Sorry that the first few chapters of this might seem a bit muddled and ambiguous (but then again I can always come up the excuse that it's the X-Files; you're not supposed to completely understand :P). This was originally intended to be more of a stand-alone and the intro just as a means to get Mulder where I want him to be (you'll see), so don't get too attached to the mythology plot line seemingly started here…but then again maybe it will pop up later…anyway, I'm sorry for any confusion and doubly sorry if this little spiel just causes more perplexity :\

Anyway, onto the fun, and thanks very much for the reviews! Please keep them coming with as much honest feedback as you can give!

--

The men stood in the shadows, the distinguishable features of their faces hid by the dim, dramatic lighting of the space. But this tactic—or any other, for that matter—to disguise their identities made no difference to Mulder; he knew very well who these men were.

"You seem rather unshaken, Mr. Mulder," came a voice from one of the more forward figures, "Although, I must say I expected it."

"So high and mighty you can anticipate me?"

"You make it sound as if we are gods, Mr. Mulder. I assure you; the truth is far from that. To mere mortals like you, we only appear so."

Mulder would've laughed, if one of the men hadn't beaten him to it. A small chuckle escaped from someone on the left side of the dark; it was silenced with a slow, calculated glare from the leader. Mulder swallowed his smile. Suddenly, he had become very afraid, afraid for himself, afraid for what this calm, taunting man had planned. Still, better to fight fire with fire than to crash and burn.

"I suppose giving a mortal the same honor as a god may have tarnished your so spotless reputation a bit. Especially when—"

"If you desire to read into this, that is completely your choice. Tonight, however, was merely chosen for convenience."

Mulder involuntarily snorted.

"Keep telling yourself that. You know as well as I that by choosing to disservice me tonight, you would reach further; you would embarrass me and hurt those here to support me. Well, you failed; I saw it coming."

"But you didn't tell Agent Scully?"

Swallowing conspicuously, Mulder felt ashamed. He almost let head float down to just stare awkwardly at his toes, but his survival instinct wouldn't let him. He kept his eyes level with those across the room.

"She didn't need to know," he put blankly, "Scully is not important here."

"Then perhaps were should forego giving her this?"

He held up a small package to the light. It was freshly wrapped in brown paper and a simple encompassing twine held it together.

"You wouldn't dare," Mulder said threateningly, "That was our de—"

"Not to worry, I mean not to go back on our arrangement. I just think you should watch what you say."

The talking shadow reached down, a thin, bony hand retrieving something from a table Mulder hadn't even noticed was there. The man swapped the enigmatic package for the object. As he brought it into sight, the object was revealed to be a standard tape recorder, ensuring with each methodically spin of the tape that everything occurring would be on record forever.

"I don't imagine visiting hours where you're going will be quite enough to explain the contents of this conversation to your partner."

"You idiot—you can't release that; it would expose you."

He was trying in vain to regain his footing. He had, foolishly, he now saw, expected to be able to barter equally with these men. Instead, they were, as ever before, the ones calling the shots.

"Who said anything about us? We give only what we see fit," the voice cooed, "And I can tell your best interests do not include her knowing what you've said tonight. However much you believe Agent Scully trusts you, someone with a brain so rational and diligent must at some point doubt the reasoning of a person who follows such illogical hunches as you. I dare say she's been frantically attempting to access this room for the entire duration of out conversation, but if she were to learn to what ends you so rudely left her in the dark…"

"I don't care what you do," Mulder spat with a surprisingly calm air, "I'm going to explain to her eventually."

Even though his face remained darkened, the handcuffed Agent could tell that the man had smiled.

"Well, we won't bother beating you to the punch."

He picked up the brown package again, motioning to someone on his right side. One of the officers came running and the man placed it into the palm of his hand, whispering some instructions. Finally, the mysterious figure turned back to Mulder.

"All in all, I must thank you for your cooperation."

He stepped forward and as his face became awash with light, Mulder briefly recalled his name. But before he could decipher his identity to mean anything, something hard and heavy struck Mulder in the back of his skull. As he painfully sunk to his knees, the world dissolved into the murky, black soup of unconsciousness.

--

Indeed, Agent Scully had been impatiently trying to pry open the door. After a few futile jiggles at the handle, she was smart enough to realize that it was useless; the door was locked good and tight. Instead, she looked for help—in whatever form it was to take.

Not to mention that AD Skinner, whom she and Mulder had conversed with earlier that evening, had oddly disappeared. Scully was at loss as to what to do next. Mulder was always getting into trouble, it was an inevitable part of his character, but Scully, independent as she was, had relied on others to aid getting him off more than she had imagined.

But the hall had more or less emptied. How the guests knew to leave wasn't clear, but they all seemed to have received a vibe when the honoree was arrested that it was time to call it a night or, at best, scatter. Some pieces of litter speckled the floor and three or so people were still in the hall, talking quietly amongst themselves.

Well, she decided, Mulder went into that room; he has to eventually come out again.

She vowed to let no one leave the room uninterrogated. Sitting down on a marbled step, Scully positioned herself so that she could view any activity around the door, but if someone was looking for her, she was carefully hidden behind a railing. Then she waited.

In her heart, Scully felt fear for Mulder and it was only by designating herself a task that she was able to stay levelheaded. It was an approach that had worked a good many times before and, she hoped, would help her remain the rational one far into the future. In this case, she found her heart had indeed stopped pounding and her body had relaxed. Still, she sat up rather tense and straight and after Mulder had been gone for ten minutes, Scully discovered that her foot had fallen asleep.

As she stood up inconspicuously to shift to a more comfortable position, a voice startled her. As she began to turn, she learned the identity of the speaker. Her blood ran cold and her heart threatened to leap out of her chest again.

"A girl as smart as you should have figured there was another entrance to that room."

Scully watched her foe closely; her eyes scoured with her classic skeptical gaze. He only responded by dropping the still smoldering cigarette onto the ground and extinguishing it nonchalantly against the marbled, antique floor.

"What do you want?" the petite Agent bit bitterly back, "Where's Mulder?"

"I had nothing to do with tonight."

"Liar."

"I have something to give you."

"I hope for your sake it's Mulder."

"I'm sorry, my dear, but the exchange has already been made."

"What exchange?"

The smoking man reached into his lapel pocket. Scully almost took a step back; her instinct told her he had a weapon. But all he withdrew was the brown package, still intact.

"This," he said, holding it up for Scully to see, "For Mulder."

He held it out to her. Without taking her narrowed eyes off his face, she received it from him.

"Not a bad trade. What that parcel contains is of indeterminate value. To Mulder. To you. To your cause."

The man was subtle, but Scully could hear the sneering tone as he mentioned their 'cause.' She despised him so much; Scully wanted to slam the package into the floor, to spit on it or throw it back into Cancerman's face, just to spite him, to prove that she valued her partner's life far above any crap the government could hand her. But she knew it wasn't crap. Mulder had, though perhaps unwisely, traded his life for whatever information this small bundle held. As much as it pained her to accept it, Scully respected her partner too much to let anything happen to this item of supposed importance.

She clutched it tightly in her hand, leveling her gaze with the man again.

"I don't think you understand. My partner has had no authority to—"

The man leaned in and Scully stiffened as the stale, haunting smell of cigarette smoke filled her nostrils.

"It's done," he said definitively.

He turned to leave, his tall, lanky limbs carrying him briskly across the floor.

Scully was left standing in disbelief. The room had completely emptied now and the Agent stood forlorn amongst a forgotten expanse. The chandelier's light danced daintily along the tiles, blissfully ignorant of the fact that the joviality had been cut short.

She stumbled across the remains of an evening that never was to be, in her rumpled black gown, mindlessly carrying with her the cause of such ruin. The small parcel was responsible for the all the distress of the night, but Scully couldn't help but think that they had been swindled worse than ever before.

--

He was caught; he'd known it as soon as he'd made the decision to detour down the alleyway and caught a glimpse of the dark brick wall straight ahead.

"Damn," he muttered.

But he wouldn't sweat it, even as the sirens drew closer and louder and the blue blob of the cop appeared, back lit by the street lights and casting a long, menacing shadow down the corridor. He wouldn't sweat it, for his methods had ways of leaving no evidence; even of they caught him, they would never be able to charge him.

This was just a mild inconvenience in his messy plan. The arrest would just take time, that's all. Besides, he doubted if any of the hillbillies foolishly attempting to catch him would be capable to make any connections at all. That was good. Unless they discovered the other one and opened it up to the Feds…

As the authoritative figure moved closer, the fugitive began to shake. Stop, he told himself, you're letting the old you come back. You're a new person, better than this lowly cowardice. No one will put the pieces together. You have no tracks to cover.

The cop pointed his gun even with the man.

"Stop and exit the alley with your hands in sight."

The man, still on edge, put on a brave face and took a hesitant step into the cold light, his hands high in the air, and his brain racing to determine how to get himself out of this unanticipated predicament.