A figure stood outside the closed door of Room #506. He watched through the window as he listened to the thoughts of Dana and Fox's boss.
"Oh, she will come back. But only if she and Fox complete the journey together. Not before. And you, Walter: your life shall not end as you see it. If they come out of this together, you will not need to die to save them. They will save themselves. I know they can do it. It is their destiny. And yours lies with them."
And the stranger walked away unnoticed down the corridor. Had anyone asked to see his ID, they would have found his name to be Paul Davidson. Well, his Earthly name, anyway.
Dana sighed heavily as she sat in the chair at the desk contemplating the purplish-black liquid which filled the bottom inch of the plastic-coated paper cup. Its properties were such that she could only guess at its identity. The man who refused to tell her his name had told her all he knew: that it was an opium-based extract, but mixed with several other chemicals which could only be...and here he'd lost her...extraterrestrial in origin. Neither of them knew why, but it seemed the only thing the liquid wouldn't disintegrate was this plastic-coated cup. And so it sat on the small desk in the motel, waiting for the man's friends to come pick it up tomorrow morning. He said it needed further study-the type of study which warranted extreme and unorthodox measures.
Special Agent Dana K. Scully was not altogether certain she trusted the man, whom she'd come to call X for lack of anything better, but he seemed honest, if somewhat spooky. She laughed to herself as she thought, -Perhaps I should have nicknamed him Spooky.-. Besides, she had no choice in the matter-her heart had made the decision for her.
X. Spooky. X. Spooky. Hmmm. Resoundingly familiar, as was he. Yet she couldn't place the feelings stirring within her, couldn't figure out exactly why she'd agreed to help X in the first place, let alone put her job on the line for doing so.
X had come to her purely by accident one week earlier. She'd been on a stakeout with a rookie agent just assigned to VCS by the name of Paul Davidson. Deciding nothing much would happen that night, and noting Paul's lack of enthusiasm for his current assignment, Dana had ordered him back to the Bureau to do some necessary research. She sat there for three hours after he'd left in a cab, watching the house in question. They were after an opium dealer, and had gained information indicating this was the house he was operating out of. But so far it had been quiet.
At approximately 3:14am, she noticed some movement to the side of the house and left the safety of her blue Taurus -Taurus. Familiar car. Too familiar. But why?- to investigate. Gun drawn, she carefully approached the figure who seemed to be trying to wriggle out of a basement window.
"Federal agent, freeze!" she barked, aiming her weapon at the figure's head.
The man froze as requested, lifting his face up to look at her. She gasped. He was bruised and cut. Dried blood covered his face and torso, which was naked. Smudges of dirt dotted his body, and in his hand he held a cup with about two inches of a dark liquid in it.
"Help me," he croaked, reaching out to her with his free hand.
"Who are you?" She knew this wasn't Chester Krieg, the dealer they'd been after. A sudden pang of recognition swept through her being as she looked at his face. But it passed as quickly as it had come. He did look like he'd been through hell.
"Please, there's no time. He'll be back soon. He was holding me captive. I just managed to escape. Please help me."
Dana stared at his face for a long while, contemplating her choices. She could either cuff him and take him back to the Bureau for questioning, or let him go and pray he wasn't one of Chester's cronies. "Come all the way out and stand up with your hands behind your head."
"Could you...take this from me? I can't hold my hands behind my head with it."
She thought for a moment. Oh, what could it hurt? "What is it?"
"Be very, very careful," he said, extending the cup to her. "This stuff is lethal. It'll eat through anything it touches. Don't spill it."
"It's not eating through the cup," Dana remarked as she took the cup from him and sniffed it. She recoiled in disgust at the odor which greeted her nose.
"No," the man said as he pulled himself out of the window and, with some difficulty, stood to his full height. A good eight inches higher than Dana herself. "Apparently it won't eat through that cup. I think the plastic coating has something to do with it."
"What is it?" she asked again.
"It's based on an opium extract, but it also has other components, some of which may be...extraterrestrial in origin."
"Excuse me?" she asked, her gun still pointed at the stranger.
"Please, I promise I'll explain it all to you. But we have to leave before he comes back! When he discovers I've escaped and took some of that with me, he'll kill me!"
"How do I know I can trust you?" Dana asked levelly, her steady voice betraying her churning gut.
"How do I know I can trust you?" he countered.
"You don't have much of a choice. I've got the gun."
"Good point. Look, I know this seems really weird, but please, I'm in a lot of pain here, and I need to get away before Krieg returns. You can trust me."
His hazel eyes caught her blue ones, and in that one instant, both of them knew they'd found 'The One.' Neither could explain it, but something passed between them in that moment that told them everything they needed to know and all the things they could not ask.
"Let's go," Dana said, breaking the spell. She was thoroughly confused now, but knew she had to help him, whatever the cost. She holstered her gun and headed for her car, with X following behind her.
"Be careful not to splash that liquid on yourself. I've seen men the size of linebackers melt into nothingness from just a drop of it. Here, let me take it."
She gladly handed him the cup, reminding herself that he was probably crazy, what with all the talk of extraterrestrials and melting men. But that wasn't important now. They scurried into the car, and Dana sped off, back towards her apartment. She didn't know where else to go.
"Where are we going?"
"To my place. We sure can't go to the Bureau."
"We shouldn't go to your place either. It's too dangerous. You don't want these men knowing where you live, believe me."
"Then what did you have in mind?"
"How about a motel? Listen, I only need help until my friends come to get this stuff off me. I have to contact them, and they won't like having to come to a federal agent's home anyway. They'll feel safer coming to a motel room. And I think we'll be safer there, too."
She thought about that for a moment. "Okay. I guess that makes sense. These friends of yours sound paranoid."
"Aren't we all?" He smiled a lopsided sort of grin.
"Whatever. Do you know a place?"
"Yeah. Take a right up here, then take your second left and keep going for about ten miles."
"That's way out of town."
"Yes. We can't stay in D.C."
"I don't live in D.C."
"Most people don't. We need to get away, you know what I mean?"
"You're lucky I don't just dump you on the side of the road and have done with you. I don't even know your name."
"I-I really don't want to tell you."
"Why not?"
"It will be more dangerous for you if you know my true identity. It's bad enough you know my face. Especially being an FBI agent and all."
"Why? Are you on the run from the law?"
"Well, yes and no. I'm not really a criminal, but the government doesn't like what I do."
"Which is...?"
"Try to uncover their conspiracies and keep the public informed."
"Ooookaaaay. Well, we can talk about that later. Do you want to use my cellphone to call your, uh, friends?"
"That would be great. Thanks."
She handed him her cellphone and he placed the cup of liquid in the dashboard cup holder. He dialed seven digits and put the phone to his ear. After several seconds he spoke.
"Yeah, Frohike, it's me, turn the tape off...No, I'm on a cellphone...No, it's not mine, it's..." to Scully he said, "Who are you?"
"Special Agent Dana K. Scully, Federal Bureau of Investigation."
"You heard that, right, Frohike?...Yes, she can be trusted...No, I only met her tonight...Yeah, would you? Just to be sure...Will you shut up for a minute? Jesus, man, I've got a sample of the opium extract...Yes, I want you and the guys to analyze it...Yes, it's the stuff that disintegrates things on
contact...I have it with me...We're going to the Bel-Mar just outside Arlington...What? All right, that'll have to do...Sure, it's okay. See ya then."
He handed the phone back to her. "Dammit. They can't come until tomorrow morning. The other two are off somewhere, and Frohike refuses to come alone when there's an FBI agent around."
"Gee, thanks, he doesn't even know me."
"No, but Frohike trusts no one. Neither do I."
"You seem to trust me."
"Can't explain that one. Then again, you have the gun." He smiled that crooked smile again.
She found herself smiling in return. "Since you won't tell me your name, I'm going to call you X."
"Why X?"
"I'm not certain, exactly. It just seems to fit. I can't put my finger on it..."
"Oh, Scully, you're gonna wanna turn right three streets up, then take your first left, then second right."
*Why did I just call her 'Scully'?*
-Why did he just call me 'Scully'?- "Okay. So who are these friends of yours?"
"You ever heard of 'The Lone Gunmen'?"
Dana furrowed her brow in thought before replying. "No, can't say that I have. Why?"
"These friends of mine are the ones who publish it. It's a kind of newsletter all about government cover-ups, conspiracies, UFO's, aliens, stuff like that."
"Tell me you don't believe in all that."
"I live it, Scully."
"Why are you calling me Scully?"
"Well, I figured you'd punch me if I called you Dana, and I don't know if you're a Miss or a Mrs., and I hate the use of Ms., and Agent Scully just seems too damned formal for the woman who is helping keep me alive."
"You've got an answer for everything, don't you?" she smirked. Boy, did she like this man. His mysteriousness only added to the thrill of excitement she felt.
"Most of the time. I have a photographic memory."
"Good Lord. A paranoid, spooky man with an eidetic memory. What have I gotten myself into?"
"Spooky? You think I'm spooky?" he chuckled.
"Yes. Why does that amuse you?"
"That's my nickname. One I don't take kindly too."
"Oh. Sorry. Guess I'm lucky I didn't call you Spooky, huh?"
"I like X better. Thanks. Oh, the Bel-Mar is just up here on the left."
Scully pulled into the gravel parking lot. "This looks like a place where you rent rooms by the hour."
"It is."
She made a face at him. "That's disgusting."
"Yeah, but it's the last place anyone would think of finding an FBI agent and a nutcase, right?"
"You have a point about the FBI agent part. I plead the fifth on the nutcase. I'll go get us the rooms."
"Just don't use your real name. No one ever does at these places."
"I'm not even going to ask how you know about this place." Dana said as she exited the car and headed for the office.
He laughed out loud as he watched her enter and then, only ten minutes later, return.
"What are you laughing at?"
"You."
"I don't like to be laughed at."
"I'm sorry. You're just funny, that's all. You've got a great sense of humor."
"Thank you. I think."
"Why are you frowning?"
"They only have one room left."
"I don't bite."
"How do I know that?"
He sighed. "You don't. You have only my word."
She stared at him for a moment after getting into the driver's seat. "I'll take that."
He smiled, then winced as several cuts on his face cracked open under the strain.
"I'll have to get you cleaned up when we get inside. I've got my med kit in the trunk."
As she pulled the car into the parking space in front of Room 5, he asked, "Med kit? Is that standard FBI issue these days?"
"No. I'm also a medical doctor."
"Really? And an agent? That's an interesting combo."
"Forensic pathology. It's useful in my line of work. The Bureau likes having autopsies done on the inside in certain cases, and there are very few forensic pathologists slash agents on the payroll."
"Makes you rather indispensable, doesn't it?"
"To a degree, yes. Let's get inside."
The two went to the door. Dana stared for a moment at the number 5 plastered on the front of it. 5. Why did that number seem so familiar to her? 5. Hmmm. 5. Room 5. Room 5. No, not a room. An apartment. Apartment 5...is that my apartment? Why don't I know my own apartment number?
"You all right?" X asked softly, laying a hand on her arm.
She shook the feeling off and unlocked the door. "I'm fine."
"Why don't I believe that?" X carefully placed the cup of liquid on the bathroom counter. "If you don't mind, I'd like to clean myself up."
"That's a good idea. Once you've gotten most of the dirt off, I'll take care of your injuries."
He closed the bathroom door, and Dana soon heard the shower running. She sat down on the bed when she realized that what she was doing was not only completely out-of-character for her, but probably very stupid. -What in God's name am I doing in a motel room with an obvious mental case who claims
his opium extract is of partial extraterrestrial origin and can disintegrate things? My father would kill me for acting so irrationally.-
A sudden stab of pain seared across her heart. She didn't understand. It had to do with Ahab. Thinking about him made her want to cry. She felt a dull pain in her chest associated with him, but didn't know why. A terrible sense of loss. But why? He was fine. He was at home with Mom. Why did thinking about him just now make her feel like she'd already lost him?
Dana was startled when X came up behind her and lay a hand on her shoulder. "Sorry. I called your name, but you didn't answer. Are you sure you're all right?"
"Yes, fine. Let's take a look at your wounds." Her eyebrows raised when she saw he wore only a towel wrapped around his waist.
"Hey, don't blame me, I don't have any clean clothes. Besides, some of my injuries are on my legs."
"No problem. I'll start with your legs, then. While I'm working, do you mind telling me why Krieg was holding you prisoner and how you escaped?"
"That's a fair trade," he replied, seating himself on the one double bed which occupied the room. "Chester Krieg is believed to be involved with members of a Syndicate, or Consortium, of men in high places around the world who operate far above and beyond the limitations of normal law and order. He is indeed an opium dealer, but that is a cover for his real work...ow!"
"Sorry. This will sting. What's his real work?"
"Thanks for the warning," he said sarcastically, drawing a miniature smile from her. "It is my belief that he's been using extract from his opium as part of an experiment sanctioned by the Consortium. Ouch."
"You're such a baby."
"Wonderful bedside manner. No wonder you chose to work on the dead."
She wiped at the gash on his leg a little harder than necessary in response to his quip, for which she received a glare. "Anyway," he continued through clenched teeth, "the experiment involves substances of a chemical nature which cannot be identified as anything found on this planet. I'm not quite sure what the nature of these experiments are, nor what Krieg is trying to accomplish. I went snooping around his house looking for information. He caught me and has kept me locked in an old bomb shelter in his basement for, well, for a long time."
"Where did all the scratches and dirt come from?" Dana asked, barely believing a word he said. She had finished his legs and one arm, and was now working on the other arm. -Nice chest.- she thought absently.
"Well, the guy was a little pissed off at me and beat me up a bit."
"A little? I'm surprised you're still walking."
"Adrenaline rush. I'm about ready to collapse."
"And the dirt?"
"I dug my way out. Took me forever. I can't be sure exactly how long, since I don't even know what day it is."
"It's Tuesday, March 14th. You dug your way out of a bomb shelter?" Dana finished his arm and noticed the intense bruising on his chest and stomach for the first time, as well as the burn marks and cuts. "Jesus, what the hell did he do to you?"
"I told you, he beat me up a little." When he noticed Scully checking out the burns, he added, "And he used his cigarettes on me. And a razor blade."
Her eyes looked into his, full of genuine concern. It touched him deeply. No one had ever had that look in their eyes-not meant for him, anyway. "I'm okay," he whispered, sensing there was more they could say without even speaking.
Regaining her composure, Dana dabbed some cream on the burns and touched up the gashes with iodine, causing X to hiss air in and out of his clenched jaw. "I'll be the judge of that." Then, more softly, "I'm sorry. I don't really mean to hurt you. But I've got to make sure you don't get an infection."
"It's all right. I'm not usually such a pansy. You bring out the best in me."
Then she smiled a real, wide smile, causing him to grin foolishly in return. Her cool hands played across his chest, and he closed his eyes, savoring the contact like he hadn't been touched nicely in ages. Which he hadn't. Every touch he experienced nowadays was anything but kind and pleasant. This was a real treat. Even if she was with the FBI. She was a good person. He could feel it.
Finally her hands found their way to his back, where she continued her ministrations in silence. -Why do I feel so drawn to him? I don't know him. But I feel I do. Why? I'm so confused. I want to do nothing more than put my arms around him and comfort him. He doesn't seem like anyone loves him. I could love him.- Her eyes widened in shock at her own thoughts. What the hell...?
At last she completed his back and sat on the bed next to him. "Turn your face to me." She grimaced when she looked closely at his poor face.
"Guess I wouldn't make it for Playgirl Playmate of the Year tonight, huh?" he joked, eyes half-closed in exhaustion.
She suppressed a smile. "Not by a longshot. This will probably hurt."
"Oh, goody."
Scully gently wiped the ooze from the largest gash, running from his ear to his chin on the left side of his face. She put iodine on him, causing him to squeeze his eyes shut against the pain. She then put antibiotic cream on it and cut a long strip of gauze, taping it along the cut carefully. Then she turned her attention to his lower lip. She had no idea what it looked like normally, for it was now swollen and cut open severely, probably from a good right hook to it. She shook her head sadly as her fingers played across his lip, then bit her own lip at the sensation which ran up her arm, down through her body, and right to the center of her womanhood. Just touching that lip made her...well, horny.
She jerked her hand back and forced herself to concentrate on cleaning up the cut lip. She went to get some ice for him to apply to it, hoping he hadn't noticed her reaction.
He'd noticed. And he'd felt it, too. While she was out, he took the towel off and hung it in the bathroom, then slid between the clean sheets of the bed, not wanting to embarrass her any further. She came back with the ice, wrapped it in a washcloth, and sat on the edge of the bed, where he lay with his eyes closed. She thought he might be sleeping.
So she gently applied the cold washcloth to his lip, causing him to flinch and grab her wrist. She gasped in surprise and he opened his eyes, staring into her eyes as they had once before. *God, I want her. If I weren't so beat up...*
-God, I want him. If he weren't so beat up...-
"How do you feel?" she asked softly.
"Like shit. Thank you for helping me. I-I'm sorry to have to put you through this. Then again, you found me."
She smiled as he closed his eyes and let go of her wrist.
"You don't believe me about the liquid, do you?"
"Does it matter?"
"Very much."
"Then no, not really."
"Try it."
"What?"
"Go into the bathroom. Drop anything into the cup and see what happens. Just don't let the stuff get on you."
"All right. I think I'll do just that. Anything?"
"Yes. Anything at all. Please be careful."
"I will."
Scully left the washcloth over X's swollen lip and went to the bathroom. Certain nothing would happen, she grabbed a bath towel and held one corner over the cup. She slowly lowered it down until the tip of it touched the liquid.
As soon as the two things met, the towel crackled as it began disintegrating quickly upwards. Scully screeched and barely let go of the towel in time for it to completely disappear. "My God!" she exclaimed.
"Now do you believe me?" X called from the bed.
She came into the main part of the hotel room, holding the cup gingerly in her hands. "Yes," she said, her voice trembling, as she carefully placed the cup on the desk.
She sat in the chair, eyeing X's placid form on the bed. "Why are you smirking?"
"Am I?" his smirk broadened into a smile.
"Now you're smiling. Wickedly. Because you proved me wrong."
He opened his eyes and looked at her thoughtfully. "I hadn't actually thought of that. I'm sorry it frightened you. I tried to tell you what it would do. Hey, Scully, you're one of those people who needs proof before they believe in anything, aren't you?"
How had he pegged her so quickly? "Guilty as charged, I'm afraid. I'm a scientist, it's part of my training."
"Yet you're also a religious woman."
"Now how did you figure that out?"
"Your necklace."
She reached up and clasped the gold cross pendant in her hand. "Oh."
"So how do you reconcile your religious convictions with your scientific background? That seems somewhat incompatible to me."
"It's difficult, but faith is faith and science is science."
"Kind of like the separation between church and state, huh?"
She smiled slightly. "Interesting analogy. You should rest."
"I can't go to sleep. I need to keep watch."
"I thought you said we'd be safe here."
"Safer than at your place, but not *completely* safe. No telling if anyone saw us or followed us."
She sighed loudly. "Great. Well, I'll keep the first watch so you can sleep. I'll wake you to take the second watch. Okay?"
He grinned. "Okay. Thanks again."
"Anytime, partner, anytime." Scully frowned as she realized what she'd just said. Partner?
But X just smiled an award-winning, tooth-showing smile. "I've never had a partner before."
"Neither have I. It just slipped out. This is so...strange. Have we ever met before?"
As he drifted off to sleep he replied, "Perhaps in another life..."
Time passed, and soon X's rhythmic breathing told her he was asleep. And so now she sat, contemplating the strange purplish-black concoction in the cup. She sighed again, marveling at what she'd witnessed, trying to figure out exactly what this was.
And then, without warning, the earth began to shake.
-An earthquake? Here? That's next to impossible!-
Scully gripped the sides of the desk as the quake hit, trying to keep her balance. It was a big one. She stared around the room as a ratty old picture fell from a wall. She heard a pop and then hissing as a pipe somewhere broke open and began to leak.
The next events seemed to happen in slow motion for Dana Scully.
Just as the cup of liquid crossed her mind, just as she reached out to pick it up, just as X sat bolt upright in bed, shocked out of his sleep, a particularly large jolt sent Dana's hand flying into the cup. She screamed in terror.
For her hand had inadvertently knocked the cup's contents directly onto X's body.
His eyes went wide and he shrieked in pain as his arm and side popped and crackled as they disintegrated.
Scully didn't stop screaming as, in the blink of an eye, he disappeared.
Skinner, having taken a quick break for a cup of coffee, never heard her scream.
Mulder, in his drug-induced sleep, didn't hear her either.
Walter checked his watch as he re-entered Room #506. 3:16pm. Noticing nothing unusual, he resumed his position at Scully's side, and opened the book he'd found in her desk at work called `The Secret Garden' about two children who ultimately save each others' lives and souls. He'd thought it quite appropriate. Quietly, he began to read aloud.
Many hours later, Walter had nodded off in his chair.
Fox slowly opened his eyes and let them adjust to the bright hospital room. He felt very refreshed and ready to go, and as such was soon on his feet and at Dana's side. The corners of his mouth twitched as he took in his boss' sleeping form.
*I've never seen that man sleep.*
He caressed Dana's face for a moment, then bent down to whisper to her. "I stink, partner." He smiled against her ear. "I'm going to go clean up. I want to look and smell good when you wake up, you know? Then I'll be back. I promise. AD Skinner's here with you, so you call out to him if you need something, okay? He was reading to you, from the looks of it. I'll see you soon."
As he made his way to the bathroom, he noted the time as 5:30pm. His stomach rumbled. He figured he'd hit the cafeteria before sending his boss home for the night.
He shaved and showered, then saw the bag of his clean clothes in the closet. Skinner must have brought them for him that morning. The AD just went up yet another notch in Mulder's estimation. The guy was pretty far up now; indeed, the only other person to ever get up that high before him was Scully. Not bad at all.
Mulder pulled on fresh jeans and a white polo shirt and headed to the cafeteria for a quick meal.
*God, I hate hospital food.*
Mulder returned to the room half-an-hour later with two cups of coffee, both black. Skinner still napped in the chair. He set the Styrofoam cups on a nearby table and walked up to his boss, silently studying his features. He looked so much softer right now; actually, very little of the man Fox had
come to know so well at work remained in this figure laying so vulnerably below him. The rise and fall of his chest, the frown-free forehead, his glasses having slipped a little down his nose, the book about to fall from his lap.
It was thus that Fox Mulder finally realized that Assistant Director Walter Sergei Skinner was nothing more than a man. Just like him. With the same weaknesses and troubles as any man walking the street. Well, that wasn't entirely true. Like Fox, this man had worries and problems that stretched beyond the realm of most men's comprehension. Things no one except perhaps Fox himself could understand. He marveled at his next thought.
"Sir?" Fox said softly.
That was all it took for Walter's eyes to open. He saw his agent thoughtfully looking at him and wondered what he was thinking.
'I guess I should be grateful he didn't kill me as I slept. Lord knows I've given him plenty of reason to in the past.'
"Sorry. I must have nodded off."
"It's okay, Sir. I've showered and eaten. Oh, here, I brought you some coffee for your ride home."
Walter took the proffered cup gratefully. He didn't want to fall asleep at the wheel. "Why...thank you, Agent Mulder."
"'S nothin'," Mulder replied, sheepishly turning away from his superior. "I don't need my only backup person landing in the hospital too," he tried to joke.
"No, that you don't. I can't say I'd want to be here as a patient myself. I've left off in the middle of Chapter 4 of this book. I found it in Agent Scully's desk back at the Bureau, so I thought she might like it."
"Thank you," Fox said as he took the book from Skinner's hands. "I'm sure she appreciates it."
Skinner stood and stretched a bit, then took a sip of the scalding liquid in his cup. "Ah, yes, good old hospital coffee. That one sip will keep me awake for hours."
Mulder found himself smiling at his boss' attempt at levity. "Sir, before you go..."
"Yes?"
"First of all, thank you for bringing some clothes for me. You didn't have to."
"Are you kidding? I refuse to get a call at 2am telling me to come collect my agent because he's running around the hospital naked. It was more for my sake than yours." Walter replied gruffly, rather embarrassed by all this thanking that was going on.
Fox's smile broadened, then his face became serious.
"What is it, Agent Mulder?"
He just looked at the man he had only recently come to feel he could trust, wondering if he should disclose the events of the morning. In the end, he decided he owed it to him, just in case something similar happened under his watch, if for no other reason. So he did. He showed Skinner where he'd
found the streak of blood and the fresh tear tracks. He showed him how the sheet and Call Button had been displaced. Finally, he lifted Scully's arm gently and showed him the five unmistakable fingerprint bruises.
"And you haven't a clue how these things happened? Not even an X-File-ish guess?" Walter asked as he studied Scully's arm.
"No, Sir. And...the blood on Agent Scully's cheek...Sir, it was my blood."
"What? How do you know that?"
"I had them type it. She's type O, I'm AB-. The blood on her cheek was AB-. The night nurse also said she'd not heard any screaming, and none of the other patients on the floor had complained of a disturbance. But I would swear on J. Edgar Hoover's grave that I heard her scream my name. Sir, it
was like no sound I've heard before. It chilled me to the bone as it woke me. I honestly can't say whether it was a dream I was having or if she really did scream, but I can't see how something so ear-piercing and so...real...could have been a product of my imagination, overworked though it may be."
Walter nodded as he looked back and forth from Scully to Mulder and back again. "That is most definitely...odd. I will be sure to keep a close watch out for anything else unusual when I'm with her. I'll come every morning to relieve you so you can rest."
"Can you leave work like that?"
"I let you do it all the time. I'm the boss, so I'm going to do it. I've got enough personal and sick days to take off for a year, Agent Mulder. Don't you concern yourself with work right now. I want you to try and remember what happened to you during those six missing hours, and I want you to see to it that Agent Scully recovers fully and quickly."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you."
"Have a good night, Agent Mulder."
"You too, Sir." Mulder replied.
Skinner donned his coat and, coffee cup in hand, strolled out of the room, leaving Mulder alone with his comatose partner and his jumbled thoughts.
*What happened during those six hours? And why can't I remember?*
For the next few hours, Fox put his mind through torture, desperately trying to recall *anything* that would shed some light on Scully's predicament.
He came up completely empty.
Realizing that any further attempts at recollection on his own would be futile, he picked up 'The Secret Garden' and began reading aloud where Skinner had left off. Mulder found the story absolutely boring. He therefore fell asleep mid-sentence an hour later.
Wet. Cold. Splashing water. Sliding down, down, but it's dark. Can't see a blasted thing.
-Why do I let them talk me into these damn water slides every time? This one's completely enclosed, for crying out loud!-
Downward she slid, unable to gain purchase enough to even slow herself.
-The end must be coming up soon.-
Goosebumps riddled her body. Eyes squeezed tightly shut, mouth in a grimace, arms folded in an X over her chest.
X. Why is that letter so important? X, X, X, X, X.
A pinpoint of light, growing ever larger. Nearer and nearer.
-Thank God. I'm almost out.-
Closer and closer. Bright sunlight, emptying out into...
SPLASH!
Going down. Opening her eyes, but seeing not the familiar manufactured blues of a pool, only an inky darkness. Mouth opening slightly, arms flailing, legs kicking to propel upwards. Must reach the surface. Didn't take a big enough breath to stay under for long.
-What the hell? Saltwater?-
Her foot is caught in an undertow current, dragging her down further. Can't find the top. Reaching out for anything, finding only handfuls of sand. Her mouth opens as she tries to scream for help, but yet another undertow grabs her leg and keeps her from gaining her bearings.
The searing pain in her lungs. Need oxygen.
-I'm dying. Oh, God, no.-
Reflexively gulping in through her windpipe, finding water instead of air. Where's the goddamned surface?
-Help me! Help me!-
Her body spasms, seizing as it fights for the air it can't find. Blind scratching, clawing, limbs lashing out wildly, trying to find...
Blessed darkness.
Fox awoke with the very strange feeling that something was wrong. Someone had come in and turned the lights out as he slept, making his current view of the room nothing more than shadows. But Scully lay quietly on the bed, so the half-asleep Fox drifted back off to unconsciousness.