All Characters copyright of TenThirteen Productions and Chris Carter. No infringement intended on any part... go ahead, take me to court... I'm using the insanity defence... heh, heh, heh... Comments, complaints and just plain talk to sheryl_martin@tvo.org Summary: A kidnapping case can only be solved using strange techniques... Rating: G, Story, Adventure... Dragons on The Side (1/3) by Sheryl Martin The pair walked down the alleyway, close enough to touch but yet a world apart by their speech. "I told you it wasn't a trick - the psychologist confirmed my theory." "Oh, and that's why you needed Scully to tell it to you in the first place? Geez, Mulder - I thought you were the one with the degree." The taller of the two opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly stopped walking; scanning the walls on each side of them. "What?" The woman was obviously aggravated. "If this is a trick to get out of this conversation, I'm not..." She stopped, lifting her face up as well. "What the hell is..." The five men came out of the darkness behind them; grabbing the two agents from behind, easily overpowering them for the few seconds needed. Slapping soaked cloths over their faces, the men waiting until the two bodies had gone limp and fallen to the pavement. A figure stepped out of the doorway, walking towards the two unconscious people. Using the tip of his boot, he rolled over the woman's body; looking at her face in the pale moonlight. He cursed. One of the men shrugged. "What's wrong? You said to take the two of them..." "I'd rather it was Scully. But this bitch owes me a few favours anyway. Get them into the van." Kneeling down, the man rummaged under Mulder's trench coat; retrieving his badge and his pistol. Curling his hand around the small chain glistening around St. George's throat, he ripped it free; digging the revolver away from her holster. "But who am I to look a gift Dragon in the mouth?" Jack DeSousa smiled as he watched them drag the bodies towards the van that had just pulled in at the end of the alley. "Hell, this might work out better than I thought." *********** It was a nice quiet night. A peaceful night. A No-Mulder or X Files night. And for Dana Scully, a good night. Bunching up the afghan behind her head, she laid back on the sofa and flipped the pages of the medical magazine she had been trying to read for the past week or so. Thanks to Mulder's cases, she had gotten so far behind in her research that she was certain she'd come across an article announcing the discovery of insulin. The phone rang. With a sigh, she stared at it. It rang again. Not tonight, Mulder. Turning away, she shrugged her shoulders down into the makeshift pillow and turned the page. The answering machine came on. A familiar voice, deep and scared. "Dana, are you there? Dana, it's Marty. Look, pick up if you're..." "Hello." "Dana? Is Jackie and Mulder over there?" The petite woman looked around the empty apartment. "Not unless they crawled in through a vent. And that's unlikely since I've got no food in the house. Why?" "Because she went out with Mulder to look at this guy you had locked up and they haven't returned yet." Scully frowned. "Maybe they got held up at the institution." "I called. They signed out over four hours ago." "Did you page her?" "And Mulder. And tried both cell phones." A sharp exhalation. "Dana, I'm scared. She's usually pretty good on this type of thing, but with what you and Mulder have been saying lately..." "Let me make a few phone calls and get back to you, okay?" She forced a smile into her voice. "I'm sure they're sitting at Brandy's fighting over something and just didn't hear the phone ring." "Tried there too." He grumbled. "No go." "I'll call you back." Hanging up; she punched in the first number on her speed dial. "Mulder, it's me... if you're there pick up... Marty's worried about you two, and I don't need this on a Tuesday night - it's my night off, remember?" After an answering beep she hung up. The office number. "Mulder, are you there? Look, just drop me a call back or get St. George to call Marty at her place..." Another annoying beep. Brandy's. "No, Dana - not a sight of them. And I'd know if they came in." Steve's jolly voice bounced around the phone receiver. "Hell, we're still replacing the dart board from the last time those two got into a game. She really bent those points banging them on the ground. And he was pretty slow on figuring out that's why they wouldn't stick in the board. But if they call, I'll have them get to you or Marty immediately." Sitting upright on the sofa, she ran a hand through her auburn hair and sighed. This was definitely unlike Mulder. Dialling the cell phone, she listened to the out of service message and then again for St. George's number. And it was rare that both her partner and her Canadian friend to turn their phones off. And she was dammed sure they weren't having an affair either. St. George had spent most of their friendship discussing how Dana Scully was perfect for Fox Mulder and harassing them both over their lack of movement in that direction. Which didn't solve the immediate problem. Getting up from the sofa, she reached for her trench coat and wondered where to start; considering the variety of places they could be. The phone rang. Snatching it up, she smiled. "Mulder, I was..." "Agent Scully?" Her heart sank. "Skinner?" "I need you in the office immediately. We've got a problem." ********* Mulder groaned as the van hit a particularly deep pothole; smashing his head against the wall. Opening his eyes, he stared at the man sitting across from him. A quick glance to the side showed the unconscious St. George sprawled on the floor. And his hands were securely cuffed behind his back, probably with his own cuffs. "Wake up, Spooky." DeSousa smiled. "We'll be home soon and I'll need your help to drag your pal around." "What the hell are you doing?" Pushing himself up into a sitting position despite the bouncing around of the van, Mulder looked at the agent. "What's going on?" "Let's just say that I found a more profitable occupation than sitting in the wiretap section." The dark-haired man grinned. "And I kinda need some money to get ahead of the game." "Is this what it's all about? Money? You know the procedure for the Bureau..." Mulder's voice trailed off as he realised the facts behind DeSousa's words. "You sold out like Krycek?" DeSousa snorted. "What, that nutcase? Hell, no... I found a few pals who need a little help getting from here to there and added my expertise to theirs... But even if the Bureau won't give me a cool million for you; they'll have to talk to the Canadian government for this one here." He kicked St. George roughly in the ribs. "And I know every step they'll take..." "You know they won't negotiate." "I'm betting they will. After they figure out that I'm serious about killing you and they can't track me down. After all, takes one to know one..." "And all the rats dance in the dark." Mulder smiled despite the rage on the man's face. "Should have dated Krycek when you had the time..." The rifle barrel descended on Mulder's skull with a sickening thud. ********* Pulling into the underground garage, Dana frowned at the number of cars occupying the lot. Something was definitely wrong to have this many people here at this time of the night. The "pit" as the agents called it was in a frenzy. She stared mutely at the men and woman racing back and forth across the floor until her eyes settle on Assistant Director Skinner at the far side of the room. His eyes met hers, and his head jerked towards the office at the back of the room. She followed him into the relative peace and quiet. Skinner gestured towards the table. "Sit down, Agent Scully." She instinctively sat at the table while he remained standing, "We.. we've got a problem." "With Mulder?" Skinner pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. "Yes. And St. George." "What?" As if on cue the door opened and an obviously frazzled man poked his head in. "Sir, we've got a problem..." The Assistant Director sighed. "I"m sure I know who it is. Let him in and bring him here." He turned to the woman as the agent retreated. "The next of kin needs to be notified in all kidnapping cases, and for St. George..." "Kidnapping? Dana echoed. "Kidnapped?" Marty roared as he stormed into the room. "You better..." He paused for a breath as Skinner held up his hand. "We got this delivered to the security desk two hour ago; with instructions to open it immediately." He gestured at the top of the desk. With a thick taste of bile in her mouth Scully identified Mulder's pistol. And the .38 revolver looked too familiar. "We checked the serial numbers - definitely their weapons. He sent back Mulder ID and this." Skinner held up a small necklace with a transparent stone hanging from it. "Jackie's, I assume?" "'He' who?" Marty took the necklace from Skinner's hand. Taking off his glasses, the tall man sighed. "A former agent called Jack DeSousa." "DeSousa?" Scully frowned. "He's been under internal investigation for a few weeks - we suspected that he might be working a bit too closely with some drug dealers we were setting up for a bust. He disappeared yesterday before we could get enough evidence to at least bring him in for some intense questioning." "And he's..." Marty led the next sentence. Skinner held up a video tape. "This was in the package. It's a copy; the original's already being analysed in the lab." Slipping it into the machine sitting under the television set, he punched the play button. The black screen burst into brilliant colour; the man standing in front of a bright orange wall; the cement blocks easily discernible. His dark eyes stared at the viewers. "Right, Skinner - this one's in your lap. I've got Mulder, and I want a million for him. St. George; well... since she's a foreign national, I'm figuring two for her and the knowledge that the Canadian government isn't gonna be too happy with the FBI for a long time." The camera dropped down to show an unconscious Mulder at DeSousa's feet. "There's the proof you need that he is still alive; and therefore negotiations will commence. I want the money dropped in fifty places; and if I even smell a cop within two blocks of any of the drop points, I'll make sure you hit the front page of every newspaper in North America for losing two hostages." Pulling a list from his pockets, the man stared into the camera again. "Right, first spot, $150,000 dollars in small bills... the waste basket in the park at..." Skinner jabbed the button. "Nothing more after that - just the listing of the locations he wants the money at. And the time limit." "Which is..." Scully prompted. "Seventy-two hours. Which is barely enough time for me to explain this to the Ambassador and try to track this guy down. The problem is going to be circling around him and his pals who have access to our procedures in these cases." "Because he worked for you." Marty pointed out. Skinner nodded. "But you are going to give them the money and then hunt them down, right?" Skinner looked at Scully before looking away. Taking a deep breath, she looked at the man. "It's Bureau policy not to negotiate for our agents. And Mulder knows that; and so does DeSousa." ********** Opening his eyes again, Mulder looked around the bare room. Beside him, St. George groaned as she rolled over; her hands still securely cuffed behind her back. He looked again around the empty space; his eyes drawn to the hatch set in the floor. DeSousa appeared with another man, this fellow's face hidden by a rag tied around his head. But the semi-automatic rifle pointed at the two agents was very visible. "Time to go rest up, Mulder. Don't worry; there's a full case of pop in the corner along with some sandwiches. And a pail in the other for after you eat." Kneeling down, he pulled the iron door open with a grunt. "There's a small ladder here about five feet down; and then you jump. Or I'll push you; whichever way you want to play it." Walking over he uncuffed the man, a rough shove sending him to the edge of the hole. "Climb down." "What about her?" Mulder looked at the semi-conscious woman still rolling on the floor. "She'll be right behind you. Or I'll shoot her right now if you don't get down that ladder." Kneeling down, Mulder felt for the first rung with his foot; finding it. The second and the third followed; and soon his head fell below the lit room. The darkness surrounded him like an angry spirit; enveloping him with a thick musty smell. His foot suddenly found no next rung. "How far down do I have to jump?" "About six feet. Don't worry, Mulder - there is a bottom." DeSousa's laugh was nasty and thick. "Get down because she's next." Gritting his teeth, Mulder let himself dangle at the bottom before letting go. The impact was hard; but about six feet below the bottom of the ladder, as he had been told. Rolling to a stop; he looked up at the small square of light over his head, then quickly around the room. Over to his left he could barely make out the outline of the supplies he had been told about. And to the right the large pail. And that was it. No windows, no doors... A shadow fell over the square of light. "Here she comes..." DeSousa's mocking laugh echoed around the room. "Oh, she's not quite awake, so if you wanna catch her or let her fall; it's your choice..." St. George limply fell down the ladder; scrabbling for a hold as she lost her grip on the rungs. Dashing forward, Mulder grabbed for her as her feet hit the steel floor with a sickening thud; collapsing under her as she fell into his grasp. "Nice catch, Mulder. Too bad it ain't Scully - she'd enjoy it more. As it is, she's gonna be thinking about you anyway." A hoarse laugh. "And while I'd love to have you choke to death; don't worry - there's air ventilation in this tank. Although I wouldn't do a helluva lot." The hatch swung down as Mulder reached up for it; his hands barely touching the bottom rungs of the ladder. With a metallic thud it cut off the light and left the pair in total darkness. "Whuzza?" He heard St. George muttering beside him. "Oh..." The scraping of hand on metal as she tried to get to her feet. A sharp yell, and the sound of a body falling down. "Oh, man..." Kneeling down, Mulder reached out tentatively; touching the soft canvas of her jacket. "What?" "My ankle... I did something to my ankle..." Her hand landed atop his; putting it at her left knee. "I can't reach it - just check it for me and tell me if it's swollen." Mulder could feel the thickness through the jeans and the sock. "Oh, yah... like a basketball." She groaned. "It's not broken. I can still wriggle my toes. Dammit..." A pause. "What the hell is going on? My head feels like I've got a major degree hangover and I don't remember drinking..." Getting to his feet, Mulder sighed. "It's a long story." "Oh, and like we're going anywhere?" She snorted. "Just let me get to the wall to lean against and you can tell me all the fairy tales you want." "We're stuck in a tank with food, drink, air... and DeSousa's holding us for ransom." Silence. "I should have broken the bastard's neck instead of his nose." *********** Scully looked at the computer screen and rubbed her eyes wearily. Twelve hours and they had almost less than they had started with, if that were possible. "Agent Scully..." She looked up at Skinner, towering over her. "Go home and get some rest. The lab's working on the screen captures; but they don't have anything yet. And the alley where we found the cell phones is still being swept for anything the first two teams missed." "Sir..." "Agent Scully, you know the rules as well as I do." He looked around the Pit, a sigh whispering out through his clenched teeth. "Technically you shouldn't have anything to do with this case, given that it's your partner. Mulder broke that rule enough times when you disappeared; and I owe you the same freedom that I gave him. But..." He leaned down. "But I will not have you work yourself to the point of exhaustion. And given your present physical condition, I think you should go home and rest for a few hours and then return here, if you're up to it." Biting her lower lip hard, the redhead nodded. "Yes, sir." "We will call if we get anything, Scully. Because I want to be the one to personally slam the door on that bastard's head." "Not before I get there." Reaching for her briefcase, she pushed herself away from the table. "Although I suspect there'll be a lineup for that privilege." ********* Mulder reached up, touching the ends of the ladder with his fingers. With a grunt he swung himself up again; hauling his body up the rungs until he reached the hatch and pushed hard. "You've tried that five times already." A voice in the darkness. "Well, it doesn't hurt to try again." Dropping back down, he landed with a metallic ping. "And I think we can guarantee that we're underground. The walls are extremely thick." "So we're not burrowing our way out of this." "Not unless you wanna try." Sliding down the wall, Mulder felt his way to the pile of sandwiches. "Got about twenty or so here - all wrapped neatly. Must have robbed a deli on the way here. How's your ankle?" "Oh, wonderful. Aside from the throbbing and the pain and the fact that I can't stand on it, it's just fine. At least it's not broken. Only a few weeks on crutches, I wager." "You don't want to..." "I've thought about that." A sigh. "The problem is, I don't know if that hatch is sealed, or something dumped atop that. And if I can't break through..." "I don't even have my gun." Mulder chuckled. "Exactly. And I'd really hate to have to explain how I tore you to pieces while trying to get out of here. Let's leave that for a very last resort in case we run out of food. Which makes me think that DeSousa's serious about trading us up and out of here." A soft moan. "And I really hate the dark." "Yah, I hear you." Rapping his knuckles on the steel floor, he listened to the pinging echo. "I'm not too keen on it myself." "No, Mulder - I REALLY HATE THE DARK. Reminds me too much of Dreaming." "Dreaming? What's wrong with dreaming?" "No, Mulder - Dreaming. You know the type." "Oh. I'll assume you have a night light in your hallway." "Running on an independent source in case of power failure." "So you hate the dark." Silence. "How much are we talking about here?" "Well, if I start screaming and thrashing, just stay over there." "Is this why Marty's always bruised?" "Before or after?" "..." ******* Pausing before St. George's apartment, Dana took a deep breath and lifted her hand to rap lightly on the door. It flew open, the eager face behind it quickly falling back into the sombre mask as he stared at her. "Nothing?" "Nothing yet." Scully corrected him as she walked into the apartment. "Nothing yet - but the boys are working hard on it. And we don't like to lose any of our agents." Nodding, Marty moved around the sofa. "And the Canucks?" Dana smiled. "If Skinner wasn't almost bald before, he would be now. They're demanding to get into the investigation and have access to everything; and that's not likely." Marty nodded. "Figures. And the money thing?" "Well..." She sat down on the couch. "The ambassador is saying that they'll give the money; but officially they're not interested in negotiations at all. Letting us take the lead in this matter, at least for the time being." "Or the fall, if it goes bad." He sighed. "Marty..." Getting to his feet, the tall man strode angrily across the room. "Dana, they're not going to give up the money for the two of them and you know it, I know it... hell, I know the way the military works and they'll talk this one to death before anyone gets anywhere near close to finding them or saving them." Standing up, the petite redhead crossed her arms. "Mulder's able to take care of himself, and I think you know the same's true of Jackie. Maybe when we get a full analysis of the video..." "Maybe. Maybe not. But I can't just sit here and let them play these little games." He shook his head angrily. "I owe them both more than that." She nodded, silently admitting the same. "I'm open for suggestions." Scully walked over to the window. "If we could only find them, I could convince Skinner to call in a team. Maybe we could do a strike without getting them killed, but it'd depend on the situation..." Her voice trailed off as she thought about the possibilities. "Actually," Marty said, moving over to stand by her. "I may have a way to find them." A sheepish grin replaced some of the worry on his face. "How?" She stared at him. "And don't tell me that you've got some psychic link to Jackie; 'cause I'll just have to hit you." Raising his eyes to the ceiling, the man sighed. "Thanks, God - now if you could just arrange the threesome..." Enjoying her reddening face, Marty continued. "Right now I've got an idea... well, I think it'll work provided they're still together." Marty took Jackie's sword down off the wall in front of the Canadian flag where she normally kept it. Turning it over in his hands, he swung it lightly in a circle before pointing the blade down at the ground. "A few weeks ago I was looking at the insides of this thing." Marty gripped the pommel of the sword and twisted. "And I found this part of the hilt that.." "Wait a minute," Dana held up her hand to interrupt him. "You took Jackie's sword apart? And she let you?" "Listen," he said. "My story is that it fell and broke and I'm sticking to that. The important thing is the interworkings of this little gizmo." Marty pulled a shiny crystal cylinder dotted with holes out of the hilt; letting the sunshine glisten through it as it lay in his palm. "What's that supposed to be?" She asked. "Well..." Marty turned the cylinder over in his hands. "I'm not entirely sure but I do know this much; the thing is incredibly advanced for something supposedly from the Middle Ages." "How do you mean?" "The cylinder acts like the crystal in an early radio set." Marty pointed to two small holes at the top of it. "This is where it attaches physically to the blade of the sword where it's set into the hilt. I think that the crystal uses the blade as an antenna to collect energy on a specific wavelength." Pursing her lips, the redhead stared at him. "But what about the needles that jab into her hand?" "I've looked at those needles, and there's no springs in here." Marty held up his hand as Dana started to say something. "I know, how does it shoot the little buggers into her hand. The things are set in like a small solenoid. Right now they're in a neutral or retracted position. When they're connected to a similarly wavelengthed energy source as this crystal set detects, they spring out." He paused. "I think." "You're saying that Jackie is a 'battery' for this energy?" Dana's voice rose at the end of the question, along with the edges of her mouth in a small smile. "Like the Energiser Bunny Rabbit?" He chuckled. "I told her that joke, by the way." Shaking his head, Marty smiled at her. "I know this isn't the kind of explanation you like to hear, but that's the best description I can come up with. But it does means that Jackie is a very large natural source of this energy, and that's why the sword works so well for her; since it collects more of it and pumps it into her." "So you're suggesting what?" Dana asked. "That we use the sword to track her?" "I think I can do it with some parts I can probably borrow from the Gunmen... maybe..." he said. "Unless you've got a better idea, that is." Dana stared at the cylinder in her friends hand and thought for a moment. "Let's go." ********* "I spy..." "Mulder..." "Work with me here, St. George. You said you didn't want to fall asleep." A groan from the other side of the room. "I spy with my little eye something that begins with the letter D..." "Darkness, Mulder... Darkness..." Deep annoyed sigh. "Right! Your turn." "I spy with my little eye something that begins with the letter M." "More darkness?" "No... Mulder, dead. After I crawl over to his side of this tank and grab him by the..." "Okay, time for a new game." ****** Crossing her arms, Scully raised an eyebrow as she watched the four men cluster around the small workbench; each speaking their own version of the English language. "But the frequency..." "Just like the old radio sets..." "Amplification..." "She's going to kill you." This last statement from the diminutive Frohike brought them all to a stop. "When she finds out what you did to her sword." Marty shrugged. "Well, I'll deal with that later." Pulling her cell phone out of the pocket of her jacket, Scully dialled the main Pit number; swiftly being bounced to Skinner a second later by the operator. "Yes, sir... I was wondering if there'd been any progress..." Her face fell. "I see... no, I'm..." She looked at the crowd now bunched over the bench and grabbing for tools. "I'm pursuing a option on my own. But I'll be in touch if I need help, believe me." Turning the phone off and tucking it back into her pocket, she strode up to the eager band. "I"m afraid to ask, but what are you doing?" Grabbing a stray lock of hair, she tucked it behind one ear, aware that all eyes were on her. Byers was the first to speak, stroking his thin beard thoughtfully. "Well, we can easily assemble a tracking device, based on the frequency of the crystal Nantus extracted from the sword. Child's play, really." "But we don't know how far it'll reach." Frohike grunted. "Depending on how far away they are, it could give us nothing. Or just barely narrow it down to North America." Scully sighed. "So what theoretically do you need to pinpoint a location?" She held up a warning hand. "Not that I'm endorsing this project. But anything that gives us a lead..." "We need a satellite dish." Langly smiled. "A big one for five minutes." "How big?" Scully sighed again. "Well, it's not the size, it's the power." Frohike leered. "We can power up from here with what we've got, but it won't have the range..." Marty grinned. "This I can arrange." He looked around the room. "Heck, Rosie won't mind..." ****** "I'll take Great Books for two hundred, Alex..." "Right, Mulder - who wrote Breakfast at Tiffany's?" "..." "Oh, Mulder... and you went to Oxford? And graduated?" "All right... you tell me who wrote it then." "Easy. Jackie Collins." "Where did you go to school?" ****** "You want me to do what?" The blonde shook her head. "I can't just let you hook something up to the Embassy dish and see where it goes to - that's only for official communication and Embassy business." "Jackie told me about some of the 'business' you and her download from that satellite." Marty chuckled. "Now, I don't think that anyone would like to find out what you do get on those channels, hmm?" She stared at him from behind her desk. "You wouldn't." "Watch me." "You'll get Jackie in trouble as well." "I think she can handle herself. Besides, give her a good reason to apply for political asylum." The administrative assistant looked at the redhead, her eyes pleading for help. "Scully, you're in on this?" Pursing her lips, the petite agent sighed. "For the time being I am. Until something comes up that sounds better than sitting in the office waiting for a phone call." Rosie sighed. "Ten minutes. No more." Tossing him the keys, she shook her head again; ignoring the Gunmen. "Why didn't I get a job working for someone boring..." ******** "Toss me a sandwich, Mulder." A soggy splat in the darkness. "Thanks... gee, cheese. What a surprise." "Well, at least we won't die of food poisoning." "You better hope the cola's not diet. I get really annoyed with diet pop." "What, not worried about your figure?" "I'd worry about yours." A yawn. "I can't fall asleep..." A statement mixed with a plea. "If you have to, you have to. Hell, we've been here more than 20 hours, as far as I can tell." A dim light in the darkness. "And thirty-two minutes." "I wish you could leave that watch on all night, Mulder. Or is it day?" "Whatever it is, you better bet that Skinner's going to be ripping up the city to find us." "I thought you said your Bureau didn't bargain." "They don't. But you think that Scully's going to let him get away with anything less?" "As long as she doesn't get Marty involved in any wild schemes..." ******* "Right." Byers tapped the small screen attached to the foot-long box. "Pennsylvania area. Around Uniontown. That's the best we can do until you transport it to the location and get a smaller reading." "Right." Unplugging the box, Marty opened the lid and stared inside. "Just don't break the crystal. I don't know what I'd replace it with." Leaning back in the swivel chair in the crowded room, Langly looked longingly around the twelve television sets; all set into racks and tuned to different channels. "Man, give me an hour here, and I'd..." "Which is why we're leaving now." Scully gave the chair a gentle push, enough to boost the blond out of his comfortable position. "I'll drive." Marty shot back as they walked down the hallway, tossing the keys onto Rosie's empty desk. "No." Scully shook her head, ignoring the men behind them. "This is not a trip out to the mall. If, and I mean if this device has located them; I'll call in the local troopers to secure the area until Skinner can deliver a proper SWAT team." She stopped in the hallway. "You can tell me how to work this thing, right?" "Oh, so now you believe it?" The dark-haired man smiled, enjoying her discomfort. "I'm not saying that it does and I'm not saying that it doesn't. But it's located something, and that needs to be checked out." She turned to the grinning Frohike. "And what are you smiling about?" "Oh, just thinking how much Mulder's going to enjoy hearing this story." The man beamed. "Although this might be an interesting paper to work on - medieval weapons with crystals..." "You say nothing." Stopping quickly, Nantus turned on them. "I don't want anyone to know about this except us. She's got enough trouble on her hands now, I don't want the government having her on a leash." He paused. "Hers or ours." "Unless you do it privately?" Frohike said slyly. "She still hasn't forgiven you for those last tapes you sent over to her place, marked 'Sword play for Beginners.'" He looked at Scully and shrugged. "It was a bit... misadvertised." Frohike chuckled. "Well, there was a sword in it. Kinda. Well, on the wall..." With a deep groan Scully punched the elevator button hard. This was not getting any better. ********* Shifting his back against the cool wall, Mulder sighed as he stretched his long arms and legs. The short nap hadn't done much other than cramp more muscles that he didn't know he had. Being the keeper of the food and coke, he recounted the wrapped sandwiches by touch. Ten left. Five more meals, technically. More if they pushed it. And then they would roll the dice and see if Jackie was as good as she thought she could be. Although she sure didn't believe it. "Mulder?" "Hmm?" "Oh, you're up. I was wondering how long you were planning to sleep." "You haven't." "Don't want to. Besides, I miss my radio playing all night." "Well, I can sing if you want me to..." "No, that's all right." A chuckle. "Somehow I'll have nightmares of Elvis, I think..." "Something's not right here." "What, that we're stuck in a pit and probably going to starve to death in a few days?" "No... DeSousa must have known that the Bureau won't give in. That they'll try to renegotiate the terms while trying to find us. And the same thing with your people - and when you're dealing with another government, it gets more and more complicated." An affirmative grunt. "So he must not just want the money..." Shaking his head, Mulder popped open the can with a tug on the pull tab. "Let me think on that one." "Hey, not like we don't have the time." The weary voice bounced around the tank. Taking a deep sip of the cola, he stretched out again on the floor. "You know, you've never told me why you switched from Mandy to Jackie." "You never asked, Mulder." "So I'm asking." A weary sigh. "Man, you must be bored." "'You ain't nothing but a hound dog'..." He hummed. "Okay, okay..." Pause. "My original name was always intended to be Jack. See, in my family the firstborn has always been male for as far back as we've got records. Women second, third, whatever... but the first was always male. I didn't figure out why until I was a lot older." "And then you arrived." "And then I arrived." "But that's genetically traced to the male, anyway. Can't blame your mother for that one." "My father never did." A chuckle. "But he was shocked beyond belief, if you can imagine it. Breaking a lot of traditions. So he just made the first name female, Jaclyn." "And Amanda was chosen by your mother." "Bingo. And they decided to use it 'cause I wasn't a guy and my mother didn't want my father forcing me into things because he wanted a boy and didn't get one. Not that he did or didn't - I got into things like that naturally. But it was Mandy, or Amanda." "Until your father died. Why?" "I wish you had your couch here." A soft laugh. "In the Old Days, if you read the stories, when a stranger came into the village or the castle people always asked what he was known as. Or what he was called, but never what his name was. Not that they would have gotten the same answer anyway, or the right one. People didn't like to tell just anyone that information. See, a name gives you power over a person, to a degree." Mulder nodded. "In most cultures a person can have multiple names depending on their status within the family, within the local culture. Some change with age; going from adolescence to manhood, some from marriage to an outside tribe, some depending on the shamanic magic practised." He propped his head up on one hand. "So that's why you changed?" "Hell, you're the shrink. You figure it out." A yawn. "I'm going to try and get some sleep. I give up. Call me when room service arrives." "Right." Pause. "'Night, Amanda." "'Night, Fox." ****** Standing outside the car, the petite woman watched as Marty opened the front seat and slid the shoebox-sized machine inside. Taking the sword off the top of the car, he put it carefully inside the scabbard and laid it on the back seat. "Just in case she needs it." He said in reply to her raised eyebrow. "There's something wrong here." Pacing back and forth on the sidewalk, Dana tucked her hands inside her trench coat and frowned. "Why is DeSousa playing it this way?" "What way is this way?" Marty leaned on the roof of the car, staring at her. "He's an agent. He knows that we never give in for ransom where one of our own people is involved. And with the Canadian government involved, it'll be months before we come to any sort of an agreement; never mind the idea of paying the money out." "So? Maybe he thinks you'll make an exception, considering it's Mulder." She shook her head. "I don't think so. If it were Skinner or someone higher up the ladder, maybe they'd consider playing the game. But he's got to know that we'll try to negotiate our way out of this and not give in." Opening the door, she got in and dialled a number on her cell phone. "How long can you drive before we have to switch." Marty looked at her. "All the way if we have to." "I didn't say that I believed in this." Dana gestured at the small box on the seat beside her. "Ferris... Scully here. Can you send me everything you've got on what DeSousa was handling before he was suspended? Focus on the drug operations he was assigned..." She paused. "Yes, I hope so too." Her eyes went to the anxious man as the car pulled away from the side of the road. "I'll download it on the way - just dump everything into my mailbox. Thanks." "Got your laptop?" Marty grinned as he stopped at the lights. "Right here." She looked down at the box. "So how does this thing work?" "Look at the red numbers. As they go down, we're closer to the origin of the power source for the crystal. Though with turns and twists in the road, it might go up and down a bit as we swerve. But with the general location we got from the satellite uplink, I'm not going to work hard on focusing in until we get closer." With a sigh the redhead looked out the window. "I just hope we're not going in the wrong direction, Marty..." "So do I." He didn't look at her, instead pressing down harder on the gas pedal. ******* She was Dreaming. Mulder could tell from the scraping of nails on steel; the soft whimpering reaching his ears in the silence. Sitting back, he looked at his watch again. Maybe Skinner would cut a deal; maybe that smoking bastard had something to do with it. Maybe DeSousa was another Krycek; hovering in the background. Maybe he could just dig his way out of here with a spoon, if he had one. A soft cry across from him. Scully would be worried sick about him. As usual. She worried too much about him at times; smothered him with questions about his thoughts and what he was planning to do. Too much at times. Some days he just wanted to push her out of the office and tell her to go home and find some nice guy to marry and raise a flock of uber-Scullys and to leave him alone. That he didn't want her attention; her concern. Because he couldn't return it. And he wasn't worthy of it anyway. Closing his eyes, he listened to the scrabbling in the dark and wondered if sleeping was worse than staying awake. ******** Staring at the laptop screen, Scully scanned the files as they came up. Beside her, Nantus yawned; his hand up quickly to cover his mouth. "Want me to drive?" She peered at him from over her glasses. "You can't look at those and drive at the same time." He smiled. "Besides, we're making good time." "I noticed." Her voice held a slight tone of disapproval. "I assume your love of speed was enhanced in the Air Force." "Hey, I just worked on the planes. The flyboys were the ones who took them up - we just put the pieces back together when they brought them back." Putting her head back on the seat, she closed her eyes. "Jackie said you were in the Gulf. That must have been fun." He shook his head. "A political war, no matter what you wanna tell me. Fighting for democracy - yah, right... and just too dammed hot." Rolling her head to one side, she chuckled. "What would Jackie have done over there?" "Other than complain about the Canadian fighter jocks getting too little action?" He replied. "And Mulder would have been out there checking for UFO sightings causing Gulf War Syndrome." "Oh, definitely. And explaining how the military-industrial complex worked to anyone who listened." She chuckled. "That would be Mulder." An uncomfortable silence fell in the car between the pair, each immersed in their own thoughts and worries. Focusing on her screen, Scully licked her lips. "I think I've got something here." "Well, I hope it's not catching." Ignoring him, she continued. "DeSousa was working on a surveillance deal with a small group of drug dealers. These are the ones that Skinner suspects that he went rogue with; the idea being that he's using the ransom money to get out of the country and to set himself up someplace nice and warm with his buddies." "I hear ya..." "But..." She paused; tucking a lock of hair behind one ear. "It seems that there was a reference to one large drug shipment coming in soon; the mother lode of the smugglers' cocaine." "Okay..." Marty looked into the darkness surrounding the car; then back at the road. "So they were making a last big hit - what does that have to do with grabbing Mulder and St. George?" "Because all of our resources are probably focused right now on getting them back - and not on intercepting this shipment coming in." She tapped the keyboard anxiously. "And I'm willing to bet that the entire kidnapping scenario is just a blind to keep us away from this incoming cargo drop." "But they still can't leave the country." Marty protested. "Not right now; not with the hunt on for them right now. But if they get this shipment in and then lie low for a few months after it calms down; they get to leave quietly and don't have to worry right now about interception of the drugs." Dana stopped, out of breath. "Of course, that's just a theory." "Not far off." Marty took one hand off the steering wheel and pried a map out of the pocket set in the driver's door. "There's an old airfield in the area where we had the general location for Jackie." He passed it to her. "Look it up - I had to work there for a shift to fix up some hotshot's plane that had to make an emergency landing. Small field, but it'll handle a few planes coming in." "Is it still active?" "Nope." He shook his head. "Closed down a few years ago and sold off to a private company, last that I heard of - a great savings for the Air Force and somebody picked it up for a song." Instinctively Dana reached for her phone, then stopped. "I'm going to tell Skinner what we've got - at least to this point." "I think you should update him." Marty advised. "But lay off calling in the team until we check it out." "Who put you in charge?" She smiled, dialling the number. "Besides, from what Jackie tells me, you were bumped up and down the ranks so many times your sleeves had velcro sewn on." "And what else did she tell you?" He turned to her. Shaking her head, she ignored him; speaking quietly into the receiver. ******** Rubbing his eyes, Mulder got to his feet; his fingertips feeling around him for a hold on the wall. Walking forward a few feet, he stretched his arms upward and waved them around. The metal rung was just within reach. Grabbing it, he pulled himself up the short ladder to the hatch. "Mulder?" Taking ahold of the handle, he twisted it hard to the left and then to the right; pushing as hard as he could without losing his balance. "Mulder..." "Yah?" "Get back down here before you hurt yourself." With a soft grunt he dropped down to the floor. "I thought you were asleep." "I was." The sigh echoed in the darkness. "But it's hard to tell down here what's a dream and what's not." "Well, I'm not. And you're not. And if it is, please adjust your settings to put me on a beach somewhere with a few women." "Redheads, I assume." "..." "Can't hear you, Mulder." A chuckle. "Anyway, I keep hearing this tune - figure it out for me, Doctor." "Fire away." "You know the St. Ives song..." "What?" "You know..." Taking a deep breath, she began to rhyme it out. "On the way to St. Ives I met a man with seven wives. Every wife had seven baskets, every basket had seven cats, every cat had seven kittens..." Mulder finished the song. "Kittens, cats, baskets, wives - how many were going to St. Ives?" "Yah." St. George chuckled again. "Remember the answer?" "Sure - one." "So explain why this came to me?" "I have no idea." "And you're trying to save the world? Saints preserve us..." The put-on Irish accent on the last words made Mulder snicker. "Well, tell them to try harder - I'm getting tired of cheese sandwiches and want a thick steak." ****** "Right... about ten more miles to the base." Tapping the digital numbers, Marty smiled at the woman beside him. "Just like I said." "No, just like you thought." She corrected him. "We still don't have any proof that this crystal can accurately pick up anything related to Jackie. And Mulder." Turning her head, she looked out into the darkness. "But it's the best we've got right now. Skinner says that they're no closer, and the deadline is three hours away." "Well, even if it's a dead end, at least we're doing something." He offered. "Hell, better than sitting back in the apartment making tea - and I hate tea." "Then why make it?" "Because she drinks it." Pulling over to the side of the road, the man pulled out a pencil and flipped the map over. "This is a rough idea of the base; at least as far as I can remember." Sketching it in blocks, he looked at her. "Two main buildings; one hangar. And a shack here and there for tools and supplies." "And only one entrance." Scully sighed. "Which makes it a bit harder to sneak onto the property and check it out. And perhaps make a quick exit if we need to." "Who says there's only one entrance?" He grinned, handing her the map. "I may not have been a drinker in the Air Force, but I drove enough buddies home to know how to get in and out of there." "And what happens when we get in?" The redhead looked at him sternly. "I might remind you that if we're caught trespassing on private property that Skinner won't take it too well." "He probably won't like this either." He brandished the Colt .45 stuck in his belt. "But don't you even hint at leaving me behind." "Marty..." "Dana..." "You're not a trained field agent." "Your point?" "If you get hurt, Jackie'll kill me." "If you get hurt, Mulder'll have the Gunmen hack me out of business. And sic the IRS on me. And then get nasty." Tilting his head to one side, he chuckled. "No way out of this one, Scully. Besides, you need me to get you inside." "And then what?" She gestured at the map. "Any idea where they are?" "Ah..." His face dropped. "I can't make it that accurate. I'll be able to tell you which building, but I can't pinpoint her." The woman sat quietly for a minute, staring out into the thick forest bordering the road. "Drive." "Yes, 'mam." ******** "Cats, kittens, baskets, wives..." St. George hummed to herself. "What the hell does this mean?" "Means that you've finally lost it." An answering voice came out of the darkness. "Thanks for your understanding, Mulder." "Hey, least I can do. Want another cola?" "No - I'm juiced up enough as it is. But I'm dying for a beer." "Oh, yah... and a thick juicy steak." "With mushrooms." "And a baked potato." "With sour cream." She breathed. "And for dessert..." "Vanilla ice cream with chocolate syrup." "Strawberries with whipped cream." He paused. "I thought you told me you were allergic to strawberries." "It's not what you eat, Mulder... it's how you eat it. And with whom." "Oh..." A deep sigh. "Now I'm really hungry." "Just stay over there, G-man." ********* "Yeah, just like I thought," Marty said as he handed the night vision scope to Dana. "They still only have one sentry on this back access gate. They're following the same setup that the previous owners had." "What, no electronic security?" She asked taking the scope from him. "Nope," Marty answered. "Remember, no one is supposed to know this gate is even here. That's part of the security arrangement for the place." "Doesn't make much sense," Dana said. "Why post a guard then?" "You've still got to go through the motions," he said. "It's like Jackie told me one time, security isn't there to stop breeches, it's there to trap anyone who attempts to. If you really want to shoot the President you can, but you probably won't get away afterwards. That's why the one guard, if you came up this old road and saw him, you'd turn around before you got too close." Dana looked at the unshaven scruffy man through the scope. "One is still all that's needed to raise an alarm. How are we going to get past him?" "Why don't you distract him and I'll sneak around behind and smack him with a tree branch?" Marty asked. "And just how am I supposed to do that?" "What, I've got to draw you a picture?" Marty pointed at the FBI agent. "Lemme lay this out for you. You, hot redheaded woman. Him," Marty pointed at the guard, "guy with no neck on the late shift. I don't think it's that hard to figure out." "Would you say that to Jackie? Or should I just repeat it for her?" Putting her hands on her hips, Scully stared at him for a long moment; a secret sense of satisfaction at the discomfort her intense glare caused. Finally he picked up the night scope and winked mischievously at her. "I'm just saying what Mulder would say. Right?" She opened her mouth to reply, and just as quickly shut it again as the words sank in. Turning on her heel, she opened the back door and reached for the sword. "What, gonna cut me down to size?" Weighing it in her hands for a second, she smiled. "No, just wanted to make sure you knew which end to hit him with. Besides..." She passed it carefully to him. "I'm sure Jackie will take care of that afterwards." She looked at the box. "You better reload this thing or whatever you want to call it." With a smile Marty replaced the crystal in the hilt of the sword, then threw the box down hard on the dirt road; seeing it splinter into pieces. "Better safe than sorry." He stepped on a circuit board. "Very safe." ******** "I've got it!" "Then keep it over there, St. George..." "No, the answer..." The excited voice echoed around the room. "The riddle works because you're the only one going to St. Ives, right?" "That's the way it works." The bored response. "But it's all a matter of perception. DeSousa wants the Bureau to think that we're the main focus of this thing; that he wants the money. But what if he's walking towards St. Ives instead of away from it?" Mulder rapped the empty pop can on the floor thoughtfully. "That we're some sort of cover for something else? That's possible..." Crushing the can in his hand, he tossed it into the blackness. "Ow!" "Sorry." "Yah, right." The joking disappeared. "Although I gotta point out that if he's not using us for the ransom, it's not likely that he's going to let us out of here." "Ah... yah..." The crinkling of foil. "Three sandwiches left." "Wonderful." ******* The guard yawned, staring into the night. A lone car slowly cruised down the road towards him; wobbling dangerously towards the side of the road and the deep ditch. Swinging the automatic rifle down from his shoulder, he watched cautiously as a woman got out of the car; her hands fluttering in the air as she walked towards him. Redhead, flustered... maybe it would be a good night after all. Lowering his weapon, he watched her approach the booth. "My car... oh, it's got a flat tire and I'm late for my date and he's going to be so mad at me and can you help me?" The words came out in a single breath, her face red with worry. His gaze ran over the petite woman; the thin silk blouse open one button lower than it should be, the tight slacks and heels way too high for any normal woman to run in. "Sure, lady." He grinned. "Why don't you come inside my hut here and rest for a second?" Turning around, his jaw dropped as the pommel of the sword slammed into his face. "That was fun." Marty snickered as he dragged the body towards the guardhouse. "Can we do that again?" "No." Scully stated in a firm tone, quickly buttoning up her blouse and retrieving her trench coat and suit jacket from the car. "I can't believe I did such a stereotypical thing..." "But it just proves that under it all, men are just beasts." Nantus grinned as he quickly tied and gagged the man. "I'll remember that one." "I hope you do." He hooked a thumb towards the two buildings. "Reading says she's in that one. Somewhere." As if on cue, a cargo plane buzzed overhead; circling lazily as it readied itself to land. Scully stared up at it. "Think that's the big burrito there?" Marty slung the sword over his shoulder; securing it on his back while adjusting the automatic rifle he now held. "Perhaps." She pulled her pistol free. "Or we're in a lot of trouble and Skinner won't be putting me in for any bonus pay." ******** "They dodged the patrols just fine." DeSousa stared at the plane through the glass windows of the small control tower. "Told you that they'd be clear - right now all the good little Fibbies are trying to figure out where their pals are." His partner frowned, rubbing the stubble on his chin. "Maybe. Just because we got it in doesn't mean that we can get out." He waved a hand at the plane. "We'll be unpacked within the hour. Then what?" "Your buddies take the snow and pass it around the country while we leave for places warmer than here." The man grinned. "I'll put in a call twenty minutes after we lift off telling them where to find the bodies and then they'll be too busy getting here to see us go." "Bodies?" Rubbing the red rag around his neck, the middle-aged man shook his head. "I thought you didn't want to kill them." "I didn't say that." DeSousa smiled. "But it's a good bet that they might kill each other before they get out. Mental fatigue and all that - either way, I think Mulder might be a bit more spooky when he gets out." "And the woman?" "Hell, she's nuts already." He lit up a cigarette and smiled. "Just like her old man." ******* The sentry leaned against the door; watching the hired hands unload the sacks from the back of the plane. Lighting up a cigarette, he sighed and looked up at the sun. Then looked down at the business end of a rifle. "Don't say anything." A male voice warned him as the cigarette hung limply from his mouth. The pain only lasted a second as the rifle slammed into his head. "He'll be fine." Squatting down, Scully checked quickly for a pulse. "Just don't be so eager, hmm?" "I don't want to shoot them..." Marty let out a low whistle as he saw the plane. "Nice baby. We've got about ten minutes, depending on how fast they unload her." "Look like regular cargo to you?" Dana opened the door to the building. "Not with this many people and fire power." Marty dragged the body inside. The pair stared down the hallway. "Dana, there's got to be over twenty rooms here." Marty groaned. "From what I remember - briefing rooms, barracks, offices... where do you want to start?" She hesitated for a minute before pointing down the hall. "This way." "What, you're homing in on Mulder?" The look she threw him had killed lesser men. As it was, he shut up and followed obediently. ******* "Get the men on the truck and get that stuff out of here - then refuel the plane and we'll be down in a few minutes." DeSousa smiled as he put the phone down. His partner lifted his feet from the chair and stood up. "They'll take it into town as you asked and pass it to our contacts." He nodded at the ex-agent. "You've done well." "Hey, you asked me and I named the price." DeSousa shrugged. "And I..." He stopped suddenly. Stepping over to the window, he stared at the building next to them. "I'll meet you on the runway." "Problem?" The smuggler frowned. "Nothing I can't handle." Removing the pistol from his hip, the man flipped the safety off. "Besides, I like to clean up all the loose ends myself." ******** "So you figure that DeSousa's using us to cover up something with the drug dealers?" "Well, you got a better idea, Ms St. Ives?" "St. George." "Whatever." "Then toss me the last sandwich and help me hobble to this bloody ladder. Time to see if I can really fly." ****** Scully paused in the centre of the hallway, finding another junction. Behind her, her temporary partner stood quietly and watched. "This way." Spinning to her left, she walked briskly down the corridor. After a quick glance behind them, he followed obediently. "Ah, Agent Scully." The voice froze them both in their tracks. Turning around, the pair faced DeSousa; standing squarely in the hallway. "So much for the stealth technique." Marty mumbled. "Weapons on the ground, please." He gestured with the pistol, pointed directly at Scully's head. "All of them, please." Silently they disarmed themselves, dropping the sword last atop Scully's pistol; the .45 and the rifle they had taken off the sentry. DeSousa smiled as he bent down and grabbed the scabbarded weapon. "Let me guess - some toy of St. George's?" He chuckled. "And you must be her little boy toy..." He waved the pistol at Marty. "Too bad you two are late." "Where are they?" Scully demanded in a firm voice. "You know you won't get away with this - the Bureau knows we're here and they've got teams on the way to make sure your friends don't go anywhere with their 'merchandise'." A nerve twitched in DeSousa's cheek as he listened to her. "Maybe. Maybe you're here on your own. But I'm walking out of here right now and you can't stop me." Deftly unloading the pistols and the rifle, he slipped the magazines into his pockets and kicked the weapons far down the hallway, away from them. "Now I suggest that you..." The sound of distant gunfire surprised them all, coming from the airfield. Stepping forward suddenly, Scully slammed her fist against DeSousa's arm; sending the pistol flying away. Snapping up her elbow into her face, she felt the satisfying crunch of bone breaking as her right hand dug deep into his belly in a hard punch. Marty winced as he watched the ex-agent slump to the floor, holding his face in his hands as the blood began to flow freely down his front. Breathless, Scully stood back; bending down to take the pistol and ammunition from him. "Jackie was right - you do look better with it broken." "Who the hell is that outside?" Marty gestured as the gunfire drew closer in sporadic bursts. "What, you think I didn't call anyone? While you were in the bushes waiting for me to make a fool of myself at the gate, I called up Skinner and told him what we had and where we were - told him that we were going in and to make a call on it." "You could have been wrong." He followed her as she hustled down the hallway, ignoring the moaning man they left behind. "Then I would have blamed it on you." She shot back as they stopped by a door. "Here." "Here what?" "Let's start in this one. Work our way around the hallway." Scully pulled the door open. "I don't trust him to leave Jackie and Mulder where we could find them." ******* "I think I hear something, Mulder." "That's my stomach growling." "Your stomach sounds like gunfire." "Indigestion." ******* "That's four so far." Marty groaned as they moved from room to room. "I think the tanks are this way." "What tanks?" "Storage tanks. They used to put supplies in them; pile stuff underground that you didn't need for months at a time. That is, if they still have them." Dana leaned on the wall, thinking. "Underground tank. Great place to put two people if you didn't want to worry about them." ******** Stuffing a handkerchief to his face to stem the bleeding, DeSousa stumbled out onto the runway; still clutching the sword. To his left he could see the armoured gunmen working their way slowly towards the cargo plane and the few helpers still left; trapped between the plane and the relative safety of the buildings. But they hadn't seen him yet. And he certainly didn't intend to be caught. ******* The room was deserted and silent; the single hatch in the floor signalling the first of the storage areas Marty had described. Kneeling down, Dana pulled hard on the handle, turning it slowly. "Hope they don't get upset because we're late." Marty quipped as he bent down beside her; pulling hard on the iron door. "Mulder!" Scully yelled down into the darkness. "Mulder!" ******* The sunlight jabbed through the space like a laser beam; scorching their eyes for a few seconds before the two figures could block out the brightness. "Scully?" Mulder mumbled as he scrambled to his feet; heading for the ladder now clearly visible. "Scully!" "Are you okay?" She bent over, her red hair illuminated from behind by the light. "God, you look like an angel..." Mulder breathed out slowly, staring at her. "What?" "Ah... St. George's got a sprained ankle or something. I'll get her to the ladder, but you'll have to get someone to help pull her clear." "I don't think that'll be a problem." Scully responded dryly. "I've brought backup." St. George groaned as she hobbled her way towards the bright square, scowling as she looked up. "You... you are not supposed to be involved in these things..." She growled as she pulled herself up the rungs, her legs held by the tall Mulder. "And you brought him along on this..." "You can yell at me later." Marty shushed her as he pulled her clear. "Besides, it wasn't all my fault. Dana helped out. And Rosie. And the boys." Jackie rolled her eyes as she collapsed into his arms. "Beauty. Did you bring Skinner and the beer?" The gunfire met their ears. "Oh, and the fireworks, too?" Bent over and breathing heavily, Mulder rested his hands on his knees and stared at Scully. "I don't know what you did to find us, but we've got to get to DeSousa. He's using this as a ploy..." "To help out the smugglers." The petite redhead smiled at the shock on his face. "We've got it all under control." "DeSousa..." St. George groaned. "I want that bastard and I want his head on a platter..." Leaning heavily on her fiancee, she headed for the doorway. "Well, Scully beat you to it partially." He beamed, holding her up. "She managed to break his nose. Again." Raising an eyebrow, Mulder looked at his partner. "You hit him?" She shrugged. "It was necessary." "A fellow agent?" The sarcasm was thick. "Oh, Scully... I'm so disappointed in you..." "Want to see me hit another one?" Her smile disappeared as they rounded the corner. The empty hallway held the discarded pistols and rifle - but nothing else. "DeSousa." Scully put the palm of her hand to her forehead. "He must have made it out to the airfield. Dammit, I should have shot him or tied him up." "You were worried about Mulder." Marty said quietly. "And Jackie, too." "But I let him go." She shook her head. "Skinner's men will catch him." Mulder said reassuringly. "They won't let the snake..." The sound of a plane engine increasing velocity met their ears. Dragging Marty along with her for a crutch, Jackie hobbled to the door and lurched out into the light; holding one hand over her eyes. The plane was barrelling down the runway, sweeping the SWAT team away from it like flies as they fired on it from the sides of the concrete path. Finally breaking free of the ground, it slowly gained altitude and circled the field as it rose into the air. "Bastard." St. George cursed. "I owe him... What?" She looked at Marty and then at the ashen-faced Dana. "What?" "Ah... your sword..." Marty swallowed. "He... ah... the plane..." He looked at the woman beside him for help. "Dana?" Opening her mouth slowly, the redhead paused to choose her words carefully. "See, we had to..." The explosion caught them all by surprise; the fireball in the air shattering the peaceful blue sky with streaks of burning metal and fiery debris as the plane disappeared. "What the..." Mulder stared at the expanding white cloud. "You didn't..." He looked at Marty. "No, I didn't do anything." He looked at the three of them. "I was with Dana the entire time. Besides, I wouldn't blow up the plane - I'd disable it first." "Then what happened?" Scully looked at the dissipating fireball. "You can bet that he was on the plane..." She looked at the approaching black-suited attack team. "And Skinner's not going to be too happy..." A shrieking noise caught their attention; coming from in front of them. The sword fell from the sky, jabbing point-first into the ground as the scabbard hung from the hilt; the leather belt twisted around it tight. St. George leaned heavily on her fiancee's shoulder and started to laugh hysterically. "God, I love this job." ******** "She's taking it quite well." Scully whispered to Mulder, perched precariously on the edge of the sofa close to his leg. He nodded, putting the cup of coffee down. "So Skinner's fine with this?" St. George looked mournfully at her bandaged ankle. "No problems or inquiries, right?" "Well, the explosion is still a mystery." Mulder admitted. "And they didn't catch all of the drug shipment; but over half. So we're calling it even. And we saved the cost of a trial." "Bet Wally loved that one." She snickered. "Yes, he did. Along with me going along with Marty and exposing a civilian to unnecessary danger." Scully got to her feet, gesturing at Mulder. "And he wants to see us in an hour, so we better get going." With an exaggerated sigh, Mulder got to his feet. "Can't I say that I'm still psychologically affected by the darkness?" "You've always been. And not just by the darkness." Pushing him lightly towards the door, Scully looked back at the couple. "Don't be too hard on him, Jackie - he did find you." "Me? Never..." She waved from the chair. "Besides, Mulder's the one who owes me the steak dinner." Beside her, Marty smirked. "This is too good to be true." Scully murmured as the elevator door opened. "I was sure that..." The loud crash from the apartment was deafening, as was the yell. "YOU DID WHAT TO MY SWORD?" Wincing, Mulder pushed the elevator button. "I think Marty's in for a rough night." "Not as rough as yours." Scully smiled at him. "Skinner wants a full debriefing..." "How about we go back to the airfield and I'll show you how dark it was..." He grinned as the doors slid shut. "Bring my own flashlight..." "I've seen your flashlight, Mulder... and it's about a triple AAA battery size, if I recall correctly. Pretty small and low-powered." "Ow, Scully... that's low..." *********** for the Wookie's fans, who have wanted to see Marty in action for a while... at least the parts I can write about in public... ;-) "If you will practice being fictional for a while, you will understand that fictional characters are sometimes more real than people with bodies and heartbeats." Richard Bach -- "Illusions" The Gossamer Project Author - Title - Date - Spoilers - Crossovers - X-Files - Adventures - Stories - Vignettes Download Other stories by Martin, Sheryl /Please let us know if the site is not working properly. Set story display preferences . Do not archive stories elsewhere without permission from the author(s). See the Gossamer policies for more information. /