Title: Eric 03. Symbiosis
Author: Spookyteacher
Rating: PG-13
Category: X, A
Subcategory: MSR
Archive: Spooky Awards are okay. I've already sent to Gossamer via atxc. All other site managers who want to archive it, please just e-mail where you have it. I want to visit your tasteful sites!
Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, the Lone Gunmen, Skinner, Krycek, and the Smoking Man- the usual suspects- are the creative property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, and Fox Television. You guys have written them so well I can't resist having a go at it myself. However, I really am a teacher; if you sue me you will only find a few pieces of chalk and a red pen in my pocket. Eric is a product of my fertile imagination and, therefore, mine with which to play.

Summary: Completion of the trilogy that started with "Am I Not to be Trusted?" and continued with "Best Laid Plans." This is the final installment in my vision of the mythology, at least the part dealing with Emily and the project that created her.

I highly recommend you read the previous stories to understand this one. They can be found at my archive, Spookyteacher's X-Files Fanfiction. http://www.spookyteacherfanfic.freeservers.com Notes: The dust cover for this story can be found at my archive, as well. My other stories and dust covers, created by the fabulous Julie of Federal Bureau of Imagination (http://www.fbimagination.faithweb.com), can be found at my archive. Special thanks to Julie for her constant encouragement and beta-reading. I'm sending good thoughts Ashlea's way for listening.

Oak Manor Elder Care Kansas City, MO

A man dressed in burgundy scrubs enters a room where a silver-haired woman lies in a hospital bed.

"All settled back in, Mrs. Matthews?" he asks as he straightens her sheets and bedspread. "It's been quite a while since we had you down here on our floor. What've you been up to?"

Mrs. Matthews gives him a big smile. "I had a beauty treatment," she answers in a singsong voice.

The nurse looks up at her and smiles back.

"Why is there a heart on my door?" Mrs. Matthews asks.

He glances over his shoulder at the door before returning his gaze to Mrs. Matthews.

"It's for Valentine's Day."

She laughs. "But Valentine's Day was months ago. Shouldn't you have a bunny up there for Easter?"

The smile fades from the nurse's face and he stops fixing her sheets. He gives her a oncerned look.

Mrs. Matthews doesn't seem to notice his reaction. "I love Easter. With all the colored eggs and Easter baskets. My daughter and I used to color eggs every year."

The nurse looks at the woman with some concern. "You need a good night's sleep, Mrs. Matthews. It's been a busy day for you," he advises as he smoothes the bedspread. "Good night." He turns out the light over her bed and leaves the room.

He heads out to the nurse's desk, where another nurse is seated, working. He leans over the counter to grab a chart. "I told you before something was up around here," he says in a low voice. " Mrs. Matthews just came back after being upstairs for like a year. And her brain's just as scrambled as the others I told you about. She thinks it's Easter, for crying out loud! She was fine before they took her upstairs. She just had to get her diabetes under control. She was completely lucid when she left this floor last April."

"Mac, it's just senility. We've seen that before. This IS a nursing home," the other nurse answers.

Mac's face goes intro a grimace. "I still say something's not right here, Vicky," he whispers back as he opens the chart.

11:05 PM

"See ya tomorrow," Vicky yells over her shoulder as she gets into a car that's stopped in front of Oak Manor.

"Yeah, see ya," Mac calls back as he heads around the corner of the home to the back parking lot.

He walks briskly along the side of the building, glad to be going home. He stops short and jumps back behind the building when he sees two men in dark suits exiting through the back door of the building. He doesn't recognize them.

They look around and Mac shrinks back, hoping to avoid detection. They look back towards the building and one of them waves his hand.

Mac peeks around the corner and sees a large man in a gray sweat suit exit the building pushing a cart. The cart has two large steel cases on top. He notes several silver cylinders on the lower shelf of the cart.

"What the hell?" he whispers to himself.

The men head towards a black van parked a short distance from the building. They load the steel cases and cylinders into the back of the van.

Mac is watching intently as they do this when he's suddenly spun around. His head hits the building and he groans in pain. After several seconds he opens his eyes, he sees a large fist heading straight for his face. There's no time to scream.

Mac falls to the ground and is carried off to the waiting van by the large man whose fist hit him.

The Lone Gunmen's Office

Scully is intently studying data on a computer monitor.

The room is very quiet, enveloped in a tense silence.

Byers is studying his hand while Langly is trying way too hard not to look at Scully or Mulder. Frohike is sitting across the room, watching Scully.

Mulder stands in the corner, away from everyone else, arms crossed over his chest. His muscles are rigid and his eyes are narrowed. He's deep in his own thoughts.

"So," Scully breaks the silence. Three men in the room visibly jump. Mulder doesn't seem to have heard her. "The chip has to stay," she concludes.

"Unfortunately, it appears so," Byers agrees.

"But, there is still a slight risk that the chip can be utilized again as it was before... to call you to that dam." Langly's voice fades away as he says the last part.

They'd already gone through all this, but kept repeating it, hoping it would change.

"But, if it's removed the cancer would probably return." Scully turns from the screen and leans back against the counter.

At this, Mulder focuses on her. Scully meets his gaze.

"I won't accept that."

"Mulder," Scully explains, "the data is clear here." She taps the monitor behind her. "The chip negates the effects of the radiation. That is the only thing, apparently, keeping the cancer at bay."

"But, you could end up burned to a crisp on a bridge in Hickville, Pennsylvania. You want to take that chance?" His voice is louder and strained.

"It's that or die from cancer. Mulder. So, I'll choose to live." Her voice is growing louder, matching his.

"Scully. They have no idea HOW the chip counteracts the radiation effects. It's just not clear, it could just be... I don't know... an anomaly?"

"An anomaly? Are you questioning our results?" Frohike asks angrily as he rises and starts walking towards Mulder. "Are you suggesting we weren't thorough in our testing? That we botched it?"

Byers steps in Frohike's path, stopping him, and tries to calm him. "I'm sure Mulder wasn't doing that. He just...the results probably weren't what he was expecting."

Mulder returns his focus to Scully. "I want that chip out of you. We just aren't sure what it does. The guys have admitted they can't figure how it works. It's too risky."

"If it's taken out, the cancer will most likely come back." Scully's gaze bores into Mulder.

"Then we'll hold onto it and re-insert it IF the cancer returns." He hasn't moved since he started talking. He's firmly standing his ground.

Scully doesn't move either, not giving an inch. "Mulder, the other chip disintegrated shortly after being removed and handled. Also, we don't know if it will work after being removed and re-inserted."

Mulder takes in this information as he shuffles his feet, looking up at the ceiling. He puts his hands on his hips before speaking again. "Bottom line, it's too risky to keep it in there. We remove it."

Scully's eyes widen and anger flashes on her face. "Bottom line? Bottom line?! Mulder, it's not your choice." She crosses her arms over her chest and leans forward. "It's my choice. It's MY life."

"Your life?" Mulder blurts. "After everything? What about...,"he searches for words momentarily, "...Eric?"

Scully's hands fly to her hips, confusion painting a frown on her face. She slowly moves towards Mulder. "Eric? What does that have to do with this?"

"Because I'd like to have BOTH his parents around when we find him."

Scully is incredulous. She stops walking. "And how are we going to find him? We have no leads. We were sent on a wild goose chase because you are so hell-bent on finding him. It's a vulnerability THEY will provoke. You were nearly killed."

He ignores the last part of her statement. "We WILL find him. I'LL find him. I have to."

"And then what? You've forgotten he was created for someone's insidious purpose. You really think THEY will let you live happily ever after?"

They're shouting at each other, oblivious to their friends' presence in the room. The Gunmen are watching this exchange attentively.

"If we find him in time, yeah," Mulder retorts,

"That is such a delusion!" She turns to walk away, but he grabs her arm before she can get away.

"Okay, so I'm delusional. Wouldn't be the first time, would it?" He watches her reaction.

Anger leaps from her eyes as she recognizes her own words thrown back at her.

"Let me live with the delusion that we can find our son, ... that you won't be lured away in the middle of the night to be burned by some aliens with no faces. Don't be so goddamn skeptical and negative."

Scully is now visibly seething and she stares down at Mulder's hand on her arm. Mulder doesn't let go. Suddenly, she remembers where they are, glancing sideways at the Gunmen.

Mulder, too, realizes what they've done. But, he still maintains his grip on her. He continues to stare down at her, everything he said before being restated in his eyes.

"I'm leaving," Scully announces, yanking her arm from his grasp and heading to the door. She fumbles with the multiple locks.

Frohike leaps to her aid and opens the locks. She bolts from the door as soon as he opens it.

With Scully gone, all eyes focus on Mulder. He shifts uneasily on his feet for several seconds before heading towards the open door. He walks out without saying another word. Frohike shuts the door behind him.

"Well, that was fun. We should have them over more often," Langly quips.

Washington, D.C.

Two men in dark gray suits walk down the hallway of a government building. They turn in unison and enter a conference room. They move to the table and take seats. They set identical file folders on the table in front of them and open them. After briefly scanning the first page of the folder, they look up at a person seated across from them. Finally, the gray-haired, mustached man on the left speaks.

"You must know why we've called you here. We've reviewed your report and have numerous questions."

The other man, who looks slightly younger, flashes a cold stare across the table. "This report does more than raise some questions for me. I have serious concerns and am considering recommending your immediate termination for your eckless actions. I hope you're prepared to defend yourself."

They gray-haired man forges on when it's clear they aren't getting anything from across the table. "Well, then, let's start at the beginning. The three men that you..."

"The three men who formulate government conspiracy theories and are probably the most paranoid men in America, if not the world, you mean," the younger man corrects.

"The three men," the older man continues, "who were researching the chip found in Agent Scully's neck..."

A mailman stands reading the address on a package:

Lone Gunmen C/O The Magic Bullet 1941 Arizona Ave. Washington, D.C. 20002

The package has certified mail stickers on it.

The mailman grimaces and looks up at the door in front of him. Realizing the inevitability, he knocks on the door.

"Who is it?" a disembodied voice asks.

The mailman looks around for the speaker. "U.S. Postal Service," he calls as he locates the speaker to the left of the door.

He hears a mechanical whirring sound above his head and looks up. A camera just above the doorframe stops as the lens focuses on him. After a half a minute, the disembodied voice instructs, "Just leave it next to the door."

"Can't. It's certified. I need a John Hancock." He shifts his feet nervously as he waits. He hated this stop on his run. He had to bring some of the strangest, and heaviest, packages to this address. He didn't want to know what these guys did.

Finally, he hears the sound of locks being unbolted. When the door eventually opens Byers greets him.

"Hello."

The mailman extends the package towards Byers without returning the greeting. He points to the line where Byers should sign.

Byers hesitates momentarily before signing his name.

The mailman tears off the slip and releases the package into Byers' grasp.

"Good afternoon," he calls over his shoulder as he makes a speedy exit.

Byers holds the package at arms length as he turns to head back through the door. He enters their work area and heads to the counter.

"Langly, get the door," Frohike commands as he joins Langly at the counter.

Langly frowns. "Of course, your royal highness. Should I also run your bath and cut your meat?"

"Yes, we would like that," Frohike returns, equally sarcastic. He returns his attention to Byers. "Return address?"

Byers shakes his head. He's still holding the package. He heads to the back of the work area towards a large machine in the far corner.

"No!" Frohike objects as he moves quickly behind Byers. "It could be my tape of 'Hot Babes Frolic in the Frozen Tundra.' Don't zap it with the rays! Mulder and I are gonna have a great time watching that." He jumps between Byers and the X-ray machine.

"We have to find out what it is? How else do you propose we do that?" Byers inquires.

"Let me shake it first. I can tell if it's a tape or not." He moves to take the package from Byers, but Byers evades him.

Langly moves in between Frohike and Byers. "No way!" he rebukes. "That thing could blow any second. Zap away, Byers."

"Fine. If you ruin my video, you get to explain it to Mulder. Plus, you owe me a new one," Frohike pouts.

Byers places the package on the table and aims the X-ray machine at it. The three men step around the corner. Langly pushes the button and a loud "tick" is heard as the X-ray is taken.

30 minutes later

All three sit in silence reading papers. File folders and papers are strewn all over the counter amongst the electronic equipment.

"Langly looks up from the paper he's been reading and focuses on his friends. "What do we do?"

"We tell them, of course," Byers quickly answers.

"What?! After what happened last month? No, I don't think so," Frohike admonishes.

"That was a nasty scene," Langly agrees as he tosses his paper on top of the other papers on the counter. He stands up, leans against the counter, and crosses his arms over his chest. "I do not want to see a repeat of that."

Byers jaw drops in disbelief." They have to know about this, guys. This," he motions at the file in front of him, "is about them. We have to tell them."

"And risk hurting her? Or him rushing off alone to take care of things? No. They've been through enough," Frohike announces.

Byers throws the papers on the table, clearly frustrated. "Well, then, what do you purpose we do with all this information? Just sit on it? Ignore it?"

Frohike shakes his head and the three sit in silence for several minutes.

"Why don't we check it out?" Langly breaks the silence.

Byers looks at Langly as through he's grown another head. "We aren't FBI agents. We don't do field investigations. Computer checks, yes. Electronic surveillance, yes. Field investigation, no."

"He's right," Frohike refutes as he stands up. "We can check it out for them."

"That would be way cool," Langly intones. "How tough can it be?"

"Guys," Byers interjects, trying to add some reason to this conversation, "Cool or not, we are NOT field agents. We do not have the contacts or the experience to conduct such an investigation."

"We have THIS contact." Langly slaps his hand on the pile of file folders and papers.

"And we don't know who this contact is. Who would send this to us? And why?" Byers objects. "We don't even know how reliable this is."

"Byers," Frohike appeases. "It's the only real option we have. You know she wouldn't want to touch this information. Too painful. And Mulder couldn't let it go. They'd be at each other's throat, again."

Byers takes in this information as he studies his friends' faces. His body relaxes and his eyes fall to the floor, telling his friends he's changed is mind. "But, we turn it, him, whatever, over to them as soon as we can," he warns. "Then, they take over and do whatever they want to do."

"Whatever," Frohike acknowledges.

A Cheshire-like grin appears on Langly's face.

X-Files office 7:43 AM

Mulder flips through papers and files piled up on his desk trying to locate a certain case file. He becomes more animated as he doesn't find the desired file. He stands with his hands on his hips, a frustrated expression on his face. He glances at Scully's desk and his eyes narrow.

He picks through the folders on Scully's desk trying to find his needed file. As he finishes flipping through the folders, a paper at the bottom of the pile catches his eye. He stops and reads it.

"Dammit!" he groans as he stands up and rushes out of the office.

Baltimore-Washington International Airport

Frohike, dressed in gray suit and bow tie, peers out from behind a Wall Street Journal. He checks around him, a bit nervously, before folding the newspaper and picking up a briefcase. He stands and walks toward the gate just as the gate clerk announces, "We're now seating passengers in rows 16-25 on flight 1956 to Pittsburgh."

Reagan National Airport

"Excuse me?" a young woman dressed in a business suit asks.

Langly looks up from his hamburger and fries. His hair is tucked up under a Callaway Golf baseball cap and he's wearing a polo shirt and khakis. He's a bit taken back by the attractive woman talking to him.

"Is this seat taken?"

A lump forms in his throat and he struggles to swallow it. "Uhhh... yeah," he struggles to say.

"Oh, thanks," she gleams as she pulls the chair from his table to the next table where a man in an impeccable suit is already seated.

Langly's face falls. He stuffs the last of the burger in his mouth and gathers up his trash. After tossing the trash in the nearby garbage can, he heads down the terminal, laptop case over his shoulder. He turns into the third gate where the sign reads, "Des Moines."

Hartsfield International Airport Atlanta, GA

"Dave Grohl rules!" a teenage boy calls out as he passes Byers, who's just leaving the Starbucks counter, coffee in hand. He winces as he remembers what he's wearing: a Foo Fighters t-shirt, jeans that are slightly shredded, and Converse high-tops. He's uncomfortable in Langly's clothes, but relieved he'd talked them out of piercing his ear.

He sighs and walks to the next gate. He hands the clerk his ticket.

"Yes sir, Mr. Fugazi. The flight to Mobile is delayed. We hope to begin boarding in about twenty-five minutes. Please stay in the gate area," the gate attendant informs him.

He nods and heads towards a seat against the far wall. As soon as he sits down another teenager, sitting in the next chair, accosts him.

"Man, Doesn't 'Learn to Fly' rock?"

A pained expression fills Byers' face.

FBI Headquarters 8:01 AM

Kimberly rises from her desk when she spots Mulder quick stepping towards Skinner's office door. "Agent Mulder, Assistant Director Skinner is not to be disturbed. Please wait here..."

She doesn't have a chance to finish as Mulder's beaten her to the door and is already entering Skinner's office.

"When did Scully apply for leave?" he asks commandingly.

Skinner's head jerks up from the paperwork he was reading.

"I'm sorry, sir, Agent Mulder..." she starts to explain.

"It's okay," Skinner excuses her, as if he was expecting this.

Kimberly leaves, shutting the door behind her as an air of tension pervades the room.

Mulder doesn't move, his gaze cuts into Skinner who can see that Mulder is just barely keeping control.

"She applied Thursday."

Mulder's eyes flare. "Did she say why?" His voice is strained.

"Only that it was a personal matter."

Mulder's focus seems to go far away, though he's still looking at Skinner.

"She asked me not to tell you, saying she'd handle that herself. By your reaction, I'm guessing she didn't."

Mulder refocuses on Skinner. "And she didn't leave a number or address where she could be reached, did she?"

Skinner shakes his head. "She just said she needed two weeks leave."

Mulder suddenly turns on heel and heads to the door. Skinner makes no move to stop him. He stares at the door for several seconds after Mulder closes it behind him.

X-Files office 15 min. later

Scully's desk is a horrible mess. Papers and file folders now lie haphazardly on top of it. The drawers are open with papers and office supplies sticking out. Her chair is flipped backwards against the wall. The sounds of shuffling papers and a drawer slamming can be heard coming from the back of the office.

Mulder rushes into the main part of the office, his face rigid as his eyes frantically search the room. His gaze falls on the computer on Scully's desk.

He leaps towards the computer, righting the chair and turning on the computer simultaneously. He checks her hard drive and e-mail.

Nothing.

He shuts the computer down and shoves back from the desk. The chair flies against the wall again as he heads out the door, jacket in hand.

Scully Residence 9:23 AM

Maggie Scully heads to the door and grimaces as the incessant bell ringing is replaced by equally incessant pounding.

"Coming," she calls, exasperated.

As soon as she opens the door, Mulder pushes his way in.

"Is she here?" he asks, slightly out of breath.

Maggie's shock finally subsides and she closes the door.

"Dana? No," she stutters.

Mulder looks crestfallen.

"Fox, what's wrong?" Maggie's exasperation is quickly replaced with concern.

It takes Mulder a minute to find his voice. "She took two weeks leave of absence without telling me. I have no idea why or where she is. She's not home and she isn't answering her cell. Did she tell you where she was going?"

Worry floods through Maggie as Mulder explains. "She told me you two had a big case out West and it might take a couple of weeks," Maggie responds slowly. "She said she'd try to call me but not to worry if I didn't hear from her."

Mulder's eyes meet Maggie's and he notices she's getting a bit pale. He moves toward her. "Come on, let's go sit."

"Yes," Maggie agrees, letting him guide her to the sofa, "I think we both need to sit down."

After they're seated, Maggie asks, "She called me this morning about 7. When did you last hear from her?"

Mulder inhales sharply. "Yesterday. We had lunch after she went to Mass."

"She didn't say anything...?"

Mulder quickly shakes his head. "When we finished, I said I'd see her this morning and she nodded." There's some bitterness in his voice.

"What could she be up to?" Maggie asks as she turns away.

Mulder leaps up from the couch, unnerving Maggie. "I'll call you when I find out anything."

"Fox," Maggie calls after him as she rises to follow.

"Don't worry. Scully's an FBI agent and she can..."

"Fox." Maggie grabs his arm before he opens the door. "Maybe she has something she needs to do alone. Have you considered that?

Mulder looks down at her, pain showing on his face. "I have a pretty good idea what she's up to. She can't do this alone."

She releases his arm and he leaves her to ponder the troubling situation. She watches him head toward his car, her expression a combination of worry and compassion.

Once he's in the car, he has his cell phone out and he's dialing.

"Danny," he calls into the phone as he backs his car from Maggie's driveway. "I need you to run a check for me I need you to check flights leaving the area airports. Check for Dana Scully on any of those."

He listens for a few seconds.

"Yeah. And check her credit cards, too, okay? I'll be in my office in a half hour. You can call me there or on this cell."

He hangs up and dials again.

"You've reached the office of the Magic Bullet," Langly's recorded message starts. "Please leave you name and a message after the beep."

"Damn!" Mulder jabs the off button, wondering where the Lone Gunmen were hiding.

He dials Scully's cell phone, again. "The cell phone customer you're trying to reach..."

He stabs the off button, yet again. Next, he tries her home phone one more time. "This is Dana Scully. Please leave a message..."

"Shit!" he curses as he pounds the off button with his thumb. He tosses the phone onto the passenger seat.

He focuses his attention on where he's driving. He spots an exit sign for Georgetown and finds himself taking it.

1 hour later Scully's apartment

It appears that a windstorm has attacked Scully's house. Or she had a wild party last night. Pots, pans, utensils, and towels are strewn all over Scully's usually orderly kitchen. And her computer desk is an absolute mess, with disks and papers tossed helter-skelter.

Mulder sits on her sofa, quite frustrated. He's ripped through everything he could. He even went through her computer hard drive and e-mail. She'd left no clues, quite a thorough job.

"Dammit, Scully!" he says aloud. "Where the hell are you?"

He pushes his hands through his hair and leans back against the cushions, looking up at the ceiling. He stays in that position for a long time, his elbows bouncing from side-to-side, as he thinks.

His gaze drops to the hallway and his hands drop to his lap. He rises from the sofa slowly and crosses into the hallway. He continues until he's at the door to her bedroom. It's open and he peers inside.

He hesitates. He'd been in Scully's bedroom a couple of times. He'd even slept in her bed the night his father was killed. But, it still was Scully's bedroom; entering it seemed like the final violation. But, dammit, she'd skipped out on him and he had to find out where she was.

It was all her fault!

So... he enters the room and begins searching through the nightstands. When that proves fruitless, he turns to her closet. Again, he finds nothing. He turns to his left and spots her dresser. With some minor trepidation he rifles through Scully's clothes and, even, her underwear.

When all he uncovers is clothes and underwear, he shoves the bottom drawer closed and falls back onto her bed. He surveys the room. The only place he hasn't searched is the bathroom.

He peeps around the corner into the bathroom. Everything is very much in order: toothbrush and paste in the holder, hairbrushes and combs in a basket, towels neatly hanging on hooks or folded on a shelf, and so on.

He plunges into her garbage can, the only semi-messy thing in the room. He finds cotton balls and tissues and used dental floss. He checks through the drawers and under the sink. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he turns around and leans back against the counter. His eyes fall on a magazine basket near the toilet. He yanks it up onto the counter and flips through it, finding just magazines. There are several issues of JAMA and Pathology Today. He pauses for a few reverential seconds over the Cosmopolitan with a scantily clad supermodel on the cover. Forcing himself past this, he comes across packets of paper. They're medical reports and monographs. Most are about pathology, autopsies or autopsy-related issues. Some are criminal profiles. The last three papers catch his attention: two are about hemolytic anemia and the other is on neoplastic masses.

He stands rigid as one name pops into his head: Emily.

He's startled from his thoughts by his cell phone ringing.

"Mulder," he answers. "... yeah, Danny. Did you find anything?.... Well, wh.... Where?... You're sure?.... Thanks, Danny. I've got some Wizards tickets for you."

He pushes the power button and dials. "When's your next flight to Kansas City?"

Spanish Omelet House Oklahoma City, OK

Frohike stabs into a Spanish omelet covered in red hot sauce that fills his entire plate. After shoving a huge forkful in his mouth, he looks up and spots Byers coming into the restaurant. He catches Byers' eye and nods him over.

"Langly hasn't made it yet?" Byers asks in a low voice as he slides into the booth.

"Nope. Heavy snow in Denver so he won't get here til around seven tonight."

Byers glances at his watch. It's 2:45.

The waitress approaches the table. "What can I get ya?"

Byers looks over at Frohike's plate and frowns. "I'd like... coffee and... hamburger and fries."

"Gotcha," she confirms.

"How was Cleveland?" Byers asks as she leaves.

"Not bad," Frohike answers around another mouthful of omelet. "Went to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame last night and saw the wicked Stones display. But it was colder than a witch's butt there." After he swallows he finishes. "I didn't have any groupies on my tail. You?"

Byers shakes his head as the waitress sets his coffee in front of him. "Clear all the way up I-35 from Dallas." He grabs a Sweet n Low and adds it to his coffee. " So, where are we staying?"

Frohike smiles. "I found a great place." He points across the street.

Byers follows Frohike's finger and sees a motel across the street. The sign reads, "Cowboy Cabanas." Confusion floods his face. "But we're across town from..." he looks around nervously before finishing, "the facility."

"Outside the sweep zone," Frohike explains proudly.

Byers is still confused. "Oh... did you get a car?" He glances out at the parking lot.

"Nah... took a cab from the airport and walked over here. We got yours." He jabs another forkful of omelet and shoves it in his mouth before changing the subject. "So, we go tomorrow?" Byers nods, worry replacing the confusion on his face. This field work was enough to give him an ulcer. His hamburger and fries arrive at just that moment prompting his stomach to take a spin as a sick feeling spreads through him.

Frohike notes the sudden green color on Byers' face. He's excited about their plans, but he expected Byers to be uneasy with the dangerous nature of them.

"Just think," he offers, toasting jovially with his coffee cup, "this time next week we could have a happy family in Arlington."

Byers gives him a half-smile, knowing Frohike is trying to lighten the mood. "Yeah, right," he scoffs. "Not sure about that family part happening, but there definitely could be some happier people. However, on the other hand, things could go..."

"Let's not raise that other hand right now," Frohike interrupts.

Byers nods in agreement and reconsiders his lunch. He decides he is hungry after all, grabs a French fry and stuffs it in his mouth.

Kansas City, MO 4:53 AM

Mulder wiggles his fingers and stretches his hands. He'd arrived in Kansas City 12 hours ago and immediately began searching for Scully. She'd used her cell phone from the Kansas City airport yesterday morning. But, Danny hadn't been able to locate her at any motels or hotels in the area. So, Mulder had been driving from motel to motel trying to find her.

He's so tired he's about to fall asleep at the wheel. He reaches for a cup of coffee and takes a large gulp hoping the caffeine will stave off his needed sleep. As he sets the cup back into the holder, he glances up and spies the Show-Me Inn. He pulls into the lot, parks the car, and heads to the office as he'd done dozens of times this night.

He tries the door, but it's locked. He rings the doorbell repeatedly trying to summon, or annoy, the manager.

Finally, the manager appears and yells, "What do you want?" It's obvious he's just been awakened.

Mulder isn't taken back by his bluntness; he's had this reaction many times tonight. He flashes his badge. "FBI. Open the door please."

The badge serves to fully awaken the manager. "FBI?" he repeats quizzically as he unlocks the door. . "Umm... what's the problem?

Mulder moves through the open door. "Is there a Dana Scully registered here?"

The manager appears to be slightly confused. "Uh... what was that name again?" He moves behind the registration desk.

"Dana Scully," Mulder repeats forcefully. He has no time for pleasantries.

"Dana Scully... Dana...," the manager intones as he scans the registration records, "... Scully... Dana... oh! Yeah, she's here." He looks up expectantly at Mulder.

"What?" Mulder's shocked. He'd found her. He'd found her! "She's here?"

The manager nods.

"Which room?" Mulder quickly inquires.

"216."

Mulder turns and rushes to the door.

"Hey!" the manager calls.

Mulder stops and turns around slightly.

"What can I do to help you? You got backup?" the manager asks, clearly concerned.

Mulder shakes his head. "Just stay in here. It'll be fine." But as he walks through the door, the look on his face reveals he's not convinced of that.

A dark blue Ford Taurus pulls into a parking space. The driver's side door opens and Scully steps out. She walks up the short sidewalk to a door marked "216." She stretches as she unlocks the door, obviously quite tired. She opens the door and walks in. She immediately senses something is amiss in the room. She stops and waits for her eyes to adjust to the darkness.

Her eyes focus on a form lying on the far bed. Shock and fear flash across her face and she reaches for her gun, reflexes kicking in. She stops before she pulls it out, though she keeps her hand on it. She moves toward the bed and leans in to get a better look. She exhales sharply and shakes her head in frustration as she takes in the person, able to see his face now.

She closes her eyes and considers her options. She is so exasperated with him, but she has to admit she'd known all along he wasn't going to let her do this alone. She looks back at her partner.

Mulder is sleeping so peacefully, she hesitates to wake him. Of course, she isn't really ready to face his questions. And she's angry that he didn't leave her to do this alone. She studies him a little longer. He looks younger than his 38 years, younger than all his adventures should make him look. She wonders how he can sleep so peacefully in spite of all he'd seen... all they'd seen.

Mulder groans slightly and rubs his cheek against the pillow, reminding her she can't put it off much longer. She had to wake him up and face him.

She takes several steps towards the bed and reaches over. She rubs his head to wake him. When that doesn't rouse him, she rubs harder and calls, "Mulder, wake up."

Mulder turns onto his back and his eyes flutter open and closed as he stretches.

Scully watches, hands on her hips, as his eyes open and focus on her.

"The face is familiar," he mumbles in that just-awake hoarse whisper. "But the name...?" He snaps his fingers as if trying to recall it.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Scully explodes.

Mulder slides up into a sitting position, his head against the headboard. He just looks up at her. Her eyes are flashing with anger.

"What are you doing here?" She emphasizes each word.

He finally answers, hoarseness fading, "You're looking for our son and I have a stake in this, as well."

Scully's taken back by his bluntness. "But... didn't you get my telegram?"

Mulder lowers his legs to the floor and sits on the edge of the bed, facing her. He pulls the folded telegram from his pocket and unfolds it. He holds it out for Scully, who doesn't take it. "I got it after I'd searched EVERYWHERE for you, found out you were out here, and made my plane reservations. You know, I actually considered it." He waves the telegram in the air before folding it and returning it to his pocket. "But, I couldn't."

Scully starts to reply, but stops. She lowers her body until she's sitting on the bed opposite Mulder. They sit facing each other as several moments of silence pass. Finally, Scully lowers her head, frustration overtaking her.

"Found anything?"

Scully looks up and considers her reply. She's not sure how much she wants to share with him. She doesn't want him to go blazing off, half-cocked and ruin everything she'd been setting up. "I found... something."

Mulder gestures with his hands for more.

Scully fidgets slightly. "Alright," she concedes, "I found some information."

"What information?" he prompts. "And what exactly pulled you out here?"

She inhales sharply. "I received some information that Roush was connected to a chemical plant here. Also, a newspaper story about a convalescent home nurse who claimed women were being used in medical experiments."

"Roush is here?"

Scully nods. "I found a probable connection between them and Glenn-Allen Corporation."

"And where did you get this information?" He is clearly concerned they're being played, again.

She is silent for a long time. He waits patiently for her answer.

"It was left on my doorstep in an envelope tucked inside my newspaper last Wednesday."

"Wednesday? Wednesday? You mean you've known since.... You knew Sunday when we went to lunch and you didn't say a word."

Scully sees he's quite upset with her for skipping out on him. But, she remembers all those times he'd done the same to her. Still, she's torn because she knows exactly what he's feeling. She didn't want to hurt him. That is how this whole thing started. She doesn't say a word, turning her attention to the wallpaper to Mulder's left.

Mulder notes her demeanor and realizes she isn't going to discuss it. He tries a different tact. "So what does Glenn-Allen Corporation do?"

"They make most of the inert ingredients used in medications."

"And what about that nurse at the convalescent home?"

"He told a reporter a story about women at the home who were taken upstairs for a long period of time. When they returned to his floor, they were disoriented. They didn't know what month or year it was. He said they were all mentally sound before they went upstairs. They all returned with dementia."

"Have you spoken to him?"

Scully shakes her head. "He was found dead in his home the day after he spoke with the reporter. Apparently, a burglary went bad. They haven't any leads on a suspect."

"Figures," Mulder grumbles.

"And," she continues, "the convalescent home was closed last week. All the workers were dismissed and the patients were sent to other homes in the area. I did talk with a nurse who worked with Mac MacClardy, the deceased nurse. She worked there a little over a year. MacClardy had worked there over two years. She did confirm patients were taken upstairs to a special medical ward for a period of time. Apparently, the patients needed more intensive medical attention. She confirmed that some of the women were senile or exhibiting signs of dementia when they returned to their floor. However, she didn't see the connection MacClardy did. She said MacClardy kept insisting to her that something was wrong, but she didn't take it seriously."

"Have you checked with any of the former patients?"

"I'm saving that as a last resort."

"Why?" Suddenly, Mulder notices her outfit: black turtleneck, black jacket, black jeans, and black boots. "Nice outfit. Where you been snooping, double O seven?"

Scully lowers her head in resignation. She realizes he's not leaving anytime soon. "I went to Glenn-Allen's plant."

"Was it a productive mission?"

She nods and looks up. "Glenn-Allen stores materials and records of a sensitive nature at an underground facility nearby."

"What kind of materials and records?" Mulder's interest has been captured?

"I found a memo that sensitive materials and files will be stored at Funt Mid-America Subtropolis."

"So, what's there?"

"I didn't get there...yet."

Mulder digests all this information for a while.

"So we go tonight." It isn't a question. He stands and heads towards the bathroom.

Scully's head spins. "Wait. Whoah! No, Mulder, no. WE are not going anywhere."

Mulder stops and turns on heel to face her. "What do you mean, no?"

"I mean no. You're heading back to D.C. You proven you can't be objective with this."

Shock floods him. "And you can?!"

"I didn't go off recklessly to Nashville and nearly get myself killed."

Now he's angry and shocked. "Reckless? And I can't be objective? Scully, would you listen to yourself? We're talking about a child, OUR child. How can you take such a cold, scientific stand? My God, Scully! I will do anything to find Eric and make him safe."

"Safe? Where would he be safe?" she asks, her voice rising as she stands up. "With you?"

"With us," he corrects.

Scully's jaw drops. "How?!" Anger is overcoming her. "How do we keep him safe? Like I kept Emily safe?" She stops short. She didn't mean to say that aloud. She had thought it a million times, but never intended to say it out loud, especially not to Mulder.

Mulder doesn't respond and an uncomfortable silence fills the room.

Scully falls backward onto the bed and closes her eyes, trying to regain control. She's startled when Mulder slides down beside her and takes her hand in his.

"Those bastards stole life from you," he says in a soothing, low voice. "Now, it turns out they stole it from both of us. They made two children who weren't meant to be. Scully, Emily was too far into the experiment to be saved. You were right: they have to be stopped. But, what if Eric isn't into the experiment, yet? He wasn't sick the last time we saw him."

Scully is back in control. "Mulder, he was taken from the hospital emergency room. He was brought there because he was sick."

Mulder shakes his head in disagreement. "Diana brought him there. She may have redeemed herself before she was killed, but she was working for them."

Scully realizes the implication. She, also, realizes how tough that was for him to admit.

"If we find him and he is sick, we can't let it go on, Mulder."

Mulder squeezes her hand tighter in acknowledgement. "But, if he's fine, we have to keep him safe. We have to get him away from those bastards."

He leans against her, their shoulders touching. Scully leans against him and weaves her fingers through his. They remain like this foe several minutes, partners sharing their strength.

Mulder leans into her ear. She can feel his breath against her ear lobe. He whispers, "This is really nice, Scully, but," he smiles, "I really have to pee."

Scully starts to laugh and releases his hand. "Very smooth."

"Got it from Cary Grant," he calls back as he closes the bathroom door.

"This is my room, Mulder."

"And you won't share?" he calls through the closed door.

She smiles and looks at the digital clock on the bedside table. It reads 5:45.

"Looks like I'm going to have to share, at least for a couple hours until the office opens."

"Opens?" Mulder asks as he exits the bathroom and heads to the sink to wash his hands. He calls over his shoulder, "I woke the guy up about an hour ago to ask if you were here."

"All the more reason to wait."

He turns around and faces the beds.

"You take that bed." She points to the bed to her left. "I'm exhausted." She pushes both her shoes off and pulls back the covers on her bed. She crawls under the covers. "Night," she says through a yawn.

Mulder watches her disappear under the covers. He smiles. Just the top of her redhead is visible above the bedspread. He forces his attention to his bed. He pulls off his jacket and tosses it on the chair. He pulls the covers back and slips inside. "Scully?" His muffled is a bit muffled as he draws the covers up.

"Hmm?' her muffled voice answers.

"Sweet dreams."

Outside, a man sits in a car parked across for room 216. He's dressed in black but his face isn't visible in the darkened car. He sets a parabolic mike down in the seat next to him and reaches for a cell phone.

10:25AM

"C'mon, Scully," Mulder admonishes as he exits the driver's side of the car.

Scully scowls at him as she walks to the room.

"You can do it. Give it a try," he coaxes further as he falls in step behind her.

She scowls a bit sterner.

Mulder smiles. "It's not that hard. Garry Shandling to Cher. It can be done."

Mulder started the Six Degrees of Separation game over breakfast. Scully couldn't stand such trivia games, but she did enjoy watching Mulder trying to get her to play. Also, it kept them from broaching a topic they'd have to discuss sometime, but neither wanted to, yet. They both knew it was going to lead to another argument. It was inevitable. So, for now, Mulder was pushing Scully to play his game.

Scully stops at the room door and looks up at him. "What is the point of this game?"

Mulder stops and faces her. "Garry Shandling was on the Larry Sanders Show with Rip Torn who was in Airplane with Sonny Bono who was married to..."

"Cher," they say simultaneously.

"Now, wasn't that easy?" he teases.

"And so much fun," Scully deadpans as she unlocks and opens the door. "I still don't see the point."

"Ms. Scully!"

They turn around and spot the man who called Scully.

"Some boxes arrived while you were out. I put them in your room, just inside there," the manager informs them.

Scully opens the door a bit wider and spots two boxes on the floor.

"Thank you," Scully responds.

The manager turns and walks away as Mulder and Scully enter the motel room, shutting the door behind them.

Scully crosses to the boxes and looks at the label on one of them.

"What are these?" She looks to Mulder for an explanation.

Mulder, pocketknife in hand, begins opening the package Scully's been examining. "Christmas presents from Danny," is his only explanation.

Scully is puzzled. "Presents?"

As Mulder pulls packing material from the box, Scully realizes what this must be. "Mulder, you can't possibly..."

Before she can finish, Mulder triumphantly extracts a stainless steel cylinder from the box. He holds it up next to him like a trophy. He notes Scully's look of horror and disbelief.

"We're going to take back what they took from us," he announces.

Scully's expression quickly changes to anger as she grabs Mulder's pocketknife from the floor where he'd dropped it. She tears into the second package.

Mulder watches her intently as she tosses packing material from the box. Her eyes focus on something inside the box and her jaw drops. "What the heel is this?"

Mulder's brow furrows and he quickly joins her at the other box. Scully watches him, fury flashing in her eyes, as he takes in the contents of the box.

"You ordered it from Danny," she reminds him.

"No, not this," Mulder stammers emphatically. He grabs for the box flaps and checks the label. He compares it to the label on the first box he opened. They appear to be identical.

"Just what were you planning, Mulder?"

Mulder gives her a look on innocence. "All I was planning to do was to take back what they took from us. When we found anything of ours, frozen or whatever, we could bring it out in those thermoses," he points to the first box. "I didn't order that," he adds as he motions to the box near Scully.

"Danny sent it to you. Why would he send this if you didn't ask him to?" She is barely keeping her anger in check.

Mulder shakes his head. "I don't know. I did not tell him to send any explosives, Scully. I'm quite sure of that."

Scully had been angry with Mulder since he'd arrived that morning. She wanted to do this on her own. But, over breakfast, she'd begun to think it was a good idea having him here. They both have clear interests in this and he is her partner. They work best together. But, when she saw the contents of the boxes, especially the second box, her anger returns along with a sick feeling that they are crossing the point of no return. She feels out of control and she hates feeling out of control.

Mulder moves around the boxes and takes the pocketknife from her hand. She takes two steps away from him.

"Look," he begins in a placating tone, "I'm going to call Danny and see what's going on. But, I was not planning a Rambo mission tonight." He studies Scully's face for a glimmer of understanding. Her eyes meet his briefly and he sees only fury in them. But, before she turns away he catches something in them that gives him some hope.

As he dials the phone, she sits down at the table and opens her laptop. She quickly gets busy typing something.

"Danny," Mulder says into the receiver as his attention is pulled away from Scully. "It's Mulder. ...Yeah, I got the package. Thanks. ... But, Danny, what's the other package? ... There were two packages... Yes, TWO packages ... You didn't ... So... You didn't send the other package?" He glances back at Scully who looks up from her typing.

Mulder continues speaking with Danny. "So, you sent the stainless steel containers, but you did not send the second box? ... No." He looks at Scully and mouths 'Told you.'

"Then where did it come from?" she asks.

He puts up a finger, telling her to wait. "Danny, do me a favor? ... I'll get ya some Yankees tickets." He crosses to the second box. "Check out this tracking number to find out who sent this other box. The number's..." He looks at the box label and reads, "0001759823LM91. It was sent with yours. Same shipping company. Thanks, Danny." He hangs up the phone.

"So," he announces as he searches his pockets for car keys, "let's go check out that storage facility for tonight." He stops at the door, keys now in hand, as he realizes Scully hasn't moved.

She's still seated at the table tapping at the laptop keyboard. Her expression is unreadable.

"Scully?" Mulder asks in a tentative voice. An unreadable expression was not good.

She continues typing, without acknowledging him.

"We need to go stakeout this place. Is there something wrong?" He's losing patience knowing they have precious little time to prepare for what was going to be a critical, and highly personal, mission.

Scully stops typing and slams the laptop closed. "No. What could possibly be wrong?"

Mulder's eyes widen. Scully's sarcastic tone is a definite warning. He doesn't respond, waiting for her to enlighten him.

She doesn't look up. "If we're in this together, then why have you suddenly taken charge?" She sets a piercing gaze on him that makes him visibly flinch.

"You're not in charge here, so stop giving orders and setting our agenda. I am not your subordinate to order about." She's on a roll and doesn't feel like stopping. "This is exactly why I wanted to do this on my own."

She pushes up from her sear and crosses over until she's a few feet away, facing him. "You start giving me orders. We cannot go barreling into this warehouse. You are not calling the shots. This is not your plan. And you can go home if you came here to do that."

Mulder's aghast. "Is that an ultimatum?" He stiffens and studies Scully intensely. "Just what were you planning?"

She doesn't answer.

"What was your plan? What were you going to do when you found him?"

"IF I found him, IF I found him," Scully corrects.

Mulder waits for more. When she doesn't continue, he prods. "What were you planning? What were you going to do?"

Scully drops her gaze from him and turns. She takes a couple steps back toward the table.

"You had a plan. You ALWAYS have a plan." He finishes in a low voice, "What was it?"

She continues walking slowly, her back to him.

"Dammit, Scully! What was your plan?" Anger fills his voice, making it rise as his frustration with Scully grows. "Was all this somehow to make-up for Emily? You trying to make amends for Emily's death?"

Scully is clearly surprised by Mulder's mention of Emily as she stops walking. They had a kind of unspoken pact to never mention her name. The mention of her name now is poorly timed.

She swivels around and rushes towards him. Her hand is poised to slap him square on the jaw. She pulls back when she realizes he isn't flinching.

Mulder's hazel eyes are focused on her, but he's not preparing for an imminent assault on his face.

Instead of slapping him, she uses both hands to shove him back to the bed.

He 's a bit startled when he finds himself lying spread eagle on the bed, but quickly rights himself. He scoots to a sitting position at the foot of the bed.

"Talk to me, Scully." His voice is low and his eyes are focused on her face. "Don't shut me out of this."

Scully remains standing and meets his gaze. She's not ready to yield just yet.

As they gaze at each other, she notices that Mulder is not looking at her but through her. She drops her gaze and takes two steps back.

'Dammit!' she thinks. 'You did that on purpose, Mulder. You want me to drop my guard so you can read my soul. Don't even try!'

"Stop it, Mulder," she cautions.

"No. Look at me. Talk to me."

She doesn't say anything or look up.

"I know how much it hurts. I know we agreed not to talk about it. But, now we have to. Especially if it can help Eric."

Scully decides to allow him this. She takes three steps forward and meets his gaze with equal intensity.

Mulder knows she's reading him just as he's reading her. He'd grown to like it when Scully read him like a book... most of the time. There was a certain comfort to it.

Scully knows Mulder can clearly see her now. He now knows what she had planned. He now knows why she left him behind. It was a small price to pay for being able to see him clearly. She now knows his plans. She holds his gaze for several moments.

Then, she suddenly drops her eyes. Mulder sees her face cloud over as she stares at the floor.

He speaks in a soft voice. "Scully, you can't bring her back. And going off alone to try to make amends won't help anyone." He steps towards her and looks down at her red air. "And you do not need to make amends. You did all you could. You were right to let her go. But, you already knew that."

She doesn't look up. She moves towards the nearest bed and sits. Mulder stays in place as he watches her.

Several minutes of silence pass.

Scully breaks the silence by clearing her throat, fighting back her building emotions. It takes her several minutes before she can finally speak.

"I was trying to protect you from you. You are so hell-bent whenever it's personal. You've just thrown yourself... leap into danger. Hell, Mulder, you're still recovering from whatever neurosurgery they performed on you." She was rambling, which only maddened her more.

Mulder looks at her quizzically. Scully was babbling and not making much sense. Scully did not babble.

. "So many times you almost... you were so close... I just wanted to spare you that. I wanted to find out what I could. I needed to know what was going on before..."

She stops as she is startled by Mulder's arm wrapping around her shoulders. She hadn't noticed him move over and sit beside her.

"You want to save Eric and you don't want me to screw it up," he summarizes. "That's the bottom line, isn't it?"

She confirms this by meeting his gaze.

"Point taken. No screw-ups. No rushing in. No commando." Mulder agrees, his gaze intent on her, but his eyes reveal laughter just below the surface.

"No bombs," she adds, regaining some control.

"Those aren't mine." "Those aren't yours." They spoke simultaneously.

They can feel the tension easing.

Mulder rubs her shoulders. "We work best together, Scully. Don't leave me behind."

Scully looks into Mulder's eyes and takes his face in her hands. It strikes her that this was the same jaw she was going to slap just a couple minutes before. Her eyes wander over his face as he studies her eyes, still reading her.

She leans toward him, pressing her forehead against his cheek.

Mulder's eyes close as he savors the moment. He slides his other arm up so both his arms surround her shoulders.

She moves her hands around to the back of Mulder's head, her fingers in his hair.

They remain like this for a long time, as they seem to be sharing, or gathering, much needed strength.

Scully slowly breaks the embrace as she moves back from Mulder. She sees his eyes closed and his face completely relaxed. She can't resist: she leans in and gives him a short kiss.

Mulder quickly reacts and returns the kiss. When he opens his eyes, the kiss is over and Scully is standing up from the bed.

"Let's go check out this place." She extends her hand to Mulder.

As Mulder and Scully leave the motel room and get into his rental car, a maid arranges the cleaning supplies on her cart, parked at the room next door.

A dark sedan is parked across the parking lot. The Cigarette-Smoking Man watches Mulder and Scully walk to the car. He smiles as he sees they are holding hands until they reach the car. They go to opposite sides of the car. He takes a long puff on a cigarette as he sees their car back up and head out of the lot.

He starts to turn the ignition of his car to follow them, when his attention is drawn to a van entering the lot. It's a cargo can with a sign on the door that reads, "Max's Speedy Delivery Service." It pulls into the space just vacated by Mulder and Scully. A man in jeans and a black t-shirt gets out of the car and glances around.

The Smoking Man hunkers down in his seat, intently watching the man. His eyes narrow and he lowers his cigarette. He notes the man's wavy, brown hair and wide-rimmed glasses as the man looks around the lot.

As the man walks down the sidewalk to the rooms, he sees his profile clearly for the first time. The corners of his mouth rise slightly.

The man passes by the maid's cart, now parked by Scully's room door and enters the room through the open door. He's inside for just a few minutes. When he comes out, he's carrying one of the boxes. He carries it to the van and places it in the back. He glances around again before he gets back on the van.

As the delivery van backs out and leaves the lot, the Smoking Man takes another puff from his cigarette, pleased with this turn of events.

Oklahoma City March Children's and Women's Clinic 11:32 PM

Byers and Langly push a large cleaning cart down an empty hallway. Both are dressed in gray coveralls and wear black baseball carts. Langly's hair is tucked up inside the cap and Byers is wearing brown frame glasses.

Byers opens a door and reveals an exam room. He grabs a broom from the cart while Langly pulls out towels and a spray bottle. As Byers sweeps the floor, Langly cleans the countertops. Langly glances around the corner into the hallway. He sees a man approaching and clears his throat, signaling Byers.

The man, in a black suit and gray tie, stops next to their cart on the doorway. "How's it going tonight?" he asks congenially as he leans on the cart.

"Fine," Langly answers, continuing his cleaning duties.

"Y'all new, huh?"

They nod, both a bit hesitant.

"Boy, that company y'all work for must have one hell of a turnover."

Both men just nod and continue cleaning.

"I don't know how you guys handle these late hours. Myself, I hate them. I'm just glad I only have to do it a couple days a month. How long does it take y'all to clean this place?"

Byers and Langly exchange looks. "Oh, I'd say it'll take us just about our whole shift," Byers tactfully answers.

The guy laughs and bangs his hand on the cart. "I got it! Don't wanna give the impression you ain't working your whole shift." He bangs the cart with his open hand one more time as his laugh fades. "I'll see y'all later."

He turns and heads down the hallway.

Langly leans out the door just enough to see him walk through double doors on the left.

"Is that asshole gone?" a voice from inside the cart asks.

"Yes," Byers answers.

"But keep your mouth shut, Frohike. They could be anywhere," Langly chastises.

"Then let's do this now. I can't take much more of this thing. It stinks!" Frohike's muffled voice complains.

Byers and Langly both look at their watches: 11:44.

"One minute," Byers announces as he sweeps back towards the cart. He replaces the broom and calls, "Time," as Langly puts the cleaner and cloth back.

They quickly push the cart down the hallway and stop at double doors at the end. A large "Authorized Personnel Only" sign is plainly visible at eye level.

The cart curtains open and Frohike unfolds his body from the small space. He stretches, groaning. "Man, that took forever. I'm too old for this," he complains as he continues to bend and stretch.

"Quit complaining and go do it," Langly commands, his words much sharper than his expression. They're all nervous wrecks.

Frohike doesn't respond as he moves toward a keypad to the right of the doors. He pulls a card from his pocket and slides it into the slot. Holding it there, he waits a few seconds, then punches in four numbers. A few more tense seconds tick by.

"Maybe it's defective. Could we have gotten a bad card?" Byers worries.

"Better not be for what we paid for that thing," Langly grumbles. "And, we gave Mulder one of these for Christmas. He'd be pissed."

The green light finally comes on and Frohike pulls the card from the slot. He turns back to Byers and Langly as he re-pockets the card. "How long do I have?"

Byers looks at his watch. "Eight more minutes of scrambling." He shakes his head in apology for the short time.

Frohike nods and reaches for the door. "And without further ado." The door opens easily and he slips inside.

As the door closes behind him, Frohike glances around. He notes a camera in a near corner. "I hope this isn't candid camera."

He heads noiselessly down the hallway. This hallway is narrower than the one before. When he hears voices, he ducks behind a corner and peers around it. He sees a central nurse's desk.

Only a ward clerk is sitting at the desk, looking at a computer monitor. Another woman, wearing lavender scrubs with a stethoscope stuffed in the shirt pocket, approaches the desk. She stops at the counter opposite the clerk and drops a chart into a chart holder.

"How'd you say your husband's flu started? Was it a headache ad body aches?" she asks the clerk.

"No, he had chills and a sore throat," the clerk answers.

"Maybe this is something else." She rubs her temples and back of her neck before picking up another chart and heading down the hall again.

"I'll make some hot tea," the clerk calls after her. She stands and heads into a back room.

Frohike seizes the opportunity and hurries to the desk. He flips through the charts and finds what he's looking for. He looks up and scans the room numbers. Spotting the one he wants, he looks back towards the room where the clerk had gone. Seeing no sign of her, he heads to the correct room.

He slowly opens the room door, trying hard not to make a sound. Finding the room dark, he slips inside and shuts the door behind him. He stands still for few seconds, allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness.

He sees a bed and moves toward it. A small boy lies sleeping peacefully in the bed. Frohike notes his red hair and strong facial features. He knows he has the right little boy.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a needle along with a small vial of clear liquid.

"I'm sorry to do this with you, little guy, but I can't have you screaming."

He fills the syringe with the liquid and injects it into the boy's arm. He replaces the needle and the vial in his pocket before removing the boy's covers.

"Come on, Eric. Let's blow this place." The child stirs slightly and groans as Frohike scoops him into his arms and heads to the door.

Funt- MidAmerica Subtropolis 2:34 AM

Scully, dressed in black for the second time today, is thumbing through files in the top drawer of a file cabinet. She's scanning the files, looking for keywords: hemolytic anemia, neoplastic mass, agglutination. Of course, she's always looking out for key names: Mulder, Emily, the Sims, Eric, Samantha, and her own name.

Mulder is three file cabinets away in the dimly lit room, combing through the bottom drawer of the cabinet. He's as intent on his task as Scully, though he's focusing on names. He's confident that what he and Scully are searching for is here, in these files.

Scully rubs her eyes and reaches into her pocket. She pulls out her glasses and puts them on. They'd been here for over three hours, reading almost the entire time, and eyes are complaining loud and clear that they'd almost reached their limit. She glances sideways at Mulder. She notes his intense concentration on the files he's reading. Her eyes smile in admiration. Then, sadness enters them as she remembers the reason for their search there. Her gaze wavers from Mulder and is briefly unfocused before she returns her attention to where she'd left off in the file drawer.

"Scully."

She turns back to Mulder and he meets her eyes.

"Look at this." His voice tells her he's excited but trying to keep it under control.

Scully walks over and kneels next to him. She reads the file in his hand. Her eyes widen as she reads. "See file number 55A6921C," she reads aloud.

Mulder drops the file into Scully's hands and leaps up to a standing position.

"Number 55A..." he repeats.

"6921C," she completes, standing up.

He scans the file drawers.

"5... 5... A..." His head drops down checking the lower drawers in the cabinet. "6... 9... 2... 1... C." He points at a drawer and glances back at Scully.

She nods, urging him on.

Mulder pulls the drawer out and moves his fingers over the file. He locates file 55A6921C, pulls it out, and sets it on top of the other files. As he opens it, he realizes Scully is at his elbow. They read the file together for a couple moments.

Mulder pulls back and looks at his partner as she continues to read. He, then, looks around them and focuses on a door to their right. He stands and rushes toward the door. When he gets there, he yanks at the doorknob. It doesn't turn. He quickly notices a security keypad above the doorknob.

"Scully," he calls over his shoulder as he turns to see her. "Give me..." He stops short when he sees a card being shoved into his hand.

He slides the card into the slot on the keypad and holds it there as seconds pass. He punches four numbers on the keypad and waits.

Tension grows as the time passes. Both sets of eyes are on the keypad, waiting. Scully would swear she could hear the ticking from her watch.

Finally, a mechanical whirring sound is heard and the door pops ajar.

Mulder pushes the door open, pulls the card from the keypad slot, and rushes through the door almost simultaneously.

Scully, follows, grabbing the card from him as he holds it back to her and shoves it into her jacket pocket. As she turns back to see where they're heading, She runs into Mulder's back.

He's stopped and is standing stiffly, looking around, his jaw open slightly.

She notes his expression before focusing on the contents of the room: dark gray steel cabinets. She recognizes them as refrigerated cabinets, the kind used in labs that kept live cells, blood samples, and frozen fluids. Her mathematical mind quickly calculates that there are at least two hundred cabinets in each row and there are 5 rows.

Mulder can't move; his feet are lead. His eyes continuously scan the rows of cabinets. He's having trouble processing this information.

Scully moves first, rushing past him down the first row of cabinets and begins reading drawer labels.

"It's in alphabetical order," she calls back to Mulder. "Thank God for small favors."

This pulls Mulder to his senses and into action. He rushes out the door back into the other room.

Scully doesn't seem to notice he's left the room as she continues searching the cabinets. She spots what she's been looking for and pulls the drawer open. A "shoosh" of air greets her as she focuses on rows of small vials in the drawer.

"Mine?"

Scully visibly jumps at the sound of Mulder voice next to her. She sees he's got the bag of steel canisters.

"I... think so...," she hears herself answer.

Mulder begins grabbing vials from the drawer and filling the empty slots one of the canisters. He soon realizes he's the only one reaching for vials.

"Help me, Scully."

His words bring Scully back to reality. She moves her hand over the drawer and hesitantly removes a vial. She rolls it between her fingers, studying it. The frozen vial chills her fingertips as it dawns on her that she is holding Mulder's sperm in her hand. She'd be tempted to laugh at the absurdity of this if she wasn't so disgusted at what THEY had taken from her and her partner.

Mulder takes the vial from Scully's hand after he finishes gathering all the other vials. He places them in the canister and snaps the lid shut. He turns to Scully and sees the faraway look on her face. He touches her arm. She looks up, but she doesn't meet his eye. Instead, she looks past him. Scully is embarrassed--- a rare emotion for her.

"Okay," Mulder says as he looks over at Scully, trying to get both of them refocused on the task at hand.

He stands, the canister in one hand and Scully's elbow in the other, guiding her up. He hands her the canister and picks up the bag containing the other canister. He moves across two rows of cabinets, scanning the file drawer labels.

Scully follows, silent.

He stops and Scully stops beside him. Her eyes focus of the back of his head. She can't look... not yet.

Mulder waits for her, knowing she has to be ready for this.

Scully wrestles with herself, unaware of how much time is passing.

Mulder doesn't look at her. He can feel the apprehension out of her.

Scully shakes off her inner turmoil and reaches for the drawer marked, "Scully, Dana K.," startling Mulder. The file drawer makes the same sound as the one before when she opens it.

Inside the drawer are thirteen vials, not quite as many as were in Mulder's, lying securely on metal racks.

Mulder reaches for one but Scully quickly grabs his wrist. He looks back at her, his question evident in his expression.

"Mulder, what are we going to do with these?"

Mulder's expression becomes a trifle incredulous.

"I mean," she restates herself, uncomfortable with the look Mulder is giving her, "I'm not sure this is right. They too from us so we're taking it back? An eye for and eye?"

"Well, not exactly," Mulder answers, a note of sarcasm seeping into his voice.

Scully shoots him a fiery frown.

"What do you want to do?" he asks, hoping to avoid an argument here.

Scully stands. "I just need a minute. Give me a minute to think here."

She turns away from hi and walks down the row of cabinets. She stops and looks up, her thoughts racing.

Mulder turns away from her and busies himself with opening the other canister, ready when she is. After a few minutes pass he breaks the silence, "Let's just take them. Then we can..." he stops and corrects, "you can decide later what to do with them. But, they won't have them anymore."

"Mulder."

Scully's tone of voice his attention more than calling his name. He glances up to see her standing with her hands on her hips looking up to the ceiling. He follows her gaze and sees what has her attention: a small black box with a flashing green light.

She turns her head and meets his gaze. They had just seen this box earlier today, in the box in their motel room.

Mulder quickly stands and surveys the rest of the room, checking the area near the ceiling. He spots four other devices spaced evenly throughout the room.

"We now know what happened to that other box," he says as he turns back to Scully. "C'mon," he urges as he leans over and begins pulling vials from the drawer. He's not being nearly as careful as he had before.

"Mulder, leave then," she pleads, rushing back to him.

"No," is his only response as he pulls the last three vials from the drawer and practically tosses them into the canister.

"We can leave them. Let's just get out of here," Scully implores.

He ignores her, intent on his work. He snaps the lid shut, shoves it and the other canister back into the bag, and stands in one fluid motion.

They rush together through the file area into a large hallway and head toward the door in which they came. They're frantically searching for any closer exit, with no luck. They aren't bothering to be careful to avoid detection by cameras.

They find the door and rush into a street. They rush down the inside street, making a beeline for the exit doors 500 feet away. Mulder shoves the door open without disarming the alarm keypad. As Scully rushes through behind him, the alarm sounds.

They run and feel the cold night air against their faces. They're on the side of the facility and rush for the fence about 100 feet away. As Scully scrambles over it, they hear a dull explosion in the distance. Scully lands on the other side and Mulder tosses the bag containing the canisters as carefully as possible. He, then, hustles over the fence himself.

They rush into the woods as louder explosions and alarms sound behind them.

Show-Me Inn 6:05AM

Mulder and Scully are sitting up on separate beds, staring straight ahead at the two steel canisters, now sitting side-by-side on the dresser opposite them.

They both jump at the sound of a knock on the door. They turn to the door and just look at it.

Scully slides off the bed and heads to the door.

Mulder moves off his bed and stands about 6 feet behind her.

There is a much more forceful banging on the door just before Scully reaches it. She winces at the loud sound as she stands tall to look through the peephole. She quickly turns back to Mulder, a shocked expression on her face.

Mulder looks at her questioningly when the door shakes from another banging.

"Open up. Kansas City Police."

Mulder now understands Scully's expression. He nods his head.

Scully unlocks the door and slowly opens it. She is propelled backwards at Mulder as several policemen force their way through the open door. Mulder stops her forward momentum as she plows into his stomach.

"Fox Mulder and Dana Scully?" one of the officers asks, standing in front of them.

Mulder's helping Scully stand up straight as he answers, "Yes. What's the problem?"

"Please stand with your hands against the wall," the officer requests matter-of-factly.

"Officer, I think there's some mistake. We're with the FBI," Scully offers.

Mulder looks around as sees the other policemen rooting through their suitcases. One officer is examining the steel canisters.

"Hands against the wall, agents," the officer repeats.

"Our i.d.s are in out jacket pockets. Just check..."

"Up against the wall," the officer yells.

Mulder and Scully move side-by-side against the wall by the door. They stand with their hands against the wall as ordered.

Two officers step over and spread their legs apart.

Scully glances back at the officer now frisking her, shock and anger on her face.

Mulder looks at her as he, too, is frisked.

They look at each other as the officers finish the frisking, taking the gun in Mulder's ankle holster in the process.

Next, they're places in handcuffs and led out to a police car. They're placed in separate cars.

Mulder stretches to see Scully through the back window of the car. His mind raced to figure out what was happening to them.

Kansas City Metro Jail 12:25 PM

Walter Skinner is not a happy man. He's pacing in a small interrogation room. And he's scowling.

The door opens and he sees his two best agents brought into the room in handcuffs. The guards escort them to chairs at a table, remove their handcuffs, and guide them to sit. The guards leave.

Skinner moves to sit across from them.

"You two want to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Mulder meets Skinner's gaze as Scully looks on. "I think the booking officer said we were being arrested for terrorist acts against the United States and the state of Missouri. Also, there are the other charges of breaking and entering and burglary."

Skinner takes a deep breath before turning his attention to Scully. "Agent Scully, what happened here?"

"Why do you always do that?"

All eyes turn to Mulder.

"Why do you always turn to Scully and ask her what happened? Why do you make her the whistle-blower? Always put her in the hot seat? Ask me what happened!" Mulder is seething. He's been in a jail cell for over 5 hours and no one has spoken with him during that time. No one would tell him what was going on with Scully. He has been pushed enough for one day!

Skinner leans back in his seat as Scully looks down at the table.

Skinner works his jaw before he responds. "Well, Agent Mulder, tell me what happened."

Mulder looks up and lifts his chin at the acknowledgment. "We've been charged with bombing a large storage facility."

"They have evidence against you. A delivery box sent to your motel room. Your fingerprints are all over it." He studies both agents for some reaction.

Mulder just looks down at the table while Scully exhales deeply.

"And, they have video of you rushing from the building just moments before the explosions began."

Mulder shuts his eyes after hearing that. Scully doesn't move at all.

"And we haven't even mentioned the stolen vials. We haven't been able to contact Glenn-Allen for information about them, but we have the lab results. Eggs and sperm? What the hell is that all about?"

Mulder's head jerks up. "Are they still in the canisters? Do they still have them frozen?"

Scully lets out a slow sigh and closes her eyes.

Skinner's forehead wrinkles with consternation. "Yes. Why are you interested in those?"

Mulder looks a bit horrified. He doesn't answer and breaks his gaze from Skinner.

Skinner notes both agents' reaction as a bizarre thought washes over him. He waits several moments before putting this into words. "They're yours?" he says in a low voice, as if trying not to be heard.

Mulder looks sideways at Scully and prepares to speak.

"Yes." Scully answers before Mulder has a chance.

Both agents are now watching Skinner's reaction to that news.

"How?" he asks.

Neither answers.

Realizing how that must've sounded he tries again. "Why? Why did they have it?"

"They took it from us," Scully explains, through clenched teeth. It's the first time she'd spoken since they'd come into the room.

Mulder looks at her, hearing the fatigue and frustration in her voice. He finishes the explanation to Skinner, "And we took it back."

Skinner looks on as the agents continue their eye contact. "Well, agents, these are very serious charges. ATF and the Bureau are investigating and you and I both know they'll be pushing for the harshest sentence." He's successfully regained their attention. "A large underground storage facility is still burning as we speak. You were caught in possession of stolen goods from that facility. And there's a package in a dumpster near the facility that has a label identifying it as being sent to you, Agent Mulder."

"That package disappeared from the motel room while we were gone yesterday," Mulder jumps in.

"Can you substantiate that?"

Mulder doesn't answer.

"Someone at the motel may have seen who took the package from the room," Scully offers. "The maid was there when we left. They took it in broad daylight and they only had a window of about three hours while we were out."

Mulder nods.

"We'll check with the manager and staff there," Skinner assures.

"And Danny," Mulder suddenly remembers. "You need to call Danny. He was checking who sent the second package. He sent the first, with those canisters. But, he said he didn't send the second."

"Agent Smith is in custody in D.C. I'm sure he'll be sharing that information with his interrogators," Skinner informs them.

Mulder grimaces. He hadn't expected them to drag Danny in, too.

"Anything else, agents? Anything else that will help clear this situation?" Skinner prompts, clearly hoping they'd have more information to help him understand this and clear them of the charges.

"What about Glenn-Allen?" Scully asks. "They've said nothing?"

"They have no comment and the head of the department that was storing materials at that storage facility resigned four months ago. We haven't been able to locate him," Skinner answers.

"Sir," Mulder seeks Skinner's attention. "Is there any chance we can be released on bail?"

"I'm afraid not. But, we're working on getting you out of here soon."

With that, Skinner rises and heads to the door.

"We're working on it," he repeats as he knocks on the door.

The door opens and he walks through. A few seconds pass before the guards walk in. During those fleeting moments, Mulder and Scully clasp hands. They stay like this without looking at each other. They don't move until the guards pull their arms to replace the handcuffs on their wrists. Their fingers disentangle as their wrists are brought around to their backs for the handcuffs. The guard with Mulder pushes him to the door first.

Mulder turns to see her as he's being pushed through the door. He can hardly stand to see her in the prison gray clothes. And her expression is filled with such pain, anger, humiliation, and fear. He passes through the doorway and loses sight of her.

6:36 PM

Mulder is resting on the bunk of his cell. He's been contemplating what brought them to this point. He has nothing better to do with his time.

"Fox Mulder," the guard calls.

Mulder sits up and faces the cell door where the guard is standing.

"Let's go."

"Where?" Mulder asks as he stands and moves to the door.

"You're being released." The guard appears quite unhappy with this news.

Mulder walks with the guard down the hallway, relieved that he isn't wearing the handcuffs again. They pass through two electric doors before they enter a room with a large counter. Mulder recognizes it as the property room.

He spots Scully at the counter. He moves next to her.

Scully looks over at him.

"Do you know what's going on?" she asks.

"Name?" the guard behind the counter asks commandingly.

Mulder turns his attention to the guard. "Mulder. Fox Mulder."

The guard repeats, "Fox? Mulder?"

Mulder nods and the guard heads back to some storage racks.

Mulder turns back to Scully and answers, "I was about to ask you that."

At that moment, the door opens and Skinner enters.

"You're getting your things. Good," he announces.

"Did you have something to do with this, sir?" Scully asks.

Skinner half-smiles. "Something. The maid confirmed that the box was taken by a delivery person while she was cleaning your room," he says looking at Scully. "And Agent Smith came through with information about who sent you that second box," he adds to Mulder.

"What's that?" Scully asks.

"The delivery service reported a man came in immediately after Agent Smith left, identified himself with an FBI badge as Agent Smith's partner, and requested they send the second package with the first package."

"Do they have a description? A name?" Mulder inquires.

"The name doesn't check out, of course. No record at all. They describe him as medium build, shoulder-length blond hair, wire-rimmed glasses."

It's Scully's turn to ask the questions. "What about the maid? Could she describe the man who took the package?"

Skinner shakes his head. "The descriptions don't match."

"Could be disguises," Mulder surmises as the guard delivers envelopes to he and Scully. Their clothes are draped across the countertop.

"Or two completely different people," Scully adds.

Skinner turns to leave. "Get dressed and reclaim your property here. Then, we'll go get your things at the motel before we head to the airport."

As he walks through the door, the guard behind the counter instructs, "Changing rooms are back there." He points to the far corner of the room. "When you're finished, return the prison clothes to me and I'll reissue you your weapons. You'll have to sign for everything before you leave."

The guard leaves them as they begin to take their property from the bags.

Mulder pulls his cell phone from the envelope and turns it on before he stuffs it in his jacket pocket. He concentrates on his wallet and other items in the envelope.

Scully puts her wallet and FBI badge in her jacket pocket before getting her cell phone from the envelope. As soon as she turns it on, it rings. She's a bit startled and it takes her a few rings to answer it.

"Scully."

She realizes a cell phone is still ringing, and turns to see Mulder removing his phone from his jacket.

"Mulder."

A couple minutes pass as they listen to their respective calls.

"Byers?" Where have you guys been?" he responds into his phone.

"Frohike?" Scully asks into her phone.

Mulder's head jerks up at the mention of Frohike's name.

"Frohike?" he asks Scully, moving his mouth away from his phone's receiver momentarily. "Byers, what's going on? Frohike's on the phone with Scully right now."

"Frohike, why are you and Byers calling us?" Scully asks.

"Oh good, you're together," both Gunmen respond, clearly happy to find them in the same place.

"What's going on?" Mulder and Scully ask in chorus.

The Gunmen answer in chorus, too. "We need you to come to Oklahoma City now."

Their eyes meet. "Oklahoma City?" they ask at once.

"Please," Byers implores. "Just come. As soon as you can."

"It's very important," Frohike says in a very serious voice.

Mulder and Scully exchange thoughts silently before answering, "We'll be there."

University of Oklahoma Medical Center Emergency Room

Mulder stands rigid, his eyes fixed on the child lying on the stretcher just a few feet away. He closes his eyes and struggles to remember how they'd gotten here.

He remembers he and Scully arriving at the Gunmen's motel room and Frohike greeting them at the door. From there, things got fuzzy:

-Eric lying on the bed...

-He's asleep.... No...wait... he's motioonless...

-Scully says he has a fever...

-She found a green mass on his neck...

-"Mulder, we have to get him to the hosppital..."

NO!

The voice inside him was screaming, "NO!" This could not be happening.

He looks across the room at Scully. She's conversing with the emergency room doctor.

'God! How did she do it?' he wondered. 'How does she maintain herself and calmly discuss our son's condition?... Our son...'

Mulder's gaze moves once again to the child on the stretcher. He tries to concentrate on Eric's placid face and the curls of red hair that frame it.

"Mulder... Mulder..."

He focuses on Scully when he finally realizes she's calling him.

Gaining his attention, Scully takes his hand and leads him into the hallway. Once in the hallway, she faces him and meets his gaze.

"Mulder, he has acute hemolytic anemia. The leukocytes are attacking his red blood cells, killing or deforming them. This means his organs are not getting enough oxygen. And neoplasms are forming his neural pathways. These are destroying his tissue as well." She stops as Mulder's grip on her hand tightens.

"Mulder," she says solemnly, "it's the same as before."

"The same as Emily."

She nods. She's shocked as his grasp suddenly lessens and for a moment he's so pale she's afraid he may pass out.

"I know you were hoping for anything but this," she tries to comfort him. "There's nothing we can do to stop this. We could remove his spleen..."

"No," Mulder moans, releasing her hand.

"I know." Scully looks down as he goes into physician-mode. "That would only work temporarily, anyway. We could try corticosteroids or prednisone therapy. Those have had some success in hemolytic anemia studies. There's the hyper baric chamber to increase the oxygen level. Also, there's immunosuppressors like azathiaprine that might slow the attack of his own blood cells. We tried many of these before and they didn't work. The doctor's proposing the very same treatments."

She looks up at Mulder and sees he's pulled something from his jacket pocket. She notes the vial of green liquid.

"It may be a cure," he tells her in a gravelly whisper.

Scully recognizes the vial. Mulder had told her about this after Emily's funeral. He'd told her about it after he promised her he wouldn't keep anything from her again.

"Or, it could prolong his pain." She hates to say it. Her skepticism won't stop, not even for this.

Mulder nods. "But, we'd have him that much longer," he says through gritted teeth. "We could buy some time to find out what's causing this... what they did to him." He's just barely containing his emotions.

Scully is silent, considering his words.

Mulder looks past her, through the window at Eric.

Scully looks past him, her eyes distant.

"I can't do this." Her voice is shaking. "I can't do this again."

Mulder focuses on her. She's still looking past him, but he can see the pain and fear in her eyes.

"It's okay, Scully. I think I'd like to be alone."

Scully looks up at him. She lowers her head against his chest as her arms encircle his waist.

Mulder hugs her shoulders and closes his eyes.

"I love you."

What? He isn't sure he'd heard her right. She said it into his chest and it had been slightly muffled by his shirt. But, the look on her face as tears fall down her cheeks when she breaks the embrace tells him his ears are functioning properly.

He watches her walk down the hall and exit the emergency room.

After a few wistful moments of studying the closed door, he directs his attention to Eric. He slowly walks back through the door and into his room.

He stands alone at Eric's bedside, considering the tubes and wires running from the small boy. Eric's face is peaceful, almost angelic, as he sleeps. Only a nasal canula invades his serene face.

In stark contrast, Mulder's face is anything but serene. His expression is an amalgam of pain, hope, anguish, fear, and love.

He looks back down at his hand, still holding the vial.

He'd been saving this hoping, at first, it'd save Scully's daughter, Emily. Later, he'd held onto the hope that he'd find Eric and use it to save him. He'd done it. Eric was here and he could save him.

'Here's your chance!'

He looks back at Eric in the bed, this time concentrating on his face and ignoring everything else. In Mulder's mind, images of Eric flash through: playing with the car Mulder had saved for him (now under Eric's right hand)... building sand castles at the beach on the Vineyard... playing baseball. Then, an image of Eric lying on a metal exam table, tubes and wires everywhere, and a huge green mass sticking out from the side of his head.

Mulder shuts his eyes and groans slightly at the horrible vision. His hand holding the vial slides back into his jacket pocket.

University of Oklahoma Medical Center chapel

The priest standing in the front of the chapel by the altar intones the rosary prayer, "Hail Mary, full of grace..."

Mulder steps inside the chapel and moves down the left aisle. He stops at a pew and walks sideways into it. He nearly collapses to his knees.

A hand reaches over and takes his hand. Mulder grasps the hand tightly and covers it with his other hand.

Scully stops saying the prayer and looks over at Mulder's hands engulfing hers. She'd been hoping to give some of her strength to him. She knew how helpless he felt when she asked him to leave her alone with Emily. But, instead of sharing her strength, she is overwhelmed by his sadness. Tears pour down her cheeks, mirroring Mulder's.

"Remember, O most gracious Virgin Mary, that never was it known that anyone who sought your intercession or fled to your protection was left unaided. Inspired with this confidence, I fly to you, O Virgin of Virgins, our mother..."

As the final prayer of the rosary is recited, Scully covers Mulder's hands with her other hand, her rosary still in it.

"In the name of the Father..."

When the rosary ends, the others in the chapel leave. The priest genuflects and turns to walk down the short aisle. He notes the couple kneeling to his right. He sees their anguish. He stops and sits in the pew in front of Mulder and Scully. Mulder and Scully aren't aware of his presence. Both have their eyes closed, tears slowly rolling down their cheeks.

"May the Lord bless you and ease your pain."

Both of them jump and their eyes pop open, though the priest had only whispered the blessing.

"You've lost someone?"

Mulder can't answer. He just looks down.

"Our son."

Mulder's head snaps up and he fixes his gaze on Scully. She doesn't look at him. She just tightens her grasp on his hands.

The priest is briefly at a loss for words. He studies the grieving couple, searching for the right words to help them. "He's with God now. He has no more pain." He places his hand over their clasped hands. "Would you like to talk? There's an office..."

"No, thank you, Father. But, your prayers would be greatly appreciated."

Mulder is amazed at her ability to speak much less be coherent and strong.

The priest squeezes their hands before releasing them and rising. He walks slowly down the aisle and walks out the double doors.

Scully starts to stand, but Mulder pulls her hands. He's not ready to leave.

He finds his voice, at last, though it doesn't sound like him. "I need a little more time."

Scully nods. She eases back down on the kneeler and turns away, facing the altar. She pulls her hands from his and returns the rosary to her jacket pocket.

"How can you be so sure?"

"What?" she asks, turning back to him.

"How can you be so sure?" he repeats, his voice getting stronger with each use.

"About what?"

"About God. That he's there. That Eric is safe and happy with him. That he's not in pain anymore. How can you be so confident?"

Scully's eyes search Mulder's face as if the answer is written there. Not finding it there, she again turns to study the altar. After a full minute passes, with Mulder watching her intently, she speaks again. "It's a matter of trust. I trust that what I believe... I mean, when you look at the world and see..."

She looks around, fumbling for the answer to his question. "At times like this, you have to have faith that..."

Mulder watches her keenly, noting her sudden awkwardness.

"It's just that... well, I believe God's there, that he loves us, and takes care of those who..." She's getting very frustrated with herself. "It's so hard when a child... you struggle to figure out why. Why..."

Mulder takes her hands in his, stopping her rambling, attempted explanation. He doesn't say anything. He just rubs his hands against hers, studying them.

Scully looks at him then at her hands. Suddenly, she finds the words that have been eluding her.

"You have to want to believe."

When he meets her eyes, he sees she's just realized everything that's happened to them the last few days. Her eyes quickly fill with tears, again, and she's really struggling to maintain control.

He knows she can't control this. He pulls her head to his shoulder. Soon, he feels his shirt getting wet as her sobbing grows. Her whole body is shaking. He lowers his head to Scully's shoulder and lets his own tears flow.

One of the chapel doors is slightly ajar. An eye is visible through the gab.

Cigarette-Smoking Man stands there, observing the agents. He slowly allows the door to close and turns away, lighting a cigarette. As he crosses the hospital lobby, he spots a man in dark clothes standing at the hospital doors. He approaches the man.

"Nice, work, Alex," he says as he stops in front of the man at the door.

Alex Krycek gives him a stare that could kill. He doesn't waste much time looking at the Smoking Man as he returns his attention to the chapel door. Smoking Man, in return, wastes no time with Krycek and exits the hospital.

"Dammit," Krycek says to himself.

Krycek is sitting across the table from the two men in suits. Disdain radiates from his whole body. He hates these men.

"Look, he screwed it up. He was one step ahead. It's the risk we take. But, the storage facility was destroyed. Mulder and Scully have the truth about the experiments. I'd say we achieved our end."

"Another child is dead," the younger man says loudly in horror.

"And I am not responsible for that. No! That was his doing, their doing. Now," he rises from his chair, "you know how to find me when you need me." He heads for the door.

"We are not through here Krycek." The older man struggles to gain control of the situation.

Krycek turns back and looks at them coolly. "Oh, yes we are." He proceeds through the door without further explanation.

"This is not over, Krycek!" the younger man yells. "We're not through!"

As the door slams shut behind Krycek, an atmosphere of dread invades the room.

Both men knew Krycek was the only real chance of stopping the plan and the Cigarette-Smoking Man.

The End

Hope you enjoyed it! E-mail me with your feedback: spkyteach@aol.com

Research credits: On-Line Medical Dictionary: http://www.graylab.ac.uk/ Vanderbilt University:Hematology/Oncology- Evans Syndrome, Acute Hemolytic Anemia: http://www.mc.vanderbilt.edu/peds/pidl/hemeonc/ Acute Hemolytic Anemia (Medical Dictionary courtesy of CancerWeb): http://medicaldictionary.com/ Hunt MidWest Subtropolis: http://www.huntmidwest.com/