Title:  A Nice Trip to the Forest
Author:  Vickie Moseley
Spoilers: None
Summary:  Mystical woods, rampaging creatures, 
just another day in the X files division.
Category:  MT, SA, SkT
Rating:  G
Disclaimer:  These characters belong to 1013 
Productions.  No copyright infringement intended.
Written for Mulder's Refuge July 'Moose on the 
Loose' contest.

A Nice Trip to the Forest
by Vickie Moseley
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

The woods were quiet.  He listened, waiting for any 
sound.  Off in the distance, he could hear thunder 
rumbling across the hilltops and rolling into the 
valley.  That's why it was so quiet, there was a 
storm approaching.  

He stepped lightly over the path, which had 
narrowed to just a track through the overgrowth.  
On either side popped up mayflowers and jacks-in-
the-pulpit.  He knew those flowers, his mother had 
painstakingly taught him many woodland flowers 
when they would visit his grandparents in upper 
New York State.  He also knew the mittened fingers 
and red veins of the dreaded poison ivy.  He 
watched carefully where he walked.

The twigs snapped and tugged at his socks, the 
leaves dripped on his head, water leftover from the 
last storm that moved through just an hour before.  
He wiped rainwater from his eyes and stared into 
the forest.

It was here.  He knew it in his soul.  He could feel 
it, hear it breathing just in the deep undercover of 
brush and bramble.  It was watching him, keeping 
its distance until the moment was right and then it 
would strike.  Horn and hoof, gnashing teeth set to 
rend his flesh from his bones.  One false move, one 
careless act and he would be prey.  Fallen prey.

It was almost as if the knife suddenly appeared in 
his hand, its weight a welcome burden.  Long and 
sleek, shining even in the dull overcast of the sky.  
He ran his thumb along the blade, felt the sting of 
the edge.  Sharp.  It would serve him well, if he had 
the chance to make the first move.  He smiled.  He 
would be victorious.  Now, he had only to wait for 
the battle.

He was losing the light.  The thunder no longer 
rolled in the valleys, it was directly on top of him.  
It crashed in the treetops and shattered the sky.  The 
rumble shook the very ground at his feet.  He 
grasped the knife in his sweaty palm, searching the 
darkness that was encroaching on both sides.  
Where was the beast?  He could hear it, as if 
brought to him on the breeze.  There would be a 
crunch of fallen branch, a rattle of brushed leaves.  
The clipped sound of a hoof hitting rock.  To the 
left, no, to the right.  He ached for a flashlight, but 
his hand held only the knife.  It would have to be 
enough.  He calmed his breathing and forced his 
eyes to search out shapes in the deepening gloom.

A flash!  Lightening created a bizarre silhouette 
against the backdrop of the heavy stand of trees.  
Antlers reaching up to the heavens.  Legs too fragile 
and spindly to support such massive weight.  Eyes 
that glowed with the fires of hell, staring directly 
into his soul.

The massive beast stood stock still in the light of the 
storm raging above.  And then, just as the lightning 
crackled back up to the clouds and the thunder took 
up its earsplitting blast, the animal lowered its head, 
pawed once at the moss beneath a giant hoof, and 
charged.

"What did he say?"  Walter Skinner stood across the 
narrow hospital bed from Dana Scully, looking 
down at the other member of the X files division, 
currently encased in wires and tubes.

"I can't make it out, sir.  He's been mumbling things 
all afternoon.  It's the fever," Scully said with a 
forced calm.  She raked a length of dull red hair 
behind one ear and went back to reading the patient 
chart in her hand.  "His white blood count is 
through the roof," she muttered to herself.

"Sounded like 'moose on the loose'," Skinner 
continued, though Scully was too occupied to hear 
him.

"We won't really know anything until the cultures 
come back," she said with a sigh, and closed the 
metal cover of the chart with a snap.  "It's just so 
frustrating!"

"I'm still not quite clear on how we came to this 
point, Agent Scully," Skinner said as he set his jaw.  
He'd arrived over two hours before, had suffered 
through the taxi ride from hell to find himself no 
more in the know about their most recent case and 
Agent Mulder's strange illness than he was in D.C.

"It seemed like a simple case, sir.  I certainly didn't 
foresee any problems.  But then, I should have 
known to expect the unexpected.  After all, it was a 
trip to the woods," Scully said with a sad shake of 
her head.

"I vaguely remember the 302, Agent Scully.  You'll 
have to fill me in on the case."  Skinner grabbed a 
nearby chair and settled into it.

"A faeries ring, sir.  Only this one seems to have 
special properties.  Three people have gone missing 
after stepping inside the ring.  They haven't been 
found.  We came out at the request of the local 
sheriff's department, but quite frankly, we never 
found the reported ring.  We went to the spot that 
was identified by several different locals and came 
up with nothing more than a bad case of mosquito 
bites."

Skinner nodded.  "So when did Mulder come down 
sick?"

"We promised the Sheriff that we'd go again, just to 
be sure we hadn't missed anything.  On the way 
back to town, Mulder complained that the car was 
too warm.  I turned up the a/c, but it didn't help.  I 
was driving, so I suggested he rest until we got to 
the motel.  It's about an hours drive from Carrollton 
to the heart of the Forest Preserve, so he had been 
asleep about 45 minutes.  When we arrived at the 
motel, he had a case of the chills.  Couldn't keep his 
teeth from chattering."

"It's 93 degrees out there, Agent Scully," Skinner 
interjected.

"It was 96 out day before yesterday.  I immediately 
suspected something was wrong and drove Mulder 
here, to the Emergency Department.  By the time 
we arrived, his temp had spiked and he was 
convulsing."  Her face took on a haunted look and 
she chewed her thumbnail while staring at her 
partner.

"Are you sure there was a case here at all, Agent?" 
Skinner asked.  At Scully's sharp look he shrugged.  
"I mean, yes, we were requested, but from what 
you've told me . . ."

"Sir, the sheriff has very real concerns.  These 
weren't vagrants who disappeared.  One woman was 
a bank vice president who wandered away from her 
daughter's girl scout camping trip.  The woman has 
been a scout leader for many years, she has 
experience in those woods.  One of the men was a 
game warden for the state.  The third man was the 
nature reporter for the local newspaper.  These 
people didn't just wander off the path and get lost, 
sir.  Not to mention the preserve is only 1300 square 
acres.  They could easily just pick a direction and 
walk out."

Skinner fought the urge to blush.  Scully made a 
strong case.  Suddenly, the prospect of sitting in that 
hospital room, staring at a comatose Mulder was a 
burden he couldn't shoulder.  He had to do 
something, no matter how futile.

"Agent Scully, I think I'd like to go out to the 
preserve, poke around a bit.  Maybe I can turn up 
something."

Scully chewed her lip.  "Sir, I can't . . ."

Skinner stopped her in mid-thought.  "Don't 
misunderstand me, Scully.  Your place is here with 
Mulder.  You know his medical history better than 
he does, mostly because he's usually unconscious."  
That remark earned him a brief flash of a grin.  He 
felt somewhat heartened and it only served to 
strengthen his quest.  "You stay right here, let me 
see what an old desk jockey can sniff out."

This time Scully didn't try to hide her smile.  
"Thank you, sir.  I don't know if it was something 
out there in the woods that caused this.  I hate to 
think . . ."  

Skinner rose and walked around the end of the bed 
toward the door.  He placed a hand on her shoulder 
as he passed, gave it a light squeeze and then 
dropped his hand.  "Don't worry about what's out 
there, Scully.  If something is out there, I'll find it.  
You just concentrate on the patient there.  That's 
where you can do the most good right now."

He was almost out the door when her voice stopped 
him.  "Sir, I know I hardly need to tell you this, but 
just from experience, don't stay out past dusk.  It's 
just usually not that safe."

He nodded, tamping down the feeling of dread held 
in her words.    

Mulder stirred and Scully's attention snapped back 
to him.  She got up and placed a soft dry hand on 
his sweat soaked forehead.  Still way too warm, but 
the cooling blanket and the Tylenol in his IV was 
helping keep it down to manageable levels.  She 
was surprised to see his clear hazel eyes staring at 
her from beneath chestnut lashes.

"Hey there," she said softly.  At his grunt, she lifted 
a white cup off the bedside cabinet and placed the 
straw at his lips.  He sucked greedily and then sank 
back into his pillows.

"Hey," he croaked, clearing his throat and trying 
again.  "What's going on?"

"You tell me.  You were complaining about how 
hot it was in the car on the way back from the forest 
preserve.  Then when we got to the motel, you had 
the chills.  I brought you here and you started 
seizing.  That was two days ago.  You've had a high 
fever and have been out of it since then."

He looked confused and then just tired.  "I don't 
remember," he muttered.  He struggled to keep his 
lids from closing.  "Where's here?"

"Wilson County Memorial Hospital.  I'm just about 
ready to have you shipped back to DC, Mulder.  
The good doctors can't seem to figure out what is 
making you so sick."

Mulder nodded tiredly, then sniffed at the air.  "Fee 
fi fo fum, I smell an AD," he scowled.

"He was here," Scully confirmed with a smile.  
"Should I be impressed or jealous that you figured 
that out all on your own?"  

Mulder smirked for a second.  "Neither.  It's his 
signature smell.  We really need to get him a 
different aftershave, Scully.  His Aramis is giving 
me a headache," he said with a sigh.  "Did he go 
back to DC?"

She considered not telling him the truth, but knew 
he'd sense a lie.  "He decided to go check out the 
woods," she said calmly, hoping he would pick up 
on her confidence.

Mulder's eyes were drifting closed.  She was sure 
he'd fallen back asleep and was grateful he couldn't 
go into a tizzy over Skinner going to the forest.  But 
he surprised her, not even opening his eyes.

"Tell him to watch out for that moose."

It was late afternoon by the time Skinner made it 
out to the parking lot of the forest preserve.  Several 
picnic tables were arranged in a grassy area and 
there were marked trails just beyond, disappearing 
into the woods.  His quick visit to the Sheriff's 
Department has been very helpful.  Equipped with a 
GPS handheld device, binoculars, two flashlights 
and a flare gun, not to mention the 24 ounce bottle 
of water nestled in his daypack, Walter Skinner felt 
he was able to weather any storm that might come 
his way.  Looking up at the sky, he realized just one 
such storm was gathering above him.

"Skinner, can you read me, over?"  The Sheriff, a 
soft spoken man with an easy grin had also 
provided a walkie talkie.  They had agreed to test its 
feasibility as soon as Skinner had arrived at the site.

"I'm here, Sheriff.  Just pulled up, over."  Skinner 
hefted the daypack on his shoulders and bounced a 
time or two in his crosstrainers.  If he'd known he 
was going to be out in the woods, he would have 
brought his hiking boots.  But it was summer, the 
Sheriff had assured him all trails were clear and 
well marked, so he had to make do with the 
sneakers.

"The trail you want is marked 'Eagle's Nest'.  It's the 
second one from the right as you look at the picnic 
area, over."

"I see it Sheriff.  I'm heading that way, over," 
Skinner replied.

"The girls said the faeries dance was about half mile 
up the trail.  There's a large live oak, you can't miss 
it.  Its boughs touch the ground and look like 
benches in a train station.  It's called 'station oak'.  
The circle was just to the northeast of that tree, just 
a few dozen yards, over."

"I'll call you when I find the oak tree, Sheriff.  
Skinner out."  He hooked the walkie talkie to his 
belt, adjusted the daypack and started off down the 
trail. 

Scully frowned as she stood in the doorway to 
Mulder's room, watching the doctor examine her 
partner.  When he was finished, the young resident 
turned and nodded his head toward the hallway.  He 
closed the door to the room quietly before 
addressing Scully.

"He's not responding," the doctor said in a half 
whisper in difference to the bustle of the hallway.  
"The antibiotics don't seem to be having much 
effect, if any, and the antipyretics aren't giving us 
any improvement, either."

Scully sighed and nodded, thin lipped.  It was just 
as she suspected, but she'd held out hope.  "Any 
word on the lab results?  Have we narrowed down 
the bug causing this?"

The doctor shrugged.  "When he first presented in 
the ER, I was certain we were dealing with West 
Nile.  But that doesn't seem to be showing up in the 
blood work.  It's a bacterial infection, but I'm at a 
total loss as to the exact nature.  We're eliminating 
possibles, but that doesn't really help much.  I'm 
sorry.  For now, we just have to keep pumping 
stronger antibiotics into him and hope for the best."

Scully reached her hand over and touched the 
doctor's arm.  "I know it's small consolation, but 
this isn't the first time Mulder has confused medical 
science.  He's a fighter.  And I know you're doing 
everything you can."

The young doctor gave her a faint nod and walked 
over to the nurses' desk.  Scully drew in a breath 
and opened the door, prepared to take up her seat 
next to Mulder's bed.

"What is going on here, Mulder?  What's 
happening?" she asked softly, tears tightening her 
throat.

Skinner found the live oak right about the time the 
heavens opened up.  The rain didn't fall softly, it 
came down in fat heavy drops that fell like small 
bombs when they hit the leaves and branches of the 
ancient tree.  A few hit Skinner directly and he had 
remove his glasses to wipe them out of his eyes.  At 
least it was easy enough to get under the shelter of 
the canopy of the oak.  He found a branch that rose 
a little off the ground, just the right height for a 
comfortable seat.  He settled in to wait out the 
storm.

As lightning struck around him, he rethought his 
decision to sit it out under one of the taller trees in 
the area.  A particularly startling flash of light 
followed immediately by an eardrum bursting boom 
of thunder caused him to stand and search for a 
lower lying area to avoid possible electrocution.  He 
saw a small hollow just a few yards up the trail and 
to the left, he judged when to make his move and 
then he was off running to his chosen refuge.

Another bolt of lightning split the sky and touched a 
young maple to his right.  The shockwave of the 
explosion was enough to knock him a few feet off 
the path, but he landed in a roll.  After a moment to 
get over the adrenaline rush of flying through the air 
unaided, he sat up and checked himself for injuries.  
His glasses had been thrown off his face and he 
searched the ground for them, but came up with 
nothing.  No injuries where apparent and he moved 
gingerly to stand.  That's when Skinner saw him.

Not more than ten feet in front of him stood a man.  
Without his glasses, Skinner couldn't make out a 
face, but could tell by the slump of the shoulders 
and the blur of hair that this person was standing in 
the rain getting soaked.  "Hello?  Are you lost?" he 
called.  At first, the man did nothing.  Then, as a 
raindrop fell in Skinner's eye and acted for just a 
second as a watery contact lens, Skinner could see 
clearly.

It was Fox Mulder.  Standing in the middle of the 
forest with the rain beating down on him.

"Mulder!  What the hell are you doing here?  
Where's Scully?  If you snuck out of the hospital on 
her, I'll hold you while she shoots you this time, 
Mister!" Skinner roared.

Mulder appeared impervious to the verbal assault.  
"Be careful!" Mulder called out, his voice sounding 
far away.  "Be careful, look behind you!"

Skinner spun on his heel and startled again.  In the 
dim light given off by the lightning overhead, he 
could make out another form, this one much larger 
than Mulder and far more menacing.  Another 
raindrop aided his vision and he could see clearly 
for only the second time.

"Hoo boy," Skinner muttered under his breath.  The 
moose was massive.  And angry, if the fire red eyes 
Skinner had glimpsed were any indication.  The 
animal pawed at the ground, even with blurry 
vision, Skinner could see it was preparing to charge.  
He had to move fast.

At least the path to the live oak was clear.  Keeping 
the moose in his wavering sight, Skinner set off at a 
dead run and made it to the tree just as the moose 
took off after him.  Skinner grabbed the first bough 
above his head and hoisted himself up, in the 
process clipping the walking talking and sending it 
crashing to the ground below.  He muttered a curse 
he usually reserved for his most wayward of agents 
and then scrambled another two branches up the 
tree, just for safety's sake.

The moose didn't stop just because his prey had 
disappeared into the branches.  Lowering its head, 
the behemoth rammed the tree full force, breaking 
off a few fingers of its antlers.  Then it backed up 
and rammed again.

Skinner didn't think it was possible, but the giant 
tree actually shook with the force of the blows.  
Coupled with the rain-slicked bark, it made his seat 
all the more precarious.   Now that he was up there, 
he could see the moose barreling against the trunk 
below.  Why the damnable thing hadn't killed itself 
already was a mystery Skinner couldn't fathom.  He 
just wished he could see something, anything.

His sunglasses!  It struck him right as a bolt of 
lightning flashed too close for his liking.  He had 
his prescription sunglasses in his daypack.  All he 
needed to do was dig them out, one handed while he 
hung on to the tree for dear life.  It would be dark, 
but at least he would have relatively clear vision.  
His decision made, he slipped one strap of the pack 
off his shoulder, then wiggled the other strap free.  
He was reaching around to bring the pack forward 
to his lap when the moose struck the tree with such 
force, Skinner was almost knocked from his perch.  
Grabbing on with both hands, he watched in silent 
desperation while the pack sailed through the air 
and landed with a thud not a foot from the moose.  

"Not you're smoothest move, Walter," said someone 
right next to him.  He looked up, Mulder was there, 
just a little further out on the limb.

"Mulder, how did you . . ."  But Skinner stopped his 
question when Mulder held his index finger up to 
his lips in the universal sign of silence.  With 
exaggerated movements, the agent then dropped the 
finger so it was pointing down toward the moose 
below their feet.

"He's the key," Mulder whispered.

Skinner blinked and shook his head.  "Key to 
what?" he whispered back.

"Through him, you can find them," Mulder 
explained patiently.  "Wait till he leaves and follow 
him."

"Mulder, I can't see three feet in front of me.  Not 
clearly at least.  And it's going to be nightfall soon.  
We need to get help.  You shouldn't be out in this 
rain, Scully is going to kill us both when she finds 
us."  The Assistant Director looked back down, 
studying the creature who seemed very interested in 
the contents of his now shredded day pack.  "For 
that matter, what are you doing . . ."  Skinner looked 
back up only to discover that his companion was no 
where to be seen.  He searched the branch, as well 
as the branch above and below.  He squinted to see 
if possibly Mulder had fallen out of the tree.  
"Mulder," he called as loudly as he dared, at the risk 
of enraging the moose.  "Mulder, where are you?"  
When Skinner glanced back down, the moose was 
moving away.  "Now I remember why I took that 
damned desk job," Skinner muttered and shimmied 
down the tree.

Scully glanced at the clock on the wall, noting the 
late hour.  She had expected to hear from AD 
Skinner already.  A storm had broken out again and 
she could only assume that he was holed up at the 
preserve, probably sitting it out in his car.  She 
really didn't have much time or energy to waste 
worrying about her superior, he partner was taking 
up all her worry time.

Mulder's fever had not fallen all day.  It was 
hovering at 103, which the doctor felt was only that 
low because of all the medication being pumped 
into the patient.  A couple of times he would come 
around, not really far enough to make sense.  He'd 
called out 'Be careful' and 'Look behind you' about 
two hours before and instinctively Scully had jerked 
her head to check out the empty room.  Later, she 
thought she heard him mutter 'smooth move' and 
something else she couldn't decipher.  Now, he was 
just lying there, shivering under the cooling blanket.

She picked up the washcloth from the basin and 
squeezed out most of the water.  Gently, starting at 
his forehead, she pressed the damp cloth to his skin, 
hoping the evaporation would help his body along 
enough to bring the fever down.  Every few minutes 
her heart would clutch at the thought her efforts 
were completely futile.  But she had to do 
something and at least she felt he knew she was 
close by.

There was a soft knock on the door and it startled 
her.  She called out 'come in' and the door swung 
open on silent hinges.  

"Agent Scully?"  It was the Sheriff.  He was 
drenched to the skin in his light jacket.  Even his hat 
was dripping water onto the floor of the room.

"Sheriff, thanks for stopping by.  Have you heard 
from our boss?"

The big man played with his hat, running the brim 
through his fingers.  He looked decidedly 
uncomfortable.  "Um, ma'am, that's why I'm here.  
We, uh, well, we lost track of Mr. Skinner."

She stared at him, dumbfounded, but the man 
refused to say any more.  "You 'lost track' of him?  
You mean he's lost in the preserve?"

"Well, um, see, I gave him my day pack.  It was 
pretty well stocked.  He had a walkie talkie, as you 
found out cell phones don't work much out there.  
And he had a GPS and maps.  He was loaded for 
bear, believe me, he didn't go out there unprepared."

"You can't raise him on the walkie talkie?" she 
asked, but she knew the answer without waiting for 
the Sheriff.  The man wouldn't have come by if he'd 
been able to reach Skinner.

"When I just got static, I had one of the patrol cars 
run out there.  They found his car, they even found 
his glasses . . ."

"His glasses?" Scully interrupted.

"Yes 'am, and they found the walkie talkie and the 
day pack.  The walkie talkie was smashed to bits 
and the day pack was ripped up and scattered."

"But no sign of Skinner?"

The Sheriff shook his head sadly.  "Nary a one, 
ma'am.  It's raining like a sonava . . . well, it's 
raining damned hard and that makes followin' tracks 
. . ."  He let his voice trail off.  As if he just realized 
who else was in the room, the tall man nodded 
toward Mulder.  "How's he doing?"

Scully was still trying to ascertain what had 
happened.  She looked up absently.  "He's not good.  
We can't get his fever to break."

That seemed to make the Sheriff even more 
uncomfortable.  "Ma'am, I really hate to do this, but 
I'm at a loss.  Do you think you could come out 
there?  I mean, maybe you can pick up something 
we're missin'."

She looked over at Mulder.  For the first time in 
hours, his eyes seemed clear and lucid.  "Go find 
him, Scully," he whispered hoarsely.

"I don't want to leave you," she whispered back.  
His reply was a gentle smile and a squeeze of her 
hand.  Then his eyes drifted closed and she knew he 
was lost again in the fever.

Mulder looked around.  He was in the forest again.  
He kept having these visions, Scully sitting beside 
him, looking worried.  He wiped his eyes in an 
effort to clear his head.  It helped.  The forest was 
black as pitch now, but the lightning provided brief 
spurts of illumination.  Where the hell was that 
moose, he asked himself.

Another fork of brightness split the heavens and he 
could see a figure running just a few yards ahead.  
Skinner?  Skinner had gone after the damned 
creature, if he'd done what he'd been told.  Mulder 
had to smile at that, ordering his superior to follow 
a beast from hell.  Yeah, sure, and while you're at it, 
pick me up a burger with fries, that's a good boy.  
Yeah, he could almost see that little vein on 
Skinner's neck start to jump if he ever crossed that 
line.  It would almost be worth the straight jacket 
they'd give him just to see Skinner's expression.

Skinner had turned, was getting lost in a stand of 
pine.  Mulder had to run to keep up.  It was hard 
going, the footing was anything but solid and the 
rain had made the decaying leaves and pine needles 
so much slick slush.  He slipped, his left foot going 
wide and felt something give.  Damn it, his suit 
pants!  Shit, and right at the seat!  Maybe Leanne at 
the dry cleaners could do something with it, but 
now he was about to lose Skinner and that would be 
very bad, for both of them.

He turned the way he'd seen Skinner go and had to 
pull up fast.  Skinner had stopped dead and was 
standing as still as stone.  Mulder didn't even bother 
to look around the AD, he could hear the creature's 
breath.  It sounded vaguely like a far off freight 
train.  Then the earth shook as the moose pawed at 
the ground.

"Sir.  We should move," Mulder ground out in a 
hoarse whisper.

Skinner turned around, looked amazed that Mulder 
was standing there.  "Mulder, what the hell are you 
doing here?  Scully is gonna have your hide!"

"She's gonna have to duke it out with that thing to 
get a piece, if we don't move!" Mulder growled and 
nodded toward the beast.  Pawing at the ground, 
head down, ready to charge, the moose was totally 
uninterested in their conversation.  It had the look of 
a bowler about to take out the last two pins.

Skinner looked up and around quickly.  Only pine 
trees surrounded them.  There were plenty of 
branches, but they got spindly as he gazed up.  Not 
strong enough to hold a man.  No, that way 
wouldn't work this time.  "Can't climb these trees," 
he hissed back to Mulder.

Mulder was looking around, too and had already 
spotted their escape.  "Deer run, through those trees 
just to the left.  Follow me."  He took off at a dead 
run, hoping to get a jump on the moose by changing 
directions.

Mulder could feel Skinner hot on his heels, but the 
ground was shaking, which meant they hadn't lost 
the creature.

Running as fast as they could, the creature was still 
just a few feet from them.  Mulder knew they 
couldn't keep it up for long.  He felt surprisingly 
light on his feet, but he could hear Skinner huffing 
and puffing just behind him.  No, out running a bull 
moose on the rampage was not the way to go.  He 
had to come up with a plan.

Mulder waited for the next streak of lightning.  It 
was a little closer than he'd calculated.  The lick of 
electricity hit a small dead pine tree just a few yards 
up the road.  The shockwave made him fall, along 
with Skinner but it also caused the moose to lose its 
footing and the two men were able to scramble up 
to their feet quickly.  In the light of the resulting 
blaze of pine needles, Mulder could just make out a 
ravine.  If they could just get the moose to charge in 
that direction, without going over themselves, the 
whole nightmare would be over.

As they approached, Mulder could see the ravine 
was deeper than he'd first thought.  It was a solid 
fifty-foot drop and there were jagged rocks below.  
A few straggling roots from the trees were sticking 
out at odd places as he looked at the other side 
across the depth, he could only hope the same was 
true of the side he was on.  It was his only chance, 
their only chance.

"Sir, when I call out, drop and roll to the right, as 
far and as fast as you can," Mulder called over his 
shoulder.

"What . . . are  . . . you . . . planning?" Skinner 
gasped.

"A diversion.  Just do it."

Skinner still couldn't see a foot in front of him 
clearly, but he could see the fire from the pine tree.  
He watched nervously as it seemed to grow.  Either 
they were getting much closer or other trees were 
being caught in the fire.  Neither option was one he 
cared to contemplate.  "Mulder . . . the fire . . ." he 
panted.

"Drop!  Drop now!" Mulder shouted and 
instinctively, Skinner obeyed.  He rolled as far as he 
could, coming to rest against the base of pine tree.  
He looked up just in time to watch Mulder, closely 
followed by the moose, disappear into thin air.

Scully clutched the flashlight tighter in her hand to 
keep it from slipping.  It was still raining to beat the 
band and she was getting more worried by the 
minute.  She could see the sheriff's deputies, their 
lights bouncing in front of them, on either side of 
her.  The sheriff was several yards ahead, flashing 
his light methodically among the underbrush.

She'd seen the place where they'd found Skinner's 
glasses and the day pack.  The Sheriff had given her 
the glasses, none the worse for wear and she'd 
tucked them safely in her pocket.  Not much in the 
day pack had been salvageable and she winced at 
the size of the teeth marks on the casing of the GPS.  
Something was in this forest, something big and 
mean.  She shook her head and thought about her 
partner, still fever ridden in the hospital.  As soon as 
she found Skinner, and gave him what for, she was 
going back to the hospital.  She could only hope the 
medicine was starting to take affect.

One of the deputies was pointing and shouting.  
Scully could see it now, a smoldering pine tree just 
up ahead.  She ran toward it and skidded to a stop.  

Sitting against a nearby pine tree, Skinner was 
shivering and shaking his head.  The deputy was 
trying to examine him, but Skinner kept batting the 
man's hands away.  When Scully got there she 
dropped to her knees in front of her boss.  "Sir, Sir, 
it's Scully.  Can you hear me, are you all right?"

Skinner squinted up at her and then dropped his 
head.  "I lost him," he said with an anguished moan.  
"He just . . . he fell, he led it over the side, but I 
can't see down the ravine.  I called, but there was no 
answer.  Oh, Scully . . ." he trailed off, overcome 
with grief.

She looked first at the deputy, who shrugged his 
shoulders.  "Is there a ravine nearby?" she asked.

"Sure, over there, 'bout ten feet.  But I looked down 
it not more'n five minutes ago.  Nothin' down there 
by rocks.  I woulda seen a man or a . . . creature.  A 
big creature, if there was one."

Skinner had been listening and stood up on 
trembling legs.  Scully caught hold him, but he 
pushed her hands away.  "I lost my glasses," he said 
absently, and grabbed the deputy's flashlight.  

"Here, sir, we found them," Scully said meekly and 
handed him his glasses.  He put them on, adjusted 
them and then walked over to the edge of the 
ravine.  Below, he expected to see two bodies, one, 
Agent Mulder, the other, a moose bigger than a 
house.  But the deputy was right, there was nothing 
down there by rocks.

"Maybe, the shadows," Skinner was trying to work 
it all out when there was more shouting, this time 
coming from up the path that ran the edge of the 
ravine.

"We found 'em!!  We found 'em!!"  

Skinner glanced over at Scully and took off, she 
scrambled to catch up.  About 100 yards up the 
path, the Sheriff and his men were scrambling out 
of jackets and wrapping them around three huddled 
people.  They were dirty, their clothes were torn, 
but they all looked very happy to be found.  

Skinner pushed the door to the hospital room 
gingerly.  His hands were scraped up pretty bad and 
he felt like he'd . . . well, he felt pretty much like 
he'd spent the night being chased by a moose.  
Scully had finally taken a well-deserved shower and 
was sitting back in the chair next to Mulder's bed, 
fast asleep.  Skinner hated to disturb her, but started 
to wake her when a hand tugged his other sleeve.  
He looked over and saw Mulder looking back at 
him, shaking his head.

"She really needs the sleep, sir," Mulder whispered.  

Skinner swallowed and nodded.  Quietly, he walked 
around the bed to the other side and pulled the 
empty visitor's chair closer to the bed.  "How are 
you feeling?" he asked.

Mulder grimaced and then forced a smile.  "Sore.  
Tired.  They tell me my fever broke about a half 
hour before Scully got back last night.  It's pretty 
normal that I should feel like crap after the fever.  
Except it's more than that.  I feel like I've been 
running around in the woods all night, which isn't 
normal."  He gave Skinner a pointed look.  

Skinner wanted to say something, he opened his 
mouth, but nothing would come out.

"Everyone checked out OK?" Mulder asked, 
diverting the topic slightly.

"Yes.  All three missing persons are no longer 
missing.  Their families are overjoyed, of course.  
The Sheriff is crediting the FBI with their rescue, 
but I have to tell you, Mulder, I'm at a loss to 
explain what happened."

"You found them, sir.  You were close by them."

Skinner shook his head dejectedly.  "No, Mulder, I 
was running.  Running my ass off to keep from 
being gored.  And it's the strangest thing.  At weird 
times, I would see you out there, too."

Mulder shrugged, dropping his eyes to his blankets.  
Finally, he cleared his throat, looking up at his 
superior again.  "I had . . . strange dreams.  Fever 
dreams, I guess you could say.  I was out there, in 
the forest . . ."

"And there was a huge moose," Skinner supplied.  

Both men stared at each other for a heartbeat.  
Skinner was the first to break the spell.  "Mulder, 
the nurses checked on you every 15 minutes.  They 
were taking your temperature every half hour.  It's 
all documented on your medical chart.  You never 
left this bed."

"My _body_ never left this bed, sir, I agree with 
you on that.  But maybe my mind, . . . my soul, if 
you will . . ."

Skinner shook his head resolutely.  "No.  No way.  
And besides, Mulder, they never found the moose.  
There was no moose.  It was a . . . trick of the 
storm, the lightning.  I was running from shadows."

Mulder nodded, almost as if he were going to give 
in and let Skinner off the hook.  But as an 
afterthought, he jerked his head up.  "Sir, could you 
find my pants?  In the closet over there?"

"Mulder, you are not leaving this room.  If I have to 
call the nurses . . ."

"No, sir, I just want to check something.  I'm not 
leaving.  I'm not that brave," he added, nodding 
over to his sleeping partner in the chair on the other 
side of the bed.  

Skinner wasn't happy about it, but he got up and 
retrieved the pants.  Mulder took them, tangling 
them in the IV for a minute, but finally getting them 
on the bed where he could examine them.  He found 
something and looked up at Skinner.

"These were fine when I was admitted in the ER."  
He proudly displayed a ripped seam, right at the 
seat of the pants.

Skinner cocked an eyebrow at him and shook his 
head.  

"Sir, this proves I was out there!" Mulder exclaimed 
happily.

Skinner was still shaking his head.  "Mulder, I don't 
think we want to go there.  In body, even in mind, if 
you left this hospital bed at any time in the last 24 
hours, I can't be held responsible for your safety . . . 
when she wakes up," he said, pointing over to 
Scully.  He stood up and smirked.  "The missing 
persons are found, you're on the mend.  Let me file 
the report on this one, if you don't mind."

"Sir, you're offering to do the paperwork on this?" 
Mulder asked incredulously.

"Yeah.  This one might be fun!" Skinner replied and 
left the room.

"Phantom moose, again, Mulder?" Scully asked 
from the chair, not even bothering to open her eyes.  

"Again, Scully?  You sound like I'm always chasing 
phantom moose!  I'm suddenly very tired, Scully.  
I'm going back to sleep."  He punched the pillow 
lightly, and curled on his side away from her.

She opened one eye to watch him settle back into 
the pillows.  "In your dreams, Mulder."

the end.