.

"Mulder, if this is true, then whoever is responsible would need some pretty detailed medical knowledge, more than that, a practical understanding of anaesthesiology."

"We're looking for a doctor?" he asked surprised.

I nodded and for a moment we were both silent. I skim read the rest of the Mulder's files. He had been correct when he had pointed out that they were far from complete. The last file but first case dated from 1974 and contained only three pages of information.

"Mulder, this is all very well but there is no proof and some of these cases are years old."

I looked at my watch, it was just after two, the late start meant that we had already lost a good proportion of the day.

"I want to have a look at these women's hospital records."

"I'll drop you off," he agreed. "I'll head by the station and go through their files.

I shot him a quizzical glance, wondering if he had forgotten he was not supposed to be here.

"I'll use my charm," he said hearing my unspoken question.

"Just don't get arrested," I replied, cynically.

 ~~~
	

Mulder hadn't found it difficult to gain access to the police investigation. His credentials and some creative explaining had got him in. He had only spent half an hour reviewing the original files before he was interrupted.

"Agent Mulder,"

A tall man with greying hair and bright green eyes approached him.  Mulder looked up, something in the visitors expression told him he wasn't part of the local police department.

"Yes," he answered warily.

"Will Granger," the stranger replied offering his hand.

Realising he should have guessed Mulder shook it.  Granger's eyes strayed to the dark bruise on his temple.

"How's Agent Scully?" he asked pointedly.

"Fine," Mulder replied.

"I missed her at the motel this morning," he continued.

Mulder suspected Granger was fully aware where Scully had been but he wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of verifying it.

"Did the forensic team confirm the cable car was sabotaged?" Mulder asked instead.

"Yes," Granger replied looking momentarily surprised. "The wires had been weakened, it's amazing that they didn't give when you first went up the mountain."

"That makes me feel so much better."

"They've combed the terminals and the floodlights, as yet they've found nothing."

"They won't," Mulder said confidently, "He's not left any evidence for thirty years, I don't think he'll staat now."

"What do you mean Agent Mulder?" Granger asked, leaning back and narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

Mulder leant forward and dug out the copied files. He tossed them in the other mans direction.

"What is this?" Granger asked pulling up a chair and looking at the folders.

"Rachel was number seven."

"Can you prove this?"

"Scully's at the hospital pulling the medical records now."

"Who've you told about this Agent Mulder?" Granger asked, making Mulder wish he would drop the title.

"No one, not yet."

"Keep it that way would you? I don't want the press getting hold of this,"

Mulder considered arguing that the local police would need to be briefed, but Scully had been right to remind him he wasn't officially here.

He shrugged.

"This is your case,"

Granger stood picking up Mulder's files.

"May I copy these?" he asked with forced politeness.

"Be my guest."

 ~~~


It was dark by the time Mulder picked me up. My hospital search had been only partly successful, the patient records from the seventies and early eighties had been destroyed. What I had discovered was that all six women were found in a comatose state and admitted to the intensive care unit. It was there a few days later that they had all died.  I knew that three of these women had never regained consciousness and I suspected that would be the same of the other three.

While the there were obvious similarities, I had not been able to prove a connection. It wasn't that surprising, even with modern imaging techniques I had nearly missed the occipital bore holes.

Undeterred I had taken a cab across town to the morgue and pulled the autopsy reports. All six women had undergone the coroner's scrutiny and in all instances their deaths had been determined natural, tragic accidents, locals who had wandered into the wilderness and died of exposure.

I had phoned Granger late afternoon. I'd been surprised to learn that he already knew of our missing persons. I figured he'd run into Mulder, I couldn't imagine how that conversation had gone but at least it had ended with Mulder sharing. Granger had sounded skeptical.

Mulder was quiet as we drove back to the motel. I could almost feel him thinking, working through the facts and reinterpreting them through the eyes of a killer. He worried me when he profiled, sometimes his immersion in the murderers' world was too complete.

I stole nervous glances at him but found that my thoughts were quickly distracted. The closer we got to our destination the less I could focus on the case and the more I focused on the previous evening. He had yet to mention it and whilst we may have fallen asleep our breathing peacefully in tune it had dawned on me we had resolved nothing. We had declared nothing.

We arrived back at the motel a little after seven and there was a package waiting for me at reception. I opened it to find It contained the full breakdown of Rachel Yves toxicology report.

"Are you hungry Scully?" Mulder asked as we walked back towards our rooms.

"A little," I answered thinking of the meagre sandwich I had picked up in the hospital.

We reached my door, I fumbled with my key, struggling to open it and hold onto the files. Mulder took the folders allowing me to managed the lock.

He deposited the papers on the table as I flicked the light on. I slipped my coat off at the same time realising that Mulder had headed back to the door.

"Mulder?"

"I won't be long, I'll bring back dinner."

Before I could question him he had disappeared back into the dark. I stared at the doorframe wondering if he was avoiding me. Sighing, I pushed the thought aside and settled at the table to review the toxicology results.

The report, I quickly realised, was detailed. Rachel had a large number of drugs in her blood stream, morphine, propofol, rocuronium, traces of suxamethonium, augmentin, metronidazole. Yet there was nothing that could not be explained by her hospital treatment. Slowly I went through the details, comparing the reference ranges to see if I could prove any of these medications had been present prior to her admission. It was of no use, the confidence intervals were too large, there was no way to know for certain when the drugs had been administered.

Next I pulled out her medical notes and went through the prescription charts. All of the drugs were accounted for except one, suxamethonium. I scanned the emergency room pages again knowing that this was the most likely place for it to have been administered. There was no record but the emergency room was a chaotic place where in the fight to save a life came first and documentation was not always perfect.

Frustrated I pushed the papers aside and found my eyes drawn to the window. The shadow of the mountains loomed in the background, their presence unsettling as I considered all that may have happened there over the years.

The knock on my door distracted me, expecting Mulder I rose quickly and threw it open.

"Hey," Will Granger greeted me.

"Will," I replied. "Come in."

He crossed to take up the chair opposite mine.

"You look tired," I commented noticing the slope of his shoulders.

He shrugged, self consciously adjusting his posture.

"I now know more than I ever thought I would about the working of cable cars," he replied. "How are you feeling?"

"Good," I said sitting back down.

He gave me the same look Mulder had making me wonder if I was always so easy to read.

"Better than yesterday," I offered instead.

"Did you find any proof?" he asked noticing the hospital records.

"No, it's all still circumstantial."

"But you buy it right?" he crossed his arms and leant back.

I nodded, the theory made sense and more than that it was Mulders' and when it came to behavioural analysis I would trust his judgement over my own.

"Yeah," I said. "I buy it,"

Granger nodded.

"Look Will, we need to pass this up the chain of command, do a country wide search, set up a proper task force. It would seem this is the closest anyone has got in thirty years, we can't afford to let the trail go quiet."

"I can't move on this without proof Dana."

"Then I need to exhume these women," I replied seriously, not seeing any other way to provide the evidence.  "Five of these women were buried here, if I could look at their skulls I might confirm the link."

"I don't think that's wise," Granger replied immediately. "I know this community, I grew up near here, they won't take kindly to outsiders digging up their graves."

"Then it would be best if you are the one to ask."

He paused looking troubled whilst he considering my request.

"Okay," he said finally. "I'll draft a request for a court order this evening and talk to the ASAC in the morning."

"Thank you."

Granger stood and tucked his chair back under the table.

"Get some rest ," he said walking back to the exit.

I realised he hadn't taken off his coat.

"You too," I replied crossing the room ready to close the door behind him.

As he left I held it open and looked out into night. The clouds were lower tonight, the highest peaks disappeared into them. Bringing my eyes back down to the ground I searched the shadows for the silhouette I had chased. There was nothing, feeling foolish I pulled the door to.

I was tempted to stretch out on the bed but made myself start up my laptop instead. I gathered the relevant papers and curled up against the head board knowing that my report would also be needed for an exhumation.

By the time there was another knock I was putting the finishing touches to my statement.

"Scully?" Mulder called from the other side of the door.

I hit the save button and let him in.

"Pizza?" he offered holding up a box and a couple of cans of soda.

I took it from him, smiling as I noticed that one slice had not lasted the journey back.

"Thanks," I replied tucking into the side that appeared to contain some vegetables.

He tossed his jacket and tie on the bed and joined me at the table. In between mouthfuls of pizza I explained my meeting with Granger and my plans to exhume the bodies.

"Just be careful Scully, he'll know we've found his history."

I nodded, the same thought had occurred to me.

"I've asked Granger for more man power," I replied.  "We need background on these women and then there's the medical angle, he'll need supplies, most likely controlled drugs, they have to be coming from somewhere."

I pushed the pizza box towards my partner, offering him the last slice. He finished it slowly whilst staring out the window. For the first time since I could remember I felt uncomfortable sitting in silence with him.

It was a subtle change but enough to remind me of a much bigger one, that I had fallen asleep wrapped in his arms and not alone in my bed.

Needing to find something to distract myself I cleared away the empty carton and cans, then started stacking my files.

"Scully," Mulder said watching me.

I looked back at him. The room was softly lit, warm tones from low level lighting that were a stark contrast to the sky outside. They threw him into shadow, adding layers of contrast that exaggerated his features.  He hadn't shaved this morning, the bruise on his temple blended in with the stubble over with jaw. His expression was imploring, from his look he seemed to be something much more than just my name.

It occurred to me that I wouldn't usually have noticed.

He remained unflinching under my scrutiny, his gaze firmly on mine. For a moment we were both quiet, then he held out his hand.

I hesitated then took it. I squeezed his fingers thinking maybe we communicated better in gestures than in words.

He tugged making me take the final step to stand in front of him. His eyes were dark, they matched the bruise and gave him an air of danger that was more than a little appealing.

His fingers stroked over mine and in that I inferred a tacit permission to touch him back. I traced the side of his face outlining the discoloured skin, my gesture too soft to be misinterpreted as a physicians' examination.

He stared intently, then as my fingers stilled he stood. The muscles in my neck protested as I leant my head back to keep eye contact. I tried to read his expression but was disappointed when I couldn't.

I wondered what he saw in my own eyes. Even to my own mind my thoughts were jumbled, chaotic.

His nearness drew me to him. Without thinking  I reached up to place my hand on his chest. I realised my intention as my fingers hovered above his shirt. I found my self studying my hand, wondering if I had the courage to continue.

His fingers closed over mine, then tugged until my palm rested against him. Even through the shirt I could feel the warmth of his skin. I imagined him looking down at me, watching my indecision and I didn't dare look up.

"How is your neck?" he whispered, his voice sounding rough, as though it had not been recently used.

Ask me what you really want to know, I thought.

"Still al little sore," I answered anyway, speaking softly towards our hands.

Acknowledging my admission as invitation his spare hand found its way to my collar, sliding under my hair and wrapping around the base of my neck. His actions caused me to tip my head forward, so that my along with my hand my forehead was resting against him.

I closed my eyes and breathed in a deep shaky breath. He smelt of the remnants of the morning's aftershave, pepperoni pizza and sunflower seeds. His shirt was soft under my cheek and palm, my fingertips collided with a button and traced its outline.

He took his other hand away from mine, perhaps satisfied that I would not run away. His fingers found their way to the small of my back.

I gasped as he tugged abruptly, the movement causing me to lean against him.

What are we doing Mulder? I didn't have the courage to ask aloud. What did he want? Did he think back to our ill fated attempt at intimacy and reminisce thankfully that we were interrupted with our trip to Antarctica. Had the luxury of time and perspective convinced him that our friendship was too valuable to risk. I remembered with clarity his actions last night. His words wrung in my ears, it didn't happen. My brain repeated them and rearranged them until all I heard was it will never happen.

"I can hear you thinking," he whispered, his head bent towards my ear.

I startled slightly and opened my eyes.

Can you Mulder, Can you feel how much I want to touch you, I wondered. Can you hear my hesitation. Do you know that I need you to make this decision for us.

"Sorry," I mumbled, wishing he really could hear my thoughts, knowing I did not have the courage to say them out loud.

"You don't have to apologise to me Scully, not for last night, not for this, not for wanting this."

His words caught my full attention, I leant back and regarded him anew. He kept his hands on my neck and back, stopping me from pulling away even if I had wanted to.

"And not for not wanting this, for being uncertain."

"This?" I said, my voice barely a whisper, my eyes on his.

"Us," he replied seriously.

Us, I repeated the word in my mind, is there an us Mulder? I searched his face, my eyes flicking back and forth nervously, seeking an answer.

"I should go," he said softly, his eyes telling me he wanted to stay.

I held his gaze for a moment longer then nodded, looking down to my shoes and taking a step back. I immediately missed his warmth, the air between us felt cold, lonely.  He took a few paces away, turning towards the door.

 My heart sped up, I had the overwhelming feeling that by letting him leave I was giving something up.

"Mulder," I said quickly, speaking before I had had the chance to think through my intentions.

His fingers had reached the door handle. He left his hand in place and turned to regard me expectantly.

"I.. Mulder, don't.." I struggled to find the right words. "Stay," I managed finally, my voice barely audible.

When he didn't look shocked by my request I repeated myself with more confidence.

"Stay. Mulder, last night, it was the first night since…the first night in a long time I didn't dream, would you stay, just to sleep, to hold me, to.." I spoke in a anxious rush, in my hurry losing my train of thought.

"To fight off the nightmares," he finished for me.

I nodded, finding myself nervously wringing my hands together and my mouth dry with apprehension. He studied me for a moment, then nodded too.

"I'll just be a minute." I motioned towards the bathroom, signalling my intention.

Hurrying before I could change my minded, I exited the room. I washed quickly, brushing my teeth with too much force, not noticing as my nervous energy caused the bristles of the brush to bite into my gums. My holdall bag was on the vanity and I didn't analyse my actions when instead of my normal night attire, I choose a soft oversized t-shirt.

I returned to find my partner perched at the headboard of the bed, the covers turned back and the files cleared neatly away. He had turned off all but one light and his features were shrouded in shadow. He was fully clothed and immediately I felt self conscious of my bare legs.

He looked up, his eyes widening as he took in my appearance.

I took a step towards him and smiled, fleetingly amused by how awkward we had become around each other.

My grin must have been contagious as he smiled back. I was struck by how attractive this man was, he rarely smiled but when he did it lit his face and made him seem younger, more carefree.

Without speaking I raised my hand to his temple, my fingers slowly tracing the outline of his bruise, and then travelling lower, over his jaw and neck until they rested on his collar. I looked directly at him as I slipped the top button out of its mooring.

"Scully." he said slowly, his fingers joining mine and taking over my actions.

I let him finish removing his shirt, turning away and climbing under the covers as he stripped to his boxers. I lay with my back to him, feeling rather than seeing his movements as he turned off the light and lay next to me.

"Is this okay?" he repeated last nights question as he slid his arm under my neck and pulled me back towards him.

The angle didn't agree with my whiplash but I didn't make any complaint. We lay as we had the evening before, but without the layers of clothes I could feel the heat of his chest against my back, feel the coarse hair of his thighs against my legs. My breathing sped up as I took in the sensation.

"Yes," I whispered into the darkness.

His free hand came to rest on my hip, his fingers tracing a path from there to my waist and back. For a few minutes neither of us spoke. I closed my eyes trying to ignore the sparks that emanated from his fingertips, the low hum that seemed to turn up the frequency in my nerve endings.

"I told you that you kept me honest," he said finally.

Despite the fact that he spoke without context, I knew immediately he was recalling those ill fated moments in his hallway. I started to turn but his hands held me in place and I only succeeded in arching my neck so that his lips were directly next to my ear.

"You wanted to know right?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

"That you made me a whole person," he continued.

His lips brushed against my skin as he spoke. I found myself biting my lip to fight the physiological response his touch provoked.

"Do you remember?" he asked, voice low and dangerous. I felt the pads of his fingers digging into my hip, there was a fine tremor in his hand.

I shook my head, each turn causing his lips to brush against my neck, it felt like he was kissing me. His grip on my thigh tightened and he turned his head, his lips opening against my skin.

"I.. I remember in pieces," I managed, sounding breathless even to myself.  "I remember that we,…that you were going to.." I trailed off, distracted by his touch and lacking the courage to finish anyway.

"To kiss you," he whispered, finally doing just that, his lips connecting with the juncture at which my shoulder met my neck.

My heart raced, my skin felt flushed, warm and dry. He was hardly touching me, his lips on my neck, his hand on my hip, this was not so very different from last night, falling asleep next to him.  But tonight, I could not help my body responding to his.

We shouldn't be doing this I thought, leaning into him, pressing his lips more firmly against my skin. We should talk first, I thought absently , his proximity weakening any resolve I may have possessed.

"Yes," I replied, intending only an affirmation of his statement but instead the word a breathy sigh, sounding more like an encouragement for his actions.

"I would have," he said into my neck.

His fingers slid from my hip to rest against my belly. His hand felt hot against my skin, starting a warmth that emanated through my body. My heart was beating too quickly, and I wondered if he could feel it racing in the pulsation of my aorta.

"Why?" I managed, my mouth dry.

He didn't answer, instead he slid his fingers up until they meet my sternum, then back down until they were level with the waistband of my panties. Without thinking I rocked my hips, suddenly anxious to feel his fingers against the skin of my abdomen. He caught on quickly, lifting his hand and replacing it under the fabric of my t-shirt.

I breathed in a gasp as his fingers connected with my belly. There was no mistaking my sharp intake of breath; I felt the scrape of his teeth against my neck in response.

"Why," I asked again, trying to ignore the ache that was growing between my thighs.

His lips worked their way from my shoulder back to the soft spot just below my ear.

"To make me stay?" I asked, my eyes closed, my breathing shallow.

His movements stilled, his hand flat against my belly.

"No," he said finally, he voice serious and sounding overly loud in the dark room. "Never for that, I would not manipulate you like that."

His hand crept higher, finally coming to rest on my sternum. His fingertips traced my collarbones one at a time as, exploring my skin without ever really touching me.

Nothing that could not be explained away I thought. Yet I could feel his breathing shallow and fast, his chest rising and falling against my back. I could feel his heart pounding just as my own blood raced through my veins.

"I would have kissed you back," I whispered, the darkness and his proximity making me bold.

"Scully," he murmured, turning his lips back to my neck and planting gossamer light kisses along the muscles he found their.

The hand on my chest roamed back down to my belly, this time pulling at my t-shirt until it rode up over my hips. He absently pushed the material until it came to rest just above my umbilicus, then roughly pulled me back against him.

My hips collided with his and I realised I could feel him hard against my back. I moaned and his teeth worried my shoulder as he bit back his own sound.

"Mulder" I gasped, realising all at once that we were way past the point of pretending that this was purely innocent.

"I didn't.." I started.

He distracted me by rocking firmly against me, his hand resting on my hips pulling me more tightly to him.

"I didn't mean for us.."

His fingers returned to the waistband of my panties, toying gently along the top. The sensations were becoming overwhelming, I swallowed hard and found myself tipping my head back and forth, my hips moving, desperate to feel more.

"Then tell me to stop," he spoke directly into my ear.

He leant closer, my movements had lifted me up his body and all of a sudden I could fell him against my centre.

I moaned and felt the tremor in his muscles as his hand pressed against me, holding me still.

"Can't" I replied, unable to manage more than one word.

Encouraged, he slide his hand upwards, this time his fingers cupping my breast, teasing the flesh he had been so studiously avoiding.

"Then don't think," he whispered. "If you do, you'll want to talk this through, you'll want to analyse every possible consequence, but its too late Scully, I know your secret."

His fingers found my nipple as his hips rocked him against me. I felt surrounded, possessed.  

"Wha..what." I mumbled, concentrated on the sensations and not his words.

"You want this too," he mumbled. "We'll talk later, we can talk all you want later."

His breathing was becoming more ragged.

"Mulder," I moaned, no longer even trying to hide my desire.

"Scully," he replied into my neck, his hand snaking back down my body, this time hooking under my panties.

He touched me gently, his fingers creating enough pressure to make me squirm. I could feel him against me. I would barely have to move to feel him inside me.

There was no decision to make. I struggled in his arms, distractedly repeating his name over and over. He released his grip on me, taking his hands away from their resting places to first help me turn and then to pin me beneath him.

I barely caught my breath before his lips descended on mine. There was no hesitation, no gentle permission. He possessed me, his tongue duelled with mine and I welcomed the invasion. His hands found my shirt and roughly pulled at it, breaking the kiss only long enough to tug it over my head and throw it to the floor.

His weight held me trapped to the bed. I reached up to kiss him again, my lips as eager to find his as his had been. He reached down and pulled at my panties as I pulled at his boxers.

Finally skin against skin he pressed against me. I threw my head back as I felt him close, just a thrust of his hips and I would feel him where I most wanted him. His teeth scraped my collarbone, his muscles tense.

"Don't stop now," I demanded, worried that he would have second thoughts. "Please."

His eyes found mine and I realised that, just like I, he was never going to stop. This was a moment of complete inevitability. I was no more surrendering myself to him as he was to me.

With one firm movement he pushed into me. Pain threatened to overwhelm pleasure, I squeezed my eyes tight shut and tried to relax.

For a few seconds he didn't move. I could feel the effort he was putting into his stillness, feel his muscles shuddering against me. The discomfort abated and gently I rocked my hips, signalling to him I was okay with this.

"Scully," he choked, his hands finding my hips and pinning them still.

He pressed into me, each movement sending ripples of pleasure through my muscles. I found myself squirming beneath him as he tried to keep his movements smooth and slow.

It was not enough.

His hands held me tighter, trying to keep a gentle rhythm.

"More," I whispered, grasping at his back. I did not want gentle, slow, we had had five years to make it to this moment. I wanted passion and fire, all the things that I loved him for.

He obliged, losing all sense of restraint and burying himself in me. I found myself responding in kind, my body moving without violation beneath his, my breathing shallow, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out the room.

"Mulder,"

Then it was too much, it threatened to overwhelm me. I struggled to get away, to regain some of the control I had just so willingly given up. He would not let me move. His hands held me tighter, his hips pounding mine.

"Mulder," I gasped again, intending to ask him to slow down, realising everything was happening too quickly. But my body betrayed me, my back arched as my orgasm surprised me. The room faded away, I heard a sound halfway between a scream and a moan and realised I had made it. I felt his muscles tense, heard him groan, then collapse against me.

 
 ~~~
 

I woke alone, rousing from slumber too quickly and becoming disorientated. It took me a few moments to remember where I was and a few moments longer to realise Mulder was no longer with me.

My heart sped up, anxiety making my pulse race. I recalled with clarity the events of the night before. My skin tingled and my muscles ached as I stretched and visually searched the room for evidence of his presence. Aside from the stubble scratch on my skin and the lingering scent of his aftershave, there was nothing.

 I sighed and forced myself to leave the warmth of the bed. The room was cold and I realised my partner must have turned down the heating. To compensate I turned the shower up even hotter and quickly stepped under the spray.

The water ran over my skin, soothing my muscles and washing away any trace of the night before.

Where are you Mulder? I thought angrily becoming upset at myself and him at the same time.

I should have known better than to invite him to my bed and expect that I could keep our relationship platonic. Even before he had whispered in my ear, before his hands had stroked over my skin I was his. I had loved him for a long time, I knew myself well enough to understand that. But acting upon it was an entirely different thing.

Mulder was impulsive, obsessive, selfish, single-minded and brilliant and loyal and what we had already was too important to me to risk on a romance. That is until he stood opposite me in his hallway and offered me more. Before I began to doubt that the rules of our relationship had to be set in stone. Before I started to wake at night with the phantom feeling of his lips against mine.

Mulder hadn't needed to seduce me last night, I realised, he had done it long ago.

I washed my hair quickly, finding it more tangled than usual and having to roughly pull the conditioner through the strands. The water burned almost unbearably hot but mercifully distracting me from the memory of his hands over skin.

I emerged from the bathroom to find the air still cold, shivering I pulled the towel closed tighter.

"Hey," Mulder's voice greeted me as I stepped back into the main room.

I startled, my thoughts were still on his absence I was surprised to find him very real and in front of me. He took in my appearance, his eyes straying and I was immediately self conscious of the thin hotel towel. He caught my gaze again and seemed to notice my discomfort. I felt foolish, he had seen substantially more of me last night.

"Sorry," he said, looking directly at me. "I didn't mean for you to wake alone."

"Mulder. I don't think.."

I started to speak but he cut me off, standing swiftly and crossing the space between us. His hand snaked behind my neck and pulled me to him. He kissed me, stealing my words away and leaving me breathless.

"I have no regrets Scully," he said taking a step back and releasing me.

He looked at me expectantly and I had the sense that he knew what I had been about to say. I found myself staring back, lost for a moment in the memory of his touch and distracted by his proximity. Finally I looked away, sighing quietly as I realised that I could not dismiss him so easily, I never could.

"We need to talk," I said quietly.

He nodded, and I could feel his eyes on me.

"This.. us, it won't be easy," I continued.

"No," he said softly, and I could hear his grin.

I looked up to find him smiling at me. His happiness was contagious, I found myself grinning back. I took a step forwards, wrapping my arms around him. I had held him before, but to do so without an excuse, just because I wanted to felt incredible.

"We still need to talk," I said as his hands roamed my back straying to slide over my ass.

"Mmmhmm," he murmured into my neck and I was reminded of how it had all started the night before.

"Mulder," I warned.

"Scully, if you want to talk you really should be wearing more clothes."

I laughed and pushed him away. He released me but caught hold of my hand.

"I mean it Scully, no regrets," he repeated, as he let my fingers free.

"Coffee," I said after nodding back at him, feeling better than I had all morning. "I need to get dressed, go find us some caffeine."

 ~~~
 

By lunch time I had my proof.

Granger had worked quickly and managed to secure a court order for exhumation of one of the bodies. It wouldn't prove the link between them all but it was a place to start.

I had spent the last hour examining her skull. There was no question in my mind that she had the same bore holes that Rachel did. I glanced over the rest of the remains, there was very little soft tissue left, any further information would have to come from the bones alone.

"Dr Scully?"

I turned to see the lab technician approach me.

"Will this do?" he asked holding out a several pieces of what looked like fine metal wire

"Perfect," I replied "Thank you Brian."

I took the wire and headed back towards my skull. Brian hovered, clearly interested in what I intended with it. Leaning closer I identified the first bore hole and threaded the metal through. It fit and slipped easily into the now empty cranial vault. I repeated the process with another hole.

"Looks like a DIY lobotomy," my audience commented.

I had to concede he had a point.

"I think it is," I answered. "The question is which part of the brain?"

I altered my position so that I could view the path of the wires through the empty orbits.

"Temporal lobe?" I mumbled, looking again from another angle. I would admit this was certainly not the most accurate spatial representation but it was clear from the angle of the metal and the location of the holes this time it was not the occipital cortex that was targeted.

"Looks that way," Brian agreed.

"I need to get these bones analysed by a forensic anthropologist."

"I'll send them off to the federal lab when you've finished," Brain answered, turning to leave.

"Thank you," I replied.

I stared at the skull for a few minutes longer then decided I had got all the information could. I snapped my gloves off and pulled the surgical hat from my head.

My cellphone rung as I reached for the dictaphone.

"Scully," I answered tucking the phone into my ear.

"Did you find it?" Mulder asked.

"Yes I did, she had the same bore holes."

"Have I told you how brilliant you are?" he replied his tone low and deliberately seductive.

"Not often enough," I answered, remembering his voice in my ear the night before.

I felt my face flush and glanced around the lab making sure it was empty.

"Guess I'll have to make it up to you."

"Want to start by buying me lunch?"

"Oh, use a little more imagination Agent Scully,"

"Mulder," I replied warily wondering if anyone was listening to his side of the conversation. I could almost hear him smiling into the handset.

"The holes were drilled into a different part of the brain," I added in an attempt to change the subject.

"Really, which part?" his voice returned to its normal volume and I smiled as I noted how easily he was distracted.

"My best guess, the temporal lobe," I said, looking back at the empty orbits. "But the brain tissue is all but gone so it's hard to know for certain."

"He was trying for a different effect," Mulder replied quietly, "An experiment, alter the position and adjust the consequences."

"You done there Scully?"

"Nearly, I'm meeting Granger in about twenty minutes."

"Tell him I said hi," Mulder replied as he hung up the phone.

Granger turned up in less than ten. He found me in the lab still dressed in my scrubs. I watched as he looked at the skull, warily regarding the metal spikes that protruded from the bone. I quickly recounted my findings and explained their presence.

"We need to brief the local police force, let them know they've got a serial killer." I added.

"I'm heading over there now," he replied.

"Good, I'll come with you," I decided.

Granger hesitated and then nodded. I wondered what he had been about to say but he was already turning away.  I headed to the dressing room to change out of my scrubs.

As I changed my refection caught my attention, just under my collar bone was a patch of stubble reddened skin. It made me pause and turn to face the mirror. The skin tingling as I ran my fingers over it.

I found myself smiling as I pulled the rest of my clothes on and went back to meet Granger.

As we stepped out of the morgue, I realised that the clouds that had covered the mountain had finally reached saturation point. Rain poured down heavily creating puddles across the car park.


I rushed over to the passenger side and climbed in shaking my hair to rid it of the water. Granger was silent as we navigated back towards Blueridge. I flicked through my documentation, mentally preparing myself for the briefing. When I looked up I realised I didn't recognise our location.

I looked back to Granger, the muscles of his jaw were tense.

"Will?"

He remained silent, his eyes studiously trained forward.

"Will?" I tried again, "Where are we going?"

"Dana, there is something I need to explain to you," he replied finally.

The hairs on the back of my neck bristled at his tone.

"What, what is it?"

I glanced quickly out the window and back to Granger. There were only trees and rocks now. I slipped my hand into my pocket searching for my cellphone. My fingers came out empty. I remembered it on the desk before I had changed.

"I know where he is," he answered.

"Will, take me back to Blueridge," I said with a rising sense of urgency.

"I'm sorry Dana, I can't."

Slowly I checked the other pocket wanting to be sure I hadn't simply mislaid the phone. It wasn't there either but through the layers of cloth my fingers brushed my gun. I felt my breathing speeding up, my heart rate increase. I didn't need to use it, did I?

"Stop the car," I said.

Granger remained silent, his foot still firmly on the gas.

"Stop the car," I repeated louder.

He ignored me for a few minutes longer then surprised me by pulling the vehicle to an abrupt stop. Unsettled I threw open my door and climbed out into the rain. It was pouring heavily and almost immediately I was soaked, my hair plastered to the side of my face.

Granger followed me out the car. Not knowing what else to do I started walking back towards Blueridge, my footsteps getting faster and faster as I heard his behind.

"Dana,"

He caught up  with me and grabbed my arm.

"We can stop him, but I need you to come with me," he raised his voice above the noise of the downpour.

"Not like this, let me phone Mulder tell him where we are, " I replied struggling to pull free.

"Please, please don't make this difficult."

There was a hint of desperation in his voice that scared me more than the fingers on my arm. I forced my muscles to relax, wanting him to think that I intended to comply with his request. His grip weakened, just for a second, but it was enough. I swung round jerking my arm free and reaching for my gun. In a practiced movement I pulled the weapon and pointed it at him.

"No, we need to go back," I said slowly willing the tremor out of my muscles.

Granger didn't flinch at the sight of the weapon instead he slid his hand into his coat pocket.

"Stop," I urged him, "Keep your hands in front of you,"

"It didn't have to be this way," he replied making no effort to stop.

Could I really shoot him? I took a step back, placing some distance between us. He pulled a cloth out of his pocket, even through the rain I caught the scent of an odd odour.

"Step back to the car and throw down your gun," I said not understanding why he took no notice of my threats. I shifted the weight of the gun in my hands, tightening my grasp to combat the effects of the rain.

The weapon felt light, anxiety sparked as I thought of my missing cellphone.  I cast my mind back. It was my practice to lock my gun away whilst I was dressed in scrubs, Granger would have known this, he was present at Rachel Yves autopsy.

I pointed my gun to the sky and pulled the trigger. The chambers clicked but there was no bullet.

"Smart," Granger mumbled stepping towards me.

Realising I was defenceless I threw the gun aside and turned to run. I had made it a few metres when Granger caught up with me. He grabbed my arm again, this time his grip on my bicep was much tighter. I aimed a kick at his knee, my foot made contact but it didn't slow him. He pulled me roughly towards him, adjusting his grip until the hand on my arm became an arm around my neck.

"Will, please," I tried, gasping to catch my breath.

I struggled but he was much larger than I and he had had the same training.

It was getting harder to breathe, I blinked trying to clear my vision as black spots swum in front of my eyes. I opened my mouth to speak again, but without air I could make no sound.

The last thing I knew before the world went black was the smell of chemicals.

 ~~~

 
Mulder snatched his phone up on the third ring. He answered without checking the display and was disappointed when the person who greeted him was not Scully.

"Agent Mulder?" a man asked.

"Yes."

"Mike Reilly, we met yesterday,"

"Of course," Mulder answered, recognising the voice.

"I couldn't reach Agent Scully,"

Makes two of us Mulder thought as Reilly continued.

"I wondered if you could pass along a message. The analysis of the blood from the forest floor is complete. It's human, male so definitely not Rachel."

Mulder nodded, they had predicted that.                

"The techs had a go at interpreting the splatter pattern,  it's a bit of an odd one, the spread suggests an arterial bleed but the trajectory would be straight down."

"A nose bleed?" Mulder replied quickly, unwillingly familiar with dramatic effects of such an event.

"Probably, but take this with caution Agent Mulder, this is not hard science, just best guess," Reilly agreed.

"What about DNA?" he answered thinking that Reilly didn't know him very well.

"We're working on that. There was something though, there were traces of coumarin in the samples."

"I'm not my partner," Mulder prompted when a few moments later Reilly had not elaborated.

"Sorry, it's an anticoagulant. Most commonly used to treat blood clots or prevent strokes. Its why there was so much blood and probably what caused the nosebleed."

"Can you  fax the reports over the Blueridge police HQ?" Mulder asked. "I'll be here for the next half an hour at least."

Reilly agreed to do it immediately and hung up the phone.

Mulder pushed back his chair and paced out of the small room. The table was covered in files and his leg brushed a pile precariously close to the edge. The space he had acquired was off of the main bullpen and had originally been earmarked for use by Granger.

He had met few of the Blueridge police officers, the building having been largely deserted due to the weekend hours. Even now there was no one in the larger room. The fax machine sat in the far corner and like most of the equipment was a good few years out of date.

He hit the on button and the machine creaked into life. It took a few minutes but true to his word Reilly had the pages sent over.

The files that had balanced so perilously did not survive his return.

As he bent to pick up the pages he realised they had lost their original order. Several of the missing person's reports had ended up overlapping each other. As he picked them up a detail caught his attention; the signature at the end of each matched. He sat them side by side on the desk and searched for the others. With all six reports lined up it was apparent the name at the end of each was the same.

Did it matter he wondered.

The final name on each report was of a supervising officer charged with officiating the documents not creating them.  Still wondering he collected the rest of the papers into a disorganised jumble and deposited them back on the desk.

His discovery prompted him to call Scully again. He found himself listening as her voicemail suggesting that he leave a message for what was probably the tenth time that afternoon

He clicked the phone off and frustrated, redialled another number.

"Langley, I need some information," he said without preamble.

"Ahh our speciality, what is it? Who really killed JFK, Elvis's current home address?"

"I need the cellphone number for an Agent William Granger, Virginia field office."

"Too easy dude, can't FBI enquires give you that?"

Mulder bristled but refrained from a sarcastic comeback.

"The number please," he said instead.

The line went quiet, in the background he heard the faint tapping of keys. A few minutes later Langley recited a series of digits.

"Thanks," Mulder said as he penned the numbers.

"Hey Mulder, what's your interest in this guy? You want me to do a bit of digging?"

He was about to say no when his innate suspicion intervened.

"Yeah, go ahead, just the basic background for now."

"Alright, a challenge. Let the maestro work. I'll call you."

Langley disconnected the line leaving him with the dial tone. Mulder shook his head, despairing of his friend.

He tapped Granger's number into the keypad. This time the phone rang but his hope of it being answered diminished as the tone continued to sound in his ear. He tried once more before giving up.

Finally frustrated, he grabbed his jacket and headed for the morgue.

 ~~~ 


I opened my eyes to find the world turning on its axis. Dull colours merged disagreeably and the slightest movement made me nauseous. There was a pounding in my ears, an unrelenting throbbing that made it seem as if my ear drums themselves were reverberating.

My shoulders where pulled back into an awkward position, my wrists above my head. I tugged experimentally but realised with sickening clarity that my hands were cuffed.

Instead I turned my head. As I blinked my surroundings became clearer. I was in a car, lying on the back seat. The movement I had felt was not entirely drug induced, we were driving. The drumbeat in my ears was the rain on the windows. It made me realise my hair and clothes were still soaked and stuck uncomfortably to my skin. I guessed from the lack of evaporation that little time had elapsed since I had passed out at the road side.

"I'm sorry Dana,"

Granger's voice startled me. My thoughts were still cloudy, I hadn't noticed that he could observe my movements in the drivers mirror. There was no point in pretending I was still unconscious.

"Why?" I managed, my voice sounding raspy.

"I'll explain," he said quietly, "Just please, promise you'll listen."

"Not whilst I'm held captive," I replied with more clarity.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Granger asked, sounding concerned.

I made a derisive noise that I hoped he interpreted as a yes but actually had to admit to that I wasn't.  I realised he had taken the time to ensure that my head was supported and my legs had room to stretch. I shuddered as I contemplated the alternative, the back seat was better than the trunk.

"We're nearly there," Granger said, his tone was almost purposefully light l and I got the sense he was nervous.

Though I might not share my partners profiling ability it was obvious Granger had conflicting intentions. His concern for my wellbeing did not sit with my forcible abduction. I considered how to respond, my intuition and maybe my sense of self perseveration told me to appeal to the side of him that was worried.

"Where are we going Will?" I asked, a quiet emphasis on his first name.

"A house, his I think. I didn't have the address until today."

I kept silent as Granger fought with a map and adjusted our route. Though he was clearly struggling to navigate through the rain I was not about to offer him any assistance.

The trees were thicker and the road more rocky. From my position in the back I could tell we were climbing higher into the mountains.

"Dana, I'll need your help to bring him in," he said as he got the paper folded and under control.

I had wondered if he intended to leave me trapped in the car. I said nothing.

"You said it yourself, he has gotten away with murder for thirty years," Granger tried again.

"Stop the car."

This time it was Granger's turn to remain silent.

"Stop the car," I repeated. "And explain to me how we are here and maybe I'll help you, but I'll not do anything by force."

There was little space for the vehicle to pull over, Granger rolled the poorly suited saloon a further twenty yards and stopped against the bank. The rain was falling in sheets that obscured the view. Though we hadn't seen another vehicle for miles he left the head lights on.

"Sharon Foster," Granger said softly towards the windscreen.

It took me a moment but I realised he spoke the name of the second victim. I found myself studying his profile and was reminded of the first night we had driven to Blueridge. He closed his eyes, opened them again and turned to face me.

"Sharon Foster, I was the one who made the decision to turn off the ventilator."

A step behind the conversation, I did some mental arithmetic and realised Granger would barely have been a teenager when Sharon Foster died.

"Your mother," I concluded, shock and understanding dawning at the same time.

He nodded, his eyes focused intently on mine.

"I never knew, all this time and I thought she had simply gotten lost in the woods."

"When did you find out?"

"After Rachel disappeared. I was reluctant to get involved in the case but someone sent me your file. I realised there was more to it and I had to know."

I almost felt sympathy for him. It was my own desire to know that had brought me out here in the first place. I understood his need.

"He contacted me, indirectly of course, but his messages lead me to connect the cases."

"Then you already knew," I asked surprised. "You knew of the other women."

Granger nodded. His gaze left mine and fixated on the river of rain that ran down the window.

"Yes," he said simply.

"Will, why are we here alone?"

"It was his condition," he replied, turning to look at me again. "He knows of you Dana, he told me of your disappearance."

His words hit home, for the first time I felt truly scared. The thought that some stranger had lured us out here was daunting enough. That this man may have been involved in my abduction was even more alarming.

"How?" I asked, my voice only just above a whisper.

"I don't know," Granger replied equally quietly. "But I do know where to find him."

"What's to say that we are not walking into a trap?"

"That's why I need your help."

I thought on what he said. I realised his few simple sentences were enough to convince me. My mind wondered to Mulder. I could predict what he would want me to do and what he would do if in my place, the two were at opposite extremes.

"Let me free," I asked, partially raising my cuffed hands.

He studied me, not convinced of my intentions.

"I need you to know Dana, I'll unlock those and return your weapon but I will not stop. You'll have to shoot me first."

"That won't be necessary," I said.

My decision freshly made, I began to feel apprehensive. Mulder's voice sounded in my ear cautioning me against my course of action. I pushed it aside. I only partly managed, instead reminding myself of his hands sliding over my skin, his lips over mine. I couldn't accept that I would feel that only once. We had to be successful.

Hearing the seriousness of my tone Granger nodded. He fumbled in his pocket and found the keys to the cuffs, then leant to unlock them.

My hands fell to my lap, the cuffs disappearing under the passenger seat. Despite his care in applying them they had left red marks around my wrists. I rubbed them one at a time, willing the circulation back with my fingers.

Granger kept his eyes on me, watching for any sign that I planned deception. When I made none he turned to the glove compartment and retrieved my gun. He handed it to me without word.

"Where are we going?" I asked as I checked the chamber for bullets.

Granger handed me the map, its size making it awkward to pass between the seats.

I fought with it until I found a red circle that marked our destination. It appeared nothing more than another patch of wooded terrain.

"People used to live in these mountains, they left homesteads in the hills. Some have been converted into holiday homes," he said by way of explanation.

I offered no objection as he put the car back into gear and slowly started back on the mountain road.

 ~~~ 

The house was set back near the rock face. It was in such a state of disrepair I would have thought it abandoned years ago. Made mostly of wood, holes were apparent in the roof and the rain poured in.

Granger pulled over as it first came into sight. I understood his reasoning but the trees had cleared and I suspected if anyone was watching we would have been easily observed. As the car stopped I looked at the grey skies and guessed it for late afternoon. I realised the waning winter sun was fast fading and darkness threatened to envelop the landscape.

I checked my gun and tried to slow my racing heart.

"Ready?" Granger asked in a tone that suggested he wasn't.

I nodded grimly, then stopped as a thought gave me pause.

"Will, I hardly think we have the element of surprise here, but whoever he is, this man, he thinks you are brought me here against my will."

Granger nodded, a flickering of understanding. Maybe we could throw him off guard.

I bent and fumbled under the seat until I found the cuffs, the key was still in the lock. Tucking my gun into the waist band of my pants I twisted until the cuffs were loosely about my wrists. With the key in situ I could release them at any time, but it would not be obvious until close up.

Granger climbed out the car and rounded the vehicle to open my door. I couldn't help but draw in a breath as the early evening air permeated my clothes.

"Stand behind me," I directed as Granger pretended to pull me from my seat. My hands behind my back I offered him my pretend cuffed hands.

"No," he replied immediately. "What if he has a weapon?"

The same thought had occurred to me. I scanned the building again, there was no sign of life. My eyes hopped from one window to the next searching for a gunman behind the shattered glass.

"If he wants to talk to me he's not going to shoot me," I replied with more confidence than I felt.

Granger hesitated but finally stood back. I took a shaky breath then stepped forward. I hoped my logic was correct.

We walked slowly towards the door, there seemed little point in attempting a more covert route. The building was situated in a part of the mountain were the ground was covered only with rocks, there were no trees to offer protection, no fauna to hide behind.

The rain still fell heavily and it quickly soaked us both.  My teeth were chattering by the time we climbed the porch. 

"Hello?" Granger called loudly from behind me.

His voice sounded eerily loud and was sudden enough to make me jump. Before I could protest he pushed past me and through the door.

"Will," I whispered urgently. "Don't"

The door screeched on its hinges and swung back hiding the room and the other agent from my view. I found myself looking at the frame as behind me the wooden veranda creaked under the weight of the rainwater and the wind gusted.

"Shit," I mumbled, my heart beat sounding loudly in ears.

Quickly I loosened the cuffs and let them fall to the ground. They clunked loudly against the wooden veranda. My hands immediately settled around my gun. The weight of the weapon was reassuring. Comforted by its presence I took a few calming breaths and followed Granger into the house.

As it had before the door swung closed. The smell of stale air and rotting wood assaulted my senses. It took a moment for my vision to adjust but when it did I found the place deserted.

There was just one room, it ran the length of the building and contained all the windows I had observed from the track below. Anxiously I made another visual survey. The floor boards were rotten and in places had caved in. Rain fell through the roof creating small waterfalls from the timbers above. The remnants of old furniture littered the space and there was only one other door.

Mindful of the gaps in the floor and the weakened joists I picked my way across the room. The cloud cover outside made the light poor and I wished for a flashlight. As I reached the other side I discovered that the proportions of the house appeared to make little sense. I glanced back again and realised that the building protruded into the rock face. If I was right, the door I stood before should open onto solid stone.

I twisted the handle careful not to use too much force should the decaying wood come apart in my hand. The lever moved but the door didn't budge. I pulled harder, but my efforts were again unsuccessful.

Outside the rain sounded louder and I thought that I heard thunder in the distance.

Anxiety made me less cautious and without thinking I shouted out Granger's name.  There was nothing but thunder as I listened for an answer. 

Giving up on the door I scanned the room. The skies had darkened and it was now even more difficult to make out anything but the outlines of the furniture. There was no clue as to Granger's whereabouts.

I patted my pocket for my phone before remembering It was absent. I cursed again as I realised Granger had not returned the hand piece.

Suddenly the room was filled with light. My heart rate rocketed as the unexpected illumination assaulted my retina's. The light disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.  My breathing sounded loud and ragged in my ears. Outside thunder rumbled. I forcibly slowed my respiratory rate as I realised it was lightening that had panicked me. 

I picked my way across the room and threw open the door. The air was thick with moisture, the rain and the dark made it hard to see back to the car.

I had to get Mulder. I knew that alone on the mountain with no cellphone and no one aware of my whereabouts I was no use to Granger. My prior experiences here were making me jumpy and I was aware that I was not thinking rationally.

I stepped out into the rain. My foot slipped on the veranda steps and I stumbled down to the bottom, narrowly avoiding falling. My hair was plastered to my forehead and strands swung into my eyes as I right myself. Regaining my balance I started towards the car.

There was a flash of light. Just the storm I told myself, but it highlighted the woods and in the corner of my peripheral vision I saw a figure. I swung towards it, my gun pointed. There was a silhouette against the tree, in the dark I could make out none of its features.

"FBI," I shouted, but the words were lost in the wind.

The figure took a step forward

"Will," I tried, my words now no more than a whisper

I realised the weapon was shaking in my hands, I took a step back, adjusting my stance for better balance and grip.

Overhead lightening flashed again. This time the whole forest lit up. It got brighter and brighter. The flare burned my eyes. I realised too late this wasn't the storm. The glow intensified until I could see nothing but white light.

 ~~~

 
Mulder found the room his partner had vacated with ease. In the middle of the autopsy bay the skull still sat with its protruding metal rods.

Momentarily taken back by the startling appearance it took him a few seconds to observe the rest of space. When he did he realised her cell phone sat on the desk. He crossed quickly and picked it up, there was a crack on the display from their near miss in the cable car but he could still make out that there were six missed calls. He knew without looking that at least five were from him.

Mulder pocketed the phone, mentally chastising his partner for being so careless as to leave it behind.

His own phone trilled as he looked for further evidence of her whereabouts.

"Mulder," he answered.

"You know I could take your number out of the FBI database," Langley replied without preamble.

"What did you find?"

"Your Agent Granger's off the case."

"What?" Mulder answered loudly, Langley's statement immediately drawing his full attention.

"In fact, he was never on it, well not this time round anyway,"

"What do you mean?" he replied a sense of apprehension beginning to edge into his thoughts.

"Granger's assigned to a serial case in Fairfax, he went AWOL three days ago,"

Mulder looked back at the skull, its sharp metal spikes only adding to his feeling of unease.

"How did he end up back here?" he asked Langley.

He thought back to his brief encounter with the man. He obviously knew Blueridge, he was familiar with the local police and crime scene investigators. It would make sense, he reasoned, he had been officially assigned to the missing persons case. By why return now without permission and more importantly why involve Scully.

"Don't know, seems no one in the bureau knows his whereabouts."

The skulls empty orbits seemed to be watching him as he contemplated the situation. Without thinking he took a step closer.

"I can't contact Scully," he said as much to himself as to his friend.

"There's not much here Mulder, he was brought up in Virginia, graduated from Charlottesville, has an exemplarily record."

"Send it to me anyway?" he asked, looking at the bones in front of him.

"How so dude, email or fax?"

Mulder was about to reply when something else caught his attention. Behind the unfilled space where the eyes should have been was a piece of paper. He leant closer, phone still to his ear. There was no way his partner had completed her examination and not seen it. It was recent too, clearly not having been subject to the decomposition of the rest of the body.

He looked around until his gaze settled upon a pair of forceps. Gripping them he carefully pulled the paper from its resting place. He had to angle it to bring it through the bone, as it came free the door behind him opened.

"Mulder?" Langley asked in his ear.

"Hey, you can't touch that." A voice behind him demanded.

Ignoring them both he unfolded the note, on it was a single line. An address.

"What is that?"

Mulder turned to find a young man in a lab coat. His initial annoyance at finding him meddling with the bones apparently replaced with interest in what he had found.

"Fax," Mulder said to Langley, "Blueridge morgue. But there's something else I need information on a location."

He read out the details and clicked off his phone.

"This wasn't here earlier," the young man said unnecessarily.

"Find me a map," Mulder said tersely, anxiety making him short tempered.

Brian, the lab technician disappeared without further word.

He pulled his partners phone out from his pocket and glanced from it to the note. There was too much coincidence. His heart rate speed up as his instincts told him Scully was in trouble. His fingers toyed with the keypad as he scrolled through her incoming calls. Granger had spoken to her just before he had.

He re-pocketed the phone as the technician reappeared. He offered Mulder a sheave of paper and unfolded a map on the desk.

Langley's information, he realised, the speed of the transmission evident that Langley had caught the subtle note of alarm in his voice.

"You're looking for Dr Scully?" Brian asked.

Mulder's eyes snapped up from the fax to study the young man.

"Do you know her whereabouts?" he asked seriously

Brian shook his head, his expression almost apologetic.

"I'm her partner, its imperative I find her," Mulder tried again, as if adding importance to his question would alter the answer.

"Her partner?" Brian asked. "I thought the man who was here earlier was her partner."

"Describe him for me," Mulder asked immediately thinking of Granger.

"Tall, well dressed, grey hair, green eyes," the technician confirmed his suspicion. "They left together a couple of hours ago."

Mulder abandoned the fax in favour of the map. On first glance the terrain all appeared the same, trees and mountains with the occasional river interspersed. Outside of the town there seemed to be little human life in region. He turned it over, tracing his fingers over the index looking for the address. Beside him Brian fidgeted.

The grid coordinates memorised he flipped it back over.

"Excuse me," Brain ventured.

Mulder ignored him.

"Sir," the technician tried again.

Annoyed Mulder turned to him and realised he had picked up the fax. He was about the berate him for reading confidential information but Brian spoke first.

"Sharon Foster," he said.

"What?"

"The name here, Sharon Foster," Brain pointed to the front page of the transmission. Mulder realised he eluded to the background check, William Granger was born to David Granger and Sharon Foster.

"So?" he said annoyed.

"Well, it's just that, that's Sharon Foster," Brain pointed again.

Mulder's eyes followed his finger, his gaze ended on the skull.

 
 ~~~ 
  	

My first thoughts when I woke were that I was in hospital. As my vision came into focus I found myself looking at sterile whitewash walls. My memory was fuzzy, I looked around, wondering why my partner wasn't at my side. He was usually with me when I woke in a hospital bed.

There were medical instruments on a stainless steel container to my left, a wide sink finished off the counter. The room opened up to my right, next to me there was a piece of equipment I didn't recognise.

My mind started to clear. I went to sit and found that my wrists were held in restraints. My heart raced, I remembered the rain, the mountain, Granger.

I struggled realising I was lying on a hospital trolley, my arms and legs strapped. In the back of my left hand was a drip, taped and bandaged down.

"Will," I called, my voice cracked and quieter than I had intended.

"He can't hear you Miss Scully."

I startled and jerked my head back. The voice came from behind me, I fought to see its owner but my restraints made it impossible. I felt my heart pounding in my chest and realised fear threatened to overwhelm me. Trying to regain some composure I closed my eyes and stopped struggling.

From this position, there was no way I could see the man that held us captive, I focused instead on the information I did have, his voice. His accent I realised was not American, the words were clipped, controlled, a Germanic inflection I thought.

"What have you done to him?" I demanded when my breathing had slowed.

There was no answer, I heard movement behind me and felt my level of anxiety rising again.

"Where is he?" I repeated. "Who are you?"

Again he remained silent, then there was a movement to my left and I immediately turned towards it. I found myself having to close my eyes as they were assaulted by the bright lights of a surgical lamp.

As my vision adjusted I saw the silhouette behind the lights. It matched that the shape of the man I had seen outside my motel room.

"Who are you?" I asked again.

"My name Miss Scully, is Edward Bernhart, but that is not important."

He moved the lights again, forcing me to flinch and look away. When I looked back I could make out his features. The man before me looked like he was in his sixties, his hair was greying, his skin pale. He was tall but thin and his build made me think back to Mulder's observation that he chooses his victims to be physically weaker.

I wondered again what he had done with Granger, I could imagine that the other agent would have no problems overpowering him, it made me worry anew for Granger's safety.

The lights dimmed  and I was able to make out Bernharts' face. Despite his obviously advancing age his eyes were crystal clear, blue and cold and focused. He turned them on me and I felt a shiver of ice travel down my spine.

"What do you want with us?" I asked, keeping my voice even and low.

"You," he replied. "What do I want with you?"

He watched me for a reaction, I did my best to keep my expression emotionless.

"My partner knows where we are, there will be a whole taskforce of police here at any minute," I told him, trying to ignore the cold sweat that had started to coat my skin.

"Do not lie to me," he spoke lightly, but there was clearly an undertone of menace in his voice.

He pulled a plastic chair next to the bed and sat facing me.

"I do not want to hurt you Miss Scully," he said softly.

The restrains dug into my limbs and the drip felt sharp in the back of my hand. The room clearly contained medical equipment that I was fairly sure he had used malevolently before. I recalled Rachel's brain slides, the damage that had been caused to the delicate tissue that gave her sight. I found his words difficult to believe.

"In fact, I need your help."

Bernhart pulled a steel tray towards him, it rolled on wheels coming to rest at his side. My eyes flicked from him to the trolley. There were several syringes on top.

"I won't help you," I said automatically.

He smiled making my blood run cold. But instead of touching the syringes he stood and walked across the room. I watched as he bent to open one of the cupboards, I was expecting more medical equipment but he retrieved a slim white folder.

His movements were slow and stiff as he returned to his seat; his gait belied more than one arthritic joint. He placed the folder clearly within my line of vision. He waited until I looked at it to speak again.

"In here Miss Scully, is my life's work."

"A little slim then isn't it." I answered caustically.

"My studies date back years, these are electronic copies of everything," he opened the file, letting me see several slim disks.  "I want you to validate it, to finish it."

I looked up, finding his eyes on mine, the blue stare was just as hard as before but I found myself believing him.

"I'll destroy it. I will have no part in this and neither will Agent Granger."

"I think you'll read it," he said evenly, unbothered by my words.

I shook my head. Whatever this man's agenda, I would not help him.

"You would hold the cure for cancer and throw it away that easily," he asked.

I scoffed, putting as much disdain into my expression as I could manage.

"A universal cure for cancer is a myth. Any true physician knows that, diseases are specific, there treatment and prevention has to be tailored to their exact pathogenesis."

"Conventional thinking, Dr Scully."

"You've not cured cancer." I replied. "If you had you wouldn't need me."

"Maybe not, but think what you could achieve without the bounds of society holding you back. "

The thought repulsed me, I wondered how many lives this man had taken, how many women had been victims of his experiments. In the back of my mind a nagging fear began to take root, had I been one of those women?

"Our profession has rules for this very purpose, the advancement of medicine at the sacrifice of the individual is too greater price to pay," I kept my tone neutral despite my apprehension. 

"Hah, do you know how many potential drugs never make it to trial because of your government's insistence on bureaucracy. Thousands of people whose lives could be improved but aren't because of red tape."

"You've never improved anyone's life. Everything you've touch dies."

"That maybe Agent Scully but I've made advances in science that no one would have thought achievable. I've perfected techniques to a point were they are so beyond traditional medicine that they may be considered alien to those without the imagination to consider all possibilities.

"I won't help you," I said again, pulling at my restraints but still finding them unmoving,

He paused before replying.

"I know your past, its why I picked you," he said quietly, "You've been here on Skyland before. You were taken, men I knew, once worked with. Men with a very different agenda to mine."

"You know who took me?" I asked before I could stop myself.

He leant closer, his eyes intent on mine.

"Better than that Miss Scully, you've not been paying attention, my skills are very particular. I can manipulate neurons, alter the flow of information. I can take away but I can also do the opposite."

I caught on quickly, I found myself taking a deep shaky breath, my emotions coming dangerously close to the surface. He confirmed my assumption with his next sentence.

"I can give you your memories back."

"No," I said so quietly he couldn't have heard.

"Maybe your misguided morals won't let you save a population but what of the individual Agent Scully. How badly do you want to know?"

"No," I repeated to myself. "Not like this."

I could feel the temptation, the pull of finally knowing. All at once I understood all that Mulder had subjected himself to find the truth, here I was contemplating the same behaviour.   

"A simple procedure Miss Scully and all I ask of you is that you finish the work."

I felt him watching me and sensed that he could see my indecision. I took a deep breath, I wanted to my memories back but not like this.

"No," I said aloud. "I told you I won't have any part of this."

"Genug. Enough," he said sharply, his tone making me flinch. "I have been more than generous with my time, but I am an old man, you have made your decision."

He stood abruptly and pulled the trolley in front of him, his eyes were no longer focused on mine and I found I was more nervous than I had been when he was talking. I watched as he unpacked several syringes and needles. My heart rate speed up as I tried to identify the medications he held. A noise from the far corner of the room caught his attention. I recognised it immediately, turning my head in its direction. Far to my left was the soft blip of a cardiac monitor, I listened as the alarm sounded, the rate was too fast.

"Will," I shouted again, turning my head, straining to see. 

In my peripheral vision I thought I caught sight of wires and a outstretched arm, towards it a milky white substance flowed slowly through a plastic tube.

Bernhart stepped back and disappeared from my field of vision. I immediately started struggling, panic and fear giving me extra strength to fight my restraints. The medication I recognised, propofol, it was an anaesthetic agent that in large enough quantities would stop the recipient breathing, it was also used as a sedative.

Despite my effort the straps were unmoving. A chill crossed my spine as it occurred to me that my captor had had time to perfect his particular method of restraint. I twisted my left hand, trying to dislodge the drip that was secured there, again I was unsuccessful.

As I realised I was going to be unable to free myself I felt my fear threaten to overwhelm me. My arms were shaking with exertion and terror. I was breathing too quickly, verging on hyperventilating. The fractured memories from my previous abduction swum to the surface of my mind. I choked back a half sob, it could not happen again, I could not let it happen again.

There was a movement behind me and all of a sudden my makeshift bed moved. The rest of the room came into view as I was swung around. Opposite me was another hospital bed, Granger lay motionless, his skin was pale and waxy. For a moment I thought he was dead, then his chest rose and fell, my eyes located the heart monitor. The rate was too slow, I realised Bernhart must have turned up the volume of the anaesthesia.

I drew in a sharp breath as my gaze made it to Granger's head, there were rivets of blood running down his cranium. The pillow was stained bright red.

Next to the bed, thrown carelessly to the side was his service weapon. I realised it was a testament to Bernhart's faith in his abilities that he had left the gun in clear view. I realised grimly that he his confidence may be well founded, neither Granger, nor I were in a position to reach the weapon.

"What have you done to him?" I asked, my voice low and broken.

"He will live Miss Scully."

"What have you learnt from hurting him?" I demanded, tears threatening to brim on the surface of my eyes. "Yours are the actions of a monster not a doctor."

I watched the heart monitor dipping dangerously low, the rate too slow to sustain life for long.

"Turn it down," I said looking back to Bernhart, "He will die if you don't adjust the dose."

Bernhart didn't answer, for a long moment I thought he would simply ignore my request and Granger's heart would stop beating.

Finally he stood and crossed the room to amend the infusion. I breathed half a sigh of relief, only to have my reprieve stolen when he turned his attention back to me.

"Have you heard of Phineous Gage Dr Scully?" he asked, this returning to my side, his hands deftly drawing up a medication I did not recognise.

I had, my blood ran cold and I swallowed hard.

"The railway worker who survived a metal bolt through the skull only to become a different person entirely."

I shuddered at the thought. What Bernhart was alluding to was the function of the frontal lobe. The portion of the brain that was most closely linked with personality, with the values and morals that makes a person who they are.

In the background the soft bleep of the heart monitor speed up. Reluctant to take my eyes off of Bernhart I mentally counted the rate, reassured when I found it to have climbed to eighty.

"And there are many other examples, the holy man with the frontal haematoma who rebuts the cloth and seeks solace in the arms of a whore, the banker with a tumour who gambles away his families life savings."

He replaced the syringe and picked up another via as he kept talking. His actions were swift, well practiced. Despite the evidence of arthritis in his hands he moved with the assurance of experience. He stilled and looked directly at me.

"What would become of the federal agent who refused to save the world?"

"Your argument has no logic. There is no way to guarantee the behavioural response," I tried to reason with him.

The bleeping became faster, in my peripheral vision I thought I say a flicker of moment. I forced myself not to look, hoping that Bernhart had yet noticed it.

His hands went under the trolley, grasping something and pulling it free. I tried to keep my breathing even as he leant over me.

"Oh but Agent Scully, this is what I have been trying to tell you. I've had years to practice."

Bernhart grabbed my hair roughly pulling my head back against the bed. I struggled as he pulled a strap over my forehead, clipping it forcefully in place. I was reminded of the mask I had endured whilst under going radiotherapy.

"No," I said, before I could stop myself. "Let me go."

"I'm sorry Miss Scully," he replied.

My head unable to turn I found I could no longer see him, instead in my in my peripheral vision I caught sight of his hands hanging a bag of medication. It was a dilute version of same milky substance that had kept Granger asleep. I struggled again, the restraints bit into my arms and legs where my previous efforts had rubbed the skin raw but I made no further progress.  

Exhausted I stilled, the medication was already having an effect, my vision was starting to fog. I blinked trying to clear my mind.

Above me there was a metallic noise and I realised that he had moved the trolley to  lay below an xray gantry. Over my head the the machine swung in a half circle emitting regular clicks as it moved. In the background heard a soft groan.

My heart raced, I could no longer hear Bernhart moving around. Had he left the room?

I realised that whatever his procedure it likely started with a radiological reconstruction of his subjects cranium. Most image intensifiers were remotely operated.  

"Will," I called out, my voice sounding slurred and drowsy even to my own ears. I tried again, this time louder. "Agent Granger."

I was rewarded with another groan, he was waking up, Bernhart's adjustment to the anaesthetic dose had resulted in the sedation becoming too light.

"Will," I said again, "You need to wake up, please, wake up."

I heard the sound of material tearing and metal crashing to the floor. My heart raced as I dared to hope that Bernhart was unaware. Granger was stronger than I, had he managed to break free?

"Dana?" Granger slurred, sounding drunk.

From my position I still could not see him, but clearly he was awake, I let out a half sigh of relief.

"Will, I need you to look at your arm, pull out the drip," I concentrated on making myself sound loud and clear.

There were more noises, more tearing, more purposeful this time. Then I heard him stumble, fall.

"Dana?" Granger repeated a few seconds later, his voice was stronger and I assumed he had managed to follow my instructions.  

The room above me seemed to blur and I blinked forcing my eyes to bring it back into focus.

"Gun," I mumbled, finding the words harder to form. "On your left."

Behind me a door crashed open and I heard more footsteps, they sounded far away. I blinked, there was a pleasant fog in front of my eyes, if I just closed them I could sleep. All of a sudden I felt so tired, I wanted nothing more than to close my eyes and give in to the affects of the anaesthetic.

"Dana,"

The tone of Granger's voice caught my attention, there was shear terror in the inflection of my name.

"Dana, I can't see."

"Welcome back Agent Granger."

Bernharts' voice came from behind me, I guessed that there was still at least five metres between him and Granger. I could hear Granger's breathing loud and too fast, clearly horrified by the predicament he had awoken in. I thought of Rachel, upset anew by the dread that she must have felt awaking alone in the dark.

"Who are you?" Granger was saying, his voice sounded distant.

My limbs felt boneless, weak, if I just closed my eyes the whole situation would go away, there was no escape anyway. I remembered Rachel's ill fated flight into the forest.

Behind me there was metallic click, the sound was sickeningly familiar, the sound of a safety being taken off a weapon.

I couldn't sleep yet, I had to try and stop him.

"Will shoot him," I said, my words slurred but loud. Shoot him before he shoots you.

"I can't see." Granger replied immediately.

I was floating, drifting away from this place. One last chance I thought and then I would simply close my eyes and escape.

"You can," I slurred, thinking of Rachel and her run through the trees, remembering Mulder's theory.

Then with all my concentration I managed to speak clearly.

"Don't think, just pick up the gun and shoot him."

The ceiling tiles danced above my head, I watched them with detached fascination. They formed patterns, stars playing in front of my eyes. My hands and feet felt cold but I didn't mind. I wondered lazily when I would see Mulder again. As the white of the ceiling faded to black I smiled at the thought of his lips on mine

I heard a gun shot as the world disappeared.

 ~~~ 
  	

Even in the middle of the night I could see trees and stars from the window. I watched as the branches swayed in the wind, the gusts forcing the leaves first one way and then another. The mountains was hidden from this side of the building, and if I imagined I could pretend that we were far away from this place.

I stepped forward resting both palms against the glass, feeling its coolness on my skin. On the back of my left hand was a small gauze dressing. It didn't seem right that it was the only physical reminder of my recent trauma.

Below me a tall man dressed in scrubs sheltered his eyes from the wind and rushed towards the lights of the hospital entrance. It seemed eerily quiet here behind the window. I was thankful that the staff in the busy emergency department had allowed me to wait in this empty office.

The door opened behind me. I made no move to turn in greeting, concentrating instead on a new figure fighting their way through the gale.

"How did you find us?" I asked quietly.

"Agent Granger left a note with your destination."

I flinched at the mention of Granger's name.

"Should you be up here?"

I felt him pace to stand behind me. I could almost feel the tension in his pose, I knew he was mad at me.

"I'm fine, I've been discharged, I have no injuries," my words were quiet and inflected with guilt.

"Scully," he said softly putting aside his anger.

There was more sympathy and comfort rolled into that one word than could have been conveyed in a whole conversation.

Without asking he slid his arms around me and pulled me into his embrace. The warmth of his body was a stark contrast to the cold glass window. His presence was reassuring and I before I could stop myself I found my muscles trembling. I tried to pull away, fighting to regain my thin veneer of composure.

"Scully, its just us, you don't have to prove anything to me."

"Mulder." I replied simply, not knowing what else to say.

He turned me gently and without protest I rested my head against his chest and allowed him to comfort me. We stood that way for what seemed like an age. I could feel the beat of his heart under my cheek and I found myself closing my eyes mesmerized by the rhythm.

Finally I drew back, starting to feel stronger for his presence.

"Thanks," I murmured.   

He nodded but said nothing more.

I smoothed my hands over the front of my blue scrub top, brushing out an imaginary crease.

"I have to give a statement," I said, knowing he was eager to hear what I was going to say.  

I felt his gaze upon me and I didn't dare look up.

"You're not going to tell them," he said finally. "About Granger, I mean."

"No," I replied, in that instant coming to a decision. There was nothing to be gained from the bureau knowing the real reason Granger and I were on the mountain alone.

I chanced a glance at him, my eyes connecting with his. Silently I challenged him to question my decision.

"He asked for you," Mulder replied instead.

"He's back from the scan?"

I had expected it to take longer.

Mulder nodded. I started to walk past him, about to make my way back to the busy emergency department.

"You're sure?" Mulder questioned as I made it to the door. I knew what he asked, if I was determined that I would conceal Granger's deception then he would support my story.

"He saved my life," I said simply.

I was redirected from the emergency room to high dependency. Granger had been moved to a single room where his vital signs could be closely monitored. The physicians were unsure how to deal with his injuries. I could sympathise, I doubted they had dealt with anything similar. I picked up his chart, the MRI scans highlighted the cortical damage, small tracts bilaterally through the occiput. The surrounding tissue was already swelling from the damage and there was a good chance that this would cause further problems.

Quietly I entered the room. Granger looked like he was staring out the window and I crossed to stand in front of him.

"Will," I started tentatively.

"Agent Scully," he replied formally.

I watched as he turned his green eyes in my general direction, already they seemed less bright than they had before.

"What happened to Dana?" I asked.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice carefully emotionless. "For my actions today."

"I accept," I said softly.

"This won't get better, will it?" he asked his eyes flicking back and forth, searching for a glimmer of light.

There would be none, I knew. The position of the damage was complete to the extreme, there would only be blackness.

"No," I answered honestly, stepping forward and taking his hand.

He nodded, his shoulders squared, head still held high.

"Will, don't compound this by losing your career as well."

"Dana, I don't deserve anything less."

I shook my head, then felt foolish as I realised he couldn't see me.

"I had a daughter, Agent Granger," I said quietly. "She was taken from me. I would do anything to know why she died. Mulder lost his sister; I believe he will look for her forever. I understand the search for answers can be... all consuming."

His fingers under mine felt cold, I squeezed them gently, wanting to infuse some warmth back into his skin.

"I think that you have already paid a high enough price for yours."

His expression remained carefully guarded. I thought for a moment he would not answer. Eventually he nodded.

Satisfied that my message had been heard I released his hand and walked for the door.

"Dana," his voice stopped me.

I looked back to find him looking directly at me.

"How did I manage it?" he asked, his voice cracking for the first time. "How did I shoot him?"

I contemplated explaining the intricacies of the visual pathways, the journey of sight through the lateral geniculate nucleus to the occipital lobe, the sparing of the spatial fibres in the extrastriate cortex. Then I decided that could wait.

"Faith," I said instead.

"In god?" he asked, clearly sceptical.

"No Agent Granger, in science."

 ~~~ 


I glanced at my bedside clock as I towel dried my hair. It was nearly three am, the darkest time of night.

It had taken a while to complete my interview with the local police. Mulder, at my request had sat in on the conversation. Out of the corner of my eye I could see him, muscles tense, forcibly silent.  I knew he had more questions for me than were being asked.

Despite my exhaustion I dressed quickly and crossed the parking lot to knock on my partners door.

"It's open," he called, his voice alert and awake and I knew he had been expecting me.

I found him dressed in sweats and a t-shirt seated against the headboard of the bed, much as he had two nights prior. He didn't bother to turn the light on.

"Was it worth it?" he asked immediately.

"Mulder.." I started, but he cut me off, standing to close the gap between us.

"How could you Scully? After last night, I thought, we were closer than ever, then to have you gone again, and to find you like that."

He gripped my upper arms, squeezing harder than was comfortable.

"Then to know you went voluntarily."

"Last night has nothing to do with it," I snapped. "I made the best decision I could at the time, something that professionally, I shall continue to do so regardless of our personal relationship."

He relaxed his grip, dropping his arms and looking tired.

"I would have expected that of me," he murmured.

He took a step back and sat on the end of the bed, his eye line becoming level with mine.

"There was so much blood Scully, and you weren't moving, I thought that.." he trailed off, not willing to put his assumption into words.

"Bernhart's blood, not mine," I said with sympathy, beginning to understand what he had seen and why he was so upset.  

"This time," he muttered.

"Was it worth it?" he asked again.

I thought of Granger, alone in the dark in the brightly light hospital. Of Bernhart's lifeless body, the discovery that a bullet had carried out the job that lung cancer would have in a matter of weeks. Of the clean white folder full of computer disks and the decision I now had to make.

I shook my head, looking down at my shoes.

"No, "I said. "But even knowing that, I can't promise you that I would make a different decision next time."

"Then I guess I'm not asking you to," he replied softly.

My head jerked back up and I found myself looking into his eyes. He held out his hand. I took it, smiling briefly at the memory of last night. He tugged and I took a step forward, coming to stand between his knees.

"I want this to work," he said. "But this is the part where we talk, right?"

I watched him as he spoke, I realised that there was a genuine fear in his eyes.

"I can't ignore my feelings for you," I said honestly. "But I'm worried that by becoming romantically involved that it will affect how we work together, today could have been a perfect example of that."

He shook his head, his fingers absently sweeping over mine.  

"I think you're wrong," he said softly. "I loved you long before last night. I was no more worried today than I would have been last week, last year."

I stared back at him, swallowing hard. Had he really dared to say the words aloud? He smiled under my wideeyed scrutiny, clearly aware that he had stunned me. I found myself distracted as my gaze strayed from his eyes to the fullness of his lips.

"Say that again," I said eventually.

"I love you," he repeated without hesitation.

I raised my free hand, my fingers aching to touch him, to trace the outline of his face. He caught my wrist and held it in the air between us.  

"What do you want Scully?"

He pulled my hand down holding it next to the other, trapping me, not quite touching him, yet unable to get away.

"If you ask me we can pretend this never happened."

I looked at him anew, realizing in that moment how much he really did want this. How much he was risking by admitting his feelings in one sentence and offering me an out in the next.

He glanced down, focusing on our hands as he waited for my answer.

"I can't do that," I said softly. "I'm not strong enough."

His head jerked up, his eyes meeting mine, a question held back in his expression.  

"To stand beside you every day and never be able to touch you, I can't do that. Not any more."

He smiled slowly as he realised what I was saying.

"Then we make this work," he said.

I nodded, finding myself grinning back at him. He pulled my hands again, tugging hard so that I fell against him.

"Mulder," I gasped, unprepared for the sudden movement.

He manoeuvred me until I sat on his lap then took one hand and pushed back my hair. His palm rested against my cheek and angled my head so that his mouth could descend on mine. I made no move to resist, meeting his lips readily, just as eager to touch him.

A few minutes later we drew apart, I found myself breathless, leaning heavily against him.

"Stay," he whispered into my hair.

I smiled, realising he repeating the single word that had worked yesterday and the night before.

"Or I'll wake you every hour anyway."

"I have no head injury," I protested.

He slid his hands under my t-shirt, stroking the skin of my back.

"I never said it was to check for neurological damage." He whispered his tone low and purposely seductive.

I laughed, feeling myself relaxing in his arms.

"I'm not going anywhere," I said softly, disengaging from him long enough to pull the back the bedcovers.

I felt his eyes on me as I slid off my jeans and climbed beneath the quilt. He undressed and followed suit, we moved in synch until my head rested on his bare chest, his arm under my neck and my hand over his heart.

We lay still our breathing quietly in tune. I felt my body meld into his, a pleasant hum in my nerves. I ran my hand from his pectoral muscles to his umbilicus. There was a fine tremor under my fingers that made it quite clear the affect I could have on him. I lifted my head, pressing a kiss to his chest before resting back and closing my eyes.

"You know, Mulder, you may be right, things won't be that different."

"Mmm," he mumbled, already sounding half asleep. "Why's that?"

"I fell in love with you a long time ago."