His jaw was on fire; his head was ready to implode. He tried to comfort the aching that reverberated through the nerves in his bones. To no avail, his hands were tied, he was on his side, it was cold. His limbs shivered though he hardly felt it, the cement floor sucked any heat his body tried to radiate. He rolled on to his belly but started back in painful surprise, his rib, it was broken. He felt the blood, dried and cold. What had he gotten himself in to this time? There was no light, just the suffocating presence of the dark, his only companion. He groaned as he made to carefully roll on to his belly. He needed to stand up; he needed to find a way out of here. His breath caught sharply as the injured rib struck gently against the cold floor, he carefully leaned back, every move sending lightning through his side and chest. He grit his teeth and finally positioned himself on his knees, he took a labored breath and relaxed his shoulders. One triumph, time for another. He slid his leg out in front of him and leaned forward, his brow dripped with sweat, the pain almost too much to bare. Rather shakily, he finally made it to his feet; the room swam darkly in front of him. His eyes squinted desperately trying to make something out, trying to find any source of light that could guide his escape. He took a tentative step forward then another, one more and he was nose to nose with a stonewall. He rest his forehead on the ragged grooves of the stone trying to gain his composure. He took another breath of the damp and stale air, and took a step to the right. With his foot he followed the base of the wall looking for an exit. It was slow progress, as he had to stop every few seconds to take control over the pain in his ribs. He came to where the south and east wall met, the corner was sealed tight. He must be in a basement, or some kind of tomb or storage area. A few moments later his spirits lifted as his hip grazed the end of a guardrail. There were stairs, slowly, he began to ascend, the boards were old and creaked profusely with each step. That's when he saw it, a hairline crack of light just a few steps up. His mind raced as he tried to think of what could be done and what would have to be done when he got out of here. He made it to the top of the stairs and leaned heavily against the wall, his breathing was shallow and he felt completely winded. He closed his eyes tight, certain the only way out was to depend on himself. Who would come for him, who? It would be days before this even reached the FBI, then what, where would they look? No one would have a clue, he bowed his head. He was on his own. He started as footsteps met his ears, before he could think the door was thrown open. The light was blinding, intense and sharp he could do nothing but attempt to shield his eyes from the sudden change of surroundings.

"Well, well, Agent Mulder, it's good to see you're up and moving about."

He barely had to time to brace himself for it. With a shock of pain he felt the blow to his side, he held in a scream that was ripping to get out. He barely noticed rolling over and over down the stairs, the sharp ends of the boards cutting in to his shoulders legs and chest. He hit the cold floor and looked up just in time to see the door snap shut.

In a blur of pain and blood sprung anew, Fox Mulder fell back in to darkness.

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WASHINGTON D.C. 6:17 A.M.

AGENT RATHONS RESIDENCE

OCTOBER 1ST

She had been up since 2:30 that morning; she had only slept for an hour or so. Lee stepped out of the shower and wiped the bathroom mirror with her hand, the accumulated water from her hot shower dropping in beads down the glass. She stared at her reflection in the mirror as she wrapped a towel around her waist. Lee's waist length black hair lay in sodden strands down her back and over her chest. Her Russian heritage was evident in her pale clear skin, dark raven hair, and livid eyes. The graceful arches in her facial features were secondary only to the curvaceous perfection of her figure. Muscles toned and trained, Agent Rathon was one of the FBI's finest. Her intuition, dark demeanor, and blue ribbon work in the field had earned her honorable mention among her fellow agents and superiors. It was what she always wanted; she had left Moscow at eighteen for this exact outcome. Since age ten it had been Lee's dream to be part of Americas eminent FBI Elite. Now she was, yet emptiness still threatened to consume her. Lee ran her long nails through her hair and turned her body to change the view of her reflection. Starting at the nape of her neck were Russian Angelic symbols that traced to the base of her hips. They exemplified all that she had left behind, her home, family, and way of life. Etched in black were tokens that offered private warmth only understood by Lee. Recently she had acquired similar tattoos on each forearm, the sting was mostly gone, the irritated skin no longer pink. She quickly brushed through her hair and tied it back in a single thick braid. Lee never bothered with make up, not that she was vain there was just never any time. Though unknown to her, many of Lee's male colleagues didn't feel she needed it in the first place. Lee draped a towel around her neck and went in to the kitchen. She had been living in this apartment for two years and it still looked as if she had just moved in. The place was sparsely furnished and besides her clothes, books, and files all of her things were still in boxes. Since her transfer to DC she had taken on many challenging cases, each unique in their own way. Over the past three years, Lee had partaken in three raids, two of which she had been assigned as team leader. All were of the utmost success. Her caseload was a steady stream of madness, she was constantly working, it was for that reason her place still looked like a dorm. She just never had the time or motivation to make things otherwise. All of her energy was invested in to this job, not that she was bitter. Lee loved her work; she honestly didn't know what she would do without it. Her drive had been boosted further six months ago when she had been transferred to the Criminal Profiling unit. Her objectives for the better part of her life had been to join the FBI, when she was accepted she thought she had accomplished her ultimate goal; only to find another in the horizon. Lee opened the fridge and stared blankly ahead for only a moment before finding the object of her desire. She cracked open a Dr. Pepper and leaned back against the jade tiling on her cupboards. She took a long drink and rubbed her forehead, she needed to get dressed.

RING RING RING

Lee almost started but caught herself. She sat her soda down and went in to the living room. She spotted her cell phone on the end of the couch and dashed for it. She picked it up and quickly glanced at the caller id before hitting the talk button. It was headquarters.

"Rathon."

"Agent Rathon this is Assistant Director Skinner."

"Yes sir?"

"I'm going to need you to report to headquarters immediately. I'll be in my office, I have something of the utmost importance to discuss with you."

"Is anything the matter sir?"

"I'll go in to full detail, but we need to talk in person."

"Understood sir, I'll be there as soon as humanly possible."

"Thank you Agent Rathon."

Lee clicked off the line and set her phone back down. Lee instinctively straightened her spine and took a deep breath. This could very well be the next step towards her goal.

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A.D SKINNERS OFFICE

FBI HEADQUARTERS 6:59 A.M

Walter Skinner sat behind his desk, his fingers entwined below his chin, staring ahead at nothing. His eyes were faraway, cloaked in concentration. What had Mulder gotten in to this time? More importantly, what would he have to do to get him out of it? He had already taken the first step and was awaiting her arrival. As if truly bidden by his thoughts, his receptionist buzzed in to announce her coming.

"Send her in."

His office door opened and in stepped Agent Rathon. She was his height, attractive, and held herself in a bearing that Skinner was all too familiar with. He saw in only one other person the demeanor she carried so fast. His instincts had obviously been correct in choosing this agent for the work at hand. Skinner knew her background as well as Mulders. She was an accomplished member of the FBI team. He had worked with her on more occasions since her transfer to Criminal Profiling. She was an extremely capable agent. Her current path however; had caused quite a stir with the board. For Skinner, her obvious goal was all the more reason to put her on this case. Skinner extended a hand to the chair opposite his desk.

"Have a seat Agent Rathon."

"Thank you sir." She said with a polite smile. He watched as her eyes quickly scanned the room as she sat down. She crossed her legs and rest her elbows on the arm rest of the chair. She quickly re-established eye contact, her face suddenly expressionless. Skinner would have been taken aback had he not used the expression countless times himself.

"Earlier this morning Special Agent Fox Mulder was reported missing by the Green Bay P.D. in Wisconsin. Agent Rathon are you familiar with Agent Mulders work?"

He knew the answer already.

"Quite well sir."

"Would you mind elaborating?"

"Nor sir, Agent Mulder attended Oxford in 1983 and obtained a masters in psychology before being recruited to the FBI. During his preliminary training he was dubbed a talented and incisive up and comer. He worked violent crimes and criminal profiling. During that time he wrote a monograph that resulted in the capture of the infamous Monty Props, 1988 I believe. Through out that time he accomplished much including developing strong ties with a select few government officials. It's that fact that keeps the X-Files going. He was referred to as 'Spooky' by some of his peers for his inclination toward the paranormal. If I'm not mistaken he underwent hypnotic regression a few years ago and since then has dedicated his time to the X-Files. He has been known by a few aliases including Reynard Muldrake, M.F. Luder, and Mr. Kaplan. Full name Fox William Mulder, born October 13th 1961 in Chilmark. He's 6'1, brown hair, hazel eyes and 170 pounds."

She crossed her arms over her breasts waiting for the next question. He couldn't help but look mildly surprised at the extent of her knowledge. A few choice bits weren't even on his file.

"Then you are aware of the nature of the X-Files?"

"Very much so sir. I understand that they deal with the paranormal and certain accusations of conspiracy within our own government. Most are unsolved and are ignored by fellow agents, with the exception of Agent Mulder."

"Agent Rathon, I called you in here today to ask a favor. Agent Mulder has few allies here. I need someone I can trust on this. I've seen your work; I've been in the field with you more than once. Your loyalties are placed well."

She knew well what he meant and desisted in elaborating further. Smart.

"Agent Rathon I understand you've made two requests to transfer to the X-Files."

He watched as her breath caught in her throat, he didn't understand her eagerness to become part of something that would cause her ridicule. He understood Mulders reasoning and thought that the man would be hard pressed to find an ample partner. Yet again a field agent with the utmost potential was taking a turn that could rip apart a distinguished career. Their crusade was their own and Skinner would not smother it.

"Yes sir, and denied twice for reasons that are still unknown to me."

Skinner nodded. He knew well why her requests had been declined.

"I am willing to approve your transferal request if you accept this case. Upon doing so you will no doubt come across certain… information. If you do accept this case and Mulder is found, he will no doubt immediately return to his work on the X-Files. As his potential partner in this you may find yourself handling sensitive materials. I'm sure you're aware that the Bureau considers Mulders work a bit of a touchy subject."

"Yes sir."

He slid a plane ticket across his desk.

"Your flight leaves in 14 hours, that is of course you accept?"

"It would be an honor sir."

She stood from her chair and slipped the ticket from his fingertips.

"You're dismissed Agent Rathon. Good luck."

She smiled lightly and moved to leave.

"One thing Agent Rathon."

She turned his way.

"I'm sure you'll be discrete and selective as to who you trust?"
She nodded knowingly.

"Of course sir."

She turned to leave, determination set anew in her face. Just before she shut the door she stopped.

"Thank you sir. I won't let you down."