TITLE: Crypt
AUTHOR: Trifan (trifan_incognito@hotmail.com)
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: TA-Adventure/Angst
SPOILERS: None (for once!)
SUMMARY: Mulder is in a race against time to save Scully's life.
DISCLAIMER: The characters belong to someone else, not me. I am not 
profitting from this, I am just smitten with their lives and like playing 
around with them. They belong to Chris Carter, Fox and Ten-thirteen 
productions (to the best of my knowledge). No copyright infringement 
intended.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Scully tried to drag herself to consciousness. She had an early night and 
couldn't figure out why she was having such a hard time waking up. She 
turned over towards her alarm clock. Something wasn't right. She couldn't 
see it in the dark. Did the power go out? As her mind cleared, she realized 
that she couldn't even make out the faint light from the window. Something 
was horribly twisted in the world she was waking to.

The air was different. It didn't only smell different, the whole atmosphere 
was different. There was an echo to her breathing.  The air was stale 
somehow, musty. Her mind still fought a struggle for clarity. Her tongue 
felt thick.

*What's happening to me? Am I sick? Where am I?*

Her eyes widened, looking for some light source. She lifted her head in an 
effort to sit up. It hit with a thump on a ceiling that was too close. Her 
mind still couldn't make sense of what was going on. Her whole body felt 
very heavy. She couldn't see her hand in front of her face. Her heart rate 
increased with her mounting fear. Her respirations kept pace.

With every breath she took, she could hear it reflected back at her. She was 
in some sort of closed space.

*am I trapped?! an earthquake?*

The worst part of it all was that she could see nothing. She had no memory 
of how she got where she was. It was total disorientation. Panic accompanied 
the realization.

*think Dana think*

She reached out more frantically than she wanted to. Her arms flailed, 
hitting too-close walls. She wasn't in control of herself at all. Blindly, 
she reached up and traced the ceiling. It met a wall over her head. She 
moved her hands out to the sides and met another two walls. She pushed hard 
against the barriers. Her space couldn't have been more than three feet wide 
by two feet high. She moved down towards the bottom, hoping that that was 
the way out. Her bare feet felt the flat bottom of what she realized was no 
bigger than a casket.

Black panic rose furiously. Her wild search for some sort of opening was met 
by the cold hard steel walls of her prison. Her frenetic banging on the 
enclosure produced only muffled sounds to her ears.

"Hello? Can anyone hear me?" There was no sound, no light.

She couldn't keep her breathing under control. It had taken off on a race 
track all its own.

*focus Dana focus*

*ok, ok. where am I?*

Nothing. No matter how she twisted her thoughts, she couldn't wrap them 
around a logical explanation for where she was. She touched her eyes. Had 
she lost her sight? If so, where was she? With each dead end, she struggled 
to remain calm.

*this isn't happening, it can't be happening*

*think Dana think*

Analytically, she knew that her next step was to assess her situation 
completely.

*slow breaths, slow breaths, calm, reason*

*ok, now what am I trapped in?*

She reached up with shaky hands and felt methodically over and around her 
head. Her fingers smoothed the cold flat surface that surrounded her. She 
slowly felt around the floor she was lying on. It was covered by nothing 
more than a thin mattress. She was still in the same silk pyjamas that she'd 
worn to bed. Her memory was clear right up to the evening she'd read and 
then finally fell asleep. She continued her manual search, moving 
systematically down the space. Somewhere near where her left hip was, she 
felt a protrusion.

*a light switch*

The bright light did its job on the interior of the capsule. Scully squinted 
in its brightness. She was still basking in the appreciation of still having 
her sight, when she realized where she was. Her breathing rate shot up a few 
levels as she looked around her prison. The walls were made of sheets of 
steel. The corners were welded, but the edges around the top were not. She 
knocked on one of the sides. The thump was dull, telling her that the 
outside of her enclosure was packed solid by something. She looked up, about 
to try the same test there. Her eyes immediately focused on a message taped 
above her head. It looked casual, like something one would leave for a 
friend. Her name was written on the outside of the folded paper.

"DANA"

She froze with several levels of horrible realization flooding her at once.

*I am not here by accident*

*there may not be a way out*

*how long have I been here?*

Shaky hands struggled with the paper.

"Good morning Sunshine,

If my chemistry is any good, it's probably about 9 a.m. I am, of course, 
assuming that you found the light before too long. You're a smart lady, I'm 
sure you did. I hope that you aren't too uncomfortable. Relax and enjoy 
yourself.

Look on the bright side of things, you won't have to wait long. How long can 
one go without water?? How about the cold? What's it like to die of 
exposure? Smart doctor that you are, I am sure that you have all those 
answers. The question really becomes then, how smart is that pariah of a 
partner of yours? Can he figure it out? Can you survive till he does?

Just in case he doesn't, I have taken the liberty of burying you the 
requisite six feet under. I am quite sure that this will be an experience 
for you that will be life-altering, so to speak--every pun intended.

Somewhere in here should be your phone. You will find it or it will find 
you. You'll see that I have gone through the trouble of rewiring it to 
something a tad clumsy. You don't want to try and take it off though. I have 
it set up in such a way that if you try to remove the wiring, you will 
destroy the phone. Feel free to reach out and touch anyone you care to. You 
know how much juice your batteries have, that's how much talking time you 
get.

By your feet somewhere is a travel bottle for your bathroom needs. There is 
only one power source that works the light and the fan that feeds you oxygen 
through the vent at your feet. It will give you about 72 power hours. Of 
course that diminishes if you use the light at the same time. I'll leave 
that to your discretion.

I know that I am looking forward to the fun of watching all of this unfold.

Tell Fox that I said hi.

Joel Mullins"

The letter seemed surreal to her. Somehow, it seemed almost laughable. Like 
some twisted joke. Scully looked around her space. She couldn't see the 
phone anywhere. Panic gripped her again. This was real. The author meant 
what he said.

*what if he changed his mind about the phone?*

*jesus where is it*

As if on cue, she heard the ringing. She groped madly at the source, which 
was somewhere down by her feet. The tight space didn't give her a lot of 
maneuvering room and she panicked at the thought that whoever was on the 
other end would hang up. She found it lying under the thin mattress at the 
bottom of the crypt. She wondered how she had missed the lump its presence 
created.

Her captor hadn't been lying, there was a strange attachment on her phone. 
She didn't try to remove it. It was a heavy, awkward box that made handling 
the phone cumbersome. She took an eternity trying to find her engage button.

"Hello??" She tried hard to control herself, but deep down she wanted to 
begin screaming and never stop.

"Yeah, hey Scully, our plane's gonna leave without us. I'm about ready to 
break policy and flash my badge to buy us some time, but you know what a 
stickler for policy I am. Where are you?" His tone was light, singsong 
almost.

The reality of her situation was sinking in fast. They'd been scheduled to 
fly out to Montana on a consult. But it was not merely a matter of not 
making the flight, or missing the meeting. This surreal situation of the 
phone call was feeling more like the realization of some universal process 
to her.

This was a game that someone was playing with their lives. Again. When 
exactly had they become ground zero for every delusional psychotic fantasy 
the cosmos could throw out?

She was trapped in her own coffin, buried alive. Her partner was speaking to 
her and all she could do was stand in the moment, praying that none of this 
was happening.

"Scully...you there?"

She took several deep breaths, forcing a calm to her voice.

"Yeah, I'm here. I just don't know where that is Mulder."

She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Wh..what? you slept in? That's usually my...."

"Mulder someone... took me...someone has me, I'm in some sort of a box."

"What? With your phone?" He almost seemed to laugh the words out.  She 
didn't answer. He sobered quickly though when his mind began processing her 
odd voice pattern.

She was scared.

"What are you talking about? Took you where?" In his head, Mulder was trying 
to reconcile the words she was using to the casual nature of their usual 
conversations at this hour and the brightness of the airport surroundings.

She struggled to keep the fear from her voice as she spoke again.

"I'm underground....somewhere. I...I don't know where I am. I....woke up 
here." Her voice vibrated. She was shivering from a combination of cold and 
adrenalyn. "What's going on Mulder?"

Mulder dropped the bag he was carrying. He looked around. People were busily 
heading for their gates and flights. Her living nightmare suddenly kicked in 
for him, she was serious. He realized with the same suddenness that they 
were in very different worlds. Somehow the conversation all seemed so 
grossly out of place in a busy airport. This shouldn't be happening. His 
mind crashed into the reality of what she was saying. He moved sharply from 
"Mulder, friend and partner" to "Special Agent Fox Mulder".

"S'okay Scully. Tell me what happened, what you know." He joined her in the 
struggle to keep some sort of equilibrium to his voice. His mind was working 
the problem faster than conscious thought kept up.

"I don't know. I woke up in some sort of a box....it was dark." Panic crept 
into the outskirts of her speech. It relayed like a laserbeam to him. 
"um...I found a lightswitch. There was a note...and my phone. Judging from 
the indolent way my muscles feel and the chemistry reference in the note, I 
would say that I was drugged." She was trying to state everything factually, 
coldly, but it wasn't happening. He could hear her fighting for control. She 
was losing the battle.

"Scully, hang on. I'll find you. Tell me what the note said."

She read it to him. The effort of keeping her voice steady was almost too 
much for her. She fought a constant war with her urge to push madly against 
her confines. When she was done reading, she couldn't hear anything. For one 
panicked moment, she thought they'd been cut off.

"Mulder are you there?" His mind was working fast as he made his way back 
towards his car.

"I'm here. Scully, how much time do you have on the batteries in your 
phone?"

"I don't know Mulder..I...I....don't...." She puffed out a deep breath. She 
was losing it, the combination of cold and stark terror was pushing her into 
shock. He could hear her voice breaking down.

"Scully...stay with me, okay? I know it's hard, but I need your help with 
this. I am *going* to find you. You are going to be alright. Okay?"

She nodded but didn't answer. Her voice was a traitor she didn't trust.

"Now, I am going to have to hang up now. Things are going to be okay. I need 
you to just stay calm." He spoke with a composure he didn't feel, but he was 
glad that he could convey it to her.

"Right," she pushed out. She waited till he clicked off the phone, she just 
couldn't do it herself. It was more of a survival instinct than any kind of 
thought though.

=============================================

Minutes ran like hours into the void of the box. She turned off the light 
out of self-preservation. All she could do was wait. She pictured what 
Mulder was up to. He was probably on his way through traffic back to the 
bureau, on the phone mobilizing resources for her. She knew with great 
conviction that he would make her the hub of the universe until she was 
safe.

*they will find me, he will find me*

The air still had that same musty, moist feel to it that she'd awakened to. 
She was still cold. Her captor hadn't felt it prudent to leave her a 
blanket. That thought sent a shiver right down into her soul where she was 
starting a profile of her own.

*he's trying not to care if I live or die*

Normally, that would seem self-evident. However, in the cases she worked, 
she knew that even the bad guys have a heart somewhere deep down. The person 
who did this had some sliver of compassion, but only a sliver. Total 
psychopathic personalities could kill without any feelings of remorse, but 
they usually did it quickly. And they were rare. He wasn't one of 
those...after all, he'd left the travel bottle and quasi-mattress for her. 
That isn't something a totally emotionally detached person would do. It was 
an empathetic gesture that she clung to. That was about the only good news 
though.

*he's trying to think of himself as good and justified, but revenge is what 
this is all about*

He'd not left her any food or water. He was non-committed to torturing her. 
In other words, she was only of consequence to him as a means to an end.

*he's thorough*

She knew that this was something that had been planned for a long time just 
by the complexity of her arrangement. Whatever injustice he was perceiving 
was well-cultivated by him. He'd turned some real or imagined wrong in his 
life into this purgation.

*probably a male*

The typical profile for this type of planning would suggest male. Even just 
from the strength it would take to dig the hole, fetch her from her bed and 
put her in it.

*probably mid-thirties to early-forties*

Violent criminals in their twenties tended to be more impulsive, less 
organized. Older criminals weren't usually in the shape it would take to do 
this. Not that the older generation wasn't in shape, just that their social 
deviants usually weren't. They also tended to take care of their victims in 
a more timely fashion and dispose of them in a less dramatic way.

*he's of above average intelligence*

'Nuff said, considering the circumstances. This was all a game to him. It 
was clearly a game of who was the smartest in the class.  One that he would 
slant in his favor as he saw fit.

*he wants to get caught*

This was all about taking down the bureau's smart boy. She was sure of it. 
For some reason her abductor needed to show that he was better than Mulder 
and gloat about it. In the end, he needed Mulder to know who had gotten the 
better of him and would make that quite clear. Unfortunately, that would 
probably be after he'd accomplished his feat here.

*okay, so who could that be?*

She groaned inwardly as she realized that it could be any one of about a 
thousand people that had been exposed or upstaged by Mulder. When you are 
good at a job in law enforcement, you don't make a whole lot of friends 
outside the organization.

For that matter, Mulder didn't make a whole heck of a lot within the bureau 
either. She used to try to help him fit in. Then she realized that he would 
have succeeded at playing by the book for her sake but that she didn't want 
that. Not in the least. The part of him that she admired the most was the 
part of him that was willing to walk recklessly out onto that limb, chancing 
the fall but basking in the risk for something greater.

Just then the phone rang into her thoughts.

"Mulder?"

"How are you doing Scully?"

"The real question here is how are you doing with this? Where are you?" She 
was much more in control. The disorientation had dissipated somewhat.

"I'm at the Bureau. Skinner's organizing things here. We'll get to you."

She couldn't say anything to that. She believed him. She found herself 
shivering uncontrollably again.

"Who could be doing this? Who's Joel Mullins Mulder?"

"We're into that right now. But the name isn't familiar at all."

"It rings some vague bell for me. Could it have been an X-file we worked 
on?"

"I don't think so, but we're onto it. Your phone Scully, how long do you 
have?"

"Not 72 hours worth."

"I need you to read me the note again. Tell me about it, any capital letters 
out of place...anything you notice about it at all. Describe it in as much 
detail as you can."

She did so, even trying to describe the paper and style of penmanship to 
him. She pushed the words out through chattering teeth. When she was done 
she once again put out the light.

"You're shivering."

"I'm cold."

He grimaced at that thought. If she was cold now, how much colder would she 
be when the fan was pushing the cooler night air inside? They kept the 
connection open for a few minutes, neither saying much. They both knew that 
this all had to work out, that her very life depended on Mulder's ability to 
reason. She listened as he interacted with bureau personnel.

"Mulder?...um... did you call my mom?"

"No...no Scully. Did you want me to?"

Truth is, he wouldn't have been able to talk to her. His life had interceded 
hers in the most painful ways since he'd started his partnership with 
Scully. He was pretty sure that whenever she heard his voice, her 
conditioned response was a rush of adrenalyn and the ensuing panic.

"Please don't," she sighed. "I....don't think that I want her knowing about 
this right now."

Mulder was more than a little relieved by her request. It could only have 
come from her. In truth, she didn't want to visit the horror that Mulder was 
going through on her mother. In some strange way, Mulder was more prepared 
for it. Maybe it was because there was actually something he could 
constructively do about it all.

And right then, she still believed that it was all a matter of time before 
he found her.

"Mulder, did the NCIC show anything?" He was lost in thought.

"Hmm?"

"Mullins....was he on there?"

"All seven of him in the Maryland area alone, that's crossing the DMV as 
well though." She could tell even over the phone that he was staring at the 
maze of information in front of him.

"Any possibilities? Talk to me Mulder, tell me what you're seeing."

"I am trying to figure something out, hang on."

This was silly. She couldn't sit on the phone the entire time with him. They 
couldn't afford the power drain on the battery. She knew that he only wanted 
to reassure her. If anything though, it was making her more tense at not 
being able to see what he saw.  She could feel her emotions rising from deep 
within again.

"Look, why don't you call me when you have something."

That pulled him out of his vein of thought. Her voice had sounded more 
irritated than she'd meant to.

"Scully, I'm sorry. I am just running through the faces."

Although he was finding it bridling and even distracting to be on the phone 
with her, he didn't want her to feel as alone as she was. She knew this 
though and countered with her own thoughts about what this was doing to the 
investigation.

"Mulder, I am fine here. I will call if things get to me. Look, you need to 
be free to follow your hunches without the distraction of a phone to your 
ear."

"I'm okay with it, besides, I am used to having your ear all day and your 
voice in my thoughts."

"Mulder I'm fine. Just work this out and come get me, okay?"

She clicked off the world in that button then. She exhaled loudly.

*now what?*

It wouldn't be long, she reasoned. He was good at his job and there wasn't 
anyone that she would rather was working at solving the mystery. Her body 
was shivering again. She rubbed her own arms in an effort to warm them up. 
She drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them to her. She was scared, 
really scared. Her voice of reason tried impotently to console her.

Her mind was traveling the "what ifs" again. She pushed them down as quickly 
as they surfaced. He would find her. She knew it. It always happened that 
way, didn't it?

She stared at the darkness. She could hear the tiny whir of the fan. She 
tried to pretend that she was in her own bed, but her every sense betrayed 
that fantasy. The smelly air, the uncomfortable mattress and the cold all 
permeated her mind with a resoundingly negative feeling. Her thoughts 
drifted in and out of the matter at hand. Who was Joel Mullins? That name 
somehow seemed familiar to her.

It wasn't a name that she'd used....it was one that she'd read somewhere.

*well, if his name was in the media, it would be easy enough to find*

Like a splinter in her mind, it bothered her.

==========================================

Mulder hardly betrayed his cool exterior. Not many people could recognize 
the chaos going on inside. Most of the agents around him on this 
investigation wondered just how much he cared about his partner. He worked 
at the situation without the bow to emotion that most people would have. If 
Scully were there, she would see right away the singlemindedness that was 
his way of dealing with his feelings. The intense emotion would come later, 
when it was safe to do so without prying, satisfied eyes. He had been 
ostracized for so long, he wouldn't give anyone at the bureau any peak at 
his inner workings anymore.

No one except Scully. But he didn't really think of her as a different 
entity than himself anymore. They were too close these days for that.

The agents in the room were brainstorming. They resented Mulder's presence 
regardless of the fact that it was his partner's life on the block. He 
resented theirs, but he also acknowledged that he needed someone to do the 
leg work.  He didn't care what any of them thought, as long as they would 
help in the search for his partner. Everyone knew this and that was the 
nature of their resentment.

Mulder was incredibly intelligent. Part of why he solved things so easily 
was because he didn't play by the rules. He didn't follow any sane trail of 
thought. Like in his quest for answers on the paranormal. That was pretty 
much the basis for his exile from polite bureau society. No one wanted to 
believe. But everyone knew his genius was untouched. That was the very 
reason the hierarchy tolerated him so long. It didn't make him popular with 
most of the bureau though.

At one point when AD Skinner had left the room, Agent Nettle had wandered 
over and mentioned to one of the other agents (within Mulder's earshot of 
course) that perhaps if they could make contact with the aliens, they could 
put in a request to have her brought back...again. Mulder all but ignored 
him. He was used to it. If Nettle kept pushing the right buttons though, 
Mulder could easily reveal his underlying frustration to him in an up close 
and personal way.

The growing group had settled on several game plans and Mulder had a purpose 
now. He moved to a telecommunications building not far from the bureau. He 
rang through to Scully's number.

"Scully, it's me. I have someone here that I want you to talk to." He handed 
his phone over to another gentleman in the room.

"Agent Scully, this is Max Kendall. I work out of DC Telecommunications. 
Your partner let me in on your situation. I think I may be able to help."

"Okay, what can you do?"

"Well, it's as simple as triangulating your location using the signal that 
your cell phone is giving us. The Wireless Location System, or WLS, has been 
set up for some time to help locate 9-1-1 calls made from cell phones. We're 
just gonna use it now to work out your location."

"That sounds too easy."

"A walk in the park from here."

Hope rose sharply inside Scully. Kendall was busy working at his terminal. 
Mulder watched as the screen showed the signal coming down to them from some 
unknown source whose coordinates kept changing. The numbers would appear, 
then change. The sequence seemed random. After what seemed like an eternity, 
Scully could hear them talking, but couldn't make out what was being said.

"Kendall? Mulder?"

"Agent Scully, we're having some trouble here. We may have to try something 
else."

"Why, what do you mean?"

"It looks like whatever he's got you hooked to, your signal is being 
scrambled. Can you describe what's attached to the phone?"

She turned on the light. The brightness hurt her eyes for a moment. She 
squinted and pulled the phone away to look at it a little more carefully.

"It's a black box about 8 inches square, I would say. It's covering is made 
of plastic. It's attached to the phone by duct tape of all things. It's very 
heavy. Just let me take off the tape."

Instantly, they lost the signal. Mulder stared at the screen that had 
captured her call. "What the hell happened?"  The connection was broken. 
Mulder grabbed the phone off Kendall.

"Scully?!"

It was dead. He frantically pushed in his speed dial connection to her.

She didn't bother with any kind of greeting. "Sorry, I must have 
disconnected as I was removing the tape."

Mulder breathed a sigh of relief down to his soul. He had thought they'd 
lost his only connection to her. He was afraid that she had somehow tampered 
with a safe-guard that Mullins had attached.

"Mulder?"

"Yeah, I'm here. I'll give you back to Kendall."

"So what are we looking at Agent Scully?"

"Like I said, a black box. It has two wires going out of it and into the 
phone at the bottom. I can't see a way to get the box open, it's like it's 
moulded around whatever's inside. I don't...."

"It's a cheesebox."

"A what?"

"A cheesebox. It continually resends the signal. It makes it very hard, if 
not impossible to triangulate. Um...." he exhaled loudly. "There are other 
things I can do to help here. Uh...let's see."

He was working again at his terminal.

"Tell me what kind of phone you have."

"It's...uh...a Nokia 6160."

"And was the battery charged?"

Scully exhaled loudly. "Not fully. I believe that I used up about a half 
hour on it before this morning."

"Ok, then I would say that you have between 2 and 2 1/2 hours of talk time 
left. The other thing I want to try is accessing your MIN and ESN."

"Care to translate that for me?"

"It's two sets of numbers that identify you to the cellular company. If I 
know the numbers, I can trace the call that way too. Hang on."

Kendall hadn't helped put her mind at ease. Time just seemed to tick by her. 
She found herself again resisting the urge to hang up the phone and conserve 
the battery.

"Okay, I got them. We'll work the system here and see what we can come up 
with."

Again, she could hear voices. This time she could discern the frustration.

"Scully?" It was Mulder. "We're going to keep trying here."

"My guess would be that's Mulderese for 'it didn't work'." Her voice sounded 
every bit as disappointed as she felt.

"Kendall says he must have a digital spread spectrum that's interfering. 
We're not giving up here, you shouldn't either. But I think that we should 
disconnect and conserve the battery. Are you going to be okay?"

*of course I am going to be ok! I am only locked in a subterrainian crypt 
the size of my bathtub with no food or water*

"I'll be fine."

Scully snapped off the phone then. She turned off the light and could see 
the faint glow of the display on the phone. She decided that she should turn 
the phone right off. She was suddenly feeling as though she would need every 
piece of power left in that battery and didn't want it wasted. She was all 
alone in the dark again.

She was not in control of her mind when it moved to her knowledge of what 
would happen to her if he didn't find her. She knew that if exposure 
wouldn't claim her, it wouldn't be dehydration she would die of either. If 
she was six feet underground and the vent shaft didn't have a diameter of 
more than 10 inches or so, she was going to suffocate to death when the fan 
went. There was no two ways about it. And she doubted that it was more than 
about 6 inches wide.

She tried to estimate what time it was. She knew that the first phone call 
was around 9:30 a.m. Their flight was scheduled for a 9:40 a.m. departure. 
Had it been hours since then? When had Mullins taken her? How many hours? 
She couldn't tell. For her, time wasn't making any kind of sense. She 
guessed it to be around early afternoon, just from the time it would have 
taken Mulder to do the things that he had.

*seventy two hours less eight (give or take) is....*

She didn't want to think about time anymore.

She knew all about the effects of sensory deprivation. Memory loss and a 
lowering of the IQ were just the small things. Withdrawal, hallucinations, 
abnormal electroencephalogram were are all the result of this deprivation. 
Scully consciously tried to exercise her mind. Unfortunately, it would only 
go in one direction.

*stimulation from uninhibited movement, providing the brain with tactile, 
vestibular and proprioceptive feedback stimulation from the body's 
extremities is the only release from that*

She began to softly cry in the darkness. She wanted out. She wanted Mulder 
to come and get her. She wanted to hear him digging at the dirt above her. 
She wanted to see the relief in his face and feel his strong arms around her 
as he consoled her and she put up the brave front they both knew was a 
farce. She couldn't stop her thoughts. She wept uncontrollably.

Finally, she did the only thing that she could do under the circumstances, 
she tried to drift off to sleep.

==================================================

Skinner had had a rough day. And it didn't look like it would be over 
anytime soon either. Mulder was having a sterling day driving pretty much 
every department at the bureau crazy.  Forensics hadn't turned up anything 
at Scully's apartment. So Mulder sent them back to go over it again. They 
took this as more than a professional insult.  Skinner found himself 
mediating the event. He didn't think that they had missed anything, but he 
believed that Mulder would solve this if anyone could and if he thought that 
a second go-round was needed, then Skinner would back him on that. That 
didn't stop him from pulling Mulder into a sidebar though as he was leaving 
the office.

"Mulder, can I have a word with you?"

"I don't have the time for this." Mulder knew what the basis for the 
conversation would be. It would star him as the errant agent and Skinner as 
the chatising Assistant Director.

"I suggest you make time for it Agent." His voice held that ominous tone 
that told Mulder that he could very well lose his position as head of the 
investigation. He didn't want to lose that, so he stopped his walk towards 
the hallway and turned around.

"I have every confidence in your abilities as an investigator. But I need 
you to understand that if you want people doing their best in this, you have 
to treat them with a little more respect."

"He didn't just magically appear in her apartment! They said that there were 
no signs of entry at all. I don't even have a key. Now, how does someone 
gain access to a residence without a trace? Without leaving a print, without 
a hair, with nothing...it doesn't make any sense. They need to re-question 
the tenants..."

"I am not talking about the forensics team, although that's a part of it. I 
am talking about you looking over everyone's shoulders on this, second 
guessing and double checking everyone. At some point you have to trust 
people."

He looked sharply at Skinner with a meaningful look that said he trusted no 
one. Skinner sighed and pushed his hands deep into his pockets.

"I've given you free reign on this investigation, which is hardly protocol. 
I think we both know that. I did it because I know that you are good at what 
you do. But you aren't doing anyone any good by rubbing everybody the wrong 
way."

"Are we done here?"

"No, we're not." His words were falling on deaf ears. Mulder was looking 
tired and drawn. Skinner sighed heavily. "Have you even had anything to eat 
all day?"

Mulder was stunned by the question. His reaction was one of anger.

"Are you going to take me down to the cafeteria and buy me dinner? And do 
you want to be the one to talk to Scully while we eat?" He held out his 
phone towards the assistant director.

"You're out of line. Self-deprivation isn't helping her and she would be the 
first to agree with me on that."

Mulder just shook his head and headed off down the hallway. He turned into 
the washroom at the end. He was grateful that the room was deserted. He 
splashed water onto his face and immediately felt a pang of guilt. She 
didn't even have water to drink, let alone to wash up with. He caught his 
image in the mirror. He wondered, not for the first time, what he had done 
to put them in this predicament. He grabbed the edge of the sink and took 
some deep breaths. He beat down the urge to just sink to the ground and cry.

They'd tried everything with respect to finding the signal. The only other 
thing that they could try was to disconnect the scrambler. Kendall had told 
him that without tools and knowledge of how a phone worked, he was doubtful 
that it could be accomplished. The perp obviously knew his electronics and 
Scully would be no match for that. That would have to be their absolute last 
hope.

He had chased the name Joel Mullins around since about 3 p.m. and hadn't 
gotten any further ahead. He had agents going through his files, looking for 
the name. It wasn't getting them anywhere fast.

The evening was wearing ever onwards. He worried about the cold for her. He 
stared at his phone a moment before trying her number. The recording told 
him that she was not available. Fear froze the core of his being.

=========================================

Scully awoke with a start. Her rest hadn't really been one at all. She 
didn't know how much time had elapsed, but she did know that whatever state 
she'd been in had not really been sleep. It had been a sort of waking sleep. 
  Her mind was very disorientated. She could tell that it was colder inside 
the capsule and she summised that she'd slipped into a level just below 
consciousness. That fear sent a rush of much-needed adrenalyn to her. She 
drew her arms and knees closer to her core again in a effort to generate 
some warmth.

A memory rushed at her. She suddenly realized that she had left the phone 
turned off. She hadn't meant to leave it for more than a little while. How 
long had it been?

She grabbed at it in the dark. For a moment she forgot that she'd taken the 
tape off and her efforts pulled at the wires. Fear mounted with the 
realization that she might have damaged the connection. She found the 
lightswitch and took a good look. Relief flooded her when the display lit up 
with a push of a button. She pulled the tape down from where she'd stuck it 
earlier and retaped the box as best she could to the phone. She activated 
the speed dial.

Mulder was in the operations room with two other agents. They were looking 
over the profile he'd written and trying to come up with a general list of 
who might have had it in for Mulder and fit the profile. The other agents 
had all gone home for the night. The new shift was on its way in.

"Scully?" She could tell in that one word that he was worried, guilt washed 
over her.

"Yeah, it's me."

"Geez Scully, what happened?"

"I turned off the phone. I...guess I wasn't thinking properly."

He didn't react. She could tell that he was trying hard not to show his 
frustration and anger at her. This suddenly had the effect of making *her* 
angry. Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"Okay then..." Mulder forced out a little stronger than necessary. He was 
trying not to make an issue of it but the truth was that she'd scared the 
life out of him. He had done nothing but pace and snap at people all 
evening. He felt as though he was getting nowhere closer to finding her.

"Have you made any progress?"

"I've worked up a good profile, but I don't think that's helping us get to 
you any faster."

He had to bite his tongue from sharing the things with her that he usually 
would. Mainly, his frustration over the lack of forward motion in the 
investigation. He said too much already in that one comment. He didn't want 
her feeling anymore stuck than she was already.

"How are you doing in there?"

"Well, my throat could use some moisture. On the other hand, I feel totally 
debased at having to use the only available facilities. I am in sore need of 
a bath just to purge the memory of it all. I am having visions of being 
found years from now in the one state of decay that makes identifying bodies 
an odontological process. Otherwise, not too bad."

She felt guilty suddenly about having laid this on him, so she opted to 
lighten things up for them both.

"You know, I am going to make you buy me dinner when you find me. And not 
one of those cheap hamburger places you like to spring on me. Something 
nice, like maybe 'Angel's'. The longer you take, the more time I am going to 
have to think of a more expensive place."

Mulder forced a smile. "I guess that I better get to you soon then or I'll 
end up needing to cash in some stocks. How about the 'Beefeater'?"

She wrinkled her nose up. "You know that I am trying to cut out red meat 
Mulder."

"Hasn't anyone told you, it's not the red meat you need to avoid, it's the 
fuzzy green stuff?"

They were both trying for some normalcy. Their wit wasn't hitting the same 
marks that it usually did though. Instead it was having the effect of making 
them miss one another all the more. Scully's voice softened then.

"So...tell me what you've learned. The good and the bad Mulder. Did they 
turn up anything at my apartment?"

He gave a tired sigh.

"No, there wasn't anything there. No signs of entry, not even a pick-mark 
and that has me puzzled.  A key would be the only logical entrance. That 
would shine the light of suspicion on your landlord, or anyone who would 
have had access to his master set. But I don't get the feeling that that is 
going anywhere. I have pretty much eliminated all of the Joel Mullins in the 
area. And nearly exhausted most of our ability to track your signal. But I 
am pretty certain that the profile I worked up is bang on and the guy will 
contact me. We're ready for that. Other than that, my eyes are aching from 
all the reading I've done."

Something snapped in Scully then.

"The *what* you've done?"

"Reading....I've gone over--"

"Mulder, that's it!"

"What's it?"

"You never read the book I gave you for your birthday, 'Dangerous Call'"

Was she delusional now?

"Uh...no Scully, I haven't read it..."

"Well, too bad. It's a good book, a psychological thriller about a detective 
who was stalked by another detective. Joel Mullins was the stalker Mulder. 
He was the character in the book I bought you."

Realization dawned on him then. Hope sprung a well in him then.

"Oh Scully, have I told you how I love it when you do that?"

She laughed, it almost felt like she was right there beside him.

Almost.

"I've been having a love affair with your frontal lobe for years Mulder, 
it's about time you noticed me."

He was moving out of the operations room and down the hall towards Skinner's 
office.

"Yeah, well if only you'd have taken that affair to a more physical plane, 
I'd have noticed," he teased.

While on the phone this time, it felt to both of them that things were 
somewhat the way they should be, their voices in each other's ears. It 
seemed macabre that they could joke with death circling like a vulture, and 
yet it was that ability to stay light that allowed them the hope they both 
needed.

"....look, I am going to hang up now, you stay warm. It won't be long now."

She felt another adrenalyn high. They were both feeling good about the 
connection. Bits and pieces were falling into place.

*it wouldn't be long now*

Could it really be someone at the bureau? It made an incredible amount of 
sense. How many times had her keys been in her coat pocket left downstairs 
at the Bureau? How many times had Mulder's? Somehow whoever it was had 
gotten an access to her place that left no traces. They also somehow knew 
about the connection of the book at Mulder's. Keys could be how they'd done 
it. The book was not coincidence. Working with Mulder, she had come to 
believe that there were no coincidences. She searched her brain trying to 
remember the book.

It was the story of a detective whose nemesis happened to be another 
detective in the precinct where they both worked. Mullins became so jealous 
of detective Carter's rise in the ranks that he kidnapped his wife in an 
effort to outsmart him. In the end the wife had died. But so had Mullins.

*what was her name again?*

It only made vague sense to her. Mulder hadn't risen anywhere. He hadn't 
done anything that could be perceived as climbing the ladder. Whoever 
Mullins was, it had to be someone who was jealous of Mulder. But why? There 
was hope now though. Real hope. This was their first big break in the case. 
But was it enough? Given a week or more, they could have solved it, she was 
sure. Life wasn't going to be that generous to them this time though. She 
began shivering again.

As the adrenalyn wore off, she realized the dire straights she was actually 
in. If she fell asleep, she could very well die of exposure. How could she 
*not* fall asleep though? It was dark, she had no distractions. She was 
hungry, she was tired.

It was about that time that Mullins called.

================================================

Mulder nearly ran into Skinner's office. Kimberly wasn't at her desk, having 
left some time after dinner. The entire bureau had all but emptied out for 
the night. Skinner had stayed around, offering help and access as needed.

"It's someone within the Bureau," he said with great conviction.

"What?"

"Joel Mullins is a character in a book that Scully gave me. He sets about 
tormenting another detective."

"And you think that would mean that it would have to be another agent?"

Mulder cocked his head slightly with an expression that indicated that it 
would fit with what the profile said.

"This isn't going to go anywhere outside this office Mulder." Skinner was 
still concerned with the way the others on the investigation were reacting 
to him.

"I understand that--it's worth a look though, wouldn't you say?" Skinner 
nodded. "Did anyone ask to be brought onto the case?"

"Yeah, but that's not uncommon when it's one of our own. Several agents in 
fact. Messier, Germain, Olive, Simms...."

"Nettle?" Mulder rolled the name around in his head. "What about Nettle?"

"You mean Agent Nettle, the one that works in white-collar crime? He isn't 
in on this."

"He was there this afternoon." He gave Skinner a meaningful look. Skinner 
picked up the phone. "My money is on him."

"Keep your money, I'll have him brought in to answer a couple of questions."

"No, don't do that, let's just go get him. Scully could be somewhere 
nearby...we'll need to get to her."

Skinner put down the phone and reached for his coat.

======================================================

"Give me good news Mulder."

She heard a quiet chuckle on the other end.

"Who is this?"

"It's Agent Nettle, Ed Nettle."

"Where's Mulder?" She wasn't sure why, but the voice on the other end made 
the small hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"Just thought that you would want to know what's going on up here. I can see 
your partner inside my house right now." Realization dawned in Scully. "Tell 
me Dana, is this frustrating? I am sure that he misses you. I watched the 
two of you for a long time before this. I know you are both one another's 
weakness. How do you think he's holding up under all of this? Not well. In 
fact, I am going to give him a call. But not now. I'm not stupid. Now that 
he knows that I have him beat, he isn't going to be feeling very well."

"Why are you doing this?" she breathed out.

He snickered at the question. "I am sure that you've figured that all out. 
It won't help him find you though. You won't be found, it's as simple as 
that. You are going to die right where you are. Only then will I tell him 
where he can find you."

"Why would you do that? What have we ever done to you?"

"It's not you, it's him. And it's not what he did, it's what he didn't do. 
Millstone, Maryland."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

The only connection they had to Millstone was three years ago when Skinner 
had requested Mulder's help with a profile. He'd been gone for a week. There 
had been an abduction of a woman and young girl. Mulder's profile had helped 
find the guy responsible. But not before he had tortured and murdered the 
two victims and killed himself.

"I don't understand. What was your connection to that case?"

"The girl was my daughter. A daughter that was taken from me by her mother. 
The bureau wouldn't help me locate her. They said it was a matter for the 
courts and local police. And I got to find her all by myself. Do you know 
how that happened? I was filing the work. Do you know what that felt like? I 
was a clerk back then. I didn't even know where she was. I just opened the 
folder and there the pictures were. She was dead, just like that.

"Don't you think it's strange that your partner seems to figure everything 
out so damn well? But that he only puts himself into the vague garbage of 
paranormal mumbo jumbo? What a waste! Then when he could really be useful, 
he's out of practice. Do you know how that feels? People are taking a back 
seat to aliens and ghosts! I guess that he'll be hurting after this, won't 
he?"

"Ed, listen to me. Mulder did the best he could back then. It made him sick 
that he didn't get--"

"Don't tell me he was sorry! Don't even try and tell me that! Sorry....he'll 
be sorry." Scully could tell by the edge in his voice that he was deeply 
psychotic. It all just seemed like some bad movie script.

"Killing me won't help her Ed. She will still be dead and you will still be 
alone."

"Yeah, but it will be some consolation that I won't be the only one alone."

With that he hung up. Scully knew that Nettle only called her so that she 
would in turn call Mulder with a dramatic plea for help. If he thought that 
Scully would break down and crumble, he hadn't been watching her enough. She 
wouldn't cater to her emotions, yet she needed to convey the information. 
Scully was shaking as she pushed Mulder's number.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, it's me. Nettle called me. He's somewhere nearby. He's watching 
you."

Mulder raced out the front door, explaining to Skinner what was going on as 
they ran out into the yard. Their eyes searched the dark neighborhood, 
looking for any cars or signs of life. All was quiet. They both knew that it 
would be impossible to find him in the dark like this, but still they kept 
looking.

===========================================================

Scully was giving in to her fear. She wanted to get out so badly.

*please God. You know that I have been trying. I've always looked to You for 
guidance. I need your help to stay in control. I don't want to think about 
dying right now. I have so much that I still want to do....so much that I 
have to do. please...*

She had felt the coldness in Nettle's voice though. She knew that even if 
Mulder caught up with him, he would not cave in on time to get her out. She 
still clung to a thin thread of belief that maybe she was somewhere around 
his house and that maybe Mulder would find her. She knew that Nettle had 
been so certain that she wouldn't be found. More certain than he could have 
been if she'd been within Mulder's grasp.

Once again, all she could do is wait.

And try to stay warm.

============================================================

Extreme frustration would adquately characterize what Mulder was feeling. He 
wanted to physically hurt someone or something. He was a powderkeg waiting 
to for a spark.  They put out an APB on Nettle but they knew that the 
chances of finding him were going to get more and more remote as time wore 
on.

They searched the entire area for any clues as to where she was buried. A 
team worked through the house, looking for anything that would tie him to a 
place he could have done some digging. The best they could come up with was 
the fact that he had rented a backhoe four days ago and hadn't returned it. 
That didn't give them a location.

Mulder had called Scully back shortly after the quick neighborhood search 
and questioned her more thoroughly about the phone call, but hadn't offered 
her anymore information than that they were looking.

He was back in the Hoover building, working to find Nettle and/or the area 
he could have put her in. Agents took turns calling in to check up on her. 
He couldn't do it himself.

He dreaded calling her again. Everytime he called her, there were those few 
seconds of panic when he thought she might not answer. She had managed to 
stay warm enough to stay alive during the night, but he wondered how much 
longer she could do that. Surely not another night. And he didn't feel any 
close to finding her. The sun was edging past midway across the sky. He 
needed to call her, even just to reassure himself that she was still there.

The phone rang three times before she picked up. He hadn't spoken to her 
since about six that morning, so he was more than a little shocked at the 
sluggishness of her speech.

"Scully?"

"Hey... long time no hear," her tired voice offered. Mulder felt his heart 
drop to the pit of his stomach. He took his phone and walked out into the 
hallway. He had been totally unprepared for this.

He walked down the hallway, looking for a room that would afford them some 
privacy, *him* some privacy. He was having trouble reigning in his emotions. 
He finally found a supply closet that offered him the darkness he sought.

"Scully......"

She could hear the twisted pain in his voice. After an extended amount of 
silence, she spoke.

"Everything's going to be okay Mulder."

Her voice was slow, quiet. As though it took all of her effort to speak. He 
knew that she wasn't talking about him finding her anymore. All he could do 
is sink to the floor, his face twisting in the emotional wake.

She could hear him crying as soft tears found paths down her own cheeks. She 
had begun to accept the inevitability of her death now. She only wanted to 
comfort him with his realizations.

"I am glad that you are here with me."

He found his voice then.

"It's not over Scully. It's not. We're going to find you," he promised 
although his voice didn't hold much conviction, it sounded more like he was 
begging her to reconsider.

"Mulder....don't," she replied. She searched her heart for words. "I think 
that it's time we started thinking about other things."

"No Scully. I refuse to believe that this will end badly," he said through 
tears and false bravado.

She replied softly, slowly.

"Mulder....my body is weak. I am drifting in and out of a state of 
consciousness that couldn't properly be defined as sleep. The batteries 
won't last much longer. Even if I could tell you where I was...even if you 
knew, you probably couldn't get here and dig me out before....I succumbed. 
I....would ....just like to spend the rest of the time I have with you 
without the distraction of frustration."

"No..." his voice was broken, forming words was a challenge he couldn't 
handle.

"With just you." He struggled his mind around words that he needed to say.

"Scully...I'm so sorry...I'm...." came his halting, broken voice.

"Shhhh....there's nothing to be sorry for," she soothed. Time seemed to 
stand still for them. She didn't speak for a few minutes. "I don't regret a 
moment with you. I couldn't have asked for a better partner, a better 
friend." Her voice was hoarse. He wished that he could just reach down 
through the phone and pull her out into the safety of his arms.

"Please don't give up on me. There's always hope Scully. We could find 
him...we could find you."

She just nodded into the silence.

"I'm not going to call my mom," she was having a hard time with these words. 
"I need you to tell her my reasons for not calling her during this."

"Scully....stop," he couldn't take much more of this. He spoke with renewed 
energy. "You have to hold on. It's the eleventh hour that sees my best work. 
Please don't work against me here. This can't be over."

There wasn't anything she could say to him that wouldn't cause more anxiety.

"Well then, you'd better get back to work," she said after another long 
pause.

Neither of them wanted to disconnect, both having the same feelings that 
this could be the last time they spoke. It was Mulder who could finally 
closed the call though, consciously refusing to give in to his fears that it 
was the end.

He got up, walked to the bathroom and washed his face. He couldn't look into 
the mirror. He moved quietly back into the operations room. Several of the 
agents looked up when he arrived. They could all read in his face what was 
written on his heart. He was just going through the motions now.

"It's time you got some rest," Skinner said quietly. He had returned to the 
room after having gotten some much-needed sleep on the couch in his office.

Mulder didn't even bother with a reply. He skimmed through the work they'd 
done. Nettle didn't own any property. He had connections to about twelve 
possible locations though. Agents had been sent out to all of them. Mulder 
and Skinner had already conducted searches of several of the closer ones 
themselves in the early hours of the morning.

Again all he could do is go over what they already had and hope for a 
miracle.

===============================================================

*I am hungry for the life that is being taken from me. I am a person. For 
now, I still exist. I have a family. I have love. I hunger for the touch of 
loving hands. What I ask of you God, is that what is left of my life shall 
have meaning. Give me something to die for. Help me to be strong. Give *him* 
the strength to go on where I shall not.*

She wasn't sure what happened next. It could have been a dream. She later 
chose to believe it was a vision rather than an hallucination.

She floated up and above her body. She could see herself even in the dark. 
Her body looked peaceful, pale and angelic. Her pyjamas were rumpled and 
dirty. The phone and its strange conjoined companion lay next to her. 
Somewhere in a far distance, she could hear it ringing. She floated up and 
through the earth. The world above ground seemed clear and warm, although 
she no longer felt the temperature.

Had she died? Her mind was peaceful and unbelievably clear. If this was 
death, she wished that she could share with Mulder her sense of well-being. 
Everything here truly was peaceful. It was the same earth, the same world, 
yet somehow it wasn't. It was as though she could smell the colors and see 
the flavors. It was perfect clarity.

The area above her was a field. She looked around at the tall grass there 
and could even make out the spot where she was buried. It was a place of 
freshly turned earth. Nearby sat a backhoe. She hovered high above the 
scene. Looking towards the sun, she saw a wire fence in the distance. Inside 
the fenced in area were two big trucks. In some way she would never be able 
to explain to her own scientific mind, she knew that she was being shown 
something.

As she drifted still higher, she could see an entire forest area and a 
highway off in the distance. She knew that she would need to remember. Miles 
seemed to float under her in seconds. She could see yards and houses and 
people moving about their day as she flew by. Then she found herself looking 
at a tower. It was a strange tower that rose several hundred feet in the 
air. The tower had a significance that she couldn't figure out. Towards the 
tower moved a red truck. It stopped at its base. The driver got out, removed 
something from the back of the truck and headed towards the fence enclosure.

*remember* was the message her mind played.

The blur of the world rushed by and she was in the operations room at the 
bureau. Mulder was standing, leaning over a map. She could see his worn 
face. She saw that he was crumbling deep inside. She reached out and touched 
his face gently. As if he felt her, he looked up. His gaze was distant, he 
was lost in thought. He brought his hand up and ran it down the stubbled 
cheek she'd caressed. She knew with a certainty that he felt her. She wanted 
to talk, to tell him something.

*hurry*

It wasn't her own voice, but the voice of another. Someone within her was 
speaking to her not in words but in knowledge. She looked down at the map in 
front of him.

*west of him, I am somewhere west of him*

Suddenly she was falling. Falling fast.

She slammed back into her body and heard herself inhale sharply. She lay 
there for a moment in a total clarity of thought that she hadn't had since 
before she was underground. She knew with a certainty that she was meant to 
live.

She rallied every ounce of energy she had left and reached for the phone.

"Mulder, listen to me. I can't explain how I know this, but I know where I 
am. It just doesn't make a whole lot of sense to me. I need your help."

He almost asked who it was, the voice sounded so different. She was focused 
in a way she hadn't been in their conversation almost two hours ago. The 
agents in the room had been trying her phone, but hadn't gotten an answer. 
His mind had travelled the gamut of horrors she could have given in to. He'd 
been working on auto-pilot, still trying and clinging to the ghost of hope.

"Scully?"

"I am somewhere west of you," she returned with conviction.

Mulder was still basking in the numbness that accompanied the realization 
that she was still alive. He wanted to voice a cluster of endearments and 
say all of the things he realized he'd forgotten to in their last 
conversation. He worked his way deftly through those thoughts and focused on 
what she was saying to him.

"West covers a large area Scully. Talk to me."

"I...I had a dream." He suddenly quelched the hope that had risen. 
Hallucinations were common for someone in her position. He felt defeated and 
tortured. He closed his eyes at the torment he was feeling and moved back 
towards the pain and away from the hope.

"Tell me about it."

"I was floating....above a field....there was a backhoe nearby..." Hope rose 
sharply again with that one little word.

"Keep going Scully, tell me what you saw."

She couldn't have known about the backhoe. He signalled to the agents in the 
room. Skinner seemed to understand and indicated for several other agents to 
follow them towards the exit, Mulder was in the lead with an area map in his 
hand. They ran down the staircase as he didn't want to chance the 
interference from the elevator.

"And then there was a tower. I think it was a cell phone tower....I don't 
know. And a red truck parked outside. It had a meaning that I couldn't 
understand."

Mulder did. All too well. Nettle drove a red Dodge half-ton.

"Do you think there is anything to this?" her voice was hoarse, but she 
spoke with strength.

A million thoughts of denial were crossing her mind. But she was beyond any 
rational thought. She didn't care how she knew what she did, she just wanted 
him to get to her.

"Yeah Scully I do."

"I saw a highway, it was busy. A tower, some trees....damn it!" Frustration 
invaded her voice. "It was so clear in the dream Mulder. It was like...I 
knew where I was. I could see it. I was there. I was above the ground." She 
seemed to almost begin crying then. Mulder wasn't sure, but needed the 
information she was providing.

"Okay Scully, slow down. Tell me what you saw. Start at the beginning."

"A fence! I saw a fence with trucks parked inside....it was near here. Is 
any of this making any sense at all?" Her mind was replaying the vision.

"Nettle is driving a red Ford half ton. There's something to this Scully. 
Keep talking." He reached Skinner's car and climbed inside. The procession 
of three cars with agents left the garage and headed west. There was no 
reply from her.

"I think I know where you are Scully, talk to me."

"Scully?" The phone was dead.

"I lost the signal." He wasn't sure that she heard his last comments. He 
tried her number again but got a recording. Mulder entered another number. 
Skinner listened as he talked.

"Kendall, tell me that you have a tower out," he listened. "Thank you." Then 
he snapped off the phone and addressed Skinner.

"DC tell has a tower down west of here. Nettle's father owns a trucking 
company and some property west of here that could be what Scully was 
describing."

"Describing?"

"Just keep going. Follow the 270 west." They were racing through traffic. 
Mulder wished he was the one driving, despite the fact that Skinner had 
turned on the red emergency light and was negotiating traffic with all the 
precision of a Nascar racer.

"Do you want to tell me how she knows what she knows?"

"She had a dream."

"Are you telling me that we are following some vague allusion to reality 
here?"

"No...there's something to this. There were things in the dream that she 
just couldn't have known. Like about the backhoe...Nettle's red truck."

Skinner was trying to imagine Scully lending any credibility to a dream. 
They were grasping at straws in the dark.

"Another agent might have given her those details." Mulder's expression 
showed that he conceded this point. "And you 'guess' that this dream 
translates somehow to this area?"

Skinner groaned inwardly, he almost stopped dead in the traffic, but there 
was little else to go on. She had to be somewhere.

"Well, it's an educated guess. Nettle's father owns a property that matches 
the description, the cell tower is down in the area, communication with her 
is down, Scully saw his truck. Nettle could have gotten frustrated and cut 
the tower link. It all fits."

Skinner would have to agree. This was one scenario that he couldn't wait to 
see played out.

=====================================================

Mulder's eyes scanned the yard, looking for the telltale machine that would 
mark the location where Scully was. He saw it off in the distance, almost 
half a mile from where the truck yard was. That could be the reason the 
agents checking the area missed it.

Hope rose sharply and then crashed down as he made out the red truck across 
the field as they moved in.

He got out of the car even before Skinner had it at a complete stop. He 
aimed his gun at Nettle.

"Freeze Nettle, it's over."

Nettle was standing next to a mound of dirt. He didn't look defeated. That, 
more than anything scared Mulder. Realization dawned on him. Nettle was 
standing next to what almost certainly had to be Scully's airvent.

And he was holding a shovel of dirt.

"I am glad that you are here Mulder. This is almost too perfect. I didn't 
expect this, but I suppose that fate works in mysterious ways," he sat with 
the shovel poised.

Mulder tried estimating whether he could shoot Nettle without having the 
dirt end up inside the vent. He knew that they could never get to Scully 
fast enough if that happened.

"No, no, it's God that works that way. I don't see that happening here 
though. It's over for you. You don't have to finish this. I would say that 
you have made your point nicely Nettle."

"I don't think that you get the point at all Mulder."

"Put down the shovel and no one has to die."

"Someone's already dead though. It's been over for me for a long time. Now 
it'll be over for you. See....the government won't help a father who's 
simply trying to locate his daughter. Certainly not you Fox. You waste your 
time away in a basement office. I read the report. If you'd have gotten to 
them just two hours before, they would both still be alive. Two hours."

Mulder could see little wisps of dirt falling into the open pipe of the 
vent.

"Nothing could have changed the way things turned out."

"And nothing is going to change what I am going to do here." With that said, 
he tipped the shovel, his eyes never leaving Mulder's. He probably even saw 
the bullet coming towards him.

=========================================================

The backhoe worked as quickly as possible. Mulder thanked the powers that be 
that one of the agents from the office used to work on a road crew and had a 
working knowledge of how a backhoe ran. As the hole grew bigger, Mulder had 
a strong urge to just jump in and continue the digging by hand. He paced 
tensely around the area.

The paramedics stood by. Nettle was long on his way to the hospital. Mulder 
would have liked to have helped more with his injuries. Just not in the way 
that any doctor could've appreciated.

The bucket scraped against something solid. The group of agents moved closer 
to look down into the hole. They could see the top of the medal coffin. It 
wouldn't be long now.  Within minutes Mulder jumped down into the hole and 
wrenched on the heavy lid. He awkwardly stepped over it and ended up inside 
the box.

Scully wasn't conscious. He wasn't even sure that she was still alive. She 
was curled up into a ball, lying on her side. Her face was a ghostly grey. 
Her lips were a pale blue. She looked so tiny there in the box that had 
become a coffin. Mulder couldn't see any sign of life at all. He reached for 
her, unable to believe his eyes.

"Scully?" He felt for a pulse. It was weak and she was barely breathing.

*another two minutes and.....*

He moved her onto her back and checked again for more signs of life. He 
lowered his mouth to hers, pushing air into her lungs. He could hear Skinner 
barking orders above him. A paramedic suddenly appeared beside him in the 
hole and connected a mask to a ventilator. He motioned Mulder out of the way 
and fitted it over her mouth, pushing air forcibly into her lungs.

"Can we get a blanket down here?!" Mulder hollered up. Skinner relayed the 
message and then a few seconds later, the blanket itself.

"Come on Scully, you can do it." He had a hold on her wrist, trying to will 
life into her. The paramedic removed her mask. She was breathing more fully. 
He took out a portable oxygen canister and applied the mask to her face.

"Scully?" He could see the narrow slits of her eyes opening. He let out a 
long sigh of relief.

She afforded him a weak smile. Her lips were moving slowly. Mulder lifted 
off the mask and leaned down closely to listen.

"Anywhere but the Beefeater Mulder."

He smiled back.

Anywhere at all.

================================


THE END

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