Title:  The Y Folders
Author:  Vickie Moseley (story concept with Susan 
Proto)vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com
Summary:  A television producer disappears under 
mysterious circumstances.  Must be a Y Folder.
Written for Virtual Season 11
Category:  MSR, H
Rating:  PG
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.  
Any characters who resemble real people are purely 
coincidental (I saw that on Comedy Central).
Archive:  Two weeks exclusive on VS 11, then 
anywhere.
Dedicated to my ET, who helped me come up with 
this crazed idea.  If it didn't work out, it sure wasn't 
from the concept.
Additional note:  This is a work of fiction and an 
attempt at humor.  It is not a social commentary on 
any events or situations that have taken place in the 
last few years.  Please take this episode of the 
Virtual Season in the spirit in which it is offered:  
with love and affection.  And if I haven't scared you 
off by now, on with the show . . .  

Teaser
Emerald Bay State Park
California
April 2, 2004

The location was perfect, none better could be 
found.  Pine trees, soaring to the clouds sixty to 
seventy feet in the sky looked like the spires of 
some green and black cathedral.  The lake, so blue it 
looked artificially colored, reflected the sky and the 
snow peaked mountains on all sides.  When the 
sunset behind those mountains, it was glorious.  Of 
all the places he'd been to in the last three days, this 
was perfection.  It was exactly what he wanted.  His 
boyish good looks, dark flowing hair, dimpled chin 
and deep chocolate eyes took on a radiance of 
someone who had found his heart's desire, all in one 
little plot of mountaintop.

Bill Burger prided himself on knowing what he 
wanted and getting it, at least most of the time.  He 
had gone from rags to riches, a real god honest 
Horatio Alger story, or at least that's what that 
bullshit artist at Entertainment Weekly had dubbed 
him.  Bill had meant to ask what the asshole had 
meant by that statement, but he never got the time.  
It seemed his time just wasn't his own anymore.  
Hell, even this, a location search, was a cover for 
what he really intended -- a few hours on the slopes 
at nearby Tahoe, hot-dogging for all the babes in 
their fur and down jackets.  Skiing, that had been 
his life until he found fame and fortune in LaLa 
Land.  He'd go back to that passion in a heartbeat, if 
he could pull down 2 million bucks a year, as he 
was currently doing.  Too bad skiing just didn't 
make the big money that television provided.

It was as big a surprise to him as it was to the 
network jerks when the first pilot he pitched 
captured a consistent top twenty spot in the Nielsens 
after two short years on the air.  It had become the 
networks anchor for the weekend schedule and had 
managed to add several dozen independent stations 
as affiliates just to get the feed.  All that from the 
simple retelling of old Native American ghost 
stories and UFO conspiracy tidbits he'd copped 
from the Fortean Times website.  Not for the first 
time he smiled to himself over the utter gullibility 
of the American viewing public.  Was this a great 
country or what?

It was a good show, but in the middle of it's seventh 
year it was starting to show some strain.  The lead 
actor started making noises about his 'on hold' 
movie career and the leading lady was whining 
about money all the time.  Then the competition for 
their nearly uncontested prime Saturday night time 
slot heated up with some rip off of an old radio 
game show.  It had been a lousy year and the show 
needed a shot in the arm desperately.  Hell, he had 
to be honest with himself, he needed the show to 
have a shot in the arm.  All the other pilots he'd 
pitched to the network's new programming honcho 
had ended up in the circular file.  When this show's 
run was over, he was back to slopes, but not in a 
good way--he'd be penniless.  

Burger sighed and walked off a piece of land right 
near the base of the pine trees. There was even 
enough room for the flood lights, the camera 
dolleys, the trailers --  well, the two actors trailers, 
everyone else would have to make due at the inn ten 
miles down the road.  He could set up the camera 
dolleys there, near the trees.  The lights, if they shot 
at night . . . what was he thinking, they always shot 
at night!  Maybe it should be raining.  Was there 
enough room for the hoses for a light mist?  

He chuckled as he thought about the fuss the female 
lead would put up when she found out they'd be 
shooting another episode in the rain.  Screw her, 
hell, screw both of them.  They were getting paid 
enough.  Too much, if the money guys from the 
network were to be believed.  Neither one of the 
leads had been more than beer and toilet paper 
commercial actors before they'd started this series.  
If the series went under, Bill was pretty sure that 
was where they'd both end up, too.  "Star power, my 
ass," he muttered to the trees as he mentally did the 
calculations to place the hoses and the water trucks.  
All that equipment was going to tear the hell out of 
this little campsite, but who really gave a rat's ass?  
The production company was paying the state of 
California prime rent for this property.  More than 
enough to replant a few trees and toss some grass 
seed on the ground.  Good thing the network and 
Governor 'Arnold' were on such good terms.

He stood near the trees and watched as the sun sank 
below the ridge of the mountain.  Picturesque, that 
was it.  Just like a postcard.  The powder on those 
mountains would only be good for another couple 
of weeks before the run off ruined the runs.  Damn 
spring and summer.  Who needed 'em?

He was so deep in thought he didn't hear the hum in 
the air.  It wasn't until the brilliant white light hit 
him that he looked up.  What the hell?  Where the 
hell was that light coming from?  It was huge!  He 
blinked his eyes shut to keep his retinas from being 
burned to a crisp.  The hum was louder now and the 
wind picked up.  The sun was below the horizon but 
it was bright as day around him, no --  much 
brighter than day.  The ground seemed to be 
vibrating.  Holy shit, what was that sound?

Something hit him in the back of his neck and he 
swatted at it.  Suddenly, the ground was no longer 
just vibrating, it was moving.  No, he was moving.  
He was sinking to the ground, falling.  He tried to 
move his arms, but they hung lifeless at his sides.  
He tried to pry his eyes open, but the blinding light 
kept them sealed shut.  He tried to open his mouth 
but it was as if his lips were stuck, he couldn't even 
scream.

His last thought, as darkness overtook him, was to 
reflect on what a friggin' wonderful visual this all 
would have made for the season finale.

The Y Folders
by Vickie Moseley (with Susan Proto)

Act I

"You're kidding, right?"

"Scully, would I kid about this?  It's almost too 
good to be true!  But I heard it from Henderson in 
Handwriting.  It all came down late yesterday."

Scully blew a breath that lifted her bangs from her 
forehead and neatly placed them to the side of her 
face, a trick that never failed to make Mulder 
immediately five degrees warmer.  "I just . . . I 
mean after all the grief he caused . . ."

"I know.  Who would have thought that Alvin 
Kersh, Pain the In Ass Extraordinaire, has been 
playing footsie with the mob!" Mulder crowed, and 
tossed a sunflower seed into the air to catch it on his 
tongue.  

"This all came out in Michelin's trial?" Scully 
asked, as she closed the file drawer and moved over 
to perch on the edge of Mulder's desk.  She patently 
ignored her partner's keenly leering gaze and his 
hand on her knee.  He did it just to see her reaction 
and she'd discovered that reacting only made him 
do it more, something she didn't find acceptable in 
the workplace.

"Best part is the end, Scully.  Alvin is officially 
'terminated'.  Out on his ass, no chance of 
reinstatement."  He looked wistfully at her.  "And 
here I thought they came up with that punishment 
just for the likes of little old me."

"Mulder, this is like . . . it's like winning the Pick 
Four on the lottery!"

"My thoughts exactly.  Which is why I thought we'd 
sneak out a little early tonight, change into some 
glad rags and hit that really nice place up Rockville 
Pike.  The one that serves fresh lobster," he said 
with a grin.

She looked at him, letting him think she was about 
to shoot him down.  But the twinkle in her eyes 
gave her away.  "You're on," she said in a rush.  
"And what is this 'glad rags'?  You've been 
watching 'I love the 80s' behind my back again?"

"Hey, you're the one who had to go shopping with 
your mom.  Don't blame me if I got bored and had 
to entertain myself," he grinned.  She rewarded his 
boyish enthusiasm by ruffling his hair and then 
combing it straight with her fingers.  Before he 
could take their playfulness too far, she hopped off 
the desk and wandered over to her own.  She had to 
suppress a smile when she heard Mulder start 
humming 'Ding Dong the Witch is Dead.'  The 
phone interrupted his one-man performance.

"Mulder.  Yes ma'am."  He winced and glanced 
down at his watch.  He scowled and wrinkled his 
nose.  "Ten minutes, your office.  Yes ma'am, we'll 
be there."   He hung up the phone with exaggerated 
care, obviously trying to control some deep-seated 
rage within.  "Scully, when is Skinner due back 
from medical leave?" he asked quietly.

"I talked with him yesterday afternoon, after his 
doctor's appointment.  He was rather disgruntled 
because his doctor is insisting he stay home and rest 
for at least four more weeks.  Why?"

"Because I'm pretty sure that strangling an Assistant 
Director of the FBI with her own phone cord is a 
capital offense, and the threat of lethal injection is 
the only thing stopping me from going upstairs and 
offing that bitch!" he seethed.  At her confused 
look, he elaborated.  "The bitch in question is Janna 
Cassidy.  Ring any bells?"

Scully couldn't help but wince, too.  She 
remembered all too well sitting in front of Janna 
Cassidy and her Spanish Inquisition into the X Files 
some 6 years before.  "So, I guess that was 
Assistant Director Cassidy on the phone."

"With Skinner out on medical leave and Kersh out 
the door, I guess that leaves us without a 'master'."

"Hey, does that make us 'ronin'?" Scully teased.

"It's not funny," he shot back.  "Ever since she was 
instrumental on the panel investigating the events of 
the Dallas bombing back years ago, that bitch has 
had it out for us.  Now, apparently, we're to report 
to her until Skinner is back from leave."

Scully's eyes widened in shock.  "Mulder, she 
wouldn't try  to shut us down . . ."

"I'm pretty sure we're on firm ground again, Scully, 
but I would not put anything past that dragon lady.  
Geez, we get rid of one pain in the ass and another 
pops up!  So much for cutting out early," he said 
with a sigh.  

"Did she say what it's about?"

"Maybe the Bureau is throwing a 'we got rid of 
Kersh' party and we're in charge of refreshments," 
he offered sarcastically.

"Or, maybe she has a case," she countered.  "We've 
been doing paperwork since we found Skinner.  
Maybe something has come up for us."

"If it's coming from Cassidy, I'm not too sure we 
want it," Mulder said, no happier at the thought of a 
new case than at the thought of a chewing out.  
"Knowing her, it will be a real winner.  And it's for 
damn sure we won't be going Hawaii, again," he 
snorted as he rolled down his shirtsleeves and 
pulled on his jacket.

"As long as it's not Texas during tornado season, 
I'm fine with it," she told him as she followed him 
out the door.   

"Admit it, Scully.  You thought that deputy was 
hot," he teased as they waited for the elevator.

"I think Dexter might have caused some brain 
damage, Mulder.  Maybe we should stop by the 
hospital on the way home and run a CT scan on 
you," she deadpanned back.  As the doors opened 
and they stepped inside the car she stared straight 
ahead but added, "besides, I wasn't the one to go 3 
rounds with Chicken of the Sea."

"Ouch, Scully.  That hurt," he replied in mock 
petulance.

Cassidy's office was just across the hall from 
Skinner's.  Mulder and Scully were surprised to see 
Kim, Skinner's administrative assistant at the desk 
outside her office.  "It's just till AD Skinner is back 
to work," she assured the two agents.  "I'm filling in 
while Marilyn's on maternity leave.   AD Cassidy is 
waiting for you.  Go right in," she said with a wink.

"Is this a good or a bad thing?" Mulder asked as 
they walked past her desk.

"If I knew that, Agent Mulder, I'd start playing the 
lottery numbers.  I did put through a call from the 
Director's office about 20 minutes ago, if that helps"

"Is this floor too high up to jump out the window 
and make an escape?" Mulder whispered to Scully 
as she reached for the knob on Skinner's office 
door.

"If it's that bad, we can resign and work at the 
Starbucks down on 20th and M," Scully whispered 
back.

"Think she'll give us a good recommendation?" was 
Mulder's quick reply.

"I doubt that entirely," Scully shot back.

Cassidy's office was set up almost exactly like 
Skinner's, even down to the desk blotter.  Mulder 
nodded to the two chairs in front of the desk and 
Scully took one seat, he took the other.  

"Agents.  Thank you for coming up on such short 
notice," Janna Cassidy said, looking exactly as she 
had at their last encounter, six years ago.  

The memory of their argument that day, over 
whether Scully had torpedoed Mulder's explanation 
of events in Antarctica was something neither 
partner wanted to revisit.  Scully shot Mulder a 
glance and he gave her the ghost of a smile before 
turning on his 'professional G-Man' persona and 
giving his full attention to the Assistant Director.

"Is that a case, AD Cassidy?" Mulder asked, noting 
that she had a file folder open on her desk and kept 
sweeping her gaze over it.

"This isn't just a case, Agent Mulder.  This is an 
opportunity," Cassidy intoned as she pushed a file 
folder across the desk in Mulder's general direction.  
Mulder picked it up and skimmed the contents.

"This is a missing person's case.  And not even an 
old one.  This man disappeared only," he glanced 
quickly at his watch, "a little over 36 hours ago, 
according to this report."

"Time is of the essence, Agent Mulder.  Did you see 
who the missing person is?"

"William Andrew Burger, 426 Pacific Coast 
Highway, Malibu, California," Mulder read from 
the file.

"That name doesn't ring any bells?" Cassidy asked, 
looking first at Mulder and then hopefully at Scully.  
"You don't watch television on Saturday nights?"

Scully had the good grace to blush, but Mulder 
stormed a little at the inference.  "Ma'am, if you 
check the records, most Saturday nights we're either 
on a case or writing up a report for a case."

"Or at the hospital recovering from a case," Scully 
muttered and Mulder shot her a glare for her efforts.

"We don't get a lot of time to watch network 
television."

"If it ain't the Knicks, the Yankees, or the Redskins, 
we don't see it," Scully mumbled.  

Mulder glared at her again, and turned back to 
Cassidy.  "Sorry, ma'am, the name doesn't mean 
anything to us.  Should it?"

Cassidy frowned slightly and shook her head.  
"Well, it should.  But it doesn't really matter.  He's 
the creator and executive producer of the hit show 
'The Y Folders' on the SPAN network."

Scully looked up.  "SPAN is the newest challenger 
to the four major networks, isn't it, ma'am?"

"Yes, Scully, glad to see one of you is up to date," 
Cassidy smiled broadly at her.  Mulder raised an 
eyebrow in a 'so what' expression.  "SPAN is hot on 
the heels of CBS, NBC, ABC and FOX and is 
picking up new affiliates every day.  Mr. Burger's 
show is largely responsible for their success."

"So why are we getting this case, ma'am?" Mulder 
interrupted.  "This is obviously a missing person's 
case."  A horrible thought suddenly cross his mind.  
"It isn't because of that awful zombie movie, is it?" 
he blurted out.

Cassidy looked confused at his outburst but shook 
her head.  "No, Agent Mulder.  The reason I 
decided to give this file to your division is because 
of the nature of the disappearance.  Read the file.  
This is not your simple missing person's case.  I 
expect you to treat this just as seriously as you 
would any other X file.  A representative of the 
studio is flying out to speak with you this evening.  
He'll be coming here, to the office.  Tomorrow you 
can fly back with him to California and look at the 
scene.  Be sure to follow the new procedures for air 
travel.  Kim can help you make your arrangements.  
I want daily reports on this case, Agent Mulder.  
Give it your full attention until this man is found 
and returned to his studio safe and sound."

"Ma'am, you said this isn't a case, it's an 
opportunity?" Scully interjected, partly to save her 
partner a further ass chewing.

"Yes, Agent Scully, that is exactly what it is.  This 
is an opportunity to foster good will between the 
Bureau and a major television network.  Believe 
me, with the recent high profile court case 
connecting a senior special agent and an assistant 
director in cahoots with organized crime, the FBI 
can use all the friends in the media we can get.  
SPAN not only is rivaling the major four, but its 
spin off, SPANews, is giving CNN and FOXnews a 
run for their money.  Free positive press is priceless.  
Now, I suggest you get started on this case."

Scully stood, Mulder started to say something but 
thought better of it and instead rose to join her at the 
door.  Without another word, they departed the 
assistant director's office.  

At the elevator again, Mulder turned to Scully, 
rubbing his forehead.  "When did you say Skinner 
was coming back from medical leave and can I get a 
strange, exotic illness that will last exactly the same 
length of time?"

"Look at it this way, Mulder.  She gave us this case.  
We didn't dream it up and send it through on a 302.  
It's a win-win.  If we find this Burger guy, the 
Bureau gets the good press and maybe we earn 
some much needed brownie points."

"And what if he really was abducted, Scully?  What 
kind of points will we be getting then?" he shot 
back.  "I'll tell you -- not the good kind!"

"It's a case, Mulder.  A famous man has disappeared 
under mysterious circumstances."

"And that makes this a federal case?" Mulder 
squeaked.

"Well, we do handle missing persons," Scully 
reasoned.

"Scully, this bozo hasn't been missing for two 
whole days yet!  Chances are good he's just tied one 
on and is holed up with some mammary enhanced 
young starlet going over 'production notes'," Mulder 
huffed.

"Cassidy is taking this seriously, Mulder.  I assume 
the front office is, too.   I think we should, as well."

"Fine, we take it seriously.  But what was that crap 
about new procedures for air travel?  Don't we just 
make our reservations on the internet, like always?"

They had finally reached their office and Mulder 
plopped down in his chair, propping his feet on the 
desk, waiting for Scully to answer.

"It's a good thing I read those email memos that 
come to you from the Budget Department, Mulder," 
she said with a sigh.  She dug through the pile of 
papers on his desk, found the one she was looking 
for and handed it to him.  "No more turn arounds, 
they're costing the Bureau too much money.  We 
have to have all travel arrangements approved 
through Budget.  Effective April 1."

"I thought it was an April Fools joke," he said, 
taking the paper and shoving it back in the pile.  
"This is full of crap, Scully.  Our 'Kersh is gone' 
par-tay is on indefinite hold, we're stuck here 
waiting for some Max Federman --"

"His name was Wayne," Scully interjected 
patiently.

"OK, 'Wayne' Federman type to get in the way of 
our investigation and tomorrow we're stuck flying 
to California . . ."

Scully had a decidedly 'shit eating grin' on her face 
which made him think back on what he'd just said.  
Suddenly, he was smiling, too, but for the life of 
him, he didn't know why.

"Let me explain this to you, Mulder, just in case 
you got lost in your tirade.  We are being told to go 
on an all expense paid trip to California to find out 
that this Bill Burger has been shacked up and 
banging some production assistant.  And, with the 
new travel procedures in place, we have to stay at 
least three days before we can return home."

His eyes grew as wide as teacups.  He grabbed the 
sheet of paper out of the pile and scanned it quickly.  
"Hot damn.  You're absolutely right!"

"I think we can probably manage to find a decent 
hotel somewhere near LA with a pool, don't you?"

"First Hawaii, now LA, before too long they're 
bound to catch on, Scully."

"What?  That we're only investigating cases in 
locations that include beach attire?" she asked 
coyly.

"Shhh, the ceiling has ears," he said in a hushed 
whisper.  He was about to pull her into a kiss when 
there was a sharp rap on the door.

"Shit," he muttered while Scully walked over and 
opened the door.  A thin man, under six feet with 
faded green cargo pants and a Jethro Tull tee-shirt 
stood staring at her.

"Can I help you?" she asked, glancing to make sure 
he was wearing a visitor's badge.  She couldn't help 
but notice it was on upside down.

"Bob Denver, no relation," the man said, stretching 
out his hand in a friendly gesture.  "I'm here about 
the Bill Burger abduction."  Scully shook his hand 
and then stepped aside to allow him to enter the 
office.  Mulder stood and shook Mr. Denver's hand, 
then motioned for him to take a seat at the only 
other chair in the room.  Scully chose to lean on the 
edge of her desk.

"So, this is the office of an FBI agent, huh?" Denver 
asked, looking askance at the bulletin boards 
covered with photos from cases and newspaper 
articles.  His eyes landed on Mulder's 'I want to 
believe' poster and he stood up and moved closer to 
take a better look.

"Two agents, actually," Scully corrected him.

"Think I could borrow this for a couple of days, just 
to let my art people -- "

"Mr. Denver, if I'm not mistaken, you've come a 
long way to tell us a story," Mulder lightly scolded 
the man.  "Could we please stick to the topic?"

Bob look a tad perplexed, but sat down in Scully's 
desk chair again and propped his elbows on his 
knees.  "I think we all know why I'm here," he said 
cryptically.

Scully raised an eyebrow and cocked her head.  
Mulder just frowned.  "No, I'm afraid we don't all 
know.  Why don't you enlighten us?"

"Well, according to the Fender-man, you two are 
the best at this, uh, alien shit."

Mulder bit his lip and Scully shot him a quick 
glance as if to say 'don't go there'.  Mulder ignored 
her.  "Fender-man?"

"Yeah, Wayne Fender-man, er, Federman.  And 
well, I saw 'The Lazarus Bowl'.  Not the whole 
movie, of course.  I saw the outtakes, but I must say 
the lighting on that set was primo!  Great shadows, 
the way the beams shot off the Pope-like guy's 
jewels, and the Zombies, I mean they were -- "

"Mr. Denver, I thought we were talking about Mr. 
Burger's disappearance!" Mulder broke in.

"You guys are supposed to find people snatched by 
aliens, or am I wrong?" Denver shouted back 
defensively.

Scully licked her upper lip and gave Mulder a tight-
lipped expression.  He sat up and pulled the file 
folder closer to him.  "Mr. Denver -- "

"Call me Bob.  Hey, I know what you're thinking.  
You're thinking this is just some stunt, but it's not.  
Bill went up to that park to find a shooting location 
and when he didn't show up at the lodge, er, I mean 
the studio that night, a couple of us went up there to 
look for him.  What we saw made our hair turn 
gray!  Figuratively speaking, of course."

"Why don't you tell us what you found?" Scully 
asked in a calming voice.  "Please?"

Denver glared at Mulder for a moment, then looked 
over at Scully and visibly relaxed.  "Sure.  Why 
not?"  He settled into the chair and took a deep 
breath.  "It was just freaky, ya know?"

Mulder nodded in an encouraging manner, earning 
him a slight smile from Scully.  The exchange went 
unnoticed by Denver.

"Bill decided to go check out locations for the 
season finale.  The script is done, but the last few 
pages are being kept secret -- he wanted to avoid 
any possible leaks to the press."

"That sounds pretty paranoid," Mulder muttered and 
Scully stifled a snort in his direction.

"You have no idea.  I mean, we've been on the air 
seven seasons and there are 4 knock offs already, 
including a cartoon.  If we didn't safeguard our big 
shows, they'd be on some Japanese Anime a week 
before we had a chance to air it here!"

"Back to the disappearance," Mulder prompted.

"Yeah, well, anyway, like I was saying, he was 
supposed to check out this park, we have a really 
good relationship with the California State Parks 
system.  The location was near Tahoe, so I expected 
to get a call from him telling me he had car trouble.  
That's his 'little code' for going skiing on company 
time," Denver explained to Scully.

"But you didn't get the call," Mulder prodded again.  
He rolled his eyes to Scully. 

"When it got to be afternoon, and I hadn't gotten a 
call, I called his cell.  It rang, but no answer.  So I 
called the ski resort that he always sneaks off to.  
They hadn't seen him.  That's when I got worried.  
So I called Steve -- "

"Steve?" Scully interrupted.

"Yeah, one of the other production staff.  Steve 
Marker.  Anyway, I called Steve and we decided to 
take a look.  By that time it was already close to 
two.  We had to jump the commuter flight to get to 
Sacramento and the drive took a couple of hours to 
the park, so it was dark when we got there.  I have 
one of those really big flashlights in my trunk, for 
when you have a flat.  We found Bill's rental parked 
near a trailhead, so we took the flashlight and went 
down the trail.  It opened up into a meadow and 
that's when we found his cell phone.  But when I 
flashed the light around, well, it scared the shit out 
of me!"

"What exactly did you see?" Scully asked, saving 
Mulder the trouble.

"It was just like 'The Starting Point'!" Denver 
exclaimed.

Mulder raised his hand.  "Starting point?  I'm afraid 
you're losing us here, Mr. Denver."

Denver gave him a disgusted look and then turned 
hopefully to Scully.  When she obviously didn't 
understand the reference, he threw up his hands.  
"What, do you people live in caves?  The Starting 
Point, it's the first episode of the series!  It's been on 
reruns about a hundred times.  Surely you've seen 
it!"

Scully shook her head.  Mulder gave his head a 
quick shake and a shrug.  "Why don't you just tell 
us what you saw?"

He rolled his eyes, but Denver nodded.  "OK, the 
trees were scorched, near the tops.  There was a big 
scorch mark on the ground, the size of an above 
ground pool, without the deck," he added quickly.  
"And there was this fine, gray ash all over the place.  
Bill's cell phone was near the pile of ash.  We called 
and called and no one answered.  That's when we 
decided to go get help.  It took us a while to find a 
park ranger and then he wanted us to go through the 
county Sheriff's department, but that would have 
turned out the press and there was no way we could 
let that happen!  Finally, I remembered Fender-man 
bragging that he had all these connections with the 
FBI and I called him.  It took a while to get the ball 
rolling, but here I am."

Mulder was biting his lip, to keep from laughing or 
screaming, he wasn't sure.  "So, based on your 
somewhat limited observations, in the dark, with a 
flashlight, you think -- "

"Bill was abducted by aliens," Denver said in 
hushed tones.  "The man who created it has lived 
it," he added solemnly.

Both agents shared a look.  Scully finally broke the 
uneasy silence.  "And you want us to . . ."

"Get him back.  Call them, we'll negotiate.  
Whatever they want, residuals, marketing.  Hell, 
we'll give them shares in the production company."

"The aliens?" Mulder asked quietly.

"Sure!  I mean, they had to know his net worth to 
pick him off when there were all those bodacious 
babes just a few miles away in Tahoe," Denver 
reasoned.  "But that's OK.  We just want him back."

"I can understand that you're worried about your 
boss," Scully started.

"Who said we're worried?  Bill can be a real a-hole.  
No, we need him back because he's the only one 
who knows where the last four pages of the final 
script are stashed.  And we have to start rehearsals 
in a week."

Act II

Scully's apartment
Georgetown
7:15 pm

Mulder picked up the last container of rice from 
dinner, peering in it to determine if there was 
enough to save. 

"Toss it, Mulder.  We won't be home for at least 
three days," Scully told him as she put the last plate 
in the cupboard.

"Three days and it's just getting good," he replied, 
but tossed the container into the trash in a fairly 
good mock 'lay up' shot.  

"Take that out, please," she reminded him.

He nodded and grabbed the liner, tying it off and 
lifting it up.  "You going to take a bath?" he asked 
hopefully.

She grinned at him and shook her head.  "No, not 
enough time.  We have to pack for tomorrow.  
Remember, our flight leaves at 6 am.  We have to 
meet Denver at BWI at 4:30."

"This is the Bureau's big cost saving initiative?  
Make us get up in the middle of the night to drive 
forty-five minutes so we leave from Baltimore 
rather than spend the $25 to fly out of Reagan or 
Dulles at a sane hour in the morning?"

"Hey, quit your complaining.  Our return flight has 
us getting into BWI at 5 pm.  We can swing past 
Mom's and she can feed us."

She heard him mumble something unintelligible as 
he left to take out the trash.  

She was in the bedroom when he came back up.  
"Do you want to take your charcoal suit or your 
blue one?" she asked, holding them both out for his 
inspection.

"The blue one, it's lighter.  Where did you put my 
travel kit?"

"Under the sink, behind the extra towels."  She 
stopped to admire the view -- his behind -- as he 
went to retrieve the kit.

"So, do you think Bill Burger is really an 
abductee?" she asked as Mulder returned and helped 
pack his suitcase.

"No.  I think it's all a set up, a big publicity stunt.  
I'm going to email the guys once we know more, 
ask them to check into this Y Folders.  My money 
says they're in the seventh season, probably starving 
for ratings and this kind of tabloid headline is just 
what they need to bring in the viewers."

"But involving the FBI?  Mulder, if it is a stunt and 
they're found out, they could be in serious trouble!"

"I'm guessing that's why they didn't want the 
Sheriff's Department in on it.  They probably figure 
they can lie their way out of any trouble with us.  
Honest mistake and all that," Mulder mused, 
zipping the case shut.  "Want me to take these to the 
car so we don't have to bother with them 
tomorrow?"

She smiled at him and handed him her suitcase.  
"There are definite advantages to having you here, 
Mulder.  I keep finding that out every day."

"Yeah, when I get back, I'll show you a few new 
ones," he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.  She 
slapped his backside as he made his way out the 
door.

United Flight 3091
landing at Los Angeles International
10:42 am

Scully nudged Mulder from where he'd fallen asleep 
on her shoulder.  Slowly, his eyes blinked open.  
"We're here already?" he asked around a yawn.

"You slept the whole way," she said dryly.

"Sorry, Scully.  You know how I get on long 
flights," he said with a half-hearted apologetic 
shrug.  "I'll get the briefcases from the overhead.  
See if you can catch Mr. Hollywood out at the gate, 
before the paparazzi get to him," he sneered.

"Mulder, his ticket was paid for by the production 
company.  He can't help it if he got to fly first 
class," Scully chided.

"I can use any excuse I want to hate the man, 
Scully.  He dragged us out of warm bed, made us 
endure hours in dry, sinus infection inducing air and 
now we have to face another three hour flight plus 
an hour drive just to see their set up.  So help me, 
when we uncover this as the media stunt it is, I'll 
personally spend the rest of my life working with 
the nearest US District Attorney to put them all 
behind bars!"

"Well, as long as you have goals," Scully said 
smugly.

"And why couldn't we have flown into San 
Francisco or even a direct flight to Tahoe?  Why 
add five hours to this trip from hell?"

"You're the one who wanted to see his apartment 
and his office, Mulder," she pointed out.

"Next time I come up with such good ideas, kick me 
to shut me up," Mulder shot back, but at least he 
was grinning again. 

Offices of Hot Dog Productions
Hollywood, CA
11:30 am

A harried receptionist looked up at them over the 
counter, and jumped up when she saw Denver.  
"Bob!  Have you found it?"

"Him, Stacy," Denver said uncomfortably with a 
glance over to the two agents.  "No, we haven't had 
any word from him."

She seemed confused and disappointed at the same 
time.  "Oh, shoot."

"Can you give Agents Mulder and Scully here 
visitors badges?  They need to go to Bill's office at 
the back of the studio."  Denver pulled out a cell 
phone and started talking quietly into it.

Stacy smiled up at Mulder.  "Sure.  Agents, huh?  
What kind?"

"FBI," Mulder said and leaned forward to allow 
Stacy to clip the badge onto his lapel.

"Been to LA before?" Stacy asked seductively.  
Scully raised her eyebrow, but was basically being 
ignored by Stacy and her partner.

"Once, for a premiere," Scully butted in and took 
the badge intended for her out of Stacy's hand.  
"The Lazarus Bowl."

Stacy's eyes grew wide.  "Ohmigod!!  You're him!  
You're Gary Shandling's character!"

Mulder cringed.  "Actually, that character was an 
amalgamation of several different . . . what I mean 
is, it was never meant to be . . ."

"Ready to go, folks?  We have a cart to take us back 
to Bill's office," Denver interrupted.

"Yes, more than ready, I'd say," Scully said with a 
smirk to her partner.

"You're an evil woman, Agent Scully," Mulder 
whispered close to her ear as they left Stacy 
admiring his back view.

"You just remember that, mister," she whispered 
back.

It was a short ride in a luxury golf cart to the small 
bungalow looking buildings where Bill Burger had 
his office.  Denver produced a key and opened the 
office door.  The place was not that large, 
considering the occupant was an Executive 
Producer on a highly successful television series.  
Mulder pulled on some latex gloves and started to 
look around.  

"Does any one else have access to this office, 
besides you?" Scully asked as she joined Mulder in 
examining the contents of the bookshelves and 
bulletin boards.

"All the production staff has access.  This is where 
we come for story meetings.  But there isn't 
anything out of place.  Bill was fine when he left 
here."

"Has anyone looked at his computer?" Mulder 
nodded toward the shining new Dell computer 
sitting on the walnut desk that took up a large part 
of the room.

Denver shrugged.  "We didn't think about it.  
Besides, he keeps it locked with a password."

"Aren't you networked in any way?  Shared files?" 
Scully asked.

"Oh, sure.  But Bill kept most of his notes entirely 
on his PC."

Mulder exchanged a look with Scully.  "What time 
does the commuter flight take off?"

Denver checked his watch.  "About an hour and a 
half from now.  We should be getting to the 
airport."  He headed out the door.  

Mulder leaned over to Scully as they made one last 
look around the office.  "I'll call the guys, maybe 
they can hack his PC."

Scully just nodded and followed him out the door.

Emerald Bay State Park
6:30 pm

Mulder slowly unfolded himself from the front seat 
of the Suzuki Sidekick.  "So, this is where you 
found the car?" he asked, standing up and wincing 
as every vertebra in back cracked and popped from 
the strain of his stretch.

"Right there, by that tree," Denver said, moving 
over to the side of the road.  He pointed at a spot on 
the ground totally undistinguishable from the rest of 
the needle-covered surface.  "We followed that 
trail," he said, pointing off a few yards.

"Up for a nice walk in the woods, Scully?" Mulder 
asked with a grin.

"My gun is loaded, Mulder.  I'd watch my step if I 
were you," Scully returned.

The trail wasn't at all taxing and after a few dozen 
yards they found themselves on the edge of a rather 
large clearing.  Denver ran into the grassy area, 
gesturing up at the trees.  Sure enough, the tops, or 
at least very near the tops, of several of the pine 
trees looked scorched.  He then ran over and 
pointed to the burnt circle on the ground near the 
center of the clearing.  Finally, he reached down 
and grabbed a handful of ash from the ground and 
let rubbed it between his fingers.   "See, it's just like 
I told you.  Just like the show!"

Mulder looked over at Scully, who shrugged her 
shoulders.  "I have to admit, it does look like . . ."   
His voice trailed off as he walked over to the trees 
with the charred tops.  Before his partner could 
shout out in protest, he was scrambling up the 
nearest tree.

"Mulder, so help me, I am not calling for a rescue 
helicopter!" Scully yelled up to him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Denver asked, 
chewing his lip.

After a few tense moments, Mulder climbed down, 
jumping the last six feet and landing perfectly.  
"Scully, what do you make of this?"  He handed her 
a few pine needles sticky with a substance.  

She took the needles and examined them closely.  
She brought them up to her nose and sniffed.  
"That's not pine sap," she said with a shake of her 
head.

"No, that's kerosene," Mulder supplied.  "It's all 
over up there."

"Wow, you mean the aliens sprayed this place with 
kerosene?" Denver demanded.  "That's incredible!"

Both agents just stared at the man, then Mulder 
walked over to the pile of ash.  Stooping, he picked 
up a good pinch of ash and deposited it in a plastic 
evidence bag.  "I'm betting this is a lot more 
common than we think," Mulder said, handing the 
bag to Scully.

"What about the burned spot on the ground?" Scully 
asked.  She stepped over to the circle and knelt 
down.  "Mulder, doesn't this look like the kind of 
burn you'd find with a blow torch?"

"The aliens have blow torches?" Denver cried out.  
"Wait till I tell the guys!"

Mulder stood up from where he'd crouched next to 
Scully.  "Mr. Denver, there are no aliens at work 
here.  This whole area is nothing more than an 
elaborate hoax."

Denver's eyes went wide.  "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that someone, maybe someone in your 
organization, has set this up to make it appear that 
Bill Burger was abducted by aliens," Mulder said 
through gritted teeth.

"That's insane!  Why would we do that?" Denver 
blurted out.

"That's exactly what I hope to find out," Mulder told 
him and headed back down the path with Scully hot 
on his heels.

"Mulder?"

"We can't go back home yet, Scully, so we're stuck 
here.  Let's just get find a motel room and figure 
this out."

"Mulder, there's just one little problem," she said, 
pulling his sleeve to get him to stop.  At his 
questioning look, she tilted her head.  "Where's Bill 
Burger?"

"I think he's hiding out somewhere, Scully," Mulder 
growled.  "And when I find him, I'm going to take 
him apart!"

Days Inn LAX
12:20 am

They had just made the last commuter flight back to 
Los Angeles.  Mulder was tense and grumbling all 
the way back.  Scully almost felt sorry for Bob 
Denver, the man really did look as perplexed as he 
claimed he was.  He dropped them off at a hotel 
near the airport and promised to cooperate in any 
way while Mulder conducted a one-man manhunt 
for the missing Bill Burger.  They made 
arrangements for him to pick them up at 10 the next 
morning. 

Scully took the bathroom first and was fully 
expecting to find her partner sound asleep when she 
came out.  To her surprise, he was sitting on the 
edge of the bed, glued to the television screen.

"Mulder?  Are you going to get ready for bed?" she 
asked, crawling under the covers.

"Look what I found on one of the cable networks?  
Old Y Folders episodes.  Apparently they're running 
a marathon."

"You're kidding," she murmured as she rolled over 
and punched her pillow.

"I'll be coming to bed in a few minutes, Scully.  I 
just want to finish this episode.  I think it's the pilot 
Denver was talking about."

Scully lifted her head enough to squint at the screen.  
"Who's the blond guy?"

"Bertram Wilson.  He's the lead investigator."

"I think I've seen him on dustjackets for romance 
novels," Scully muttered as she sank back down 
into the pillows.  "Turn it down, Mulder.  And don't 
stay up too long.  We still have to track down 
Burger in the morning."

As soon as that episode ended, a new one started.  
Mulder found himself drawn in to the complicated 
plots, the interesting use of shadows to portray the 
scary aliens and monsters.  He even had to admit 
the humor in the writing was pretty sharp.  The 
leading man was intelligent with a rapier wit.  The 
leading lady, Penny Pennelli, was a buxom blond 
who could rattle off scientific terms with a 
smoldering look.  When he looked up at the clock, 
he realized it was almost 4 in the morning.

He was bone tired, but knew that if he lay down, 
he'd only wake Scully up.  One of them needed to 
get some sleep.  He quietly moved to the adjoining 
room, that they'd requested but hadn't intended on 
using.  Once seated at the desk, he opened Scully's 
laptop and powered it up.  Thank heavens for free 
high speed internet in motel rooms.  In seconds, he 
was chatting with Frohike, the early bird of the 
gunman who tended to wake up at the crack of 
dawn.

Gman1013:  I need you to do a little checking on 
something for me.

Ladiesman55:  Whazzup?

Gman1013:   See what you can dig up online for a 
TV show called the Y folders.

Ladiesman55:  You mean 'The Y-Folders', right?

Gman1013:  Whatever.  Just see what you can find.

Ladiesman55:  You want actor filmographies, 
character bios, episode guides, fanfiction, hot 
pictures of the blond bombshell naked--what are 
you looking for?

Gman1013:  You've got to be kidding!  They have 
all that on line?

Ladiesman55:  Mulder, I'm just scratching the 
surface.  I can get you anything, man.  You know 
that.

Gman1013:  It's a stupid television show!!

Ladiesman55:  A stupid television show that 
consistently falls in the top twenty for the 18-35 
male demographic in the Nielsens every week!  
Advertisers dream demo!   If you didn't have such a 
hot babe in the sack every night, you'd know about 
this show!

Gman1013:  You keep forgetting that 'hot babe' has 
a gun and a sharp eye, don't ya?

Ladiesman55:  Oh, yeah, like you're gonna show 
her this.

Ladiesman55:  Mulder, you aren't going to show her 
this, are you??

Gman1013:  It's fun to see you sweat.  

Ladiesman55:  So, as I was asking, what do you 
want to know?

Gman1013:  I don't know, everything.  Ratings 
(which you obviously know about), problems on the 
set, disgruntled actors, what fans are saying.

Ladiesman55:  What's up?  You know you can trust 
me.

Gman1013:  This can go no farther--Bill Burger has 
disappeared.

Ladiesman55:  Shit damn, you don't say!!!  Last I 
saw on E!, they were about to start shooting the 
finale!

Gman1013:  It appears that when Burger 
disappeared, he took the whereabouts of the last 
four pages of the script with him.

Ladiesman55:  oooooh baby!!  So you're trying to 
find him?

Gman1013:  I think it's a ratings stunt conjured up 
by Burger.  But Scully thinks the production people 
aren't in on it.  They're all frantically trying to find 
the missing script pages.

Ladiesman55:  I'll see what I can dig up.  

Gman1013:  just email it.  Thanks, Frohike.

Ladiesman55:  good luck!

7:15 am

Scully woke up with the alarm she'd set and looked 
over, expecting to find Mulder.  He wasn't there.  
She got up, took her shower and then peeked inside 
the connecting door to the other room.  Sure 
enough, Mulder was seated at the desk, head resting 
on his arms, sound asleep.  Her initial aggravation 
turned to affection as she walked behind him and 
saw that he'd drooled on his arm.  Ruffling his hair, 
she leaned forward and kissed his ear.  

"If this is a dream, don't wake me," he said with a 
sleepy rasp to his voice.

"If you're going to sleep, why don't you crawl into 
bed," she whispered.

"Coming with me?"  It was a request and an offer.  

She chuckled.  "Not this time.  I'm showered and 
dressed.  But it's still early, only a little after 8.  
Why don't you stretch out for a few minutes and I'll 
wake you up so you can get ready before Mr. 
Denver shows up at 9:45."

"Hmmm," was his groggy reply, but he did force 
himself out of the chair and launched himself onto 
the bed, not even bothering with the blankets and 
duvet.  "There should be an email from Frohike," he 
muttered before he drifted off to sleep again.

Scully smiled in his direction and then sat down at 
the computer, tucking one strand of hair behind her 
ear.  "What have you been up to, Mulder?" she 
asked but expected no answer.  She found the email 
from Frohike and opened it up.  It was a series of 
links, which she clicked open in succession and 
started to read.

9:45 am

Bob Denver showed up at Mulder's door at 
precisely 9:45.  He handed Scully a drink carrier 
with two Starbucks Grandes and a bag with two 
bagels.  "I thought I should bring a peace offering 
after last night."

"Really not necessary, Mr. Denver," Scully said 
dryly, but didn't refuse the offered coffee.  

Mulder took his cup and snagged one of the bagels 
out of the bag.  "I should warn you, if this is 
supposed to be a bribe, you're doing Federal time 
for under 20 bucks," he said with an evil grin.

Denver's gulped but said nothing.  He motioned the 
two agents to his waiting Land Rover and they 
drove in silence to the production company offices.

Once inside Denver's personal office, Scully got 
right to the point.  "Mr. Denver, I think you have 
something you really want to tell us," she said with 
a barely suppressed sneer.

Denver licked his upper lip nervously.  "I'm not sure 
I know what you mean."

"This was a set up.  It's been staged.  And we have 
reason to believe you have some knowledge of it," 
Scully shot back.  This time, Mulder was caught by 
surprise, but he covered well and leaned back in his 
chair, content to give Scully the lead.  This was 
going to be fun to watch.

"The ratings for the show have been in the toilet this 
season, haven't they, Mr. Denver?" Scully asked, 
standing to walk around the desk and lean over the 
trembling man.  Mulder had to put his hand up to 
his mouth to hide his broad grin.  Scully was 
treating the poor guy like a hardened criminal.  The 
case did have an upside.  Mulder was getting 
decidedly turned on.

"I . . . I . . . It's not like that," Denver stammered.

"Not only are the ratings bad this season, but there 
are other indications that the show is on the skids.  
It didn't receive a single Emmy nomination this 
year, not even in the wide-open Best Actress in a 
Drama category.  Not to mention, not a single 
Golden Globe.  More importantly, you didn't even 
get the cover of TV Guide for your seventh season 
premiere, did you, Mr. Denver?"

Denver was having trouble speaking.  He sat there, 
mouth gapping and closing like a fish out of water.

"You need something, something spectacular, to 
attract an audience for the end of the season finale.  
If your numbers aren't significantly improved in 
those all important May Sweeps, you are likely to 
be cancelled, aren't you?"  She leaning over him 
now, so close her hair was actually brushing his ear.

"Agent Scully," Denver managed to rasp out.  
"Please!  Stop!"

Scully stood, looking as cool as a cucumber.  
Mulder would have given his right arm to rush her 
back to their motel rooms at that moment, but he 
knew the show was really just starting.  He directed 
his attention to Bob, who was white as a sheet and 
shaking violently.  

"All right, all right already!  Yes, it was a set up, at 
first!  But I swear, he wasn't supposed to really 
disappear!  Someone took him!  But it wasn't me!  I 
had nothing to do with it"

Mulder couldn't sit idly by any longer.  Besides, it 
was time to play 'nice cop'.  He leaned forward and 
gave Denver his best sympathetic smile.  "Maybe 
you should start at the beginning, Bob.  Tell us 
everything.  Just the truth.  That's all Agent Scully's 
after, isn't it, Scully?"

From her spot behind Denver, out of his eyesight, it 
was hard to keep a straight face, but she managed.  
This nut had cracked in under five minutes.  A new 
record!  "Yes, that's all we really want.  Because if 
you continue to lie to us . . . does the name Martha 
Stewart mean anything to you, Mr. Denver?" she 
asked sweetly.

Mulder was afraid she'd gone over the top with that 
one.  Denver started to pitch forward and for a 
moment, Mulder thought the man had a heart attack.  
But he was just burying his face in his hands.

"It was all so simple, really.  Bill, Steve and I were 
working on the storyboard for the finale.  Steve 
made a crack, wouldn't it be perfect if we could 
stage a 'real' alien abduction?  And it was late, and 
we were all punch-drunk and it seemed like a great 
idea at the time."

"Were you always going to involve the FBI?" 
Scully asked sternly.

Denver dropped his hands and looked up at her, 
shaking his head emphatically.  "No.  Never.  We 
were going to do a press release that he was 
'missing'.  Then, when we told the local Sheriff 
where he'd disappeared and after the headlines ran 
in the papers, hopefully picked up by AP or 
Reuters, well, a couple of days would pass and Bill 
would show up, shaken but unharmed."

"And claim he'd been abducted by aliens," Mulder 
supplied, leaning back with his arms crossed over 
his chest.

"No.  He'd say he couldn't remember anything.  See, 
that's the beauty of the show:  we don't give 
answers.  We only pose more questions.  And this 
would be the biggest question of all.  Was Bill 
really abducted?  Which would lead in to the finale, 
where Pennelli has an abduction experience."

Scully sat down on the edge of the desk, her face 
grim.  "So why don't you think that Bill is following 
the plan as you laid it out?"

"This," Denver said, reaching down into his bottom 
desk drawer.  He withdrew a blackened piece of 
plastic and metal and dropped it on the desktop.  
"We found that near the circle burned in the grass."

Mulder reached over and picked up the object.  
Years of experience told him exactly what he was 
holding.  "It's a cell phone."

Denver nodded.  "Bill's cell phone.  See, he would 
never leave that.  It was the only way we could keep 
in contact.  And it's mangled.  Why would he do 
that if this was just a hoax?"

Mulder turned the charred plastic over in his hands.  
"So someone was privy to your plans," he said 
evenly.  "How about this Steve you keep 
mentioning?"

Denver winced.  "That's the thing.  Steve had to 
finish up episode 20, The Lost Game, so he wasn't 
in on the actual planning stages.  He had no idea of 
location or anything else."

"Then who did know?" Scully asked.

"Just Bill . . . and me," Denver said miserably.  
"Which is why I'm scared shitless!  If we don't find 
him, I'm . . ."

"Likely to be charged," Scully finished for him.  
The poor man dropped his head to the desktop and 
banged it a few times.  

"I'm so screwed," he repeated over and over again.

"I think we need to talk to Steve," Scully said, 
pushing off the desk.  As Bob nodded and pulled 
out his cell phone to contact the other production 
assistant, Mulder caught her elbow and steered in 
over to a corner, out of earshot.

"That was truly impressive, Agent Scully," he 
whispered.

She made a point of glancing down to just below his 
belt buckle.  "Yeah, I see that," she said with a 
wicked grin.  

Mulder ignored her.  "Where did you get that stuff 
about the Emmys and the TV Guide cover?"

"Frohike's email.  It was big news in all the online 
critic websites.  The online pundits think the show 
has run its course.  They kept talking about shark 
jumping or something."  Mulder shook his head, as 
confused as she was by the reference.  "Anyway, it 
was obvious that they needed something 
tremendous to save them.  With what we found 
yesterday, it was just a matter of applying a little 
pressure to get him to confess.  But I expected him 
to tell us where Burger was hiding, not this."

"So basically, we're back where we started," Mulder 
said, pulling on his lip.  

"With less evidence than we started with, yes," 
Scully replied.  She glanced at her watch.  "Don't 
forget, Cassidy is going to want a report in, oh, 
three hours."

He winced and rubbed his head.  "I think I'm having 
an aneurism," he said flatly.

Denver was more than willing to cooperate.  He 
gave the agents a conference room, supplied them 
with a steady supply of coffee and even offered 
sandwiches, which they politely refused.  He then 
proceeded to parade every writer, actor, extra, make 
up artist, production assistant, second production 
assistant, best boy and gaffer who worked for Hot 
Dog Productions.  

The writers were fairly clueless.  For the most part, 
they were noncommittal about Bill Burger, and 
were just grateful to have jobs.  Since Burger was 
very 'hands on' when it came to the plotlines of the 
show, they were all more than a little upset that he, 
and the last four pages, were missing.  A couple of 
them even offered to help search for Burger, if it 
would help.  

The actors were another matter.  Keith Stover, who 
played Bertram Wilson, made it quite clear that he 
was very hopeful that Burger would never be found.  

"The asshole promised me three seasons and we'd 
go to movies.  It's been seven!  But I'm not an idiot.  
As much as I'd love to see him homeless and 
penniless, he's the only guy who can write this 
crap," Stover had huffed.  When Scully pointed out 
that he could have walked, just not signed the extra 
contracts, he gave her a tightlipped smile and shook 
his head. 

"Not in this town, baby," he'd said through clenched 
teeth.  "Besides, Burger has been dangling the 
promise of a movie out in front of us for years now.  
As soon as we finish up the series, we're headed for 
the big screen."

"And you're willing to stay around just for that?" 
Scully asked, a little perplexed.

"Hell, yes!  I mean, have you looked at the residuals 
Diaz, Barrymore and Lu got from those two movies 
they did?  The DVD sales alone would make up for 
the last seven years of 16 hour days, 6 days a 
week."  Stover looked from one agent to the other 
as if struck by a sudden thought.  "Hey, should I 
have called my lawyer?"

Mulder closed his eyes and banged his head against 
the wall behind him while Scully calmed the actor 
down, assuring him they were only interviewing 
everyone who might know something about Mr. 
Burger's whereabouts.

"Well, that would be every script girl, make up girl, 
female assistant and cantina worker in LA," Stover 
snickered.  "Oh, and every female ski instructor in 
Tahoe," he added with a malicious grin.  

Heather Lanear, who played Penny Pennelli, was no 
more helpful.  "He's shacked up with a ski bunny.  
We won't find him till spring," she said, puffing on 
her cigarette.  "But he better stay lost, if the network 
figures out that we don't have an ending to the 
finale.  He's lucky if he'll ever work in this town 
again," she said with a smirk.

Act III

It took six hours to work their way through all the 
staff members of Hot Dog Productions.  It was 
almost 9 pm when they made it back to the motel.  

"Want some dinner?" Scully asked, as Mulder 
flopped face down on the king sized bed in their 
room.

"Arsenic," he suggested.

"Mulder, buck up," she told him.  "We just have to 
look at this rationally.  Who has the motive and the 
opportunity to kidnap Bill Burger?"

"You mean narrow the field," he said, muffled by 
his arm.  "That would be about 95 percent of 
Orange County, Scully," he added, flipping on his 
back.  "And we don't have enough time to interview 
all of them."

She shook her head and stood up.  "Look, there's a 
Wendy's across the street.  I'm getting a spinach 
salad and I'm going to get you a Junior bacon 
cheeseburger, with extra tomato, and we'll split a 
Biggie Frostie.  And after you wake up from lapsing 
into a carbohydrate coma, we'll figure this out, 
OK?"

He nodded forlornly.  She kissed him on the lips 
and headed out the door.

He lay there a few more minutes, wallowing in self 
pity and misery.  Finally, he rolled off the bed and 
started for the bathroom.  Scully's laptop sat on the 
table, calling out to him.  He shook his head and sat 
down at the table, pulling up his email.  He had 
three messages from Frohike.  Licking his lips in 
anticipation, he opened them and read each one 
carefully.

Scully juggled the two sacks and tried to find her 
card key.  Finally, in exasperation, she just kicked 
the door.  She had to do it twice to get an answer.  A 
muffled 'I'm coming, keep your shirt on' came from 
the other side and she gave her partner a well-
deserved glare when he finally unlatched the door 
and let her in.

"I should give your sandwich to the homeless guy 
out on the curb," she grumbled as she handed over 
the silver foil wrapped burger.

"Scully, you won't believe what Frohike found," 
Mulder said excitedly, laying the burger on the 
dresser and pulling her over to the computer.  
"Check this out!"

The monitor displayed a website with a large, 
unflattering picture of William Burger and a big red 
circle and slash symbol over it like on do not enter 
traffic signs.  On the top of the page was the banner 
for the site:

"Die.die.die.Burger.die.com?" Scully read aloud.  
"My god, Mulder, this is serious!"

"Actually, it's only a joke, but it has serious 
implications, Scully," he told her, sitting on the 
corner of the bed while she took the chair and 
looked through the site.  "From what I can tell, this 
started out a fan site."

"With fan like these, who needs network 
executives?" Scully quipped.  "This doesn't sound 
like a fan site, Mulder."

"No, really.  Fans of the show created it.  They're 
just upset with Burger for some of the bone-headed 
-- their words, not mine -- things he's done in the 
last couple of seasons."

"What do you mean?" she asked, still clicking on 
pages and wincing.  "This is . . . this is vitriol."

"Oh, I'll agree it contains some bitterly abusive 
sentiments, Scully, but they are more than just 
'mere' fans.  These are people who are intelligent, 
who have become committed to this show and feel 
Burger has betrayed them."

Scully was studying the page closely.  "Who's 
Darina Wellman?"

Mulder nodded, a sure sign she'd hit on something.  
"The 'female' love interest of Penny Pennelli," he 
said with a satisfied grin.

"As in . . . ?" Scully asked with an eyebrow buried 
in her hairline.

"Lesbian affair.  Apparently Burger decided that 
Pennilli was bi.  But that was after Wilson, her 
partner, slept with her."

"That sounds more like daytime drama than a 
science fiction format show," Scully said in disgust.

"It gets better, there's a three-way in the works," 
Mulder grinned maniacally.  "Oh, and the February 
Nielsen sweeps week had a fantastic mud wrestling 
scene, from what I can gather."

"Now that's just soft porn!" Scully exclaimed.

"Yeah, but it's beating the crap out of the 
competition for the 18 - 35 year old male 
demographic!" Mulder shot back with a satisfied 
expression.

"So this fan site was created by female fans who 
feel Burger is only catering to one audience -- 'a 
bunch of crotch grabbing young males still living 
with their parents and dishing out fries at 
McDonalds'," Scully read from the page and 
crossed her arms.  "I can understand where they'd 
be upset."  She got up and pulled her salad out of 
the bag, bringing it back to the table.  "But does it 
mean they were angry enough to take action?" she 
asked of no one in particular.

"I'm going to do some more digging.  I already fired 
back some additional criteria for Frohike to search.  
I should know something more by morning," 
Mulder replied, finally grabbing his own sandwich 
and swallowing it in four bites.  "Where's the 
Frostie you promised me?"

"Still in the bag on the dresser, melting."  She 
pointed toward it with her chin.  "So what are you 
thinking?  We need to find out more about these 
fans?"

"I think that's the direction I'm heading in," he said, 
slurping up his rapidly melting milk shake.  He 
leaned over and offered her a spoonful, which she 
absently accepted.  "But in the meantime, I'm going 
to look around at the other sites like this one -- "

"There are more?" Scully asked, incredulously.

"Oh, Scully, there's a whole search engine dedicated 
to this stuff!  It's all over the net.  I'll probably be up 
late again.  Why don't you go to bed in the other 
room?  I'll be in later."

4:30 am

"Don't these people ever sleep?" Mulder wondered 
aloud as he rubbed his tired eyes.  He'd been in a 
chatroom for two hours, trying to find out what the 
'fans' were saying -- if anyone knew of Burger's 
disappearance.  But so far all they were talking 
about were husbands, children and laundry.  He 
doubled checked the name of the board to make 
sure this was a Y-F fan site.  He shook his head and 
then looked down the forum titles.  One was 
inconspicuously marked 'Saved Chats'.  He clicked 
on it.  There had to be thirty different postings.  
With a tired sigh, he went back to reading.

7:15 am

Scully was lying on a raft, in the middle of a pool of 
sparkling clear azure water when suddenly, a giant 
brown bird swooped down and landed hard next to 
her, almost spilling her off the raft.  It opened its big 
beak and cried:

"Scully, wake up, I found something!"  She tried to 
swat it away, but it suddenly came to her that the 
bird sounded exactly like Mulder.

"Scully, get the lead out!  C'mon!  I've got 
something here!"

She opened her eyes and the azure pool faded away, 
leaving a non-descript motel room with white walls 
and a mirror, which reflected the boyishly excited 
expression of her partner, currently bouncing up and 
down on her bed.

"Mulder, go 'way!" she grumbled.  She pulled the 
covers over her head and tried to find her way back 
to the raft on the that pool.

"That's not what you said the other night," he 
grinned manically.  "C'mon, Scully!"  Without 
further warning, he grabbed the sheets and blankets 
and pulled them all the way off the bed, leaving her 
exposed to the cooler air of the room.  "Don't make 
me get the ice bucket," he threatened.

She grabbed a pillow and was about to project it in 
his direction when what he'd said sunk through to 
her.  "Wait.  You said you found something?  
Something do to with the disappearance?" she 
queried.

"Oh, yeah.  and it's a doozy!  You have to see this, 
Scully!"

As she stood, his hand went to the small of her back 
and he escorted her into the other room.  He brought 
her to the small table and seated her at the 
computer.  She glared up at him and he smacked his 
forehead, then ran back into the room she'd been 
sleeping and returned with her glasses.  Giving him 
a sleepy grin, she donned the glasses and disabled 
the screen saver so she could see what he'd found.  
After several minutes of his pacing behind her, she 
turned around in the chair, an incredulous look on 
her face.

"Mulder, this can't be real," she said firmly.  "This 
is just some joke.  Like the website last night."

He grinned broadly at her.  "I knew you were going 
to say that, Scully.  But look at the evidence," he 
said, pointing to the computer screen.

"Evidence?  This is the transcript to a chat room," 
she replied dryly.  "And it sounds like it's a bunch 
of bawdy women!"

"Scully!  Look at what's in front of your face!  They 
did everything but sign the confession," he howled, 
throwing his hands up in the air.

She pulled her glasses off and looked at her partner.  
"Mulder, according to this, six women planned a 
kidnapping and just decided to leave it posted to the 
internet?  What kind of idiot would -- "

"Ones who never thought they'd be caught, 
obviously," Mulder supplied happily.  "Look, 
Scully, it may be a long shot.  But at the bare 
minimum, it's more than we've had to go on so far.  
I say we pack up and head to Tahoe, check out the 
area there and have DC subpoena the email 
accounts of Pennelli56, Bertluv, YFMom, LilY, 
Delores, and PGY.  We'll find out where they're 
located and see if there is any more incriminating 
evidence in their mailboxes."

Five miles outside Tahoe
3:30 pm

Mulder sat in the driver's seat of the rental car, 
chewing on a sunflower seed and staring intently at 
the pages he held against the steering wheel.

"Gee, I wonder why they didn't just include one of 
those maps from Mapquest," Scully said 
sarcastically as she glared at him.

"They gave pretty good directions up to this point," 
Mulder reminded her.  "I just can't tell where they 
go from here."  He scanned the small state route 
where they were parked on the shoulder.  "It would 
appear that there's a service road or something near 
here."

"Mulder, we just flew three hours to get here, we've 
been driving around for another hour and a half, we 
completely missed breakfast and lunch -- "

"I offered you some seeds, Scully," he chimed it.

Completely ignoring him, she continued, " -- and 
not to mention you have failed to provide AD 
Cassidy with a report today -- "

"I sent her a copy of the request for a subpoena," he 
interjected.

"And we're probably going to get our asses chewed 
out for that, too," she said as she finally 
acknowledged his comments.  "And for what, 
Mulder?  We're on a wild goose chase!"

"As we've done for the past 11 years, Scully," he 
said with a tender smile.  "As I hope to be for 11 
years and 11 more after that and on to the old agent 
home.  So why are you so uptight about this time?"

She shook her head, knowing there was no 
explaining herself to him.  Mulder was in his zone 
and he wasn't going to listen to reason.  "It we don't 
find this service road soon, it will be too dark to 
find anything," she pointed out.

"I promise, we won't miss dinner," he said, raising 
one hand with two fingers extended.

"Indian guide, Mulder," she huffed, but took the 
papers from his hands and read over them, then 
looked out the windshield at the surrounding forest 
land.  "What's that up there on the left?"

He peered out in the direction she was pointing.  
"Those two trees close together?"

"Just past them.  Is that gavel?" she asked.

"I think that's the trail of the elusive wild goose, 
Scully," he said with a brilliant smile.  "We'll have 
this all cleared up in time for a nice steak in Tahoe!" 

The road might have been a service road at one 
time, but that time was long past.  It was rutted and 
pockmarked, giving Scully the impression that it 
might have been a testing ground for land mines in 
the distant past.  Mulder managed to twist and jerk 
the wheel enough to keep them from falling in the 
larger holes, but the smaller ones were still enough 
to rattle their teeth.  She was just about to warn him 
of an enormous pothole just ahead when they hit a 
sharp object, followed by a loud pop.  Mulder 
fought the wheel, but to no advantage.  The driver's 
side tire went over the edge, almost tipping the car 
and they came to rest at the bottom of the rut.

"I think we have a flat," Mulder said after assessing 
that both of them were unharmed.

"I think we're about to miss dinner," she said with a 
scowl.

They exited the car, Scully being careful not to fall 
into the pothole and twist an ankle.  She gingerly 
stepped around the rocks and gravel to join Mulder 
at the back of the car.  He was looking at a point 
toward the front end.

"Is it flat?" she asked, but didn't expect an answer 
because it was obvious that was at least one of their 
problems.  Her partner nodded and then pointed to 
the front tire.

"Does that look a little odd?" he asked, moving 
toward the front tire.  When she moved around for a 
better look, she grimaced and then sighed.  The tire 
was not sitting at a natural angle.

"Looks like it broke the axle," she said with a tired 
shake of her head.

"Or at the very least, the ball joint," he supplied.  
"Well, I don't think we'll be able to drive this back 
to town.  We're going to have to call for a tow."  He 
pulled out his cell phone and held it up to his ear.  
After a few attempts to dial, he pulled up the 
antenna.  When he continued to fail, he calmly put 
the antenna down and pocketed the phone.  

She stood there, chewing on her bottom lip.  He 
looked over at her and held up one finger, warding 
off the tirade she was building.  Without a word he 
lowered the finger to point in a direction past the 
front of the car.  She shrugged and he started off, 
she followed hot on his heels.

"Mulder, where are we going?" she asked, after 
they'd walked several yards.

"To find reception," he tossed over his shoulder.

She looked at his back and shook her head.  Closing 
her eyes for just a second, to summon enough 
strength of will not to murder him, she ended up 
running right into him when he stopped abruptly.

"Did you hear something?" he asked.

They both stood as still as possible and listened.  
After a minute, Scully looked up at him.  "The 
wind?"

"No," he said with puzzled expression.  "It sounded 
like -- "

Off in the distance, Scully heard a low moan.  She 
jerked her head over to look at her partner.  "Like 
that?"

He nodded and took off at a trot toward the sound.  

"Mulder, it could be an injured animal," she 
reasoned, and pulled her weapon.

"No, Scully, that sounds like a human," he said, 
turning his head toward her.  "Hurry!"

They had to cut through the undergrowth for several 
feet, but finally they broke through into a small 
meadow.  In the middle was a ramshackle building, 
most likely part of an old lumber operation.  It had 
no windows, only one door and it was sporting a 
brand new padlock.

"Help!  Somebody, help me!!"  

Mulder looked over at his partner and then around 
the area.  They were very much alone.  He 
unfastened the clip on his holster and withdrew his 
gun, motioning toward the padlock.  

"Step away from the door," he ordered and waited a 
few seconds for the occupant of the shed to comply.  
He raised his gun, took aim, and precisely shot the 
padlock off the door.

"Good shootin', Tex," Scully teased and he wrinkled 
his nose at her.  She hurriedly opened the door.  The 
smell was a bit overpowering, even in the cool 
mountain air.  A man about Mulder's height, with 
dark brown hair that hung in a rather unkempt pony 
tail, came out of the shadows, squinting at the 
afternoon sunlight.

"Thank God, I thought no one would ever hear me," 
he exclaimed.  He took two steps and stumbled, so 
Mulder grabbed one arm and Scully the other.  They 
sat him down against the shed.  Scully knelt beside 
him and assessed his condition.

"Are you hurt?" she inquired as she looked into his 
eyes and took his pulse.

"Wow, bringing a paramedic!  Good thinking," he 
said breathlessly.

"Um, she's a doctor, and . . . never mind," Mulder 
said as he saw Scully's eyes turn icy blue over the 
man's unintentional faux pas.  "You wouldn't 
happen to be William Burger, would you?"

The man looked up at Mulder and nodded.  "Got 
anything to eat?" he asked with hopeful brown eyes.

Scully stood up next to her partner.  "He seems fine.  
He has a bump on the head, but there are no signs of 
concussion.  He appears slightly dehydrated and 
he's probably hungry."

"Damn straight," Burger replied.  "Now, where's the 
rescue wagon?"

Scully raised an eyebrow as she looked at Mulder, 
who found the grass of the meadow of sudden 
interest.  "Well, you see, Mr. Burger . . ."

"You do have a rescue wagon here, right?  An 
ambulance, maybe?  I've been trapped in that shed 
for four days, I stink to high heavens, I'm starved, 
I'm thirsty -- "

"Our car has a flat," Mulder said succinctly.

"And a broken axle," Scully added.

"Son of a b --- "

"Mr. Burger, we just need to find somewhere with 
some reception.  I can call a tow truck and 
emergency vehicles and we'll have you out of here 
in a jiffy," Mulder promised.

Burger didn't look impressed.  "So who the hell are 
you jokers?" he asked.

Mulder winced and produced his badge just as 
Scully was doing the same.  "I'm Agent Mulder, this 
is Agent Scully.  We're with the FBI."

Burger looked intently at both badges and 
identification cards, then at the agents in turn.  
"Fox.  That a stage name?"

Mulder sucked on his bottom lip and shook his 
head.  "No sir.  It's my given name."

"If you ever come out this way, I'd change it.  
Unless you want to go into porn -- "

"He's quite happy as an FBI agent," Scully 
interrupted angrily.  "Mulder, I suggest we find 
some reception, and let's make it snappy."

Burger managed to get to his feet and with some 
minor assistance, mostly from Mulder after he put 
his hand on Scully's hip one too many times, they 
made their way back to the service road.  The car 
was exactly where they'd left it.  Scully scanned the 
road in both directions.  "How far was it to the main 
road?" she asked Mulder.  

Helping Burger to sit on the edge of the back seat, 
Mulder looked back the way they'd come.  "About 
five miles, maybe a little more."

"He can't walk that far," she said with a sigh.  
"Maybe we should split up?"

He frowned and stared off in the distance the other 
direction.

"The road goes up.  Maybe there's clearer reception 
that direction," he offered.

"Mulder, we don't know what's up that way.  Just go 
back the way we came.  If you can't get any 
reception, maybe you can flag down a passing car to 
get help."

He looked over at Burger, trying to judge if the man 
was faking his weakened condition.  With a scowl, 
Mulder realized the guy probably was in bad shape.  
Was he in bad enough shape to leave with Scully, 
whom he'd already made one half hearted pass at?  
She had her gun, he decided, winning his internal 
debate.

"I'll be back as soon as I can," he told her.  His 
instinct was to grab her and kiss her goodbye in 
front of this latter day Lothario, but in the end he 
settled for an exchange of glances that told him to 
hurry back.

"So, you ever thought of taking a screen test?" 
Burger asked with a barely concealed leer the 
minute Mulder was out of sight.

Scully fingered the grip on her weapon, dug the tip 
of her tongue into the ridge of a back molar and 
prayed Mulder wouldn't be long.

4:45 pm

It was about an hour later when Mulder found that 
jogging on a rutted road in good leather shoes was 
not conducive to staying upright and in a forward 
motion.  He landed hard on his right knee, releasing 
a livid curse as his palm came down on a sharp 
rock.  "Son of a b -- "

He'd barely had a chance to pick himself up when a 
late model SUV came barreling down the service 
road, taking the potholes like they were ski jumps.  
He leaped to the side of the road to avoid become a 
hood ornament.  The vehicle proceeded down the 
road a few yards and abruptly came to a dead stop.  
In minutes two women were out of the front seats, 
running back to his aid.

The taller of the two, a woman with salt and pepper 
hair and wireframed sunglasses grabbed Mulder by 
the shoulders and spun him around.  "Ohmigod, I 
didn't expect anyone on this road!  Oh, I am so 
sorry!  Are you hurt, did you fall?  I didn't knock 
you down, did I?  Oh geez, will I have to report this 
to the insurance company?"

"Delores, you didn't hit him," said the other woman, 
a short, stocky blond with a bandana holding back 
her hair.  "He was standing up when we came up 
the road."

"That darned car is just too hard to stop," Delores 
said, shaking her head.  "I'm just so sorry!"

Mulder was getting his bearings, and stopped the 
woman from brushing the mud off his pants.  
"Really, I'm fine.  Like your friend said, I was 
standing up.  But I am glad to see you.  Our car 
broke down a few miles up the road and I really 
need some assistance."

Delores stood up and looked over at her friend.  
Both women bit their lips.  "Your car broke down?  
Why on earth would you be up here in the first 
place?" asked the blond.

"Tracy!  He doesn't have to tell us that," Delores 
said nervously.  "Tell you what.  We'll take you 
back to town -- "

"No, thank you," Mulder interrupted.  "I'm not 
alone.  My partner is up there with the car.  And we 
have a person who's been, well, injured.  He needs 
medical attention."  Mulder reached into his pocket 
for his identification.  "I'm an FBI agent.  I assure 
you, this is all on the up and up."

"Oh sweet je-zus!" Tracy exhaled.  Both she and 
Delores were looking at Mulder like he'd just been 
transformed into a king cobra.

"Did you say someone n-n-needed m-medical 
attention?" Delores stammered.

Mulder regarded her carefully, not sure what he was 
witnessing.  "Yes, a man.  I'm not at liberty to say 
what happened."

"Oh Mother of God!" Tracy shouted.  "I told you 
she wasn't kidding!"

"Tracy, please.  You're . . . scaring Agent, um, 
Miller here," Delores said timidly.

"That's Mulder, and can I ask why you two ladies 
were on this road?" he asked, tumbling the pieces 
together in his head and coming up with a definite 
headache.

Delores's face crumbled into tears, Tracy put a 
comforting hand on the woman's back as tears 
streaked down her cheeks.  "We better 'fess up, D."  
She looked up at Mulder.  "C'mon, Agent Miner.  
We'll take you back to your car."

Mulder didn't even attempt to correct the woman as 
she missed his name a second time.  He had a 
feeling the mystery of the missing 'creative 
executive director' was about to be revealed and he 
and Scully would have ring side seats.

It was a very quiet ride to the car.  Delores's 
shoulders were shaking and when she looked in the 
rearview mirror Mulder could see the tears 
streaming down the woman's face.  Tracy sat 
ramrod straight and stared out the windshield, but 
Mulder was pretty sure she wasn't seeing the forest 
primeval around them.  

Scully was pacing about ten feet away from the car 
when she heard the SUV coming up the road.  She 
looked at her watch in the growing dusk and 
wondered how long it would be before she saw 
food.  They still had to deal with the recently 
recovered Mr. Burger and it would be essential to 
gather as much forensic evidence as possible from 
his 'shed of captivity' before nearby wildlife decided 
to move in and make themselves at home.

The silver SUV pulled to a stop and Mulder got out 
of the car.  Delores and Tracy didn't move from the 
front seat.  They looked through the windshield at 
the person sitting sideways on the back seat of the 
disabled rental and all blood drained from their 
faces.  It was all the confession Mulder needed.  
"Ladies, would you mind stepping out of the car.  
And please keep your hands where I can see them."

Scully walked over to him, shooting him a 
perplexed look.  "Mulder, what's going on?"

"I need your handcuffs, Scully.  Oh, ladies, this is 
my partner, Agent Scully.  I believe you already 
know Mr. Burger, your captive, over there."  He 
said all this while snapping his cuffs on Tracy's 
wrists and holding out his hand to Scully for her set 
to snap on Delores.

"Mulder, who are these women?"

"I believe these women were coming up here to 
check on Mr. Burger, Scully.  And I'm willing to 
bet, they weren't intending to free him."

"We didn't intend to hurt him, honest," Delores said 
through wrenching sobs.  "We just, we just . . . we 
just wanted to make sure he couldn't screw it up any 
more . . ."

"Shut up, Delores," snapped Tracy.  She turned to 
the two agents.   "Are you going to charge us?  
Because we want to talk to our lawyer." 

Burger watched on, unfazed.  "Who are the old 
broads?"

Rockwater Bar and Grill
South Lake Tahoe, CA
11:21 pm

The Rockwater Bar and Grill was a beautiful little 
chalet building tucked on Emerald Bay Road.  The 
owner was a friend of Burger's and greeted the two 
agents with a warm welcome, even though the 
restaurant was technically about to close.  Burger 
insisted that dinner was on him, a thank you for his 
rescue as well as a personal thank you to Scully for 
helping him hold off the paramedics and avoid a 
trip to the ER to be checked out.

Mulder smiled as he cut into his perfectly prepared 
prime rib.  Dipping his morsel delicately into the au 
jus, he brought it to his mouth and moaned.

Across the table, Scully was having a hard time 
keeping the grin from her face.  Not only was her 
partner's boyish enthusiasm infectious, especially 
where the food was concerned, they had actually 
solved a case without injury to either of them.  It 
was a red-letter day all around.  She dug into her 
'Winter Spinnaker', a delectable salad of fresh 
spinach, red onion, fresh mushrooms and sliced egg 
all smothered in warm bacon dressing.  Mulder had 
convinced her to 'go the whole nine-yards' and get 
the additional grilled chicken breast.  After all, it 
was the first real meal she'd had all day.

"So, tell me again who nabbed me?" Bill Burger 
asked in between bites of his Rubicon Reuben, a 
sandwich fit for a recently released hostage.

"Your fans," Mulder mumbled around a mouthful of 
baked potato.  "Or rather, fans of the show."

"Bet that took some planning," Burger said 
thoughtfully.  "It sure seemed real at the time.  I 
thought I was gonna come face to face with E.T."

Scully gave him a tightlipped smile.  "Well, after 
Delores and Tracy were persuaded to cooperate -- "

"For reduced sentences," Mulder interjected.

" -- they gave up the other co-conspirators.  
Apparently there were seven women, six from the 
US and one from Australia involved in this 
kidnapping."

"Australia!" Burger exclaimed.  "I'm a god in 
Australia!"

"I guess you're considered an expendable god," 
Scully explained. 

"And they were just pissed off at what I'd done to 
the storyline?"

Scully swallowed the bite she'd been chewing and 
nodded.  "They weren't very pleased when you had 
the female agent get involved with the other 
woman," she continued.

"But the dudes all think that rocks!" Burger cried.  
"The show hit top 10 in the -- "

" -- 18 to 35 male demographics, yes, our 
investigation did show that.  But you see, Mr. 
Burger -- "

"C'mon, Dana, I told you to call me Bill.  Fox 
does."

Scully flashed a grin over to Mulder as he rolled his 
eyes.  "Well, Bill," she corrected, "you might 
reconsider your target audience.  Delores and Tracy 
made some convincing arguments for the loyalty of 
the over 30 female.  Not to mention, they tend to be 
employed at higher paying jobs and have more 
disposable income."

"Soaps," Bill intoned succinctly.

"I beg your pardon," Scully said hesitantly.

"Daytime soaps.  The old broads watch daytime 
soaps.  That's why all the tampon and feminine 
Rogaine commercials are found between the hours 
of 11 am and 3 pm."

"But Bill, that's pretty archaic thinking," Scully 
suggested.  "Most women work during those 
hours."

"Two words for you, Dana:  TiVo," Bill replied.

Mulder caught her attention and gave her a barely 
noticeable shake of his head.  "Well, at least you're 
safe and you can tell your staff where the last four 
pages of the script for the finale are."

"Are you kidding?" Burger said happily.  "Those 
are on the scrap heap.  I have a much better ending 
planned.  Think Pennelli, Wilson, and Wellman in 
an 8 by 8 foot shack in the mountains for four 
days!"

Scully choked, but Mulder covered for her.  He 
raised his water glass in a toast.  "Sounds like an 
sure bet Emmy to me."

Burger looked from one agent to the other and then 
a smile of recognition came to his face.  "Hey, 
weren't you those two FBI agents in that crappy 
Zombie Pope movie?"  

Epilogue

FBI Headquarters
Washington, DC
One week later

Mulder slammed the door hard, then remembered 
his partner had been behind him.  Sheepishly, he 
reopened the door, took her elbow and guided her 
into the office.

"Sorry.  But that bitch -- "

Scully raised a finger to his lips and pressed firmly 
in a totally unromantic motion.  Her own barely 
contained fury was shining brightly in her eyes.  
"Mulder, stop right there!  If you hadn't egged her 
on, AD Cassidy probably would have let us out of 
there with just our usual ass chewing."

"'Egged her on!'  Scully, all I did was try to remind 
her than _she_ was the one who gave us that 302 
which sent us on another trip to the forest!  We 
found the kidnap victim alive and well, made six 
arrests, cooperated with law enforcement in another 
hemisphere, and got seven confessions!  What in 
the hell does the woman want?"

"Apparently, she wants a report that doesn't read 
like E! or _Variety_," Scully said with a deep 
exhale.  

"Well, screw her!  When does Skinner get back?"  
He plopped down at his desk, propped his feet on 
the desktop and leaned back as far as he dared, 
which always had her waiting for the inevitable 
crash when he tilted back too far.

"Another two weeks, if we're really lucky," she said 
sadly.  She sat down at her desk, booted up her 
computer, and tried to get back to the journal article 
she'd been working on when Cassidy's call had 
come through.  After a few minutes, she noted that 
her partner was no longer slamming file drawers 
open and shut, but was very quiet at his own 
computer.  She left him be, but knew he was up to 
something no good.

After a half hour, her curiosity, and caution, got the 
better of her.  "Mulder you know if you sign 
Cassidy up to all those penis enlargement sites, 
they'll trace it back to your computer," she warned.

"Wouldn't think of it," he replied, not looking from 
his keyboard on monitor.

She regarded him for a moment and then got up 
from her desk and walked around until she was 
standing right behind him, in full view of his screen.  
He tried to hit the minimize icon, but was a second 
too late.

"Mulder!  What the hell are you doing?  Are you 
writing pornography on the Bureau computer?" she 
accused.

He crossed his arms over the keyboard and looked 
back at her over his shoulder.  "It's not pornography, 
Scully," he said haughtily.  "It's 'fiction'."

She pushed him aside for a better look at the screen.  
"Wilson, . . . Pennelli, . . . Mulder these people are 
from -- "

"It's called 'fan fiction', Scully, and there's a ton of it 
on the net.  Anything you could want, old shows, 
new shows, shows that have been recently 
cancelled."

"Like The Y Folders?" she interjected.

"Exactly!  It's a shame Burger decided to fold his 
cards after this little incident, but hey, the story 
lives on . . . just in another form."

"What do the words 'copyright infringement' mean 
to you, Mulder?" she asked, turning so she could 
perch on the corner of his desk.  After giving her an 
admiring once over, he smiled.

"I'm not making money off this and neither are all 
these other people."  He typed in a few keystrokes 
and up popped a long list of names.

"Ohmigod!" she exclaimed.  "All those people -- "

"It's incredible, Scully.  And it's all free!"  He went 
back to the first screen.  "Now, if you don't mind, 
I'm at an important juncture in the story," he told 
her and went back to typing, allowing her to read 
over his shoulder.

"Mulder, nipples don't 'perk', and that position you 
have them in is anatomically impossible," she told 
him with notable amusement.

"Oh yeah?  Well, let's do some research at home 
tonight and we'll just see about that," he replied 
with a very happy grin. 

the end