Friday 10:50 a.m.-- 8th Floor : J. Edger Hoover Building

Mulder leaned forward in his chair and put his left elbow on the conference table, resting his forehead against his hand. He looked down his nose at his watch. It was nearly eleven. He had sat quietly through the 8:00 a.m. 'emergency' meeting wishing that he hadn't bothered answering the phone when it had rung at six a.m. If he hadn't answered the call Mulder figured that he would have been halfway to St. Charles.

The administrative speaker, --a short, plump, grey haired, career executive-- was lecturing on a short memo outlining the "newly devised" information routing procedure. The procedure was intended to speed up the processing of information gathered from operations in the field and crime scenes, therefore making the information more readily available to all the involved agents and agencies.

It had taken Mulder just three minutes to read and commit the memo to memory.

On the first page of his yellow notepad Mulder had thoroughly broken the memo down, analyzing the word patterns and possible alternate interpretations. Beneath the meticulous breakdown were several 'helpful' suggestions for the new system. Mulder sighed heavily as the speaker began to go over the procedure "just one more time".

At this rate, Mulder thought, Agent Thorvald will have lockjaw long before he's sure that everyone clearly understands the six line, fifty-two word, memo. Mulder looked around the table and saw that most of his colleagues were just as bored as he was. Mulder turned another page on his notepad and resumed writing as the speaker ground on.

The 'emergency' meeting adjourned just before noon. Scully, who had been sitting at the far end of the table from him, walked up to him as he continued to write notes on his notepad.

"Mulder. It's over now. You can go," she said, looking over his shoulder.

"Just a minute Scully." He scribbled a dozen lines more and tore four pages out of the pad. "Could you put these on Van's desk for me?" He asked, standing.

"Sure." Scully took the papers and asked, "What's all this?"

"A theory on his call-girl case and a few random thoughts that he might want to consider. Oh...," Mulder said, pulling a neatly folded page out of his pad. "... and this one is just for you." He smiled. "See you on Monday."

"Monday," she acknowledged as Mulder walked out of the room. Scully unfolded the crisply creased page and looked at the cartoon Mulder had drawn on it. It showed a conference room filled with skeletons sprawled all over the chairs and table. At the front of the room, on the floor, next to the chalkboard was a lone heap of bones. Beside the bones was a set of wind-up teeth still chattering away.

The subheading read, "Let me go over this one more time."

Scully smiled and tried very hard not to laugh aloud.

------

Dana Scully brushed her medium length red hair as she watched the evening weather report. The newscaster reported that despite the previous good weather forecast, the Appalachian Corridor was being hammered by the worst storm of the season. She looked at her watch. It was just after ten. Even by his best guess Mulder told her that he wouldn't be arriving at the Shady Grove Bed and Breakfast until after midnight. She looked up as a second reporter, standing out in the driving rain and wearing a camouflaged rain slicker spoke to the camera.

"-- flash flooding has caused several bridges in southwestern Virginia to be washed out. Residents in low lying areas of Lee, Scott, Wise..." The man paused and consulted his soggy notes, "...Dickinson, Russell and Washington counties are urged to seek higher ground. The National Weather Service advises that due to the stationary low pressure zone, this storm is now expected to linger in the area another twenty-four to forty-eight hours."

Scully turned down the volume and picked up her phone. She dialed Mulder's cell-phone number, and then hung up before the call was completed. She remembered that he always traveled with the radio on and he would be well aware of the weather updates. She brushed her hair one last time, turned off the television and headed to bed.

------

APPALACHIAN MOUNTAINS -- 11:21 PM FRIDAY

The dark, rain-slick dirt road wound through the Appalachian Mountains. Lightning flashed constantly through the steady downpour. There had been a bridge out near Dryden: the patrolman at a road block suggested that he take this rural route to get to St. Charles.

Mulder was beginning to wonder, as he listened to the static filled radio broadcast of the weather conditions, if he had missed a turn somewhere along the way as he splashed slowly along the gravel road. He looked at his watch. It was well past eleven.

He flinched as a flash of lightning lit the sky, nearly blinding him; thunder shook the car a breath later. The storm was definitely growing worse, Mulder realized as the wipers continued their valiant fight to keep the windshield clear. If it didn't let up soon he'd have to pull off the road and wait until the storm passed.

------

Scully started awake. She wasn't sure why. She lay in the darkness listening intently, her fingers resting lightly on her gun. The sounds of the tires of the infrequent cars hissing by in the rain and a dog barking in the distance were all she heard. Scully rolled over and looked at the digital readout on her clock. The LEDs told her it was nearly three in the morning.

Scully rolled back on her pillow and suddenly thought about Mulder. She realized that she felt uneasy about his safety. She sat up and turned on the light, deciding to check on him.

Scully could hear Mulder giving her grief about being a mother hen even as she picked up the phone. She tried Mulder's cell-phone number. The phone made one half-ring. The line was suddenly filled with static and a horrible squealing noise, just before it went silent. She looked at the phone, hung up, and dialed again. It was busy.

She wondered if the lightning storm could be interfering with the cell-towers that covered the rural areas of southern Virginia. Scully pulled a pen and paper out of the drawer, and then dialed the Virginia operator.

"This is Karen. What city please?"

"St. Charles," Scully replied, "I need the number for the Shady Grove Bed and Breakfast, please."

"One moment." The operator paused. "Here is your number."

"Thank you," Scully said but the operator had already switched her over to the computer. She scribbled the number and waited for the computer to repeat it. Scully hung up and then dialed the number she was given.

The phone rang half a dozen times before someone picked up the phone. "Shady Grove," a sleepy female voice said. In those two words Scully pictured a matronly woman in her early sixties.

"Ma'am. I'm sorry to disturb you at such a late hour but I'm trying to reach one of your guests. Could you tell me if Mr. Mulder has checked in?"

"I'm afraid he hasn't arrived yet. Can I leave him a message?"

"Tell him Dana Scully called and have him call me the minute he gets in."

There was a pause. "Got it. Does he have the number?"

"Yes, he does. Thank you," Scully said as she hung up. Where are you Mulder, she wondered as she pulled on her slippers. She grabbed her white terry cloth bathrobe and went into the living room turning on the television to check on the storm's progress.

------

Scully dozed fitfully in her overstuffed recliner until the phone rang just after dawn. "Hello," she said sleepily.

"Agent Scully?" a woman's voice asked.

"Yes."

"Mr. Skinner would like you to come in to work at nine-thirty today. He has a new project and would like to discuss the details with you."

"Okay, I'll be there."

Dana hung up the phone, then picked it up and pressed redial. The phone rang twice. "Good morning, Shady Grove Bed and Breakfast." It was the same matronly woman she had awakened during the night.

"Good morning, could you tell me if Mr. Mulder has checked in yet?"

"I'm afraid not, Miss Dana," the woman said apparently recognizing her voice. It was uncanny, but Scully was sure that if she breathed deeply she would smell fresh baked cinnamon rolls, wheat bread, and Southern peach cobbler. The woman continued, "Harold's done gone out in the tractor to check the road. It has a tendency to washout when we get this kind of rain. I'm sure that he and Mr. Mulder will be in for breakfast shortly. I've your message from last night. I'll make sure that he calls you first thing."

"Thank you," Scully replied distantly.

"You all right, Miss Dana?"

"Yes, fine. I'm just a little worried about him with the storm and all."

"Dear, don't you worry none," the woman said confidently. "He'll be all right; I can feel it in my bones."

Scully smiled at the confidence and warmth the woman's voice radiated over the phone. She thanked her and hung up. A short while later Scully began to make preparations to go to work. She fixed and ate her breakfast. Halfway through her shower she wondered, belatedly, why Skinner was calling her in on her scheduled weekend off. He didn't do that without good reason.

------

Scully opened the door outer to A. D. Skinner's office. There was no one at the reception desk. That wasn't unusual, being Saturday. She crossed to Skinner's door and knocked twice.

"Come."

Dana opened the door. "You wanted to talk to me, sir?"

A puzzled look crossed Skinner's face as he looked up from a thick report he was reading. "About what, Agent Scully?"

Scully stepped into the room, noting that his out box was nearly a foot and a half deep in files and papers. "I got a phone call early this morning. I thought that it was from your receptionist. The woman said that you wanted me to come in, to discuss the details of a new project."

Skinner put down the file. "The call didn't come from this office," he said. "I just got here a few minutes ago myself."

"That's strange," Scully said.

"No more than your partner suddenly asking for time off," Skinner stated. "Do you know if there was an ulterior motive for his request?"

"There wasn't one that I was aware of, sir. I just suggested that he should try taking some extra time off. Our last case really wrung him out. I thought by taking an extra day, he'd be more rested for next week." Scully paused, thinking. "He did mention that he thought he might do some hiking."

Apparently satisfied with her explanation Skinner folded his hands over the report on his desk and asked, "As long as you're here, the Carter Report has been jumped to the top of the priority list. Would you be willing to put in some overtime hours in on it?" Skinner asked, giving her the option.

"Sure. I'll put in eight hours in on it today, for an extra day and a half off at the end of the month."

"Deal," Skinner leaned forward slightly, handing her an envelope containing a stack of manila folders to take with her to the lab.

------

There was a loud knock at the door. Scully sat back in her chair, removing a glove and her protective glasses. She looked at her watch. It was nearly seven. "Come in," Scully said, rubbing the bridge of her nose as the door opened.

A. D. Skinner entered the lab and walked over to the counter Scully was sitting at. He stood there a moment before he asked, "Agent Scully, do you know exactly where Agent Mulder was going for the weekend?"

She looked at him, puzzled by his formality. "St. Charles, Virginia. Why?"

There was another ominous pause before he asked another question. "Have you spoken to Agent Mulder recently?"

"Not since that 'emergency' meeting yesterday morning. He left town around a quarter to one, I think. Is something wrong?" she asked, standing.

It was a minute before Skinner spoke. His face had already betrayed the gravity of what he was about to say. "Agent Mulder's car has been found ... submerged in a flooded stream northeast of Dryden, Virginia."

Scully paled visibly. It couldn't be true, she thought, Mulder is a cautious driver, more so when the weather is bad. There was one way she knew of to find out for sure. Scully removed the cell-phone from the pocket of her lab coat. Her finger shook slightly as she dialed Mulder's cell-number. The phone company's computer told her that the line was out of order. Then she dialed the bed and breakfast in St. Charles.

"Shady Grove Bed and Breakfast."

"Has Mr. Mulder checked in yet?" Scully asked, trying to keep her voice calm.

"Miss Dana?" the woman questioned.

"Yes.

"Mr. Mulder hasn't come in yet and we haven't heard from him either. Harold says that our road is in good shape all the way down to Stone Creek Junction. Maybe he's had some car trouble further out."

"Thank you. Please call me at 202-555-3564 if you hear anything, anything at all."

"I'll do that, Miss Dana."

"Thank you." Scully hung up and put the phone back in her pocket. "The people running the place he was supposed to have stayed at last night haven't heard from him yet. They'll be calling call me if they hear something."

Scully suddenly thought about Mulder's dart shot, his quick agreement to take a short vacation, and the phone call she had received that morning. Most likely coincidence, she thought, but it did seem to be adding up to the 'weird stuff' that was Mulder's life blood. Scully looked at Skinner and saw in his face that he had already come to his own conclusions.

"Scully ..." Skinner paused and watched as Scully quickly stored the slides she had been studying back in their trays and put them back in the refrigerated locker. He knew what she was thinking but was one step ahead of her. He walked over to the coat-tree that stood by the door, removed her coat and handed it to her. "I want you to go over to Dryden and see if you can lend them a hand in locating Agent Mulder. I'll have you booked on the nine o'clock flight to Roanoke, Virginia by the time you arrive at the airport."

------

Within an hour Scully boarded a full commuter plane bound for Roanoke. She checked before boarding and found that there would be a rental car waiting for her when she arrived. Scully found her seat and placed her carry-on luggage in the overhead compartment.

She sat beside a dark haired woman in a bright floral dress. The woman turned her gaze from the darkness beyond the window, smiled faintly, and acknowledged Scully with a nod. A few minutes later the stewardesses began checking to see that the passengers and their gear were safely secured for take off.

Several minutes passed slowly, Scully looked at her watch as the plane remained idle at the terminal. Their plane's captain informed them a few minutes later, that the tower had decided that it was too dangerous for the plane to take off. There was a potential for wind shear and unusually heavy lightning activity. A flash of lightning and a clap of thunder emphasized his words.

After the fasten seat belt lights went out the flight attendants served refreshments and offered papers and magazines to their anxious passengers.

Scully scanned the paper she was given. The title to a small article on the fourth page caught her eye. It read, "Roanoke's Lost Colony: fact or fiction?" A faint smile twitched the corners of her mouth as she read on.

The woman beside her took out a lap sized drawing pad and a box of well used colored pencils. She began to draw, frantically, Scully realized. Almost as if she were trying to catch a fleeting image before it faded from memory.

Scully looked over at the woman's drawing occasionally. It had taken on the appearance of a collage with thin white borders surrounding the various images. There was a group of figures, some dressed in red from head to toe, and others were wearing grey and black uniforms. There was a badge of some sort beneath a band of bright green that crossed the picture horizontally. A blue car rested in one corner next to a tree. At the center was a white number centered in a red band of color. Other items included a white dress and a figure in silhouette. As she colored the back ground it took on a color near black with streaks of lightning crossing it. Every time the woman added a figure or color, she ran her hand over the picture touching it with the tips of her fingers.

After two hours idling on the ground, the storm activity had lessened. Outside the plane Scully saw a fuel truck pull up along side the plane. The crew of the truck topped off the plane's fuel supply and a short while later the commuter trundled out to the end of the runway and lifted itself into the still turbulent skies.

It was a rough flight but there were no unexpected surprises. Scully touched the small gold cross hanging at her throat and thanked God that they had arrived safely. As Scully departed from the plane she heard a male passenger saying that he felt like a James Bond martini ... shaken but not stirred. Scully smiled.

The keys for the rental car were waiting for her as promised. Scully was just pulling out of the rain soaked parking lot when her cell-phone rang. She pulled over to the curb and stopped.

"Hello?"

"Agent Dana Scully?"

"Yes."

"This is Sheriff Muldoon, Lee County," he said in an easy drawl. "The Assistant Director told me to expect you and gave me your number."

"Have you found Agent Mulder yet?" she asked anxious to find out about Mulder.

"I'm sorry, not yet."

"I'll be there in about four hours to lend a hand. Which way is the best to get to Dryden?" she asked, pulling a pen and paper out of her purse. The sheriff gave her directions that sounded a little convoluted, but apparently there was a lot of storm damage to avoid. "Thank you. Please be sure to call if you turn up anything at all."

"Sure will."

Scully pulled out onto the road. A few minutes later she found herself driving down the narrow two-lane road, much faster than was safe and slowed accordingly.

------

Scully pulled up to the front of the Lee County Sheriff's Office. She turned off the engine and took a deep breath, glad to have arrived safely.

As she stepped out of the rental car a white five-ton flatbed truck, with flashing amber and white emergency lights, carrying a battered vehicle pulled quickly around the corner headed toward the back of the building. Scully walked around the building and found the chain-link enclosed impound yard.

Under the orange glow of the impound yard's sodium lights Scully could see that it appeared to be Mulder's car sitting on the back of the flatbed truck. The car was pretty badly banged up. She looked up into the night sky as the rain began falling again. She waited under the shelter of a broad leafed oak tree as the car was lowered down the ramp into a numbered parking spot.

A man, obviously the sheriff, emerged a moment later from the back of the building. He was about six feet tall with dark tufts of hair sticking out from under his wide brimmed hat and only a little over weight. A smile twitched Scully's lips as she watched him walk over to speak to the flat bed operator. He had the swagger of an old west sheriff down to a science. All he needed was a pearl handled Colt in a tied-down holster to complete the picture.

Scully materialized from the shadows under the tree, put up her umbrella and went directly over to the men. "Dana Scully, F.B.I." she said as the truck operator noted her approach. She removed her ID from the pocket of her overcoat and showed it to the sheriff.

"Miss Scully, I'm glad you made it safely and your timing is impeccable," the sheriff said, shaking her hand. "This's the car we called your office about."

She looked the car over and glanced at the license plate just to be sure. Her heart grew cold as she confirmed the license plate's numbers. "It's his," she told the sheriff. "Do you have any leads?"

"Nothing so far. We still have search teams out but with the darkness and this unseasonable weather, Agent Mulder's chances aren't all that good. Now, shall we go inside and get an update on the search."

The sheriff led the way into the building. Once inside, he removed his hat and dried it off carefully with a towel that hung from a hook by the door. He took Scully's coat, brushed it off with the towel and hung it next to his hat, then led the way to his command post.

The command post consisted of a desk, a radio base station, an ancient black phone, and one oversized county map crisscrossed with a grid of string lines and stuck full of colored pins, a few with tiny flags on them.

A deputy was sitting at the desk listening to an incoming radio report through his headset. He pushed a button on the side of the mike and spoke, "Confirmed unit three. Take care of yourself. Base out." The deputy reached out and removed a flag-pin. The deputy placed it to the side of the map with a dozen similarly flagged pins.

"Sheriff," the young man said turning to look at his commander. "Taylor's pulled out of the search. His horse stepped in a hole. Nothing broken, but he and the horse are done for the day. Taylor says he'll be out again after first light. Jorgenson's the only one still out now, with dogs. He reports that because of heavy rain in his area, he may have to hole up for the rest of the night but he's staying out in the field. Including Jorgenson there are four teams remaining out in the field."

Sheriff Muldoon looked at Scully. Her face had grown pale as she looked at the map. He knew the report had to have upset her but her emotions remained tight within her professional shell. She turned away from the map and asked him, "When will the other search teams be returning to the field?"

"They'll all be out again at first light." He checked his watch. "In about four hours."

"Is there a place I can rest here? I'd like to go out to the site where Agent Mulder's car was found in the morning and then I'd like to help with the search."

"That can all be easily arranged Miss Scully, although, I don't think it'll be necessary. Jorgenson is one of the best search and rescue men in the area. If your partner is anywhere to be found, Jorgenson will be the one to find him," the sheriff said confidently. "He's my top hand."