This here is a little story (well, it turned into something not so little) that I, Esther, started quite a while ago. Fortunately, I had the first couple of chapters and not much more. I say fortunately because, in this case, having writer's block and a severe shortage of time proved to be a good thing. I sent out what I had to some of my very talented e-pals and this is the result. We had one rule, and that was that whoever had the current chapter could go back and edit the previous chapters to their heart's content. Most definitely a group undertaking! We hope you enjoy our combined efforts. And if you do (and even if you don't) let us know. Dsiclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and the X-Files are the property of 20th Century Fox, Fox Broadcasting and 1013 Productions. No infringement is intended. Summary: Our favorite FBI agents take an unexpected trip to the Colorado Rockies in search of an elusive group Mulder, among others, can't wait to track down. Lots of Muldertorture. The Rockies By Esther Walker (Cenergy@earthlink.com), Kay Reindl (Ruefrex@aol.com), Vickie Moseley (Vmoseley@fgi.com), Westshore (Westshor1aol.com) and LuvMulder (LuvMulder@aol.com) Chapter One by Esther Walker cenergy@earthlink.net The sky was beautiful. They gazed in awe at the stars that glittered in the firmament, wondering not for the first time if their destiny could truly be found in the heavens. He looked at them severely. "We haven't much time." And indeed they hadn't. The women were physically exhausted. They gazed at him with fearful eyes. He shouldered his pack and tried to assume his position of authority. Inwardly, he wondered if this was the Right Thing. His stony gaze sought out her calm eyes. Her knowing eyes. She knew, somehow. They all knew. And the men had decided to trust the women. This time it would be different, they said. This time they would be coming, and it was up to the small group of nomadic men and women to seek out what they had left. What they would be returning for. *************************************************** "Mulder, it's Sunday, can't this wait until tomorrow?" , Dana Scully grumbled to herself. But questioning her partner had become second nature. Certainly at seven in the morning on a Sunday, he should expect no less. Just like she expected him to be relentless in his pursuit of the truth. No matter how painful and ill-gotten that truth might be. "No, Scully, it can't wait. The Lone Gunmen, and God knows who else," Mulder added under his breath, "have been tracking this group for years. They're extremely transient. They've never been spotted in one place for more than a couple of days. But for some reason, they've remained in this spot for eight days." "And what 'spot' might this be?" Scully didn't bother suppressing her yawn as she slowly sat up in bed. "They're somewhere in the Colorado Rockies." "The Rockies?!" Scully no longer sounded sleepy. Annoyed was more like it. "Do you know how cold it is there right now? No doubt -- below zero. Snowing, too!" "Come on, Scully. It was 37 degrees at 6:15 this morning You won't even have to wear your mittens by midday...just pack them." She could picture him rolling his eyes. "There might be a little snow but only at the higher elevations." "Of course there's snow, Mulder. It's late September." Her exasperation was evident. Not only had he woken her up from a sound sleep to tell her about some *group* the Lone Gunmen, of all people, were tracking, but she could tell there was more. Probably a trip in her near future. Very near future if the urgency in his voice was any indication. "Scully, listen to me." Mulder's irritation was beginning to match his partner's. "This group has claimed a number of alien abductions, relationships even, for the last 18 years. On a number of separate occasions -- too many to even mention -- their whereabouts have been linked to UFO sightings. During this past week there have been over twenty UFO sightings in the Rockies, at or about the same location where the group was last spotted. Something's going on there, Scully, I know it." His voice was rising, making it impossible for him to hide his excitement. Like a kid anticipating Christmas morning, Scully thought glumly. "Eight days is a long time for this group to be in a specific area," he continued. "Something's not right and whatever it is, we need to find out, before it's too late." His voice was almost pleading as it trailed off. "Too late for what?" "Too late to find out what's going on. To make some sort of contact with other life forms." "Mulder..." What could she say to him that she hadn't already? A million times, a million different ways. He was hell bent on proving that life existed on other planets, that this life frequented Earth, and she was beyond thinking she could convince him otherwise. If only she could convince him that it could wait. "Scully, I know you don't share all my beliefs, but I do know that you trust my judgment. I promise you this is not a wild goose chase. I have been tracking this group myself for quite a while. Even if we don't find a spaceship full of little green men when we get there, if we only find the group, it will be a coup. The members have been wanted for questioning by the authorities for years." "Oh God, Mulder, they're criminals? You want us to hop on a plane, land in the Rockies where weather patterns can change in the blink of an eye and chase a renegade band of delinquents?" Exasperation no longer described what she was feeling. Anger was more like it. And yet, she found herself out of bed, searching the back of her closet for that dreaded parka, while objecting to her partner's every word. "No, not criminals, really. They just ran into some bad luck, had a difficult time being believed by anyone and became resentful. There's more of course, but we don't have time to discuss it now. I promise I will fill you in on all the details on the way there. If you're not satisfied by the time we arrive I'll ask the pilot to turn around." "Pilot? I take it this is a done deal. Skinner okayed the 302?" The gray parka was on her bed, now if she could only find those hiking boots and gaiters. "Skinner's blessing. I've chartered a plane, and it'll be waiting, ready to fly us to the area by 11:30. That gives you plenty of time to get your gear together and meet me at the airport." "Gear?" "From what I can gather," his voice was low, almost a whisper, "the group is in a pretty secluded spot. The pilot will have to drop us off and we'll hike in. There's an alpine meadow he's familiar with that should work fine. I've arranged for him to pick us up Tuesday afternoon. You'll need to prepare for pretty primitive conditions..." At this point Mulder had enough common sense to sound apologetic. "I've got the food taken care of," he offered hastily, taking the phone away from his ear in anticipation of Scully's shrill rebuttal. Fortunately, or unfortunately, he would later think, there was no shrill rebuttal. Only a weary reply. "Mulder?" She wanted to ask him what he would do if she refused, but changed her mind. "Oh, never mind." She knew what his answer would be. He would go alone, in search of this elusive group and the little green men they had made their acquaintance with. No matter how dangerous, no matter how banal. His voice told her he was already dressed, packed and ready to go. Probably had been for quite a while. Pacing the length of his apartment until he could no longer contain himself, and she wouldn't think the hour too ungodly. For a brief instant she was tempted to refuse. To say she wouldn't or couldn't go, and let him handle it by himself. But then she remembered New Mexico and Alaska, two times when he had been by himself, and a chill ran down her spine. No, she couldn't let him handle this one alone. Any more than he would let her. She was his partner, originally assigned to keep track of his cases, of his obsession, and now an intricate part of his life. A life she had come to value far too much. "Where should I meet you?" she sighed, pulling her boots out of their box. *************************************************** By the time she left her apartment Scully was no longer angry. Irritated maybe, but not angry. It was a beautiful day and much to her dismay, she found herself looking forward to hiking in the Rockies. She had done quite a bit of hiking in college with her roommate and was consequently well prepared. Hiking in Colorado was something she had wanted to do for a long time. And although she knew this wasn't exactly the way she would have planned it--nor the time of year she'd have picked-- she couldn't help feeling excited at the prospect. Scully felt for her gun before getting in her car and smiled. Taking a gun on the hike of her dreams hadn't been on her list either, but never mind. With any luck they wouldn't run into any little green men or Mulder's mysterious 'group', until they had had some time to enjoy the beauty and peacefulness the Rockies were bound to offer. When she arrived at the small airport just outside the city it was 8:35; Mulder was pacing in front of the small airplane he had chartered. Scully's stomach did a flip when she saw the paltry piece of metal they were passing for airplanes these days but said nothing. "Sorry I'm late," she said, handing Mulder her backpack while uneasily staring at the tiny aircraft before her. "It's okay, Scully," Mulder said, instantly reading her. "The pilot's been flying for over 30 years, the plane is just two years old and the weather conditions from here to Colorado couldn't be better." He put a hand on her shoulder and guided her to the back of the plane. "You couldn't find a smaller plane, Mulder?" Her backpack was taking up most of the spare room in the back. "Two days, Scully. We're only going for two days," Mulder teased. "What the hell did you pack anyway?" "You *said* primitive conditions, Mulder!" she answered patiently. "I brought some extras that we might find useful." "Such as?" "You know, ropes, pulleys... An oversized First Aid Kit especially designed and approved by the National Foundation For Prevention of Mulder Disasters -- which, by the way, is underwritten by our own Government Employees Medical Insurance Group. The Rockies can be pretty treacherous, Mulder." "You're such a card, Scully. That's why I bring you along on these little jaunts." He smiled pointedly at her. "Better than AM radio... May I tie you into your seat, Madam?" He indicated a small passenger's seat to his left. She pretended to ignore his offer as she settled into the seat and pulled the buckle over her lap. "I don't have a good feeling about this planned 'hike' of yours, Mulder," she said. "How difficult can hiking be, Scully? Besides, hiking isn't what worries me, weather does and the pilot assures me the NWS report shows clear skies for at least four days--two days longer than we need. We're set." "Hiking itself isn't very difficult, Mulder, as long as you're in pretty good shape, which we both are. But it *does* depend on where you're hiking..." she let her voice trail off as the pilot entered the tiny cockpit. "You two okay back there?" The pilot turned and smiled briefly at them before starting the engine, not bothering to wait for a reply. He was a big man, in his mid to late 50's with scraggly gray hair that rested on his shoulders. From the hacking cough and the stench he brought with him Scully pegged him as a lifetime, four-pack-a-day smoker. "You two sit back and relax," the pilot yelled over the din of the engine. "We've got a long flight ahead of us." "I hope it's long enough for you to explain exactly what's going on in your little mountain hideaway, Mulder." Scully was staring at him, waiting for a response. "Where do you want me to start?" he shot back, making himself as comfortable as his long legs and the limited space would let him. "From the beginning. I want to know everything there is to know about this *group* you're so eager to find. "The group, the Obi-Wans as they've been nicknamed..." Scully raised her eyebrows. "Obi-Wans?" "Uh-huh." Mulder couldn't bring himself to match her gaze. "As in Obi-wans, like Obi-Wan Kenobi? From 'Star Wars'?" "Yeah, something like that. But, Scully..." "Mulder, you got me out of bed, you chartered a plane, we're on the damn thing...so that we could find a group that's been named after a character from 'Star Wars'?" Scully's cheeks matched the intense red color of her hair. "Scully..." What could he say? That was their name. "Someone tagged them with that name, and unfortunately, it stuck." "Okay, Mulder," Scully was rubbing her eyes with her thumb and index finger, hoping the action would keep the headache she felt coming on at bay. "I'm going to pretend that they were named after the God of Truth from an ancient civilization, only so I can keep myself from asking the pilot to turn around right now. But please, continue, quickly, and tell me what you know about these people." Mulder took a deep breath. He should have just kept calling them The Group. "Okay, the first contact was in 1973. The Group -- I'm just going to call them The Group -- if that's okay with you?" Scully nodded, resisting the urge to scream. "The Group consisted of about 14 people, all adults, seven men and seven women. They had formed their own commune, and pretty much were self-sufficient. They owned a small farm in Iowa and lived off the land. What they couldn't eat they sold, etc. They were believed to be a part of a strange religious sect that didn't believe in human contact of any kind." "What do you mean?" "Physical contact among them -- or between them and outsiders -- was strictly taboo." "What about... sex?" Scully was, at this point, mildly interested. Mulder shook his head. "Sex was out of the question, of course, which is, in an odd way, what brought them into the spotlight when the first reports of their 'close encounter' with aliens came out." Scully implored him with her eyes, not so subtly asking him to continue. "The original reports are sketchy," Mulder continued. "Because no one in authority believed them, their account of the events was never recorded properly. My information comes from documents MUFON has been able to gather throughout the years." "Uh huh." Scully was getting impatient. She wanted to know everything, and she wanted to know it now. Mulder ignored her restlessness and continued. "According to The Group, they were visited by 'other beings', if you will, sometime in March of 1975. They claimed they saw all the weird lights, heard the strange sounds and even saw an unidentified flying object. They also claim to have lost anywhere from three to five hours that they couldn't account for." "All of them?" "Every single one of them had the exact same story to tell. But no one believed them. After all, no one really knew this group of people even existed, and those who did thought they were strange, to say the least. The people that bought food from their farm told stories of how they would have to put the money on the ground. They wouldn't exchange currency from one hand to another for fear they would touch each other." "What happened after their 'encounter'?" "Nothing much, except that about three to four months later, they realized that all the women were pregnant." Mulder sat back and looked at Scully for an expression, any expression, that might better guide him on how to continue the story. He had promised her they could return if she thought the trip wasn't worthwhile, and he would keep his promise. But before they got to that point, he would do anything in his power to convince her this search was worth their while. "And they had no idea until the women started showing?" She was incredulous. "The women themselves *must* have suspected after a month or two!" Mulder shrugged. "I can envision a scenario where the women would not have discussed it, Scully. They knew -- or *thought* they knew -- that they had not had sex; it was forbidden, after all. So, I expect that, at first, they didn't know what to do. Seeing a doctor was out of the question, since a doctor couldn't examine them without touching them." "So they assumed the women had been impregnated the night the funny lights showed up?" "Of course they did. These women had never left the farm. To touch one another was a sin. Sex was out of the question. Three of the seven, it is said, joined the group when they were virgins." "Mulder, you can't possibly believe..." Of course he did. They wouldn't be on this plane if he didn't. "Scully, wait...there's more. In December of that year, right before the women were due to give birth, the lights showed up again. The Group lost a few more hours this time, more like eight or nine, and when the lights were gone, the women were no longer pregnant. One of them, a 22 year-old, died. Which is what really brought them into the spotlight. The local police chief demanded an autopsy. The Group vehemently opposed it and lost." "And what were the autopsy results?" "That she died of an internal hemorrhage. After giving birth." "I take it they didn't find the missing baby?" Scully thought she could predict the conclusion of the story at this point, but chose to let Mulder finish it anyway. "No, no baby. The farm and the surrounding area were searched for days. The Group stood by their story, claiming that the rest of the women had been pregnant as well, but refused to let them be examined." "Were any charges ever brought?" "No. Everything was speculative. There wasn't a dead baby, only the body of the young woman and her death appeared to be the result of natural childbirth. Certainly something that's not illegal." "It should be," Scully mumbled, recalling the 12 hours she spent in the delivery room with her sister-in-law. "Well, anyway, they were no longer headline news. Until about a year later. The lights came back, same thing happened - lights, sounds, loss of time." "And the women?" "Story is, the remaining six women were pregnant again. But in the meantime, The Group had been trying to sell the farm since the second incident, the one that left the young woman dead. They sold it and were out of Iowa within two months of the third incident." "Then what?" Scully was mulling over the facts. Debating whether to tell the pilot to turn back now or wait and give Mulder the benefit of the doubt. Let him finish his story before jumping ship, so to speak. "Well, it gets sketchy here. Really sketchy, but, from what MUFON records I've seen, there were several sightings roughly nine months after the third incident near the area where The Group had been last seen. The body of one of the women was found about a year later, badly decomposed, but dental records proved identified her as one of The Group." "You mean she'd been to a dentist? A psychic one that fills cavities through osmosis?" "Very funny, Scully. Most of the people in The Group didn't join until early adulthood, so, believe it or not, many had led relatively normal lives until then." "How normal a life can someone lead that would drive them to join such a cult, Mulder? The women were all probably abused as children, for one." "Probably," Mulder mused, his mind going over all the facts. "In any case, they've been wanted for questioning in the second woman's death, among other things, for the last 15 years." "What other things?" "Throughout the years they seem to have gotten militant. Robbed a few places, hurt a few people..." Scully's eyebrows were raised again. "They'd been persecuted for years, Scully, by unknown life forms. And the authority they knew and trusted to protect them ridiculed and questioned them! Didn't believe a word they said. It's amazing what people will do when they're scared." "Mulder, you really think those women were impregnated by aliens?" Scully couldn't keep the disbelief from her voice. "Wasn't there a movie like this once?" "Village of the Damned," Mulder replied quietly. "Not quite the same, but similar. And yes, I believe it. Or impregnated with male sperm, human type, with intervention from aliens. Maybe they wanted human babies to conduct experiments with. The thing is, Scully, this group of people kept to themselves. They were afraid of the outside world. They would never have brought all this attention onto themselves unless they had no choice." "If someone hadn't died and forced the issue out in the open, you mean?" "No." Mulder was shaking his head again. "They went to the authorities, the police, immediately after experiencing the first phenomena. They were ridiculed and sent home. They went for help. No one gave it to them." "And now what, Mulder?" Scully asked, changing the subject slightly. "Why are we heading into the Rockies in a mad rush?" "Because that's where they are. And they've been there for longer than they've been anywhere else in years. Coincidentally or not, the UFO activity in the area is at an unprecedented high right now. From what I've been able to gather, they have had 14 encounters over the last 18 years, presumably resulting in seven impregnations." "Mulder..." The headache just wouldn't go away, and Scully closed her eyes. What was there to say to him? He really believed there was another life form at work in this case. In most of their cases. "Scully, I know you don't believe the women were impregnated by aliens, but humor me anyway, and help me find the truth. Whatever that truth might be." He was done, he gave her all the facts and hoped some of them made her curious enough to pursue the case with him. "Let me think about it, Mulder," Scully said without opening her eyes. "Right now, I have the beginning of a major headache starting, and I'd like to try and sleep it off." "Okay. I'll be here when you've decided." Mulder realized sleep might not be such a bad idea. He had been up most of the night going over the facts of this case with the Lone Gunmen, and he had a feeling they had a long couple of days ahead of them. To her surprise, Scully found the steady drone of the small airplane soothing rather than disturbing, and when she finally opened her eyes, she was shocked to find a full three hours had passed. Mulder looked like he was sound asleep next to her, and the sight of him fidgeting in his seat made her smile. He couldn't stretch his legs and she could tell that, even asleep, he was uncomfortable. One look out the window and she realized they were close. They were flying pretty low, and she could see snow capped mountains all around them. "Pretty nice, huh?" Mulder's soft voice startled her. "I thought you were asleep." "Who can sleep?" he answered, arching his back. "I've got the worst cramp in my leg. I couldn't even walk it out when we made our fuel stop near Denver." "I slept through the fuel stop?" "Uh-huh." Mulder tried to stretch his left leg, but the space to move in front of him fell short by a few inches. Shaking it only made it feel worse. "I've got to stand up," he finally said. "Otherwise, I may never walk again." "How you two doing back there?" the pilot shouted when he saw Mulder trying to find a comfortable position in spite of the tiny plane. "Okay," Mulder lied. "Just had to try and stretch my legs." He had to hunch over in order to stand. The large pilot smiled and nodded in shared understanding. "How much longer?" Mulder asked, plaintively. "Almost to the coordinates you gave me, we'll be touching down in about 15-20 minutes." Mulder smiled and turned to Scully. "Well, Scully, I guess this is it. I..." Suddenly, the small plane lurched to the side, throwing Scully to her right as far as her seatbelt would allow. Mulder was hurtled across the cabin before he could find a secure handhold, ramming his shoulder and head into the fuselage at full force. The pilot cursed and fought to correct the little plane's angle. Nearly breathless with terror, Scully struggled to reach out to her partner, who looked dazed as he tried to steady himself against the violent rocking of the plane. Before either one had a chance to recover, the plane plunged into a steep nose dive. Scully watched in helpless horror as Mulder was pitched forward into the tiny cockpit, his right hand smashing into the control panel, cracking the glass protecting the air speed indicator. *********** The Rockies Chapter Two by Esther Walker cenergy@earthlink.net It was a terrifying eternity --what seemed like hours and in reality was only seconds -- before the pilot had righted the plane and was back in control. "Oh shit," he mumbled under his breath at the sight of a groggy Mulder trying to regain his balance. "Sorry folks." "Mulder?" Scully had her seatbelt off and was by his side the instant she realized they weren't going to crash. Rivulets of blood were running down his right hand. He was shaking his head to clear his thoughts, wincing at the pain the movement brought. "Let's get you back to your seat," Scully was saying, helping him up. For the pilot, she reserved her Agent in Charge voice. "What the hell was that?" she shouted. "I have no idea. Mountains can cause some pretty mean updrafts, but this area is usually calm..." the pilot answered, more shaken up than he was willing to admit. "The controls just went haywire. I've never experienced anything like that! And that's why it's not a good idea to take your seatbelt off," he added. "Well, you should have said something!" Scully was furious. With one look at Mulder, she realized all was not well. "Sorry, I was about to but the whole thing took me by surprise." the pilot countered. "He was only out of his seat for an instant and," he finished under his breath, "I've *never* had anything like this happen before," he repeated as if he were having a hard time believing the last few moments himself. "You should've..." Scully felt Mulder's hand on her shoulder. "Scully, it's okay. I'm fine. Just let me sit down for a minute." The pain in his head was brutal, but nothing compared to the fire in his shoulder. Whatever the damage, he would be damned if he was going to let Scully know. Damned if he'd give her a reason to make them turn around. Scully helped him back to his seat and snapped on his seatbelt before sitting down next to him and doing the same. She turned his head slowly and forced him to look at her. "How's your head?" she asked, looking at his pupils for any tell-tale signs of a concussion. "Fine. It just hurts a little," he lied, but forced himself to continue. "I'm fine, Scully, really." It was a strain to talk, and he closed his eyes and put his head back. "I need to catch my breath, that's all." "We need to go back." Mulder opened his eyes and the sudden light made him wince. Luckily, Scully didn't notice. "Scully, don't be ridiculous. We can't go back now, we're almost there." "Mulder, you're hurt! You may have a concussion. Your shoulder's probably killing you, and you're decorating the carpet with your blood. Who knows what you've done to yourself?!" Scully was holding his hand, turning it over and poking it gently to see if any major damage had been done. He had a long gash along the side, where apparently he had caught a piece of the cracked glass. Mulder bit his lip and took a deep breath before answering her. "Scully, listen to me. This case means a lot to me. We're almost there. And considering what just happened to this plane, I'm more convinced than ever that something is going on. Something I don't want to miss. I don't -- I repeat -- I DO NOT have a concussion, my shoulder is only slightly sore and the hand just needs some clean up and a bandage. You insisted on bringing the Mulder Disaster Kit with you, didn't you? A stroke of genius, I'd say." Scully smiled in spite of the situation. "I was traveling with you, wasn't I?" "Exactly," Mulder said, forcing a smile. "As soon as we land, I'll let you fix the hand, and I'll take some aspirin for the bump on the head. Okay?" "No, Mulder. Even if you don't have a concussion, you shouldn't go traipsing through the Rockies after what you just went through. I can't let you do it. Not as your friend and certainly not as a doctor." They had been so preoccupied with each other, they didn't realize they had arrived at the much anticipated coordinates until the first jolt and shudder of plane's wheels making contact with the makeshift meadow runway shook them. Mulder was temporarily stunned by the fresh sting of pain shooting through his shoulder as his long body was jarred within the confines of the small seat. He was not prepared for the misery movement produced and fought to stay focused for several moments. "Hang on, you two," the pilot was shouting, minutes after such a warning might have been useful. "The ground's uneven." Scully thought it was a good thing she was gripping her chair so tightly; she'd rather be strangling the pilot right now. As the plane rocked and rolled to a halt, she ventured a glance at her partner. He didn't look well. Pinned in his seat, his head was arched back, and his eyes were closed. He was biting his lower lip, and his face was pale and sweaty. "Mulder?" Her voice animated him. He sat up quickly, even though she knew it had to have been a super-human effort. An instant later, he flashed her a weak smile and was out of his seat--without a word--ready to unload their equipment. As she stepped off the little plane with the intention of chasing after her partner, Scully couldn't help notice what a beautiful part of the country they were in. It was much warmer than she had anticipated, and in the back of her mind, she wished they could stay. "Mulder..." He was ten feet from the plane before Scully caught up with him. "Mulder, we can't...we have to leave." Mulder looked at her blankly, as if her didn't understand what she was driving at. "You're hurt..." "Scully, for the tenth time, I'm fine. I'm staying. You go back if you want to." "You said if I wanted to go back when we got here, we would." "Yes, I did," Mulder challenged. "But for different reasons. And those reasons didn't materialize. You were perfectly willing to stay until we had that little mishap up there." "Little? You left permanent dents in the plane!" Scully could tell by the way he was holding himself that he was in pain. "Scully, please. Enough. I'm not going back until Tuesday afternoon, when old Waldo Pepper over there comes back for us." He motioned to the pilot, who was too busy trying to get the blood off his control panel to notice the heated discussion. Scully looked at her partner carefully, noting every movement, every nuance, and although she knew, deep down, that he was hurt more than he was letting on, she also knew they would have to physically drag him and strap him onto the plane before he would go back. "Mulder..." "Scully..." Stalemate. After a long pause, Scully relented, against her better judgment. "Let me get our stuff out of the plane," she finally said, turning her back to him before he could reply. He was so damned infuriating. She was sure if he didn't already have a concussion, she could easily have given him one right then and there. Mulder turned his back to Scully and closed his eyes. His shoulder was burning, and he was starting to feel dizzy. Unable to move without pain, he stood, motionless, until Scully came up from behind and ordered him to sit on a large boulder just a few feet away. Scully was in no mood to be nice. She was furious, and the way she took care of his injured hand only confirmed it. "Ow!" Mulder finally shouted. "It hurt less when it cracked the glass!" "You're free to go to a hospital where they have doctors and nurses that are used to dealing with *live* patients," she snapped, not bothering to look up at him. Mulder instinctively flinched again, and she softened a little. "Sorry," she said, "that's probably the deepest of the cuts. Stitches would be preferable, but it should heal fine if you are careful with the hand." "Scouts' honor." His response was sarcastic, and she ignored it, choosing instead to wrap the hand tightly in gauze and look him straight in the eye. "I will have to check it again in a few hours to make sure infection isn't setting in. Please don't give me a hard time when the time comes for that. Now, let me take a look at your shoulder." "No." His response was a little too quick for both of them. "It's fine," he added hastily, not sure what kind of damage had been inflicted, only that whatever it was--if it was serious--he planned to keep that from Scully as long as he could. At least until the plane had left. "You two okay out here?" Mulder was grateful for the pilot's interruption. "Fine," he answered for both of them. "You know when to pick us back up ?" "Yep. Got it all written down back at the office. Tuesday afternoon, about two o'clock, same location." Mulder nodded. "You *sure* you're okay?" the pilot asked. "You want to be checked out by a doctor?" "I have a doctor," Mulder answered, pointing to Scully. "I'm in good hands." Scully didn't respond to Mulder's comment, instead she thanked the pilot and wished him a safe trip home, keeping her eyes on the plane until it was barely visible. When she turned to Mulder, she realized he was still sitting on the rock, eyes closed, left hand protectively clutching his right shoulder. Oh, God," she mumbled under her breath. "What have I done?" *************************************************** Mulder was beginning to wish he hadn't inherited his father's stubborn streak when he realized it was too late. Too late to be honest with Scully and tell her he hurt like hell. Hurt enough to want to get back on the plane and go home. "Mulder!" The voice seemed to come from nowhere, but the tone told him it wasn't the first time she had called out his name. "What?" he shouted, a little meaner than he meant to. "I've been talking to you! Calling your name. You didn't answer me." Scully was leaning over him, casually feeling his forehead, then slowly feeling around his head with her hands until she found what she was looking for. "Ow!" "Sorry," Scully mumbled, distracted. "You've got a healthy bump there. Anything else you'd like to share with me before we head out?" At 5'2" she was barely taller than her partner as he sat on the boulder, but with her hands on her hips and her eyes throwing daggers, she was as intimidating as anyone Mulder had encountered. "I...um..." Mulder thought, deciding to keep his concerns to himself. Scully knew his shoulder was probably killing him, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of hovering, of probing, until he decided to be honest with her. In the meantime, he wanted to hike through the Rockies? He wanted to go in search of Little Green Men with a penchant for pregnant women? Then, by God, that's exactly what they would do. "We'd better get going then," she said, turning her back to Mulder and gathering her bulging backpack. Mulder was slow in getting off the rock; his steps to gather his own backpack were even slower, but the look on his face was determined. Scully had seen this determination in him often. And in spite of herself, in spite of how angry she was with him, she couldn't help but admire his doggedness. It was a stubbornness she was fairly certain would someday kill him. , she thought, a wicked smile forming on her lips, The attempt to put on his backpack was more than Mulder's battered shoulder could handle. It throbbed mercilessly in an angry protest of self-preservation. "Uh...Scully?" It was all he could say before sucking in his breath. "You okay?" Scully's eyebrows were arched. , she wanted to shout. Instead he simply nodded, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, "Could you give me a hand with the backpack? I'm a little sore." "Just a little?" Scully asked innocently as she slid one end of the backpack through his arm and onto his injured shoulder. "Uh-huh." It was all he could manage and still maintain any semblance of dignity. Still, in true Mulder form, he ignored the persistent ache and pulled a wrinkled map out of his coat pocket. "We need to head north," he finally muttered, wrinkling his nose as he looked around. "It looks like we'll have a little bit of climbing to do." "Yep," Scully agreed. "Sure looks like it," she paused. "I'm ready if you're ready." Mulder didn't bother to reply and started off without her, forcing Scully into a quick jog before she could catch up with him. The mountain they had both seen and anticipated climbing was further in the distance than it looked. After four hours of walking in silence, it still appeared beyond their reach. It was obvious to Scully that Mulder was in pain, and she vacillated the entire time they were walking between anger and sympathy. In the end, it was the sympathy that took over, right about the time she thought she could see his eyes glass over. "Hey, Mulder, why don't we stop for a while?" She was going to add that she was hungry, give him an easy out to saying yes, but her sympathy didn't stretch that far. She was still angry. "Right here?" He sounded so tired. They had managed to maintain a good pace, but nothing extraordinary and yet, his stamina was shot. "Yes, right here," Scully answered, taking her backpack off and setting it down beside her. She turned to Mulder and helped him with his, noticing silently that he didn't shrug her off. "Okay, now off with the coat." "What?" The fact that he didn't make a crude remark only fueled her concern. "Take your coat off, Mulder. I want to take a look at your shoulder." She couldn't wait for him to do it and had one side of his coat slipped off before Mulder realized it. "Hey..." There was a distant voice telling him to make her stop. That she wasn't going to like what she saw. But the rest of him didn't have the energy to make her stop. Didn't have the energy for anything more than a meek protest. *********** The Rockies Chapter Three By Vickie Moseley vmoseley@fgi.net The Colorado Rockies Sunday, 4:00 pm "I want to look at your shoulder, Mulder," Scully repeated, and her tone of voice indicated there would be no room for argument. Mulder sighed and lowered his head as he nodded. The slight movement caused searing pain. He noticed that now, with the sturdy brace of the backpack removed, every move he made was sending splinters of pain through his neck and down his arm to his fingers. Even turning his head just a little hurt like hell. All was not well. But at least the pain in his shoulder was helping him forget the agony of his hand. This was quickly becoming a remake of one of his more unpleasant nightmares-- hurt, stranded and his partner mad as hell at him. "Take off your shirt," Scully commanded. Her no-nonsense tone caused him to shoot her a look. "*Don't* even think it," she added. He quickly bit off the lecherous remark he had been about to make and started fumbling with the buttons on his denim. It was then that Scully noticed his hand. "Ohmigod, Mulder!" she cried, grabbing his hand, which forced a hiss of pain from his clenched teeth. She quickly started to unwrap the bandage she had placed on the hand mere hours before. Mulder stopped trying to open his shirt and looked down at his hand. His stomach rose up to his throat at the sight. His fingers were the size of sausages, swollen and bluish purple in color. The back of his hand was mottled with purple and dark splotches. As he watched, the whole hand, no longer tightly bound, started to swell to match the fingers. "Shit!" was his only response. "Damn straight 'shit'!" Scully shot back. Gently, she poked at the base of the fingers, moving slowly toward the large bone at his wrist. In a couple of places, Mulder groaned and at one point in particular, went sheet white, his eyes threatening to roll back into his head. Scully stopped her examination and sighed heavily. "It's broken, Mulder. In about three places. Maybe three different bones. You need a hospital." "What for?!" he shot back. "Scully, just splint it. That's all they'd do in the hospital anyway," he tried to reason. "Oh, I forgot. Somewhere in your travels you picked up a medical degree," she purred sarcastically. "Fox Mulder, world famous criminal profiler *and* orthopedic surgeon! Well, for your information, Mulder, that is your RIGHT hand. And if you don't *set* those bones properly, you run the risk of reducing mobility. In your RIGHT hand, Mulder. The one you use to fire your weapon. And don't even ask me to set them, Mulder, because you have no idea how small those bones are. I'd need extensive x rays to even attempt it. The bones in your hands are among the smallest in your body!" She wouldn't have been so angry if she wasn't so worried about him. She clenched her fists and stomped a few yards away, an attempt to prevent her anger and fear from getting the best of her. God, he infuriated her! Why couldn't he just once listen to reason? Did he have an ounce of common sense in his body? He was in pain back at the drop sight; why couldn't he just admit it? <> the words said in anger back in Comity made her wince now. He was hurt. It really didn't matter how it had happened. They were in the mountains, without a radio of any kind, and Mulder was in need of more than simple first aid. She thought for a moment. It was a fairly typical case, all things considered. Slowly, she walked back. He looked up at her, contrition and pain shifting across his handsome profile. The look made her heart melt. "Let me see your hand again," she said softly. He offered her the swollen mass of flesh and bone. She bit her lip and furrowed her brow. "I'll do what I can, OK? But you'll have to do your best to keep it elevated so that the swelling will reduce. But before I start treating that, let me check out your shoulder." "Scully, I'm tired. And I'm not up to it. If you're going to be mad, I'd rather not bother with it," he said, somewhat apprehensively. She shook her head slowly, a sad smile forming on her lips. "No, Mulder. I won't get mad. I promise. The only reason I'm mad in the first place is that you never seem to consider the consequences of your actions. I know you want to find this group, but what good is it going to do if you are too banged up to ask any questions? At this rate, they'd take one look at you and run screaming," she teased with a gentle smile. By this time, she had helped him with the buttons of his shirt and was slowly pulling at the sleeve on the right side, being careful to slide it over his injured hand. When she looked up at his face, she could tell by his deathly pallor that the shoulder hadn't fared any better than the hand. "I'm going to rotate this a little, Mulder and I'm pretty sure it's gonna hurt like hell. If you want to scream, cuss, spit, that's fine by me, OK?" she assured him. He said nothing, but appeared to brace his feet, expecting the worst. Even so, he wasn't quite prepared for the rush of renewed pain when she placed her hand on his collarbone and slowly moved his shoulder. "FUCKING SHIT! SCULLY, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?" he yelled. When she stopped and stepped back again, he leaned forward, gasping for breath. "You've fractured your collarbone, Mulder. It appears clean, but it's a definite break. It's probably a compression fracture, like the football players when they fall on astroturf." She looked at him somberly and caressed his cheek. "I'll get my kit. Don't suppose you brought an extra shirt you aren't emotionally attached to, did you?" "I have a plaid one, hunter green. Mom sent it to me for Christmas but it makes me itch. I was only going to wear it if it got really cold," he said, still a little demurred. "No, if it's woolen, we may need it. You aren't going to be feeling that great later this evening. You're ripe for a good case of shock and I want you to keep warm. A campfire might not be enough. How about an extra tee shirt? Cotton will do for what I have in mind." He nodded, giving his tacit permission for her to rifle through his backpack. Upon finding a white cotton tee shirt, she pulled out a small buck knife and proceeded to slice the garment into strips. It didn't take long to wrap his hand and shoulder. The backpack would come in handy, keeping his shoulders pulled back when they walked, keeping the bone straight, but it wouldn't work for sleeping. And sleeping on the ground, which was bound to be cold, was not going to help him, either. Scully looked up at the sky, noting the sun's position still pretty high above the western mountain range. "We should probably make camp here. I don't want you stumbling off the side of a mountain or anything," she said with a grin. He gave her a look that let her know how little he appreciated her sense of humor at the moment and started to untie his pack. "So, Mulder, I hope you managed to remember 'food' for this little adventure. I'm afraid I didn't have much more than mac and cheese dinners to throw in my pack," Scully said, gathering some dry limbs for a fire. "All set," he responded, throwing her two gray plastic bubble packs. "The Gunmen got me a bunch of these. I pull one out when I don't feel like ordering pizza. They're pretty good, really." Scully examined the packages closely. "Mulder, these are MRE's. Where did the Gunmen get 'Meals Ready to Eat'? I thought only the military used them." Clearly stamped on the side were the letters USAR: United States Army Reserves. "Got me. I don't ask questions like that of the guys, Scully. I really don't want to have to arrest them if they answer me truthfully," he said with a smirk. "Good point," she replied and went back to building the fire. They ate in companionable silence, but as soon as the meal was over, Mulder started watching the horizon. "You don't expect to see anything out there, do you?" Scully asked. She had spread out the sleeping bags between the fire and a large boulder and was gathering some more wood for the fire later. "Maybe. There have been reports to MUFON every night. And something must be keeping the group here in these mountains. I assume it's the 'lights' in the sky," he said, making sure she saw that he was purposefully not mentioning 'unidentified aircraft' in his description. She smiled ruefully and shook her head. "OK, Mulder, so if we see these 'lights', what then? I mean, do we follow them, photograph them, what?" "I'm not sure, Scully. I guess I'm hoping that if we see the lights, the rest will just follow naturally." He shifted and grimaced a little. "Well, until we get the light show, I think you should settle down for the night. You're pushing it, Mulder." He tried to protest, but she silenced him with a stern look. "Lie down. Now." "Are you trying to seduce me, Agent Scully?" he smirked. "Yeah, Mulder, every time I watch 'The Night of the Mummy' I get a rush," she shot back. "I just can't resist a guy in bandages." Even after a couple of extra strength Tylenol, Mulder started to realize that what Scully had said was true. He was feeling rotten. Sore, cold, and very tired. But when he tried to lay down, the cold from the ground seeping through his sleeping bag only made his shoulder ache. And with his shoulder injured, he couldn't sleep on his side, one of the few ways he could actually fall asleep without the aid of electronic 'babysitters' like his television. Not to mention that Scully wanted him to keep his feet elevated, to avoid shock. After about 30 minutes of unsuccessfully trying to settle in for the night, he gave up. "Scully, this isn't going to work. I can't fall asleep like this. Nothing is comfortable and it's still too early to sleep. Let me sit up and watch for the lights. At least it would give me something to keep my mind off my aches and pains." Scully was exhausted and simply wanted to sleep, but knew her partner was having a difficult time. "OK," she said with a tired sigh. "Let's watch for the lights." She positioned her sleeping bag next to his near a rock and they both leaned back to watch the sky. By leaning back, Mulder could rest his head against the boulder and with his partner supporting him on his 'good' side, he settled into silence. Scully had drifted off to sleep almost immediately. "Don't suppose you brought any graham crackers," he asked after a half an hour, jolting his partner awake. She winced, embarrassed that she had fallen asleep leaning on him. "No. Why? Don't tell me you took up space for chocolate bars and marshmallows?" she replied with a yawn and a stretch. "Scully," he chided, "the makings for 's'mores' are never a waste of space. But my stash of graham crackers went by the way side the last time Frohike visited." He was speaking to her, but his eyes were scanning a spot on the horizon, just north of their campsite and about 45 degrees up. He struggled to a standing position, still staring at the sky. "Scully, what's that?" he asked, pointing with his left hand to the spot in the sky which had captivated him so. "Venus?" she replied, crossing her fingers behind her back in a vain attempt to make this particular wish come true. "Nah, Venus is over there," he said waving toward the bright star. "And last time I looked, Venus doesn't move that fast." As Scully squinted in the direction he was pointing, the point of green tinted light flashed and then split, the two lights then chasing each other across the sky in a late night aerial 'dog fight' or like two squirrels chasing each other around a tree. Then, they were joined by two more lights, more pinkish in color, who formed a diamond formation before hovering over a stand of trees. "Never saw Venus put on an airshow like that before, either," Mulder said and started walking toward the trees. Scully grabbed his good arm. "Hold up there, Mulder! We can't go running off after them. This is the mountains. You keep looking up and you'll walk off a cliff. Let me get my flashlight." He nodded, impatiently, tapping his foot as he waited. With her flashlight firmly in her grasp, the two started out. "Mulder, it's quite a distance to those trees. I think there's a valley between us. Maybe we should do this in the morning," Scully suggested. Mulder was about to agree when he saw something glinting in the light of her flashlight. "Oh god," he muttered and started into a trot, oblivious for a while to the cries of protest coming from his shoulder and hand. "Oh god. Oh no. Oh god." "Mulder, what is it?" Scully demanded, struggling to keep the light in front of him so that he didn't stumble in the darkness. "Oh, Scully," he sighed and took the light from her, shining it down into the valley. The light beam illuminated a pile of twisted metal. It didn't take long for both agents to identify the remains of the aircraft that had left them at the drop off site. "It's a safe bet we aren't going home in that," he sighed and kicked a small rock in disgust. Making their way down the sloping side of the valley toward the wreckage took longer than expected. Scully held her pace back deliberately to keep an eye on her injured partner. But Mulder, caught up in a singular purpose, moved quickly, oblivious to the pain. Even as the encountered shorn tree limbs and debris, they moved steadily toward the bent and torn remains of the little plane that had brought them here, safely, just hours before. "Something's not right..." Mulder muttered a bit breathlessly. He stopped short of stepping into the clearing that had been artificially carved into the trees by a metal corpse dropping from the skies. Mulder directed the powerful beam of the flashlight back along the trail left behind by the plane's final deadly course. He studied the line of damaged trees. The gradually steepening angle of damage seemed to indicate the plane had drifted down at a long controlled angle. Which, he realized, meant the pilot had been alive and aware, trying to guide his disabled plane as it made its way toward the ground. "We have to see if the pilot is alive," Scully said insistently. She took the flashlight from her partner and headed over the debris toward the plane. Mulder nodded solemnly and followed her, regarding the wreckage with trepidation. "It's hard to imagine anyone surviving that," he added softly. The fuselage was twisted and the windshield was gone. One wing hung at an odd angle, half torn from the body of the plane. His partner maneuvered her way around the wreckage and into what remained of the small craft as he followed and waited outside of the broken cabin door. A moment later she stepped back out with a look of despair on her face. "He didn't. He's dead," she said sorrowfully. "I couldn't tell but it must have been a head injury... Damn it all!" she cursed, and closed her eyes tightly to hold in the tears. "How about the cabin--did you get a look at the control panel?" Mulder asked, knowing that she needed something, anything to keep her mind working. She looked up, realizing what he was doing for her, and smiled. Scully swung the beam of light back into the cabin of the plane. "There's a lot of debris. I'll have to move the body out of the way before I can answer that. One good thing... there was no fire." She swung the beam of light back onto her partner. He was clearly shivering, even as his eyes glittered with interest in this newest tragic twist to their little Rocky Mountain adventure. "Mulder, you need to..." "I wonder what caused the crash?" he said quickly. He spoke hastily, struggling to keep his voice steady. He wouldn't give her a chance to re-focus on him; they had a mystery to solve, and he had a creepy feeling this "accident" was no accident. "The weather's clear right now. If he had problems, why didn't he turn back to the meadow?" "He *did* have that problem with instruments --or something-- on our way here," Scully interjected. "It's hard to say. For all we know he had some kind of medical emergency. The man was a walking heart-attack." Mulder moved toward one bent wing as if attempting to climb through the hatch. "Here, Scully, give me a hand." Then, sensing her disapproval at his actions, he added, "...or two. Let's move the body." "Mulder, you shouldn't be standing, much less tugging on a dead body. Get out of the way, and let me at it." She had that 'don't mess with me, Mulder' tone of voice, and he decided that discretion was the better part of valor. And survival. He stepped aside and watched her struggle a moment with the pilot's body, before finally stepping in to help, careful to protect his shoulder to the extent possible. After several minutes, the body was free from the wreckage and covered with a tarp they had found under one of the seats of the plane. Once they cleared the cabin of tree limbs they were surprised to find that the cockpit looked battered but fairly normal. The gas gauge registered empty and the ignition switch was still in the "on" position. Mulder furrowed his brow. This was odd. The plane had been piloted into a long, slow descent and the engine had probably remained engaged until it had run out of fuel. How long would that have taken, he wondered? "OK, Mulder, what now?" his partner asked, taking in the assembly of gauges before her. "Let me think... There's something else...Wait a minute! The ETL!" "ETL?" "An emergency transponder locator. If a plane goes down, the locator is supposed to go off on impact." He didn't go on to tell her it should already by making a god-awful noise and that not hearing it was anything but a good sign. "He should have one on board." "So what am I looking for?" "A small bright yellow box...like a transistor radio. Somewhere near the rear cargo compartment." "Okay...give me a minute." Mulder could hear soft curses coming from inside the plane, then a squeal of delight. "I've got it!" She emerged triumphantly with the prize in her hand, handing it over to Mulder. Mulder took the transponder and began examining it carefully. He said nothing...just looked up at Scully with an expression she knew all too well. "Why do I think I don't want to hear this?" "I'd been hoping.... Some pilots are careless--they let the batteries die." He didn't have to say anymore. "What about the radio? You've always been handy with those." "Well, I know something about them. I'll take a look." He tried several switches, all of which proved fruitless. Next Mulder began pulling at exposed wiring, checking dials, twisting leads together. Calmly at first, then obviously frustrated. "It's no use. There must have been too much damage...I can't restore any kind of power to send a signal." Mulder froze. Whose voice was that?! He looked over his shoulder to his partner who was still studying the control panel. She gave no indication she had heard anything. Mulder felt the crawl of gooseflesh over his skin. The voice was soft. Feminine. Pleading with him. And Scully did not seem to be aware of it. He turned to scan the darkness outside the tiny plane cabin. Nothing. When she realized her partner had gone quiet, Scully looked up at him and noticed the odd look on his face. "Mulder? What's wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost! Are you feeling okay?" "I... uh, thought I heard something. Did you?" Scully shrugged and instinctively turned to look out into the darkness. She looked back at her partner quizzically. "No. Nothing. What did you hear?" He seemed reluctant to tell her. "A voice. A woman telling us to leave. That we are in danger here." She rolled her eyes to the ceiling of the plane and fought to keep from screaming. "*That* doesn't take a Rhodes Scholar -- or a ghost voice -- to figure out, Mulder. We are sitting in the ruined remains of our only ticket out of here with no way to communicate with the outside world!!" She was tired and exasperated. "You're probably half out of your head with fever by now..." Mulder pursed his lips angrily, biting back an angry retort. He leaned his head back and was instantly reminded of why that was a bad idea. The pain from his shoulder was burning hotly now, and he was feeling more than a little sick to his stomach. "This was *not* the best idea I've had lately," he mumbled to himself, closing his eyes. A vision burst into his mind. A young woman. Sad-looking. Deep dark eyes, too large for her small, pale face. Platinum hair streamed away from her face as if she were standing in a windstorm. She was shrouded in white, diaphanous clouds of brilliant white. And she was reaching for Mulder as if imploring him to take her hand and follow... The federal agent pulled away from the vision in surprise. It seemed so real. He gasped and opened his eyes, feeling as if he had had his breath stolen away. Scully didn't miss any of this. A quick flash of her light showed how pale he was and the sheen of sweat covering his face. "You can't make it back to the camp, can you?" she asked. He wanted to disagree with her, assure her that he could and would make it back up the hill to the little camp and his sleeping bag. But he had never lied to her. He'd often neglected to tell her the 'whole' truth, when he thought she might try and stop him from pursuing something he wanted to pursue, but he had never lied. "No, I don't think so," he admitted weakly. He closed his eyes so she couldn't see how much that statement had cost him. "I'll only be gone a little while. You get comfortable here, OK?" she said, trying very hard to disguise her concern. He'd put up a great show while they had been walking. Now, sitting down, the price that had cost him seemed too high. But he was safer here than on the mountaintop where they had been. At least the plane provided shelter from the wind that had kicked up the last hour or so. He and Scully could make a fire when she returned. Scully searched through the rubble in the back of the plane and found a couple of blankets. She draped these around his now shivering body. "Stay still, hear me?" she ordered. He started to nod and then winced when it caused the bones to grind. "Yeah," he gasped. "...not goin' anywhere without you," he added, and tried to smile at her. The voice again. More insistent. Mulder shuddered and shook off the feeling of dread that began flooding through him. He tried to scan the darkness beyond the wreck. This was ridiculous. Maybe Scully was right. Maybe he was feverish. "Just be careful," he told his partner seriously as she prepared to leave him. "It's not me that's wrapped up like a Virginia Ham, Mulder," she teased and started out into the night. *************************************************** "His partner is leaving him behind." Commander Katarina "Kat" Bischoff lowered her binoculars slowly, a satisfied smirk playing across her face. She snapped her fingers at one of the men crouched beside her, a silent order for him to turn over his pair of night vision goggles to her. Now that Fox Mulder's partner had taken the bright beam of light with her it would be safe to observe the scene with the special glasses again. In the eerie greenish glow, she could make out the figure of Fox Mulder shifting uncomfortably inside the confines of the plane wreckage. She smiled again. There was a reason his partner left him behind, she realized. "He's hurt," she whispered aloud. "The FBI's 'spookiest' agent is not 100 per cent, gentlemen," she purred in her low, throaty voice to the five soldiers assembled nearby. "Shall we go in for him?" It was Ledo, the newest, and consequently most eager, addition to Bischoff's squadron of covert operatives. "No. Not yet," she snapped. "I shouldn't be surprised that he's here -- he and his partner, 'Strawberry Shortcake'..." There was a muffled rumble of laughter from her men. Kat Bischoff returned the night vision goggles to the soldier beside her. "I'm sure she's just gone to get their gear. Foxy doesn't look as if he's going much farther tonight. Ledo, you and McQuire set up watch on this site for tonight. Reddick, follow the redhead. Make sure they don't have a radio or anything -- jam signals if you have to, but don't let her see you. I'm sure they've come looking for the same people we are... If we were able to bring that plane down, gentlemen, we can certainly baby-sit two FBI agents for the night without incident, clear?" She stood up and crossed her arms, thinking quietly as she watched the plane wreckage from an opposite hill. "So we meet again, dear Fox...," she muttered to herself. She waved a hand dismissively to her men. "Remember to stay out of their sight. If I know Fox Mulder, he probably has maps and specific directions to our targets. We'll let him and Little Red lead us right to them... unless they do something stupid and we have to get the info from them by force sooner." *********** The Rockies Chapter Four By Kay Reindl Ruefrex@aol.com Sunday, 7:30 PM Mulder was dreaming about clowns, and they were scaring the piss out of him. Tall clowns, short clowns, loud clowns, sad clowns. They were circling around him, taunting him, saying horribly nasty things that should never come out of a clown's mouth. And he was screaming. They picked him up and put him in the little fire truck and then shotput him towards the burning building. The clowns roared as he screamed. Mulder came to rather suddenly, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath. Scully stared at him, wide-eyed, and her face melted in relief. She helped him sit up. "Thank God, Mulder. I thought you were dead," she said. Mulder tried to stop shaking. He actually made a conscious effort to stop, something he'd rarely attempted before. His teeth were chattering; Scully began piling a sleeping bag around him. "Don't have much faith in my survival skills, do you, Scully?" he said through gritted teeth. Scully smiled perfunctorily at him, trying to hide her concern as she examined him. "What were you dreaming about?" Scully asked, almost afraid to hear the answer. Mulder looked off into the distance. It wasn't the dream he recalled. It was the vision of the young woman again. Reaching for him. Beckoning him. Warning him. He glanced back at his partner. He decided he had better not mention the mystery woman. Scully already thought he was a candidate for intensive care. He wasn't about to add the psyche ward to her list. But the haunting vision persisted in his mind's eye. "Clowns," he said shortly, suddenly not looking her in the eye. Scully decided not to go there. Clowns scared the hell out of her, but given his predilection for some of the most nasty-ass nightmares to ever come down the pike, clowns were probably child's play to Mulder. Scully urged him to swallow two Tylenol and a lot of water. He resisted. "This is all the water we have left," he said. Scully sighed and reminded herself that he was hurt and in shock. Even the brilliant Gigantic Brain couldn't work through all of that. "We're in the Rockies, Mulder," she said gently. "Lots of water around." "Oh." Mulder hissed as Scully probed his shoulder. "I really broke it, didn't I?" he asked. Scully nodded. "Sure did, Mulder. That's some talent you have for completely destroying yourself while in a plane so small you barely fit. Look, it might be best if I just went for help." Mulder stared at her, unbelieving. She stared back steadily. "You're kidding, right?" "Mulder, you are in shock. You've got more broken bones than I care to count, and the pain is only going to get worse. You need antibiotics. You need to get these bones set. I'm going for help. You stay near the plane, I'll light a fire, I'll be back soon." Mulder couldn't believe this. Was she insane? "Are you insane?" he asked rather harshly. "Scully, we are in the middle of *nowhere*! The plane that dropped us here crashed, Scully! The only hope we have is to get to the Group." Scully was clearly getting pissed. "Besides," Mulder said, adding insult to injury, "we don't have any way of finding our way out of here. The only maps we've got lead us to the Group." Scully opened her mouth, then closed it. She glared at Mulder. "Mulder, if I didn't know that you weren't a masochist, I'd swear that you hurt yourself on purpose, just so we could follow The Truth." Mulder looked offended, but Scully rode right over the top of that. "Nothing is ever enough for you, is it? No truth is too small. Jesus, Mulder, what difference does it make if we find these people? Who cares whether or not they were abducted? How can this possibly have any bearing on your life?" she said, growing angrier by the minute. Mulder shifted and looked away from her, eyes cold. "It all relates, Scully," he said softly. "All of it. It has to. The truth is too big for one man to simply be able to stumble over it." "And you're too single-minded," Scully snapped. Mulder flinched, kept looking across the meadow. Scully sighed. Attacking Mulder for being Mulder wasn't going to get them out of here. It was getting colder, and Mulder was still shivering. Scully watched him watch the horizon. She sat down next to him and took her maps out of her pocket. Spreading them across her knees, she studied them closely. Mulder didn't look at her. Scully leaned over and touched his arm. He'd fallen asleep again. "Good," Scully muttered. "Now I can get some work done." *************************************************** Monday, 5:00 AM Scully warmed her hands over the miserably small campfire. Mulder groaned, and she turned to look at him, dreading this. His skin was as cold as ice, and his breathing throughout the night had taken a turn for the worse. Scully had draped her own sleeping bag over him and practically did aerobics in front of the frequently stoked fire in order to keep warm. She poured Mulder a cup of strong, grainy coffee and handed it to him. He blinked sleepily and accepted it. "How are you doing?" she asked quietly. Mulder stopped in mid- sip and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Uh...by the tone of your voice I'd say that you have more of an idea on that subject than I do." Scully smiled grimly and ripped open what could have, at one time, been an Egg McMuffin. She handed it to Mulder. He regarded it doubtfully, then shook his head. "Mulder, you have to eat. I insist that you eat, even if it's cardboard." Mulder bit into the thing and made a face, but he managed to swallow it all and wash it down with the coffee. "Does this mean that we're pressing on?" he asked, knowing damn well that it did. "Yes, Mulder," Scully said patiently, "as usual you were right. There's no fucking way out of here." "Language, Scully," Mulder chided gently. Scully took in the ghostly pallor of his skin, the unnatural angle at which he held his head, indicating that his muscles had completely seized, and the dull look in his eyes. All because of the possibility of alien abduction. "Fuck language," she snapped. Once more, she pulled out the maps and showed Mulder the route, certain that he would just tell her to go on ahead and come get him when she was done. "This is Longs Peak. We have to go over that." Mulder just nodded. Scully frowned. "See, we're in the national park now, and in order to get out of the park and find the Group, we have to get up, put on our hiking gear, and hike over the top of a 14,000 foot mountain." He still wasn't getting it. "Mulder, it's a very hard hike up to the top, and..." Scully bit her lip. Did he really need to hear this now? "And it's a pretty sheer drop down the other side." That got his attention. Mulder blinked at her. "Drop?" he asked, incredulous. "A granite drop. Which is why I brought rappelling equipment." Mulder's eyes narrowed. "You're doing this on purpose," he said, low and deadly. "Mulder, don't be ridiculous. I am not doing anything on purpose. See, the thing is, we could hike about fifty miles out of our way to Longs Peak trailhead and get help. But I've decided that it's easier to get to your Group, which is a five-mile hike up the mountain and the...drop...down the other side. The way I see it, the Group should be within two miles of the base of the mountain." If it was possible, Mulder was even paler. "Okay, wait a minute. Hang on. FIVE miles to climb 14,000 feet?" Did he know nothing? "No, Mulder. We're at about 10,000 now. You do the math. Now the drop, on the other hand..." Scully had a pretty good idea that the drop wouldn't be too bad, and she'd done some rappelling before, but the Catholic in her wanted to punish Mulder for scaring the hell out of her. "So...the only reason you're doing this is because it would be more difficult to get help?" Scully wanted to kill him, but he was doing a pretty good job of that himself. "Yeah, Mulder," she said sarcastically. "I never compromise. Don't even think of it. It's five, we'd better get a move on." *************************************************** Monday, 10:30 AM Scully was keeping such a close eye on Mulder that she almost took a header over a rock. Naturally, he noticed. "Be careful," he advised pleasantly. She shot him a black look. The chipper attitude was not a front, she'd discovered in the past few hours. Mulder was going after the truth once again, and it made him happy. Scully swigged water and stepped over to Mulder, examining him critically. She stopped suddenly and dumped her pack. "Time out," she ordered. He rolled his eyes but acquiesced. Scully helped him off with his pack and tried to ignore the gray flush that came over his face as his collarbone shifted. He sat down on a boulder, turning slightly to take a look at how far they'd traveled. "We've done pretty well, haven't we?" he asked. Scully regarded him coolly, forcing him to down some water and two Tylenol. "Oh, sure. A mile in about five hours. We're impressive." "Ah, come on, Scully. It's more than a mile. You act as if I've never hiked before," he said. "You don't say," Scully mused. She felt fresh and rested and dearly wished that she could give some of that to her partner. He was going above and beyond the call of duty here; to tell the truth, Scully was surprised that they'd made it this far. He was tired, of that there was no doubt, but his injuries didn't seem to be bothering him as much as they should be. she told herself. Scully stood and shaded her eyes, looking up the scraggly trail. The top of the mountain was close. It was still late morning, which meant that they'd probably be able to get to the top later on this afternoon. And then they'd have to rappel down. Scully bit her lip, hoping that Mulder would slow down somewhat so they could make camp before tackling the mountain. But she wavered between that and between worrying about Mulder if they had to spend another night in freezing temperatures. She heard him stand. She turned and helped him on with his pack, looking at the grim set of his jaw. "You sure you're okay?" she asked doubtfully. He nodded shortly. "Let's go," he said, and he strode off in front of her. She shook her head. At that pace, they'd be stopping again real soon. *************************************************** Monday, 2:00 P.M. Mulder stared doubtfully at the handful of crackers Scully handed him. "I don't think I'm this hungry, Scully," he said. Scully rolled her eyes. "They're good. Snack Wells." Mulder examined a cracker close up and shook his head. "Girl food," he said caustically. Scully shrugged, popped a cracker into her mouth. "Two grams of fat for every thirty crackers," she said. "There is a God." "Hey, Scully, elk!" Mulder said excitedly. Sure enough, a small herd of elk grazed in the meadow. "Think we should have elk tonight?" Mulder asked, a wicked gleam in his eye. Scully stood and put on her pack. "Sure, Mulder. Why don't you kill one with the little spoon on your Swiss Army knife." Mulder looked hurt. "Or better yet, you hold the elk down, and I'll burn it to death with your tiny magnifying glass." Mulder scrambled to his feet, and Scully helped him on with his pack. "One day you will appreciate such a finely-tuned tool, Scully." She opened her mouth, and Mulder frowned at her. "Don't even go there." As they set off, Mulder delighted himself by attempting to identify animals. "Hey, Scully, a duck!" "It's a coot, Mulder." Silence. "Hey, Scully, a...one of those birds with the long necks!" "Snowy egret. And there's a blue heron, female, a white-faced ibis and look, a wood duck. Male. If you look up, you'll see a green- winged teal...those are good birds to eat...cinnamon teal right next to him...your common mallard...canvasback...pretty good eating...the incredibly ugly hooded merganser..." Even Mulder shuddered when he got a look at that duck. It was definitely butt-ugly. "Ruddy duck! I love those..." "Hawk," Mulder said helpfully. Scully snorted at him. "Please. Any philistine can recognize a hawk. What kind is it?" Silence. "Red-tail, Mulder. Christ." Scully continued on her way, thrilled that Mulder was still keeping up. He was in pain, of course, but he had a way of compartmentalizing the pain. She hated him for that. "Bear." "Not funny, Mulder." "No shit. *Bear*, Scully" That stopped Scully in her tracks. She turned slowly. Mulder was standing about ten feet behind her, frozen, making eye contact with a black bear. "Don't move, Mulder," she said softly. "Not moving." Scully watched the bear, which seemed far too curious about Mulder. The bear rose on its hind feet and seemed to glare at him. It moved towards him, still on its hind feet. Scully looked around frantically and saw the cause of the bear's distress. A small bear cub splashed in the stream behind Mulder, who was, unfortunately for him, between mother and cub. Without really thinking, Scully dropped her pack and darted in front of Mulder, confusing the hell out of the bear. "Scully, get the hell out of here!" She ignored him. The bear roared and Scully shoved Mulder aside. He stumbled and fell, then jerked out of his pack and got back to his feet, gun in his injured right hand. If it hadn't been such a serious situation, Scully might have laughed. "You got about twenty bullets in there, or are you just planning to arrest her?" Scully asked, her voice a low hiss. The bear advanced and Mulder fired, completely off to one side. The bear paused. Mulder fired again and jerked his head at Scully. She took the hint and eased away as the bear worked through its brain and then looked at them, beady eyes apparently angry. Don't anthropomorphize, Dana, she told herself. The bear was torn but when it realized that it could see its cub, it ignored Mulder and Scully and ambled towards the stream. Mulder's breaths were coming in painful gasps again. Scully picked up both packs and slowly, slowly walked away from the bear. Mulder stumbled after her. Scully stopped down the next rise, far away from the bear, and made Mulder sit down. He didn't resist. "What were you thinking?" she asked in amazement. "I was thinking I was probably right in identifying that one as a bear," he countered weakly, trying to smile. "Point for me?" "Bonus points for staying alive," she sighed, reaching for his hand. "But you lose points for injuring yourself again!" Scully shook her head as she carefully examined his hand. It was bleeding again. She re-wrapped it and started for his shoulder, but he stopped her. "Shoulder's okay," he said in between labored breaths. "The hand is killing me... Just... let me... rest... a minute." Scully nodded and sat down, handing Mulder a bottle of water and two Tylenol. He looked at the Tylenol in dismay. "I don't...suppose... you have anything... stronger?" he wheezed. Scully shook her head. "No, but I will next time." "Who says ...there's going to be a... next time?" he said quietly. Mercifully, Scully didn't answer. *************************************************** Monday 3:30 PM "Just watch your step, Mulder, it's no problem," Scully said anxiously. Mulder nodded, his eyes on the rocks in front of him. Their simple climb to the top of Longs Peak had turned into a nightmare. Unbalanced by the pack, his arm completely engulfed in pain and his chest burning, Mulder would rather have sat down and never moved again rather climb the gigantic boulders in front of him. Scully had told him that the treacherous Boulderfield, off the Longs Trail, was one of the most hated stretches of the Park climb, but she'd never expected to see the damned things here. The boulders constituted a steep drop that could only be negotiated by clambering over the slippery rocks. They'd searched for another route down, but there was none. Scully stood at the bottom, watching Mulder wipe his face with his sleeve and hesitate for the nine-thousandth time. They had also discussed Mulder leaving his pack, but he'd vetoed that. There was no way he could climb without the pack anchoring his arm. Mulder took a deep breath, muttered a prayer to his video collection, and stepped out onto the first boulder. Almost immediately, his foot slipped. Mulder flailed for balance, but gravity caught him and pulled him down. He was unable to get any sort of purchase with the pack on as he slid down the boulder. He managed to shimmy out of it and threw his hands up, miraculously grabbing a hand-hold. With his right arm. The pain was exponential and sparks exploded behind his eyes. Dimly, he could hear Scully yelling, but all he could think about was the fact that his arm was going to crack off. He scrambled for a foot-hold, shifted his grasp to his left hand, and managed to drop down onto the rather flat surface of the next boulder. Mulder's breaths were coming in small gasps now. The burning sensation in his chest was stronger, and somewhere in his mind, he knew he was hyperventilating. He cradled his right arm as he crouched on the boulder and glanced down. Scully was attempting to scramble up the rocks towards him. He raised his left arm and weakly waved her off. She paused but kept coming. Mulder shut his eyes, hoping that he'd die before she got there. It took Scully an amazingly short period of time to get to him, and he jerked as she touched him. "Oh my God, Mulder, oh my God, say something please..." But he couldn't. Every breath was an effort now. *********** The Rockies Chapter Five By Kay Reindl Ruefrex@aol.com Scully felt completely helpless. Mulder could not move. His breathing was ragged and his eyes were glazing over. She looked down. Mulder had actually slid down two boulders and it was a fairly short drop to the bottom. Scully debated, then anchored her foot and hauled Mulder up. He didn't even seem to notice. She could feel his muscles clench as she slung his left arm around her neck. Being careful of his injuries, she very, very slowly made her way down the boulders, slipping as she caught sight of the bottom. Once again, Mulder's feet went out from under him, and Scully grabbed desperately for him. She managed to snag him by the collar, but his dead weight pulled her down too. Scully hit the ground hard, gasping for breath, but immediately forced herself to her feet. Mulder lay in a tangled heap nearby, unmoving. Scully turned him over. He blinked at her. An enormous wave of relief washed over her. He was trying to talk. Scully felt the pang in her chest, too, and suddenly realized what it was. "Mulder, it's okay," she said firmly. "It's the altitude. You need to try to take longer, deeper breaths. It's getting colder and the air is thinner. Do you understand me?" He hesitated, then nodded, wincing at the movement. "Let me help you get your shoulder stabilized again," Scully offered. "This is going to hurt like a son of a bitch," she warned. He cringed as she pulled on his arm yet again. To Mulder's credit, all he did was gasp. Scully gently lay his arm across his chest and stood, rummaging through her pack and begrudging the fact that Mulder's pack, with his sleeping bag and his heavy coat, was dashed on the rocks somewhere below. Mulder's breath was still coming in little pants and Scully leaned over him, getting his attention. "Mulder, you have got to breathe more slowly. Do you understand?" Tears streamed down Mulder's face as he nodded. He actually made an effort, too. But suddenly, he turned his head and began vomiting. Scully stared at him bleakly. He dry-heaved for a few moments and then tried to sit up. Scully helped prop him up against a rock, leaning gently onto his chest to steady him. His breathing was beginning to calm. When she felt the wind suddenly pick up and a sprinkle of cold drizzle begin, Scully looked fearfully to the Colorado skies. She'd been so focused on her partner, she'd never noticed the change in weather. "Dammit!" Scully raged at the leaden gray sky overhead. "God damn! Son of a bitch! Fucking hell shit!" That got Mulder's attention. Eyes wide, he stared at her as she ranted, blinking away the mist of drizzle. He knew why she was upset. Getting wet now would mean exposure for both of them and he knew he wasn't up to coping with that. He groaned. It was as if Mother Nature herself was waging a private war with them. Mulder's teeth began chattering. And Mulder's heavy coat was in his pack. Scully stared at him, then turned and looked over the side of the mountain. His pack had come to rest on an outcropping about twenty feet down. Piece of cake. Scully bent down next to him. "Your pack is on a ledge. I'm going down to get it." Mulder stared at her. "Are you nuts?" he said hoarsely. "Mulder, we have to go down that cliff anyway so I can put anchors in on my way down, and you need your coat. There's no way you're going to...you need your coat." Mulder wilted. Scully knelt down next to him and put a concerned hand on his good arm, the only bit of him still functioning. "I can't, Scully," he whispered. Great. "Look, I know you're in a lot of pain. I know you've never done this before. But I have, and I won't let anything happen to you. You'll be anchored, I'll belay you down, you won't have to do anything. I've done this before, not just once but many times. You can do this, Mulder. I promise I won't let anything happen to you. Besides," she added, cracking a smile, "the truth is down there." Mulder met her eyes, then he looked away. "Okay," he said softly. Scully grinned. "Back in a minute." It was actually more like half an hour before a tired Scully returned in triumph with Mulder's coat. She had decided to leave Mulder's pack on the ledge to await their arrival. As he watched her pull herself up over the ledge, Mulder looked a little surprised that she'd survived. "Trust me now, Nature Boy?" she taunted with a smile as she helped him into the protective warmth of the coat. "I'll always trust you," he said seriously. Scully did a quick check of his vitals. "Don't get maudlin on me, Mulder," she said. She frowned. His pulse was quickening and his skin, so cold before, was flushed. "Mulder, how is it that you're the only person in the world who can go from freezing to feverish in the space of thirty minutes?" He didn't have an answer to that. Scully made him drink some more water and gave him four Tylenol. "This could be the basis for a malpractice suit," he observed. Scully made a face at him. "Okay, look. I want you to be honest with me." He half-nodded, wondering what she was up to. "You've got to stand up. I'm going to help you get into the climbing harness, and then you're going down the mountain to the first ledge, which is about twenty feet down. I need to know if this is going to be impossible. You have got to concentrate, Mulder. Do whatever I do, okay?" He jerked his head again. She nodded, satisfied, and helped him up. Every bone and muscle in his body cursed his name. He gasped. Scully let him lean on her. "Oh shit..." he muttered weakly. "Give it a minute, Mulder. Come on, walk with me. Let your muscles warm up." "They're warm already...Jesus..." Scully ignored him and helped him walk. After a few minutes he was able to walk on his own. She helped him on with the harness and he looked at her, embarrassed. "I look like a circus performer," he grumbled. "At least you don't look like a clown," she retorted. He grinned a lopsided grin at her as she hooked the carabiners to the harness and made certain that the anchors were rock-steady. The nylon climbing rope had quite a bit of give in it so even if Mulder did fall, he wouldn't kill himself. She pointed out the brake. "This will stop your descent, should anything untoward happen. Now this is important. In order to stop, let go of the brake. Repeat that." Mulder sighed. Scully glared at him. "In order to stop, I let go." "Of what?" Pause. Long, nasty pause. "The brake," he said coldly. Scully nodded, then felt his forehead. Even hotter. "I'm fine, Scully," he said. Scully locked eyes with him. Even with the fever, he did indeed seem better. He wasn't as out of it as he'd been after his tumble down the rocks. Maybe he could do this...maybe they both could. Mulder stood at the edge of the cliff, staring blankly out into space. Thank God he wasn't afraid of heights. That was one phobia he'd been spared. Scully seemed nervous, and Mulder suddenly wondered if she was afraid of heights. She fumbled through her check, biting her lip and tightening, screwing and unscrewing various carabiners. She obsessively checked her pouch to make sure that she had all the spares. She pulled on her gloves and flexed her fingers, then she looked at Mulder. "Are you okay?" he asked quietly. Scully looked surprised. "Sure. Why?" "You seem nervous," he said. She looked away. "These are not exactly optimum conditions. Why don't you worry about staying conscious?" With that, Scully turned her back, kicked at the anchor, and then looked at Mulder. "Ready." Mulder took a deep breath, remembering to look at the ropes and make certain that they were properly placed. Since he had only one usable hand, he had to use it as both guide and anchor. Scully was talking. "Now remember, do NOT kick out from the cliff. Absolutely, under no circumstances, are you to kick out. The wind is furious down there and you've only got one good hand. Try and use your feet as anchors as much as possible. You are going to crawl down there, Mulder. No heroics. Got me?" Whenever Scully said "Got me", Mulder knew she was serious. He jerked his head, which was the closest thing to a nod that he could muster. She nodded, satisfied, then gripped the ropes and anchored herself. Mulder stepped over the cliff. The wind whistled around him, shoving him gently from side to side. Mulder swallowed the lump in his throat and followed Scully's lead. She fed rope slowly to him and he scrambled for small footholds. It was impossible to not use his right arm at all but his hand was so useless that it was only a vain attempt at security. His left arm quivered with the strain. Mulder kept an eye on his ropes and on the ledge below him. If he hadn't been in so much pain, he might have enjoyed this. Man versus nature, all that guff. Mulder's feet hit the ledge and he shouted upwards. "I'm here!" A few seconds later, Scully peered over the cliff. Mulder waved at her and he thought he could see her grinning at him. He was feeling pretty smug. No problem. This stuff's easy. *************************************************** Monday, 4:45 P.M. It was slow going. The descent was taking longer than Scully had expected. Mulder had been letter perfect so far, but she could see him weakening. They were very close to the base of the mountain, and Scully alternated between knowing that they were going to make it and being terrified that they weren't. Scully let out a little more rope, trying to rein Mulder in. He was captivated with climbing, but like a guy, he wanted to do too much too soon. Hell, Mulder, she thought, most people with injuries aren't out climbing mountains. Scully let out a little more line and suddenly, the line jerked. Still braced against the cliff-face, Scully managed to catch sight of Mulder, flailing wildly as he dropped. "The brake!" Scully yelled, "Let go of the brake!!" Scully was screaming, the wind whipping the words out of her mouth and tears obscuring her vision. This was it. This was it. Oh God, Mulder -- And then the rope caught. Scully quickly anchored it and threw herself down on the ledge. Mulder dangled, many feet below, unconscious, at the end of the rope. And Scully had no way to get down to him. Scully's brain refused to work. She stared blankly down at Mulder, who was most definitely unconscious. Okay, Dana, now you've done it. Scully looked at the ropes, which swayed with Mulder's dead weight. Two ropes, one anchor, no way for her to get down unless she sacrificed the spare rope and the last anchor. Scully debated for a moment and looked at the packs, which still had to be lowered. She sighed, frustrated. Even if she used the spare rope she would still be rappelling on only one line, and there was no way, short of throwing them, to get the packs down. Scully bit her lip and looked at Mulder again. Nothing. Maybe shouting would work. Scully cupped her hands around her mouth and drew a deep breath. "MULDER!!" she screamed, coughing with the effort. "MULDER, WAKE UP!! MULDER!! WAKE UP, GODDAMN IT!" Scully could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She refused to let her mind wander, refused to let herself think that -- "Fuck!" Scully said viciously. She had to get to him. Screw the packs. She wrenched the packs open and pulled out the sleeping bags, her medical bag, the water and the food. Many knots later, Scully had tied it all together into a tight bundle. She fumbled in her sack for the spare anchor. And stopped. There was only one anchor in the bag, the one they'd need for the last descent. "Oh God," she whispered. "Oh no, oh shit..." It wasn't there. Scully sat down hard on the ground, staring at the sack. She ripped through it, turning it inside out. No anchor. She cast her mind back. Had she brought that many? She glanced up at the rock-face above her. How many had she used? She was getting tired, she knew that. Had she miscounted? Scully looked at the line. Even if she could climb up, there was no way she could use this line as a belay line. It simply wasn't long enough. The wind began to pick up again. Scully looked at her watch. 5:00. Soon it would be nightfall. Hypothermia was her biggest concern. The frustrating thing was, they were fairly close to the bottom. Scully could see it in the dimness. Mulder still swung, motionless, the ground tantalizingly close. She would have to pull him up. She had no idea how, but she would have to do it. It might kill him...but swinging from a rock face was going to kill him faster. Scully's muscles protested as she slowly untied the belay line. Her muscles trembled as she hauled back, foot braced against an outcropping. Gasping, she secured the line and looked down. Mulder had moved about three feet. This was going to take forever, and there was a particularly nasty outcropping to avoid. She'd probably bash his head against it. Scully blinked back tears of frustration. He was stranded; she was stranded; there was no way out of here. She could probably survive the night, but Mulder couldn't. Scully looked at the anchor already imbedded in the rock. Mulder's anchor. Would it hold? It was strong and the carabiners were the best on the market. Scully was one of those people who bought 100 lb. picture hangers for 2 lb. pictures, just to be on the safe side. She'd bought carabiners that would have held an elephant. The rock...Scully chose not to think about that. It was granite. Granite was strong. Very strong. Infinitely strong. The worse thing was, Scully was going to have to tie the spare rope off. It wasn't long enough to reach Mulder, who had dropped past the original point of contact. Scully would really be roughing it. Scully would die. Stop it, she told herself viciously. You've done this a million times. This is no big deal. Sure, her scared-to-death self said caustically, you've often descended with a short line, down a cliff you can hardly see, towards a seriously injured, unconscious climber. Mentally, Scully gave that voice the finger. She secured the rope to the anchor, tying knots in knots. This sucker had to hold. The rope holding Mulder scraped the edge of the cliff and Scully caught at it, steadying it. Don't need the sharp cliff sawing through the rope. The rope kept swaying, though, and much to Scully's amazement, it jerked. "Mulder?" she called as she carefully looked down. Then the best thing in the world happened. He raised his head and weakly lifted his left hand. Scully glowed and waved furiously at him. "Can you hear me?" she shouted. A barely perceptible nod. "Can you keep going?" Hesitation, but another slight nod. "Wait one minute!" Scully hurriedly undid the rope and shoved it into her sack, then stuffed the packs full again and got them ready. She braced herself, undid Mulder's line, and began the belay, very, very slowly. Mulder had grabbed the brake again and Scully prayed that he could stay coherent long enough to know that he had to go down further. A jerk on the rope. Scully secured the line and looked down. He was scrambling for a foothold and he'd released the brake. He looked up and grasped it again. Scully belayed. It was an incredibly long, arduous twenty feet and Scully prayed that she'd measured the rope correctly. She'd made it longer, due to Mulder's inexperience, and it had saved his life. Undoubtedly. The line went loose, and then Mulder jerked on it. Before pulling it up Scully glanced down at him again. He was crouched on the outcropping and even from this height Scully could see him shiver. She quickly brought the lines up and attached the packs. She was relieved when Mulder untied them and jerked the lines. Scully was down in about ten seconds. He looked awful. Blood ran down his face in rivulets and he shivered, left arm wrapped around his body. Scully got him situated against the cliff, made him sit down, and took inventory, talking to him the whole time. "Can you hear me, Mulder?" she asked sharply. She heard a sharp intake of breath as she probed the shoulder. It had to be killing him. Thankfully, her handiwork had not been undone. "Mulder? You'd better say something." "I forgot to let go," came the weak reply. Scully stopped her examination and looked at him, then squeezed his good hand. "Mulder --" "I know," he said, still shivering. "But we still have another jump." Scully didn't want to think about that. She examined the head wound, wincing. She reached into her pack and took out her flashlight, shining it into Mulder' pupils. Sure enough, his left eye didn't respond. Scully waved a hand in front of his face. He was starting to zone out. "Mulder? You've got a concussion, okay? Are you hearing me?" It took a moment, but he focused on her. "Scully, I..." his voice trailed off and he began to look decidedly green. Shit, Scully thought as he vomited. Too much of this. Scully reached out, trying to help him but not knowing where to touch him. Everything seemed to be bumped or bruised. And now he was doing nothing but vomiting because of the head trauma, and there was no way she could give him Tylenol for his fever, and he was sluggish and hardly coherent. Scully waited. Mulder looked at her, exhausted. "I've never felt this way before," he observed, almost as if from a distance. More shock. Scully managed to get the head wound cleaned up and was tempted to just push Mulder over. He would probably be hurt less than if she made him rappel again. Mulder looked at her, accepted the offer of water. He drank slowly, thirstily. Scully knew that he was dehydrated and also knew that he wouldn't keep it long. "Look, we have to go," she said gently. "Can you, Mulder? Can you get up?" Mulder jerked his head and tried to stand. Scully caught him as he began to topple over. Soon, he was standing, swaying really, on his own. He took a step forward and hissed. Scully groaned. Shit. "Sit down," she ordered. He looked perplexed. She shoved him back down, unzipped his jacket, and he jerked away from her as she put a hand to his ribs. She looked at him grimly. "Good news, Mulder. You've bruised ribs." "How's that good news?" "They're not broken, and you haven't punctured a lung. Yet. It's your most minor injury so far." "I'm so proud," he said caustically. She helped him stand again. His face went white but he managed to stay on his feet. He drew a deep, painful breath and Scully got out of the way as he vomited again. There is no way, she thought bleakly, no possible way this is going to work. But Mulder slowly hooked the harness to the carabiner and waited for Scully as she hammered in the anchor. There's no way, she thought as she worked, but there's no other way. The belay was a nightmare. Scully's left shoulder was on fire from the constant starting and stopping. Mulder could only go a few feet before he would have to stop, put his head down, and wait for the nausea to pass. Forty feet of hell. Scully held her breath the whole way. Mulder dropped once but immediately let go of the brake, probably more out of oncoming frostbite than anything else. Scully had to wait an eternity for him to gather himself. She could feel Mulder through the line. She could feel the pain emanate up to her, through the haphazard, jerky motions of the rope. Every movement was agony to him but he grimly kept at it, probably moving faster than he should. But that was Mulder. He was always moving faster and he usually paid the price. Scully was determined that he wouldn't, not this time. He'd survive and they'd hunt down his little truth. They were going to solve this if Scully had to do it all herself. Mulder will not have done this for nothing, she resolved. And then she realized that the line was still. Fuck. Scully secured it and felt the welcoming jerk. She looked down over the edge. Mulder was on the ground. Scully had never seen a prettier sight than Mulder's two feet planted on terra firma. Completely exhausted and numb from the cold, Scully dropped twice on her way down but managed to make it. She and Mulder looked at each other and even through everything that had happened, felt a sense of satisfaction. They shouldered their packs. "We're going to make camp now, right?" Mulder asked in a voice barely above a whisper. Scully nodded and wondered how wonderful that nasty coffee would taste now. "I want to see if there's a cave in those rocks. There are a lot of cairns in these mountains and that would be ideal." Scully started walking, Mulder stumbling beside her. Scully actually felt pretty good. She'd managed to keep Mulder alive, although she had little idea how. They would make camp; she'd make him get some sleep, and at least she'd be able to hike the rest of the way to the Group and get some help. Scully reached the cairn. They had shelter. She turned, happy at another small success--then her face dropped. Mulder had followed her, pushing himself to his physical limit. He was slowly sinking to his knees. Scully dropped her pack and raced over to him. He was staring dazedly into space, hardly breathing. "Mulder?" she asked. "Mulder! Answer me!" He didn't even acknowledge her. Dammit. Scully snapped her fingers in front of his face and the only thing that happened was that he closed his eyes and passed out cold. *********** The Rockies Chapter Six By Westshore Westshor1@aol.com He would have like to have answered his partner's call. He heard her shout his name. He was even dimly aware of her worried look and frantic efforts to move him. But he felt odd. Removed. In a different place. Past the steadily dimming visage of Dana Scully, he could see her... the mystery woman. A thin, peculiarly beautiful vision. But the vision seemed more real than his partner's touch right now. The woman was talking to him. he answered back in his head, and felt the black sleep overtake him. *************************************************** Scully began to curse the luck they were having as she struggled to pull her lanky partner's unconscious body into the protection of the rocks. The bothersome drizzle was quickly becoming a sleet storm. Bone-weary, she settled her partner into a corner protected from the intrusion of wind and rain. She moved quickly to wrap their blankets and sleeping bags around Mulder, cocooning him for the time he would have to be here alone while she sought out The Group with the help of his maps. She looked out into the worsening storm worriedly, wondering if she should take the chance now or wait. It was dark now, but she knew Mulder didn't have the luxury of waiting for daylight. She felt certain she could make it to the encampment and the Obi Wans, if they were, in fact, where the maps placed them. She shuddered, not even wanting to explore that possibility. A quick glance at Mulder made her decision. He was not doing well; flushed with fever, exhausted and dangerously injured. He needed help, or at the very least, proper shelter as soon as possible. The Group was their only hope. Scully compulsively reached over and touched her partner's face gently. "Please, Mulder. Stay asleep until I get back. No more adventures for you." She smiled sadly and began preparing to set out into the night and storm. *************************************************** He felt absolutely naked as she touched him. But there was no shame. There was no fear. He felt her touch sweeping over him and welcomed it, yearned for it. The rush of warmth flooded into every part of him. He felt freer, unbound from his mortal heaviness and pain. He could take deep breaths of sweet air. He could think clearly. He felt like dancing, shouting... It was like a religious experience, he smiled to himself. A silvery laugh startled him into opening his eyes. Confused, he studied his surroundings. Gray and black shadows cast over a cairn of fallen rocks and boulders. He was huddled into an envelope of blankets and sleeping bags that he recognized as Scully's handiwork. Why had she done that? He felt fine. And where was she anyway? He began to squirm free of the gentle restraints. Mulder stopped and looked wildly around. That voice again. "Where are you?" he whispered aloud. No answer. He swallowed and searched the shadows of the tiny cairn again. Nothing. Mulder was beginning to get angry. He fought to throw the blankets off and rose to his feet. "Where are you? *Who* are you?!" he demanded to the empty space around him. Mulder turned. There on the bundle of blankets he had just cast off sat the woman in white. He blinked. She looked so real! How could this be? Despite the cold temperature of the air in this cave and the woman's thin frail body, she wore only a sheath of white cloth. Mulder blinked again. The vision did not go away. It was only then, as his mind scrambled trying to make sense of what he was seeing that he realized he was no longer crippled with pain and injuries. He moved his shoulder experimentally and rubbed curiously at the spot where his ribs had been bruised. They felt fine! He felt for the bump on his head, and found a mild swelling that ached, but did not feel anything like the injury he *thought* he had just a few hours ago. He looked over at the woman -- Elise -- as he slowly unwrapped his bandaged hand. She smiled enigmatically. Mulder was astonished. The deep jagged cut was still visible, but looked remarkably well-healed. He gingerly felt for the small broken bones and clenched and unclenched his fist experimentally. There were some twinges, an ache or two, but the hand seemed to be repaired and functional. "What happened to me?" he asked her in an awe-struck whisper. She cocked her head at him quizzically, not understanding his confusion. Mulder slowly shook his head, eyes wide with bewilderment. She spoke. He heard her, but her lips did not seem to move. And her eyes had an unnatural way of moving as she watched him. He suddenly felt weak-kneed. How could this apparition be possible? How could he have been healed so suddenly? The silvery laugh again. The woman who called herself "Elise" was standing now, just a foot in front of him. He backed away. He had not seen her move! How did she do that? Why was she here? Where was Scully? Was he de...? "ME?!?!" Mulder squawked aloud. "Who's calling whom 'odd'? And... and... are you reading my thoughts?" He was becoming more curious and less distrustful of this little apparition of his. She seemed to nod her head as she stepped closer and reached out to lay her hands against his chest. Mulder was stunned by the force of feelings that flooded through him at her touch. Visions swirled by, noises assailed him, memories from his overcrowded mind, smells, voices, remembered touches - both loving and severe. He felt himself drowning, not able to breathe and the black sleep threatened to pull him away again. Elise's words were penetrating the fog in his brain. He turned toward her voice, mentally, like following a beacon of a lighthouse. "Wha... what happened?" The young woman was bent over him, her hands hovering but not touching the sides of his face. He was on the ground? He must have passed out. Elise looked penitent. Her words flew into his head in a hurried rush, and she began low sweeping moves of her long thin hands over his body. He felt the warmth again. He felt naked again. Strong and getting stronger. His breathing evened out and he felt relaxed. He sighed and regarded his "guest" as she finished her little ritual movements over him. "Was it you I heard at the crash site?" he asked quietly. She nodded. "What is the danger you keep speaking of?" Her face changed, suddenly perplexed. Mulder was confused, but suddenly his mind was flooded with images of seven men and five women. The Obi-Wans! He recognized some of them from old file photos. And then a vision of an elderly woman accompanied by warm feelings of love and security. Mama Estille. He understood. But the next vision given to him by the little woman shocked the breath out of him: a squadron of camouflaged soldiers, armed, creeping over a hillock -- and in the distance he could see his partner steadfastly making her way through the sleet storm, unaware of the danger following her. Mulder bolted to his feet. "Scully! Scully... God no... Scully. Where's my goddamned gun?!" He was breathless with terror. He tore through the packs, flinging supplies and clothes searching for a weapon, any weapon. Elise was asking. She seemed frightened by his behavior. "Scully! My partner... I've got to get to her!" He snatched up the gun that fell from his pack and two clips of ammunition. He turned back to the "vision" Elise. "Help me! Please show me where to find her! Please..." Elise hesitated. She could sense the rush of emotions coursing through this man right now. He was scared -- but not for himself. He was upset, full of rage and hate... but there was something else. In the whirlpool of his thoughts, Elise could see how closely he held the emotions he had swirling around his visions of the one he called "Scully". Mulder shook his head angrily and bolted out into the storm, not waiting to argue with the 'figment of his imagination'. If Scully had set off for the Obi-Wans encampment, he had a pretty good idea of which way she was headed. Thank God for his eidetic memory and thank God for the element of surprise. He would need it against this new threat: a squadron of Black Ops tailing his partner. *************************************************** He moved as swiftly as the storm and the need to be unseen would allow him. He had little time to marvel at the gift of healing he had been given, renewed strength, renewed stamina. He moved deer- like over the forest floor, leaping obstacles, dodging limbs. He had to be getting close. He had to be! He stopped, gun drawn and ready, scanning the clearing just ahead. No sign of soldiers. No sign of Scully. The sky was dimming quickly. Light would be lost soon. <> He screamed in his mind, not even sure if he really believed all that had happened in the last hour. <> The wind sang through the tall pines and leafless aspen trees. The temperatures were dropping--definitely a snowstorm, early even by Colorado standards. Mulder pushed a feeling of despair away and prepared to move into the clearing. Mulder felt a mental nudge and darted off to his right, careful to stay within the cover of aspenwood. It wasn't long before he caught a glimpse of his partner's bright red hair, just above him at the top of a hill. He sprinted upward at a pace that amazed even him. He saw Scully turn and watch him with shocked surprise as he crested the hill noisily. But he also saw the glint of metal just behind her. A gun! "Mulder? How did you...?" Scully's question was lost in the thundering report of a volley of gunshots. Mulder threw himself at his partner, knocking her out of the way. Scully tumbled helplessly down the steep bank of the hill and disappeared from sight. Mulder pressed himself tightly to the cold wet ground covering his head as bullets sprayed dirt and tree bark over him. And as quickly as it had begun, the shooting ceased. He lay still, just listening to his own labored breathing and panicked heartbeat. He could hear the steady approach of several pairs of booted feet. <> he thought glumly. <> He flung himself on his back, his gun pointed into the face of a ...? Soldier? Woman? Woman soldier? He hesitated, and that was all the darkly beautiful bitch needed to kick the gun from his hands. She had a deep laugh. "Fox. You are so full of surprises." "Do we know each other?" he rasped, trying to catch his breath. "Well, suffice to say we have met, but you don't remember me." She smiled malevolently, showing bright even teeth. She nodded to two of her soldiers. They moved forward and pulled the federal agent roughly to his feet. *********** The Rockies Chapter Seven By Esther Walker cenergy@earthlink.net (author's note: Not terribly NC17 compared to some of the stuff out there, but as NC17 as I'll ever get! ) "McQuire? What about shortcake?" the tall commander shouted in the direction Scully had fallen. "She still alive?" "Barely," McQuire replied, coming up the hill. He had Mulder's map in one hand, his gun in the other. "Shortcake's out," he said with a smirk. "She hit her head on a boulder when she fell. I got her map though. You recommend I finish her off?" "She's not worth the bullet," Kat spat out. "She'll die soon enough out here." It took the length of their conversation for Mulder to catch his breath, gather his strength and fight back like a hunted animal. He was wild with anger and fear for Scully. The intensity of his own actions surprised even him. The soldier holding him was caught off guard and was sent sprawling with the unexpected force. In a blind fury, Mulder dove for his gun, a move that ultimately saved his life. Ledo had noticed the commotion from his position several yards away. Instinctively, he aimed his rifle at the agent's head, but Mulder's dive forced him to make a rapid adjustment. An instant later, Mulder was down, blood pouring from a bullet in his thigh. "Jesus, Ledo, what the hell?" The young soldier flinched and prepared himself for the onslaught from his commanding officer. To his surprise, it never came, and when he dared to look at her, he could have sworn she was smiling. Mulder landed hard, unaware he had been shot until the pain moved to his chest and he found himself struggling to breathe. "No!" Mulder shouted. "Help Scully!" "I'm afraid we can't do that, Agent Mulder." Kat Bischoff gruffly rolled him onto his back and leaned in close, a mere inches from his face. "Your little partner is of no concern to us." "You bitch!" Mulder tried to push her away, to get up, to run, but discovered he could barely move, his chest tightening with every breath. "Nooooo....Scully...Go..." Mulder coughed hard. The soldier, the woman that knew him, was coming in and out of focus. She was saying something, her lips were moving. Her teeth were showing. Was she laughing? Another soldier, a big one, was pulling on his arm. His lips were moving too. What was he saying? Scully, he had to get to Scully. Nothing else mattered, and he welcomed the blackness he could no longer resist. *************************************************** Monday 10:15 P.M. Scully was in the ocean, swimming against the current. She loved the ocean. A love her father had instilled in her from an early age. But she was tired and cold. She wanted to head back but she couldn't see the shore. Where was she? And why was she so cold? Someone was trying to pull her out of the water. She felt a warmth come over her. Surround her. But then it was gone, just as suddenly. So cold. So tired. That warmth. There it was again. She fought to keep the warmth. That voice. Where is it coming from? Scully struggled to open her eyes. Her head. Why did her head hurt so much? The darkness startled her. But there was a light off to her side. Ice chips were falling from the sky. No wonder she was so cold. In a flash it all came back to her. Mulder...the plane...the climbing... he was hurt...she was running...he was behind her...how did he?... gunfire...she fell...down the hill... Scully bolted up, the sudden movement causing her head to pound and her vision to blur. "Mulder!" she shouted, pressing her hands against the damp ground to stop the dizziness. "Wha...?" A woman's voice. Not the drone of her partner's she was hoping to hear. Was the voice in her head? Scully moved slowly to her left, to face the light she could see out of the corner of her eye. She gasped, raising her hand to cover her mouth. A beautiful woman, young and strong, was sitting about a foot away from her. The white sheath that surrounded her hung loosely around her shoulders. was all Scully could think of as she gazed into the woman's eyes. Her own hands were trembling, a combination of cold and fear ravaging her body. "Who are you? Where's Mulder?" Scully nodded, blinking hard. She didn't know what to make of this specter. She could hear her speaking, but her lips weren't moving. And why wasn't she cold? "What? Where is he?" Scully was frantic, a myriad of emotions welling up inside her. She stood abruptly and regretted the action instantly. She reached out, to Elise, to anything that would stop the swaying inside her head. There was nothing to hold onto, instead, she felt that warmth again, holding her steady, easing the throbbing in her head ever so slightly, relieving the nausea. After a few seconds she could stand on her own and was able to survey her surroundings. Elise was apologetic. "What?" Realization struck Scully slowly. "Did you do that?" The young woman nodded. Elise looked to the ground before finishing. "But..." Scully was dubious. But then she remembered Mulder in the cairn, unconscious, feverish, in shock. Then she saw him running up to her, shoving her out of the way with the force of the powerful and protective Mulder she was used to. She looked at Elise again. She actually did feel a little better. "Who are you?" Elise told Scully everything she knew, with surprisingly few details. Most of her information came from Mama Estille, who had told her of the Obi-Wans and her mother only recently, when her health began to deteriorate beyond repair. But Mama Estille knew nothing of the group Elise had seen arrive before the two agents. Even so, the young woman had known immediately that they too were looking for her. It wasn't until she had seen Mulder and Scully that she had felt her sense of dread lifting, if only slightly. Elise gave Scully the same mental pictures she had given Mulder in the hopes they would elicit the same sudden awareness. She stopped short of showing Scully the men that had taken her friend away. Scully recognized the Obi-Wans instantly and from the information Elise had given her was quickly able to formulate the scenario before her. "Elise, you said 'they' took Mulder away. Who is they? Surely not the Obi-Wans?" Scully marveled at her ability to stand in the middle of a mountain, freezing rain pelting her face, while she had a casual conversation with what was definitely a figment of her imagination. Elise closed her eyes. <*They* took him.> Elise gave Scully a mental image of what appeared to be hikers, all men, sitting around a small fire, each one with a gun on or near him. Behind the men was a tent. "What's in the tent?" Elise looked at Scully thoughtfully, unsure of her next step. When Mulder had sensed Scully was in danger his emotions and subsequent actions had frightened her. How would Scully react if she was to see what she could see? "Elise, what is it? What's in the tent?" Scully's voice was rising, the fear in her throat evident. Elise shut her eyes tightly and surrounded Scully with every ounce of warmth she had left before sending her the image inside the tent. All the warmth in the world could not have prepared Scully for what she saw. *************************************************** Commander Kat Bischoff's patience was wearing thin. It had occurred to her during the two mile trek to their makeshift camp that dragging Mulder with them was not only slowing them down, but a futile attempt at gaining any additional information. After her first encounter with Agent Mulder she became fascinated with the enigmatic man that had defied logic and reasoning only to wind up in the middle of Ellen's Air Field at a most inopportune time. Everything she had read about him, from both open and sealed, confidential documents, painted a picture of a man of few words and very powerful convictions. Fox Mulder would die before giving her any information on the mysterious child the Obi Wans were searching for. She was certain of that. She was less certain of the fact that he had any information to begin with. Agent Mulder was a brilliant man, but from what she had gathered, he was prone to wild goose chases in search of answers only he knew the questions to. Nonetheless, she convinced herself, and quite easily her men, that taking Mulder with them was the right thing to do. Reddick had wondered aloud what to do if they ran into any hikers, but that concern was dismissed with one look to the skies. What few hikers were in the Rockies this time of year would not be out in a sleet storm. Much less one that was sure to turn into the season's first snowfall. As it was, they had only run into a couple of hikers the day before, when they had first arrived, looking like hikers themselves. Once they had secured the map from his pathetically short partner, it should have been obvious to anyone they didn't need him. Fortunately her squad was well trained; they may silently question an order but they knew better than to voice their lack of confidence aloud. Mulder groaned softly and her impatience started to ebb. It had been almost an hour since Ledo had thrown him in the tent and she was beginning to think he would never wake up. They were in a small tent, large enough for two people and one that Kat usually had to herself. She had even gone to the trouble of putting a pillow under the agent's head, but was now regretting her decision to let him stay atop her sleeping bag. His leg was still bleeding from the gunshot wound and a fairly large patch of blood was beginning to form. She would have to stop the bleeding soon if he was going to be coherent enough to answer any of her questions and the thought of administering her own brand of outback doctoring to the handsome agent made her twinge in anticipation. "Agent Mulder, I'm glad to see you're awake." Mulder opened his eyes slowly, allowing his mind a chance to recall the woman's deep voice and why it sent chills down his spine. He took in his surroundings without moving a muscle. Without looking at the woman that sat beside him. It was all coming back to him. The throbbing in his leg a painful reminder of the evening's events. Scully! He tried in vain to control his breathing. "Agent Mulder?" Scully had fallen. Hit her head. Was she alive? Mulder's only consolation was the fact that he felt like hell. Maybe Elise had listened to him and stayed with Scully. Maybe Scully was okay. Maybe...maybe what? Maybe Elise wasn't real. No. He wouldn't, couldn't, consider that option. It was the only thread of hope he had to hang onto. "Agent Mulder, I'm afraid I don't have a lot of time here. We need to talk and we need to talk now!" It was an order. No doubt about it. This woman was used to being in command and Mulder found himself turning to face her. Kat Bischoff had taken off her coat and was wearing a black turtleneck and black jeans. Her dark hair was cut short, framing perfectly her oval face and finely chiseled features. If Mulder didn't know better he would have sworn he'd seen her in last month's issue of Adult Video News. "Wh...Who are you?" Speaking was painful and he cursed himself for the way he sounded. he mused silently. "Commander Kat Bischoff," she answered, realizing that giving him her name meant nothing. Agent Mulder would be leaving Colorado in a body bag. "How...do you...know me?" Damn. If he could only raise his voice above a whisper. "Let's just say I had the distinct pleasure of being present, a few years ago, when you were working on a case that went, how shall I say... awry." Kat Bischoff smiled broadly. A smile that made Mulder recoil further into the ground. "How's your leg?" Kat asked, placing her hand tightly above Mulder's knee where the bullet had entered. The sudden pressure sent Mulder into a respiratory frenzy as he tried to steel himself against the unexpected waves of pain and nausea. He was clenching his fists, slamming them against the ground by his side when he noticed Kat leaning forward, a hand raised above his head. The fear left him slowly, when he realized she was only interested in pushing his head down and feeling his forehead. "Agent Mulder, you really should try and relax," Kat said, in her best impersonation of an irritated nurse. "You're burning up. I think infection might be setting in. I didn't notice an exit wound when we brought you in here, so it's safe to assume Ledo's bullet is still in you." Mulder tried to move his leg and gasped with the effort. "Hey," Kat said with too much enthusiasm for Mulder's comfort. "I still have my Girl Scout pocket knife. You want me to take the bullet out? I could find you a stick to bite down on!" "After that...will you take out...my appendix...just to be...safe?" "Ah, the famous Mulder sense of humor," Kat answered, simultaneously intrigued and befuddled by her unexpected guest. She had seen men in far better condition than Agent Mulder cower in her presence. It was an ability that had propelled her to the top of her chosen field in record time. It was an ability she was proud of, if not downright immersed in. From the beginning, practically out of boot camp, Kat Bischoff realized she was different than the others. Her capacity to detach herself from all personal relationships, like the felines she was nicknamed after, had earned her a reputation unparalleled in her chosen profession. Personal emotions or concerns had never gotten in the way of doing her job. Whether it be for the men and women who were assigned to her squad or for the poor souls she was assigned to track down. Losing a squad member, or two, while in the pursuit of an assignment had never deterred her ambitions. If anything, it had only strengthened her own conviction that she was invincible. A conviction she relished while admiring Fox Mulder, feverish and disoriented, inches from her bare hands. She looked Mulder in the eyes with a gaze that earned the respect, if not fear, of everyone around her on a daily basis. Fox Mulder didn't flinch, didn't move a muscle. Only his low, ragged breathing told her something was physically wrong with him. Kat felt a rush through her body that momentarily disoriented her, causing her to break off eye contact. It was a mere seconds before she regained control, but she was off balance and she didn't like the way it felt. "Agent Mulder, I have to ask you some questions. I hope you can stay alive long enough to answer them." Mulder noticed the change in her tone instantly. It was a change he didn't appreciate. Something had clicked inside this woman and he didn't think the shift was in his favor. "Me...too..." Mulder deadpanned. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep Kat Bischoff in focus and he caught himself blinking often in a futile attempt to sharpen his vision. There it was again. Was he mocking her? Kat Bischoff was used to instilling fear in her captives, not making them crack jokes. Never mind. The bastard would pay in the end. "Agent Mulder, why are you and your partner here? What were you looking for?" "Gold...panning for...gold." Bischoff refused to be derailed again. "Cut the crap, Mulder. We have your map and it's mysteriously similar to our own," she lied, if only for a reaction. "No way...you...had...a...map." What the hell was he doing, attempting to have a conversation while his leg was on fire, threatening to spontaneously combust at any moment. He tried to move his hand down to his leg, to the area that was throbbing mercilessly in an effort to quell the shaking he could feel coming on, but found he couldn't reach. Bischoff missed none of this. "How's your leg?" Mulder glared in response. "Very well then," Kat continued evenly. Uh oh. Another shift in tone. "I think you've lost a lot of blood, Agent Mulder. And I feel it's my duty, as someone on the same payroll as yourself, to try and stop the bleeding." Mulder looked at her with contempt. "Now, now. No need for the evil eye. I find that I work better if my hands are busy. I'll work on your leg and you'll answer my questions. Win-win for everyone." Kat Bischoff smiled and put her hand on Mulder's belt. In a flash of fury Mulder grabbed her hand, inwardly cursing the pain the sudden movement brought. Just as quickly Bischoff pulled her gun and pointed it at the agent's head. "Let go of my hand, Agent Mulder, or your splattered brains will force me to buy a new sleeping bag." Mulder released her hand slowly, never moving his eyes from hers. "That's better," Kat said, still holding the gun to his head. "Now, let me tell you the rules of the game. I will take your pants off, I will administer some basic first aid to the bullet wound and then I will apply a pressure bandage to the area. While I am doing this I will ask you some questions. You, Agent Mulder, will answer them. I am very good with my basic first aid Agent Mulder, but sometimes, when I am frustrated, I make mistakes. Or I'm not as gentle as I should be." Kat paused for effect, amazed that Mulder was still looking her right in the eye. "Do you understand the rules?" Mulder nodded, too weak to open his mouth. Kat put her gun down, careful to keep it out of Mulder's reach and easily within hers. She reached for his belt again and smiled when he didn't try to stop her. "That's better," she said, as she undid the belt and started on the buttons of his Levi's. "Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Your presence in the Rockies. Let's just cut to the chase on this one and get to the point. Shall we?" Mulder just stared at her, through glassy eyes that kept threatening to close. Kat already had his pants down to his thighs and he marveled at her speed. How long had it been since he had first seen her? Kat continued, undeterred. "I'm just about to pull the pants down over the wound, Agent Mulder. Why did you say you and your partner were here?" Mulder didn't answer her, immediately feeling the repercussions of his actions. Kat pulled the pants down gruffly, making sure the denim caught in the wound before mercifully bringing them down to his ankles. Mulder slammed his fists on the ground and sucked in large gasps of air, but said nothing. "So sorry about that, Agent Mulder." Was she smiling? She was a blur and he couldn't be sure. Kat reached over into her backpack and pulled out a small first aid kit. "These regulation kits are a pain in the ass to carry around, but then," she added malevolently, "you never know when you're going to need to help a fellow bureaucrat." Mulder just kept staring. Fearful that if he opened his mouth he'd lose what little control he still had. he thought, in a half state of delirium. Kat was talking to him, holding up a small plastic bottle, so he tried to listen. "This is a disinfectant of sorts," she mused. "I'll try and be gentle while we talk." Kat began to open the bottle while she spoke. "Mulder, your map is pretty specific. How do you know for sure the person you're searching for is right where you think she is?" Mulder didn't have time to panic. The flesh around his leg was burning like nothing he had ever felt before and he couldn't help the cry that escaped him. Kat was patting the area around the wound, her hand soaked with the disinfectant. "Mulder, are you always this slow to answer questions?" She kept rubbing her hand around his leg and Mulder felt the room beginning to spin. "Oh no you don't!" Kat slapped him hard across the face and he could taste blood dripping down the corner of his mouth. "That's better," she said, pulling out a roll of gauze from her first aid kit. "Agent Mulder, I don't think I need to tell you that I am getting frustrated. This whole experience could be a lot more pleasant for you if you would simply answer my questions." Mulder continued to stare. "Very well then. I will just finish off here. If you feel like talking while I work, go right ahead. My apologies in advance for any discomfort you might feel." Mulder braced himself, as best he could, for what was to follow. It was obvious to him now that Kat Bischoff was a master at what she did. Mulder had encountered few people who possessed her uncanny ability to instill fear with a mere gaze. He had met many people who could cause untold pain and torture and suffer no remorse, but something about Kat Bischoff was different. She definitely enjoyed what she did, which was no stretch for many of the sadistic killers he had profiled in his early years with the bureau. But he was sure he had thrown her off her game earlier and it was then he had noticed a transformation of sorts. It occurred to Mulder that perhaps no one had ever given Kat Bischoff a run for her money. So good was she at what she did that she had never had to question what she got out of it. Maybe the shift occurred when she realized what that was. Whatever it was, it had only fueled her amoral intentions and caused the sparkle in her eyes to intensify. It was a frightening thought. Kat applied pressure to the wound and Mulder instinctively pushed her hand away. He had felt the bullet moving inside his leg and was suffering spasms that he hadn't felt before. "Agent Mulder, you really need to relax. I'm only trying to help." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and Mulder could only glare in response. "You feel like talking?" No answer. Kat swiftly pulled Mulder's leg up at the knee and began wrapping the gauze around the damaged area. Mulder arched his neck and threw his head back, grateful for the sudden weightlessness he was feeling. For a few seconds he felt removed from the scene, as if he was looking down at himself. Unfortunately, the feeling was temporary and he was abruptly brought back to Earth when Kat shoved his leg back down. He was gasping for air, striving to give his lungs more oxygen, to clear his vision, when he realized Kat had stopped her ministrations and was staring at him once again. He couldn't read her and couldn't begin to imagine what she was thinking. Kat moved the back of her hand up to his cheek and stroked it gently. Almost compassionately. But there was no compassion in her eyes. "Agent Mulder, you are so hot." Kat moved her hand slowly down to his neck and chest and Mulder discovered someone had already taken his coat off. "I'm sorry I had to hurt you, Agent Mulder." Kat's voice was getting softer, almost mesmerizing. "But you've been so naughty." Kat continued moving her hand down his body, making circular patterns with her fingers until she reached the elastic of his underwear. Mulder felt a lump in his throat and sucked in a deep breath, never taking his eyes off of hers. He was sure it was the eye contact, his refusal to back off quietly, that had startled her earlier and he was hoping it would work again. Kat's long fingers expertly worked their way through the elastic until they were touching his bare skin. Mulder was breathing heavily and the pounding of his burning flesh against her fingers made her insides vibrate with untold ecstasy. She continued to move her hand further until she could feel the limp muscle between his legs. Expertly, she proceeded to rub his cock with one hand while placing the other one on his chest. Her prisoner was breathing in short gasps and the sensation of his chest rising in a feverish pitch only added to her physical enjoyment. It was a mere seconds before Mulder's penis disobeyed his owner and became hard and rigid in Katarina's practiced hand. The smile that crept up on her face was unavoidable as she felt her entire body flush with anticipation. Kat moved her hand from his chest to his face and stroked it again. No words were spoken. None were needed. Mulder tried to move, to get out of the way, not willing to accept what was to follow. Kat instinctively clutched his penis harder, herself not willing to let him get away. She bent down and kissed him, forcing her tongue inside his mouth and savoring the sensation of flesh against burning flesh. Mulder was paralyzed with a mixture of despair and rhapsody, only the fear in him keeping him balanced. Kat slowly moved her tongue out of his mouth, making sure it remained on his damp, fiery skin. Mulder's panting was becoming wild and Kat synchronized its frantic pace with the movement of her hand around his cock, with an unbridled passion very few were capable of. Mulder was fighting his body's natural response, pressing his fists tightly against the ground, when Kat fiercely pulled back his matted hair and shoved her tongue sharply into his already open mouth. The sensation of pain and ecstasy that followed rivaled everything Mulder had ever felt and ultimately left him fighting for his life. Kat moved her hands off Mulder's body and let the elastic snap against his feverish skin. She patted his bandaged leg eagerly and watched him for a reaction. To her disappointment, she didn't get one. Mulder was unconscious. "You don't disappoint, Agent Mulder," she said as she backed away and grabbed her coat. "It's too bad we had to meet this way." *************************************************** Tuesday 3:00 A.M. It took Scully the better part of an hour to convince Elise the two of them could rescue Mulder. The young woman wasn't used to losing so much of her special strength in one evening and was frightened at her lack of resources. She knew Mulder was injured and the thought of not being able to help him was almost more than she could handle. Ultimately, the thought of not helping him at all was unthinkable. For her part, Scully realized she needed Elise, if only to guide her to Mulder. She still wasn't sure who or what Elise was, but had seen enough to understand that Elise was special and that she needed her. The sleet storm had turned into a snowstorm and had made the trek to Mulder arduous and long. Scully was freezing, her head still pounding lightly and her teeth chattering when she felt a warmth surround her. She glanced at Elise and saw the young woman smile. "Elise, don't. I mean, thank you, but save your strength for Mulder." "There is very little left, Miss Scully, and if you are too cold you will not be able to help your friend." Scully nodded. Still not sure if Elise was real but appreciating the company. It had occurred to her sometime during the last four hours that maybe she had died and was in some kind of self-imposed purgatory. In a snowstorm in the Rockies, searching vainly for her partner, mirroring the search he had mounted for his sister so many years before. Her thoughts were interrupted by a muffled cry from Elise. Scully looked up to see the shiny barrel of a gun pointing in her direction, only a few feet away. The man on the other end was young, but Scully recognized him as one of the men Elise had shown her sitting around the fire. "I think we're close." Elise said. "No shit." Scully would have laughed if she hadn't felt like crying. If only she hadn't been so tired, so cold, she might have seen this man coming, heard him approaching them. "Nice job of tracking, Agent Scully." The man smiled evenly and Scully sensed a cockiness that comes with a lack of experience. "I would have thought you'd be buried in snow by now." "Who are you?" Ledo smiled again. "I, Agent Scully, happen to be a very lucky guy. You see, I was just out, taking a leak, thinking about my girlfriend back home, when lo and behold, a pretty woman is practically thrown in my arms." Scully felt an involuntary shudder and looked to Elise, but she was gone. she thought dryly, immediately chalking Elise up to her weary imagination. But she couldn't have made her up. She had seen too much, felt too much, to write her off that easily. "Elise?" "No, Ledo." "What?" He hadn't seen Elise. How could that be? Scully felt Ledo pulling on her arm. "Come with me, Agent Scully. And please come quietly. I'm really not in the mood to share tonight." Scully looked around her in a panic. Elise was nowhere in sight. All she saw was Ledo's garish grin and the gun pointed at her chest. *********** The Rockies Chapter Eight By LuvMulder (LuvMulder@aol.com) The old woman's faded blue eyes lit up as Elise smiled at her. She reached out a withered hand and Elise grasped it with her own. The contrast with her smooth, young skin had never been more obvious. How had she missed the passage of time? Mama seemed to have grown old and frail overnight. "Darling...are you all right?" the woman asked. Elise nodded. Estille relaxed, sighing deeply and closing her eyes. Elise bit her lip, reached a hand over Estille's forehead. Estille grabbed her hand with surprising strength. "No, child. This...is not right." "But Mama, you'll die!" Elise said. Estille smiled warmly. "It's my time to go. And your time, Elise." Elise bit her lip again and looked away. With an effort, Estille sat up. "Elise, child, your powers are weakening. You know that. You can't ignore fate." Elise looked at Estille once more, a perfect tear forming at the corner of her eye. "What am I going to do , Mama?" she asked quietly, voice full of emotions she didn't understand. "The two people would be dead without me. One of them may be dead anyway...because I was too weak to help him." "From what I understand, he was lucky you were watching him, Elise," Estille said rather severely. She didn't like the idea of Elise interfering in the business of others, especially at what was a crucial time in her life. "Darling, have you thought about the idea that perhaps your powers are waning because you don't need them anymore? That you can and will and MUST be strong without them?" Elise shook her head, unwilling to believe. "Elise, you must keep yourself safe -" "But the transmutation -" "Can't be used as an excuse anymore," Estille finished, her voice firm. "It's dangerous and you know it. Look at you. You're weak. You've done too much today. Let the outsiders solve their own problems. You are very important, Elise. Much more important than any of the people seeking to capture you." "But they don't -" Elise stopped. Mama wouldn't understand. To her, all of the outside was bad. The world was filthy and degrading, not worth a second glance. Mama was a good person, full of compassion, but she had been hurt by the outside and aimed to protect Elise from it. Elise looked at Mama and thought. Her chin went up, the defiant look that had been missing for months finally back in her eyes. And Mama hid her smile. *************************************************** McQuire hitched his rifle over his shoulder, positioning the weapon so the trigger was within easy reach. Expertly, he began to pick his way through the night, angling toward intermittent sounds he couldn't quite identify. The wind whipped at a steady rate, sending snow mixed with knifelike sleet into his eyes. He'd had a bad feeling about this mission from day one. Ledo. Added at the last minute. A replacement necessary after Deek broke three ribs during hand to hand drill. Ledo was a kid--trained, highly recommended--but green. And Kat. What the HELL was wrong with Kat? McQuire had never seen her lose her cool in the five years he'd served with her. This Mulder character had turned Miss Hard Ass into a walking hormone--black widow variety. It was obvious that while the Boss wanted Mulder in the 'biblical sense," she wouldn't mind if he died in the act. This was not the by-the-book commander he had come to respect as one of the best in the business. The sound. There it was again. A few yards to the right. A woman? Struggling? Aw, no...couldn't be. Out here? In this storm? Three fifteen in the goddamn morning? Jesus. McQuire paused for a few seconds, listening. Yep. Definitely the fury of a very angry woman, one trying to fight off a man. There was no sound quite like it. Didn't matter the country or nationality of the participants. He even had a fair idea of who the players might be. McQuire cursed, switching to a run. *************************************************** Ledo was pumped, eagerly eyeing the red headed wild cat struggling under him. "Goddamn you! You're gonna like this you little bitch!" "No!" Scully protested, again, trying to get her leg in position for a well placed kick. She was pushing, clawing, wishing she hadn't filed her fingernails down to prevent rubber glove snags. "It's cold as hell, I'm just gonna warm you up." Scully continued to resist, but it was obvious she was tiring. Ledo laughed inwardly-- high altitude training was finally paying off. He wasn't the least bit winded in spite of the exertion. Ah, this was going to be sweet, he'd have her pants off in.... "Doing perimeter watch with your dick, Ledo?" inquired a voice far colder than the swirling storm. Ledo's head jerked up, startled. McQuire had appeared out of nowhere. He crossed the few feet between himself and his comrade, yanking the younger man roughly to his feet. "You sorry little prick. I've got enough to worry about without you forgetting where your brains aren't!" "Agent Scully, you're supposed to be dead." McQuire added, offhandedly. He shoved Ledo aside--violently--causing the younger man to lose his footing on the sleet covered rocks. "Get your assets covered before they freeze off, little man." Scully scrambled to gather her clothing protectively around her body. Her hands were shaking so hard she could barely manage the zipper on her parka--the result of adrenaline or the cold, she really didn't know which. "Who are you?" she whispered when she felt steady enough to speak. She thought she recognized the flannel clad man from the vision Elise had shown her, but darkness made it hard to be sure. "Nobody you need to remember." Scully strained through the swirling snow to look at his eyes, confused by the coldness in his manner after having spared her a woman's greatest nightmare. "I just want to say thank...." "Don't confuse my not being an animal with any particular concern regarding whether you live or die. We need to move out." he ordered, emphasizing his words with a nod of the head. "Take it slow, your first misstep may be your last." The two men began making their way--in silence--back to the camp with Scully sandwiched, uneasily, between. Sooner than she'd expected, the campfire was in sight. McQuire pushed Scully ahead and dropped back to speak to Ledo. "You make another mistake like that one while we're on a mission and I'll make sure you're out. A dishonorable. Got me?" McQuire's tone left no question he'd make good on his threat. The younger man gulped and nodded, heading for the warmth of his tent. "Dream on, buster," McQuire added, "Get your ass up to the North perimeter. Tell Reddick I'll switch the South watch with him in two hours." Ledo began to open his mouth in protest before he realized he'd better get out of McQuire's face. He positioned his rifle higher on his shoulder and headed into the darkness. McQuire motioned for Dana to stay put and walked over to the second tent, "Kat?" "Well, if it isn't shortcake." A sultry voice cooed from beyond the light of the campfire. "Enjoying the weather, boss?" McQuire asked lightly, as he turned toward her voice. "I grew up in this, Mac. Hardly worth a mention in polite conversation where I'm from." Kat approached Scully, appraising her with the subtle hatred that only another woman would recognize. "Doesn't die very well does she?" Scully made no response. Instead she quietly assessed her surroundings, trying to make sense of this newest wrinkle in what had become a disastrous "hike" in the Rockies. How was she going to get out of this? No gun. No sign of Mulder. No equipment. A storm. Outnumbered. Nothing. Not even a murmur. What the hell was she thinking, believing in her own psychosis? Things couldn't get much worse. A low, extended moan filled the night air. They just did. She knew that sound as well as his speaking voice. "Mulder! Where is he?" she demanded. "In my bed," Kat said with a haughty laugh. "Resting." Scully let the inference pass. "What have you done to him?" "Played doctor. You know...you show me yours, I'll show you mine." Another moan. "Damn you," Scully replied, edging toward the sound. She took it slow, making it clear she was not going to ignore her partner--hoping she could move toward him without attracting a bullet to the head. "I'm going to help him. I can do more than *play* doctor." McQuire could almost see the tension in the air. This was nuts. A collision in the making that had nothing to do with why they were here. "Kat, what are your plans? Either he's fit to travel or we dispose of them here. We've got the map. They'll only slow us down. Right?" McQuire watched the expression in his commander's eyes. The uncharacteristic arrogance was fading back into the cold professional he respected. "McQuire, McQuire," Kat said shaking her head gently, a smile softening her features, "Sometimes I get the impression you're after my job." "Just protecting retirement, boss." Kat sighed loudly and made her way back toward the fire. "Practice your trade, doctor. My field kit is next to the sleeping bag." Dana increased her pace toward the tent. It took all of her self control not to break into a run. "Oh," Kat added, "You might want to do a really good job. If Mulder can't travel in a little while, you're both history." Moments later Dana was on her knees, grunting aloud in rage--the outer zipper on the small tent was sticking just as the moans from inside were increasing in frequency. Listening was tearing her apart. She tugged again, harder this time. Neither McQuire nor Kat made a move to assist. Slow down girl...take a deep breath, relax. Concentrate on anything but the suffering in Mulder's voice. Okay. First things first. Get inside. Get a handle on Mulder's condition. Worry about how to get out of this mess later. She'd done it again. Talking to an apparition. Thinking the impossible might be real. The girl had been nothing but a hallucination. She and Mulder were alone in this nightmare. FUCK hiking in the Rockies. Colorado was highly overrated. If they lived through this, she never wanted to see another gaiter in her life. Shimmering, ethereal visions meant one thing...proof the altitude *had* gotten to her after all. She could still hear Mulder--a healthier Mulder--gently probing her for answers after Luther Boggs had been executed. 'With all you've seen, why do you refuse to believe?' Because I'm still afraid, she realized as she struggled to realign the teeth on the zipper. As much as I was that night in your hospital room. But, dammit, the visions were not my imagination. I *saw* these men, this campsite. Making me warm was no dream. Elise *must* have been real. Please let her have been real, Scully begged silently as the zipper finally began to slide open. She tossed the flap aside. There he was. Mulder. His earlier healing, however miraculous, had been regrettably brief. Even in the subdued lantern light, she could see he was in trouble. He tossed restlessly, his breath coming in shallow gasps punctuated by staccato moans. Mulder was muttering something Scully couldn't make out. She crouched down, shoving the medical kit and lantern aside so she get closer to his body. The interior of the tent was warmer than she'd expected, heated, she realized, by the ebbing life force of her partner. He moaned again, and again, the litany of a man in unbearable pain. He condition--this acute so fast? The "why" was anything but obvious and she wasn't about to invite that bitch to assist. Gently, she began probing Mulder's body. The moment she touched him his eyes jerked open."No....no...stop...." he pleaded, attempting to push her away. "Mulder...Mulder...it's me. Scully," she soothed, continuing to work past the layers of material and clothing so she could examine him. "Shh...I'm trying to help you." She began at his head, working her way down. "Scully...." he breathed in relief. "Right the first time," she replied, checking his upper torso. Amazing, nothing remained of the hand and shoulder injuries he'd sustained when the plane had dipped so unexpectedly. Injuries like those didn't just disappear. Elise was real! She could feel the excitement rising in spite of her recent failures in contacting the girl. "No...go," he insisted. He was struggling to form words. Each syllable was forced through teeth gritted tightly against agony whose source she had yet to identify. "Woman...un...unstable." "Save your strength." "Run." "Not without you," she answered firmly, continuing her exam. He was fading in and out. She'd been trying to keep him partially covered as she worked, but he was so feverish she dismissed other concerns, leaned over and threw all covering aside. That's when she saw it.... His right thigh. Mulder had bled profusely, soaking through an ineptly applied field dressing, creating a wide burgundy puddle on the sleeping bag. She vaguely remembered hearing a single round fired before tumbling into her own nightmare of skewed memories. Damn. Mulder always seemed to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. She had a fairly good idea of what lurked beneath the bandage. Make him travel worthy? Yeah, right. Scully rummaged through Kat's medical kit. Dismal. Only two pressure bandages left, a small bottle of disinfectant--two-thirds empty, oversized tweezers, adhesive tape, scissors. Basic supplies you'd find in a cheap Wal-Mart first aid kit. Worst of all, nothing for pain. Shit. What she'd give for some morphine. Scully began to carefully unwrap the dressing on Mulder's thigh. It was slippery, wet with bright red blood. Her fears were confirmed...a bullet wound. With active bleeding hours after the initial injury. Double damn. How many liters of Mulder's blood were decorating the sleeping bag? She didn't want to think about it. He began to stir again. "Hey, easy partner. Still me." "Hate...hikes." "We'll incinerate our boots when we get back to D.C." Scully talked as she worked, hoping her voice would give him something else to focus on besides the pain. She loathed gunshot wounds. Never simple unless you were very, very lucky. The entrance wound didn't look too bad. Unfortunately they rarely did. "Mulder, I'm going to probe a bit before I roll you on your side to check for an exit wound." She tried to be gentle, but intention wasn't enough. Mulder cried out, his face contorted in a mask of torment the likes of which Scully had never seen him display with past injuries. He went rigid only to begin uncontrollable shaking an instant later. Tears were running silently down both cheeks. He was fighting to catch his breath, arching his back as wave after wave of fire spread through his body. "Oh God, Mulder." The level of pain he was experiencing was frightening. It could mean several things, none of them good. She waited for the worst to pass. "I know that was bad, but I've got to turn you on your side." "No...please." She knew if he wasn't so concerned about her, he probably *would* ride the pain into blessed unconsciousness. "Mulder, you know I've got to see what I'm dealing with." "A minute...rest," he managed to reply in a breathy voice. Scully was amazed. Most men would need to be held down by a squad of linebackers. His willingness to allow her to continue, knowing the torture it would bring, was a testament to the faith he had in her abilities. She only hoped she could merit his confidence. "Minute's up...here we go." Scully turned him as gently as possible, doing her best to wear her clinical personae. There was her answer. At least part of it. No exit wound. "Looks like you finally snagged a bullet for your collection. No through and through this time." Obviously the femoral artery hadn't been nicked or he'd be dead by now. Had the damn bullet broken a bone? Fragmented? Deflected and done damage she had no way of seeing? Or worse...lodged against a nerve? That would certainly account for the horrible pain. "How you doing in there, Doctor?" Kat inquired from outside the tent. Scully covered Mulder quickly, giving his hand a squeeze as she ducked out to talk to the woman. "He needs a hospital." Kat didn't react. "Now!" Scully insisted. "You're both resilient. Inventive. You've pulled miracles on his behalf before. Do it again." Scully's look of confusion brought a wide smile to Kat's face. "Don't you know both your reputations precede you? You'll think of something. Or suffer the consequences." "Why should I bother if you're just going to kill us anyway?" "Because it's not your style to go out with a whimper. Is it?" Scully actually took a step toward Kat before she stopped herself, realizing she'd almost fallen into the bitch's trap. Only then did she notice the glint of firelight on metal. Scully cursed how close she had come to being duped. Kat held a pistol at her side, half hidden by the bulkiness of her parka, just waiting, hoping for her captor to make a mistake. What *was* it with this woman? "Unstable." Whatever Mulder had based that assessment upon, it seemed sadly accurate. But the female must be able to exert self-control most of the time or she'd never have risen to a position of leadership. Something about the dynamics of the last few hours had triggered the behavior she was seeing. To hell with the slut. Abruptly, Scully turned and headed back to her partner, more determined than ever to get them both out of this alive. Scully situated herself at Mulder's side for the second time. He was finally out, his body giving him the gift of oblivion she was powerless to offer. Whatever she was going to do, she needed to decide and move on it--fast. Emptiness. Still no hint of her presence. So, Scully surmised, the question becomes leave the bullet in or take it out? In: infection increases until Mulder goes into septic shock and dies. Out: potentially the same. In: the potential for nerve damage and/or permanent impairment. Out: potentially the same. In...he could die. Out...he could die. Shit. But if the interior cavitation of the wound gave her room to work, if she could get to the bullet without having to make many new cuts or alter its position, if *he* was lucky (Mulder lucky?). If *she* was lucky, he might be better off than he was now. Worth a try. She could always stop if she got into trouble. Scully made her decision--that goddammed bullet was coming out. She had been more than a little surprised when McQuire was ordered to offer assistance while she worked. His job was simple, if Mulder roused he would be expected to hold him down. McQuire also volunteered his razor. Per Scully's request, he sterilized its blade along with the tweezers in the fire,. She was beginning to wonder if this man had opinions regarding this mission that seriously contradicted those of his superiors. She knew better than to ask, but instinct was telling her to at least be open to the possibility. Scully had things organized and ready in no time. She packed the area surrounding Mulder's leg with snow, positioning his thigh in such as way as to slow the flow of blood. She hoped the cold would numb the area as well. Futile perhaps, but better than nothing. His left leg had been secured, by rope, to a tent stake. The final step had been to immobilize Mulder's upper extremities so he would be unable to easily push against her should he become fully conscious during her search for the bullet. They placed Mulder's shirt, followed by his parka on backwards, tying each set of sleeves into knots behind his back. "If he starts to buck, do whatever you can to steady the injured leg. I know we can barely move in here but sit on him if you have to." "I've been in the service since I was eighteen. Three tours in Nam. Do it." McQuire aimed his flashlight directly over the wound. Dana found herself staring at Mulder. Scenes detailing all that could go wrong were playing through her mind. She hesitated just as the razor touched his flesh, noting that panic was making her hands shake. What if he could never work again because of what she was about to do? What if he died, right here and now, in this tent? With all the trauma he'd survived in the past, all the impossible odds he'd beaten, to die because of her ineptness? "What kinda doctor are you?" McQuire asked harshly. "You waiting for him to wake up?" Scully closed her eyes and wiped away the tears that had been starting to form. "Look, I've had a bullet in me. It sucked. Either go after the damn thing or slap a pressure bandage on the leg. We move out in ninety minutes." Scully opened her eyes, repositioned the blade, and bore down into her partner's flesh. She made her initial incision over the original entry wound, forming an 'X' that, when separated, would afford her the best view with minimal disturbance of surface tissue. What seemed like years later, she breathed. The fates were kind...Mulder never budged. Bleeding was far less than expected. She tried to push the secondary problems minimal blood flow indicated aside. No way to keep things as sanitary as she knew they needed to be. Lack of equipment. Primitive conditions. Dammit. Stop worrying and focus on the task at hand. Mulder's leg was a mess. Bits of cloth from his jeans had been pulled into the wound. His muscle tissue looked like someone had regurgitated a meal. She made a second cut over the first 'X,' deeper this time. On the third try, she hit space....the cavitation pocket caused by the impact of the bullet. Now the issue would be the diameter of the cavity and where the bullet had finally stopped. Her field of view was so jumbled it was hard to tell one tissue type from another. Retractors would be a godsend. McQuire continued to surprise her, expertly moving the flashlight exactly where she needed it without her ever making a request for him to do so. "You were a medic weren't you." McQuire glanced up briefly only to return his attention to Mulder. Scully gripped Mulder's thigh beyond the incision with her left hand; with her right she positioned the tweezers and carefully began to explore the interior of his leg. She took it slow, quite deliberately, trying not to cause any further damage. She was already terrified he'd end up with a limp that would end his field career. The first four probes proved useless. She couldn't cut any deeper with the razor. She needed a scalpel. Scully decided to make two more attempts and then, if they proved futile, abandon the procedure before she ended up doing more harm than good. McQuire realized the patient was coming to a millisecond before Dana caught Mulder's cues. "Oh shit!" What had begun as fairly minor muscles twitches rapidly progressed to a slow motion dance. The cries of protest came next. "Sit on him, McQuire!" "Here, use this. In his mouth!" He tossed what appeared to be a triple folded wash rag into Scully's waiting hands. "We used this with casualties. Before medivac showed. It helps." Dana shoved the wash rag into Mulder's mouth. "Bite down on it!" she ordered. He was struggling against every immobilizer they had devised. "Dammit Mulder, listen to me! I know you're hurting. I'm sorry as hell, but I'm trying to get the bullet out of your leg. You've *got* to be still!" He continued to struggle, moaning even louder. This wasn't working. Scully thought a second--it wasn't like anything was really sterile anyway. She set the tweezers out of the way and reached over, cradling Mulder's face between her hands. "Listen to me!" she shouted. That did it. She'd gotten through to him. He was already becoming less combative. "I think the reason you're having so much pain is because the bullet is lodged against a nerve." Mulder never opened his eyes, but she could tell his was listening. "I'm worried about permanent impairment. I'm going to make two more attempts. That's all. Can you stand it?" A quiet nod of acceptance. "Sorry," he managed to gasp. "For what it's worth, you've done better than anyone I've ever seen under similar conditions," McQuire offered, tightening his grip on Mulder. Scully hunkered down and gave the hunt another go. She was trying a slightly different angle when the tweezers hit something hard. "That's it!!" Mulder's breaths were coming hard and fast through his nostrils. He was clamping down so furiously on the wash rag she expected he'd leave permanent holes in the material. It was obvious he was making a superhuman effort to stay as still as possible. Scully translated the tactile information from her hand into a visual picture of how the bullet was likely to be positioned. Her knowledge of anatomy had never been more useful. "Last try, Mulder." She could see him tense for another onslaught. Scully said a silent prayer and began again. Gently, she began working her way to the spot where she'd felt the bullet. Bingo. She'd found it fast. Validation her mental picture was accurate. Carefully she manipulated the tweezers and prepared to withdraw the metal. Mulder's efforts to cooperate were waning as suffering sent self-control beyond his grasp. "McQuire...it's now or never. Hold that leg!" Scully said a fast prayer, positioned the tweezers, squeezed and withdrew. "Got the bastard!" she shouted triumphantly. Misshapen and bloody, it didn't look like a bullet anymore. "It's out, Mulder!" Scully looked over at her partner's face. Another minor miracle, he was unconscious. Good. Stay that way for a while. Scully cleaned the wound with the little disinfectant that remained and expertly dressed Mulder's thigh. McQuire gave her an approving nod. "You did it. That wasn't easy. Took guts." "I couldn't have done it alone. You really expect me to believe you'll kill us after helping me save his life?" "First, you only bought him hours. Complications are probably around the corner and you know it. Second, Kat's a fine officer. Something about your being here has hit her in ways I don't understand. I'd like to learn more, but it's still her call if and when you die." Without another word, McQuire exited the tent. After she'd cleaned her hands and made sure he was situated, Scully laid down beside Mulder. It always amazed her the countless hours she'd spent in the last three years, gratefully watching his chest rise and fall. Simple pleasures. She glanced at her watch. Dark, but first light would approach within the hour. Mulder was still unconscious, certainly not up to travel unless conveyed by litter. They probably didn't have much time left. She had to think of something. Suddenly, a heavy hum filled the air. Scully heard yelling and commotion from beyond the tent walls. Rifle volleys. More shouting and confusion. The crack of a hand gun. The hum grew louder. She gave Mulder a quick once over and headed outside. That's when she saw them. Lights. High in the sky. Lights that were transforming the Colorado darkness into the full light of day. *********** The Rockies Chapter Nine By Kay Reindl Ruefrex@aol.com Kat stood at the edge of the camp, staring up into the sky. The lights shivered and danced, beating a silent yet rhythmic tattoo on the sky above. She turned as McQuire and Reddick skidded to a halt behind her. "What the fuck is that?" Reddick yelled. Kat shivered. She couldn't answer him. She couldn't tell him. She knew, somehow, that Mulder was involved. Christ, why had she been so stupid, so sloppy, to have given up her surveillance of Mulder's work? She thought he'd become nothing, that he'd fade back into the wood work just like all the others who seek the truth. But he hadn't. He was here, she had him, and above, the lights danced. *************************************************** As quickly as she could, Scully gathered up Mulder's things. She shoved his limp arms into his coat and obsessively checked the wound. Not bleeding. Good. Scully tried to live in the moment. She knew that the wound would bleed freely once the leg was no longer elevated, but that death would be a lot slower and less painful than whatever Kat had in mind. Scully hesitated, then rewrapped the wound, binding it tighter and using an extra layer of gauze. She dashed out of the tent and watched as Kat and Reddick watched the lights. Where was Ledo? Right. The perimeter. Would he come back here when he saw the lights? Where was the perimeter, anyway? Was this the stupidest idea Scully had ever had? No, that nasty little voice told her, the stupidest idea you ever had was making Mulder belay down that cliff in the first place. After this was over, Scully was really going to have to sit down and have a heart-to-heart with that voice about its attitude. Scully sat down next to Mulder, clamped her jaw shut, and shook his shoulder. "Mulder? Mulder, wake up. We're getting out of here. Come on, Mulder, dammit..." "No cursing..." Relief flooded through Scully as Mulder opened an eye and looked at her. Once again, he looked like shit. Scully helped him sit up. "What's going on?" he asked hoarsely. Oh damn. Should she tell him? Christ, this WAS a bad idea. He'd probably freeze at the sight of the light-show too. Mulder slung an arm around Scully's shoulder and she staggered to her feet, half-lifting him. "UFOs. We can make a break for it," Scully said in a rush, hoping he wouldn't hear that. But even the pain that Mulder was experiencing couldn't mask hearing his favorite acronym. "Huh?" was as intelligent a response as he could muster. He looked down at his leg, just to make sure that it wasn't actually on fire. It wasn't. "Mulder, please. They are going to kill us. We have about a minute before the lights, or whatever they are, zoom off to terrify some kids in the Oregon forest. Please don't argue with me," Scully pleaded. Mulder looked down at her and swallowed. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. "My gun's in here somewhere," he murmured. Gun. Right. Scully propped Mulder up against a pole and managed to find his gun. He held it clumsily and made the crucial mistake of taking a step forward. Scully caught him as he pitched forward. He was moaning again. Scully hauled him up by his coat and looked him in the eye. "Mulder...we're going. Do not do that again. Lean on me. Got it?" Mulder tried to control his breathing and wondered idly what the buzzing in his ears meant. Oh yeah. I'm going to pass out. But Scully was yelling at him, her face contorted with anger and fear. Mulder shook his head in an attempt to clear it. That seemed to work, so he shook it again. Scully swam back into focus. "Okay," he muttered. Scully slung Mulder's arm around her shoulders again and hauled him out of the tent. The wind was howling furiously and snow whipped around them, stinging their eyes as they stood at the open flap of the tent. In the distance, three figures were vaguely visible, still staring upwards. At the lights. Mulder gasped and Scully turned sharply, worried that the cold was aggravating the injury. But he was staring at the lights, too, gazing at them in wonder. Christ, we've seen lights before, they're nothing new, Scully thought desperately. Without so much as a by-your-leave, Scully hauled Mulder around towards the back of the tent, away from the hypnotized Black Ops unit. The cold was numbing and for once, it worked to Mulder's advantage. His leg was killing him but the coldness took the edge off. He could feel a sticky wetness through his jeans and knew he was bleeding again. Fortunately, it was too dark for Scully to notice. They kept grimly at their escape, moving slowly because of Mulder and because of the weather. The dark patch ahead of them signified security of sorts. A clump of trees might offer them the sanctuary they desperately needed. Kat and her group would know where they'd gone but if Kat was aware of the fact that Mulder had his gun, they would tread carefully. And then there was Ledo. Where was he? *************************************************** The lights vanished as suddenly as they had appeared. Kat blinked, then looked at her two officers. McQuire seemed perplexed, but Reddick was just plain scared. Badly scared. He looked at Kat, met her gaze. "What the fuck was that, Kat?" he asked, voice quavering. Kat slid a glance towards McQuire. "Go check on them," she ordered. McQuire nodded once and turned back to the tent. Kat looked at Reddick. "Northern lights, Reddick. Never seen 'em before?" "Yeah, but in the North," he answered. Kat sighed. "Northern lights, Reddick," she said firmly, glancing at her watch. "Go relieve Ledo." Reddick hesitated, then nodded and jogged off towards Ledo's position. Kat turned and stared thoughtfully at the sky, wondering if the appearance of the lights had anything to do with the child she sought. *************************************************** McQuire stared blankly around the empty tent. He was a dead man. He turned to give the unhappy news to Kat but she was already behind him. McQuire consciously kept himself from flinching. Oh, was Kat going to be mad. And McQuire had no question about who would pay the price. He met her gaze and his blood turned to ice. Her eyes were completely calm as she looked at him. "Did he find his gun?" she asked quietly. McQuire trusted himself only to nod. Kat took a look around the tent, then reached for her Kalashnikov. "They'll head for that copse of trees and try to fend us off. Go get Reddick and Ledo, head around from the ridge-line." "What are you going to do?" McQuire asked, knowing that Kat would break a cardinal rule and go in by herself. Kat shouldered the rifle. "I'm going to kill both those fuckers," she said grimly. Kat turned on her heel and strode out of the tent. McQuire shuddered. *************************************************** Mulder's leg was completely useless. He wondered if he should tell Scully that he couldn't feel anything from the knee down. He decided she didn't need to know that right now. Mulder felt completely helpless as Scully hauled him through the trees. He could feel her exhaustion but she grimly kept at it, batting branches aside and keeping Mulder on his one good leg. Mulder found his mind drifting off and he thought about the appearance of the lights and the disappearance of Elise, who certainly would have helped him if she'd been able. She'd helped him before, and then she'd helped Scully...she'd helped both of them... Mulder had it. Scully's injury hadn't been nearly as serious as his, but Scully had told him that Elise seemed weak. Jesus, we used her up, Mulder thought. Elise...the lights...the Group...the mysterious pregnancies...the dead woman...the missing baby... Elise. But why had she been non-corporeal? Was she dead? So caught up was he in his revelation that Mulder almost didn't see the dark figure that moved in surprise at the edge of the clearing. Scully, busy trying to fend off exhaustion and keep moving as quickly as possible, completely missed it. Ledo, rifle slung behind his back, froze for a millisecond, long enough for Mulder to bring his gun up, over the top of Scully's bent head, and fire awkwardly. Ledo spun as the bullet caught his upper arm. Mulder pulled free of Scully and let his momentum bring him down. He slithered towards the trees, snaking out a hand to grab Scully and drag her after him. Scully, panting, stared at him as he flexed his frozen fingers and checked the clip. "Ledo...?" she whispered. Mulder nodded. The howling wind couldn't mask the groaning from the injured man. Scully pulled out her Sig and sat up. Mulder caught her arm. "What are you doing?" he hissed. "Going to finish him off," Scully muttered grimly. Mulder stared at Scully. Her eyes were cold as she checked her weapon. She started to get to her feet but Mulder wouldn't let go of her. She glared at him. "Let go," she said. Mulder shook his head and used her arm to pull himself up. "We both go." Scully shook her head. Mulder stared at her. "Mulder -" "Scully -" Another stalemate. Scully glanced at Ledo. He was face-down, the rifle flung a few feet from his outstretched hands. "Mulder..." His expression didn't change. Scully sighed and hauled Mulder to his feet once again. He was actually able to limp somewhat on his injured leg and Scully tried to ignore the panicked flush in his eyes every time he took a step forward. Scully was able to take point, though, just by walking faster. She could feel Mulder's displeasure. Sig pointed unerringly at Ledo's head, Scully kicked the rifle away and looked down. Mulder's bullet had gone through Ledo's shoulder. Mulder looked over Scully's shoulder. "Serves the fucker right," he said viciously. Scully glanced at him. "Is this the guy who shot you?" Mulder nodded. "He certainly gets around," she observed. Mulder noticed Ledo's hand twitch a moment too late. He shoved Scully out of the way, much to her dismay, brought his gun around and was instantly tackled by an angry, injured Ledo. Mulder toppled over backwards, his gun flying out of his hand as Ledo reached a hand towards Mulder's throat. Mulder's slippery hands grasped at Ledo's strong wrist as Ledo began grimly choking the life out of him. Scully lunged forward, grabbing the back of Ledo's jacket and attempting to heave him off her partner. But Ledo was strong and his hand was wrapped firmly around Mulder's throat. Scully finally let go of Ledo, got to her feet, and kicked him in the face. He started to slide but it wasn't enough. Scully kicked him again and then in an absolute fury, raised her weapon and fired. The bullet went through Ledo's neck, showering Mulder with Ledo's blood. Ledo toppled silently onto the snow and his blood continued out in a stream, decorating the whiteness of the snow around him. *************************************************** A worried Reddick jogged towards the copse of trees. Ledo should be back by now. He'd heard something when Reddick had come to relieve him and said that he'd check it out and come back before heading to camp. Only he hadn't returned. Reddick paused at the edge of the trees and fingered his rifle. Was it possible that the two federal agents had gotten away? What the hell was he thinking? Nobody could get away from Kat. Reddick nearly jumped out of his skin as a figure swooped down on him. He breathed a sigh of relief. "McQuire...what the hell?" "Where's Ledo?" McQuire asked abruptly. "Went to check something out in there. I was going to see if...shit. They got him, didn't they?" McQuire nodded, casting a worried glance back at the trees. "I think so. Look, Kat's taking the front. I'm going to loop back around the other side. You take this entrance." Reddick looked at Ledo for a long while. "That leaves the South side unprotected," he said quietly. "I know, Reddick, and I'm not happy about it either. We are well and truly fucked if they get away." Reddick took a long look around. This copse of trees was pretty good sized, but if Mulder and Scully were able to slip away, all they had to do was crest the ridge-line and enter the forest proper. They'd never find them then. *************************************************** Ledo had left angry purple marks around Mulder's throat. Scully wrapped Ledo's coat around Mulder, wondering how long she'd have to wait for him to be able to breathe properly again. She prayed to the medical gods in the hopes that Mulder's windpipe hadn't been damaged. His breathing was horribly raspy and took every ounce of strength. He couldn't even tell Scully to not look at his leg. When Scully saw the state of his wound, all the blood drained from her face. Jesus Christ. He must have been bleeding ever since we started out, she thought. The bandage she'd applied before their escape had been practically useless. You knew he was going to bleed, that voice chided severely. You took the risk. Scully looked down at Mulder. His skin was ice cold. He was bleeding to death. How on Earth were they going to get out of here? Scully's head jerked up. Elise? Scully stood and looked down at Mulder. His eyes were closed and he didn't appear to have heard Elise. Scully took a few steps away from him. "Elise," she said quietly, "Please, you have to help Mulder. He's in serious danger." Elise's form appeared suddenly and Scully jumped. Her heart sank. Elise was nearly transparent and looked ill. Elise looked down sadly at Mulder. She reached out a hand...then withdrew it.