Scully stared into space. She thought on some level that if she stared long enough and hard enough, her daughter would materialize before her eyes. She'd have that quirky little half smile she inherited from her father, and say, "Oh, Mom; I'm sorry - I didn't mean to make you worry, but I ran into friends from med school and time just got way from us. When I realized what time it was, it was too late to call and.... Mom, please don't be cross..."

And then she would smile that little smile that was so much a part who she was, and Scully would hug her and hold her and say a thousand Hail Mary's in thanksgiving if only her daughter would appear if she could just wish hard enough.

Scully stared into space as if she could will her daughter to appear before her very eyes, but she did not.

Scully sat on a stool in Byer's basement. She looked down at the cel phone in her hand and went through the options menu once more. She highlighted the option for "voice mail" in the hopes that a message had come through. There wasn't one. The last message was the one Scully, Mulder and the Lone Gunmen had listened to in Byer's basement. Meena left that message thirty hours ago.

More than a day had passed, and Meena was still missing.

Scully half listened to the conversation between Byers, Frohicke and Langly as she dialed her husband for the fifth time in an hour. The phone rang and rang and rang until the tin recorded voice informed her the cellular customer she was trying to reach wasn't available. She had no idea where her daughter was and if she was all right; she had no idea where her husband was and if he was all right. In a day and a half her life had changed from a family of three to a solitary existence.

Byers, Langly and Frohicke sniped at each other, nitpicking at faults like hens in a yard full of grain. "It's amazing what we can do with polymers these days," Frohicke mimicked Langly. "You're lucky her eyes didn't fall out of her head.." "We had no reason to believe that the polymer would react that way," Langly replied "It was fine in the test trials for the contact lenses," Byers added. "And the test trials for the liquid version...?" Frohicke inquired. He didn't get an answer, what he got instead were puzzled looks from Langly and Byers. "You didn't do the test trials on the liquid version?!" Frohicke asked in disbelief. Almost in unison, the two men replied, "I thought that was your job..." "No!!!" Frohicke replied. "Guys, this really takes a special kind of STOOPID..." Frohicke began...

Scully stood up from the stool and walked over to the group. "Guys, what's done is done. We can't do anything about it now. And it wasn't a total loss. It got me into the building." Scully paused. "For all the good it did - I had the files, and all I could get out was a list."

Byers spoke first. "You're right, Scully. On both counts. What's done is done and it wasn't a total loss, but not in the way you think." "Come again?" Scully asked. Lanlgy crossed over to the laptop on the counter. "What did we learn about computer chips, boys and girls?" "That anything with a computer chip is linked to a computer somewhere and any computer anywhere can be hacked by any kid ten and under," Frohicke replied. "And to think just yesterday, he started on solid foods - he'll be tying his own shoelaces next," Langly replied. Frohicke frowned menacingly at Langly as he continued. "It appears that the Cassandra Project, a project housed at Janus Pharmaceuticals, recently took inventory of their files. Those files too old to be retyped or copied were scanned into the computer and those that could be copied were. The beautiful thing is that their printer and copier are one and the same, and the machine is linked to the computer. We hacked into the printer/copier's big, fat memory chip which got us - however twisted and convoluted- into the computer, et voila!"

Scully looked at the laptop screen; on it was a list entitled, "Town Meeting, Bakersville, Iowa, 1957." It was divided into four columns, much like the list she had folded in her pocket. " 'What's this?' you may ask," said Byers "Well, we're about to find out. As you noticed, there are two columns here, each containing alphanumeric strings. Here's what we know." "Pick a line, Scully," Frohicke said. She obliged, and picked the first line on the page. "We've discovered that these alpha- numeric strings correspond to people. The first three characters are initials; the numbers are the date and time birth for that person. This person is Jane Maxwell, who was born on October 22, 1937 at eleven twenty-one in the evening. She is listed next to someone, a man named Peter Jacobson, who was born on June 30, 1935 at eight-fifty a.m. Let's pull up their files." Langly opened the two computer records, and placed them side by side. "The next entry, DOLB means 'date of live birth,'" Langly began, "which was, as we can see, May 18, 1957. And this is odd because why? I'll tell you. Look at her medical records." Scully moved the cursor down in Jane Maxwell's file. After the picture in the front of the file, she found the doctor's notes "April 18, 1957. Annual check-up in preparation for marriage license. All blood work normal. Doctor does not suspect pregnancy." Scully looked up from the file. "And yet she gives birth the next month. There could be a number of things; a doctor trying to protect a patient from scandal..." "There's a picture in the file; why don't you take a look at it," replied Byers. Scully scrolled down to a picture that was part of the file. In it was the same young woman in the first photo standing next to a man. There was a banner in the photo that read, "Bakersville Town Meeting, 1957." "And no, the man in the photo is not her beloved," Langly replied, "its Peter Jacobson, as referenced in the second set of files. And you will also note that his name isn't on the marriage license in the Maxwell file; in fact, he doesn't look anything at all like the man in her engagement photo."

Scully scrolled through the files. It was true. "So let's bring it home, boys," Scully continued. Frohicke was the first to speak. "There are some strange things in both of the files. If you look at the Jacobson file, you'll see that he was at the doctor's office on a regular basis complaining of head aches and black outs. This was shortly after the May 18 birth of the Maxwell child. If you look at the Maxwell records, there is note of a compound administered intravenously. This same note is also found in the Jacobson file, which leads us to what is the most disturbing revelation of all." Byers continued Frohicke's train of thought. "DOL. Date of Liquidation." Byers opened a window on the laptop. "We were able to run an analysis on the compound and found that it was organic in nature. It was used by some Native American tribes in hunting. Around this time, Janus Pharmaceuticals began to manufacture synthetic versions of this compound. It is a drug that paralyzes the muscles in the body, including the heart and lungs. Anyone injected with this drug, in effect, dies slowly of asphyxiation. The horror is that the brain remains alert, even though the person is unable to respond." Langly continued cautiously. "As far as we can tell, Date of Liquidation is synonymous with date of death. And if you notice, both people in the file have newspaper clippings that show they disappeared on the same day and were reported missing - the same day they received the injections. We also suspect the child met with the same fate."

"But what's the motive for the murders?" Scully asked. "We suspect that Janus Pharmaceuticals, before it was ever known as Janus Biotech, was experimenting with gene splicing. You said yourself the first file you saw was dated on or near the Roswell incident," Byers replied. "We could conceivably hold the answer to every missing persons case for the past seventy-five years. These people were considered missing and presumed dead, which is precisely what the people involved in this conspiracy wanted everyone to think." "So let's fast forward to now," Scully replied. "How does this relate to the only piece of concrete evidence I was able to smuggle out? How does it relate to this list?" Langly paused for a minute before he spoke. "I think we better go over first what we found a couple of hours ago." He placed a file on the counter. "I was able to track down these - receipts from transactions made on Meena's credit card." Scully opened up the file. The first receipt she saw was for a rental car from Lariat at the Atlanta airport. According to the record, she had planned to return the car that same day. She picked up another receipt, this one for a "Violet's Diner" on Peachtree Street. The charge was for twenty-five dollars.

One of the items it listed was a large bag of unsalted sunflower seeds.

Scully gently placed the receipt back in the folder, and closed it.

"The receipt for the food is stamped for four p.m.," Byers began, "which is the last time anybody would have seen her. As you can tell, it's for two people, so we can pretty much figure that she was with Andrew Covington." The fax machine beeped an announcement to expect an incoming fax; Frohicke walked over to see what it was. "You still haven't answered my question about the list," Scully replied. Byers looked at Langly, then looked at her. "What is Meena's date and time of birth?" he asked slowly. "May 15, 2001 at 9:00a.m.; she was born the day after Mulder came back - you know that," replied Scully.

Byers typed the information into the laptop. Just as he feared, Meena's file came up. "Scully, could you hand me the list, please?" She did as Byers requested, and he typed in the reference number listed next to her name. Andrew Covington's file came up immediately. "He's the father of Meena's baby, isn't he?" asked Scully.

Byers didn't answer Scully; he was too busy staring at the column that read "DOL - Date of Liquidation."

It was dated for yesterday.

Scully was about to ask Byers what he saw when Frohicke joined the group. "Scully..." he began. He paused. All eyes were on him. "Just tell me Frohicke," Scully said quietly.

"I ran a scan within a 5000-mile radius of hospital emergency rooms for Jane Does matching Meena's description. There was a match for two women for a hospital in Atlanta...."

Scully didn't wait for him to finish; she pulled out her cel phone in an attempt to reach Mulder one more time. "Scully, there's also something else you should know," Frohicke continued. Something

in his voice made Scully stop and focus on what he was about to say.

"One of the Jane Does was Dead On Arrival."

******************************************************

"Dad? Dad, come on - we're going to be late."

Mulder awoke with a start to look into his daughter's face as she smiled the beautiful smile she inherited from her mother. "We have to leave now if we're going to get there on time." Mulder took a look around him. He was in the living room of their Georgetown home next to the fireplace. If he looked across the room, he could see the Christmas tree with it's twinkling lights and festive ornaments. There was hardly any space left under the tree - every available inch of space with filled with brightly wrapped packages festooned with ribbons and bows. He looked down to discover that he was dressed as though it were a special occasion. Gone were the dark grey wool slacks and black sport shirt he wore earlier. Confused, Mulder ran his hand across his face and through his hair. Even though he was in his home, he had no idea where he was, or where he had been.

"For what? Late for what," he asked as he reached for his daughter's hand. She smiled her mother's smile again. "Dad, you know!" she teased. When Mulder still looked confused, Meena called to her mother as she left the room. "Mom, Daddy's having another one of his senior moments again," she joked. "That's not a senior moment, sunshine; your father's been like that since I've known him," Scully replied. Scully also reminded Mulder that he needed to be somewhere as she called from another room. "Come on, Mulder, we're late," she chided. Meena stuck her head back into the living room. "Oh, Mom asked me to remind you to turn off the Christmas tree. You know, Daddy, I would get moving if I were you - you don't want Mom to come in here after you."

Mulder sat back in his winged-backed chair and tried to gather his thoughts. What was a dream, and what was real? Was any of it; had he just imagined the past hours of panic and concern? He placed his hand down on the arm of the chair; it was solid. It felt real; it had texture and substance and color as did the rest of the room.

Mulder slowly got up from his chair, and placed his hand on the fireplace mantle. The embers of an earlier fire still glowed a bright orange glow. He reached over with the fireplace poker and stirred the embers. The acrid smell of smoke filled his nostrils as the embers swirled under his movements. This was real.

He was home. The nightmare was over, and in fact, had never taken place.

Mulder crouched down next to the fireplace and uttered a silent prayer of thanksgiving. As he breathed a sigh of relief, his wife entered the room. "Mulder," she began....

Mulder stood up and turned to face his wife. Even after all these years, she still took his breath away. She wore a tailored suit in dark Tartan plaid and a white blouse. The peplum jacket cinched a still narrow waist and flared out in folds that fell just past her hips. The narrow skirt stopped just below the knees, and she wore a pair of dark green pumps. The only thing that did not belong in Scully's smartly appointed ensemble was the tie she had draped around her neck. Mulder soon realized it was one of his ties, and she began to tie it in a loose Windsor knot. "You're really not going to wear that tie, are you?" Scully scolded gently. Mulder looked down at what he was wearing. "This tie? What's wrong with this tie?" he replied. "Nothing, if we're not going to be seen in the same room together," Scully replied, "but if we are, then that tie goes with nothing you and I are wearing." She slipped the tie over her head, and threw it to Mulder. He caught it, removed his jacket and began to switch ties. "We need to get a move on, Mulder," Scully said as she left the room. "I really don't want to hear another one of Bill's endless dissertations on how I was never late to a family function until I met you." Mulder slipped the tie his wife fixed for him over his head and tightened the knot. He put on his jacket, unplugged the Christmas tree and went into the foyer of their home. He took one more look as he left the living room and blinked. Nothing disappeared.

He truly was home.

Mulder looked at his family as he entered the foyer. Scully had added a hat to her ensemble, and was putting on her gloves as he entered. She looked at him, and smiled. "I like the cut of your jib, sailor," she said. "You cut a pretty fine jib yourself, mate," Mulder replied. Their daughter playfully rolled her eyes at the two of them. "Oh God, here we go!' She teased. Mulder looked at their daughter. She stood in front of him with an infant dressed in a white christening gown. Her child. His grandchild. The only other time Mulder had been this happy was when he helped bring his daughter into the world. Meena took one step towards her father as she cradled the infant in her arms. "Happy Holidays, Daddy." she said.

His life was complete. Everything that meant anything to him stood in that foyer; his life, his happiness, his love. In a moment of overwhelming love, Mulder embraced his daughter.

His arms went right through her. In a heartbeat, she and his grandchild were gone. His wife gone in the next heartbeat. One by one, everything he held dear, everything he knew in his life disappeared until he stood in a vast, empty void.

He was alone.

Mulder awoke to a dull, throbbing headache. He looked around, and realized he was in the front seat of his rental car. He looked down to see that he was wearing a pair of dark grey slacks and a black sports shirt. He found himself shivering in the cold car.

Or was he shivering in fear?

He had no idea where his daughter was, and if she was all right. He had no idea where his wife was, and if she was all right. In a day and a half, he had lost everything he held dear, and didn't know if he'd ever get them back.

The dream was over, and the nightmare had just begun.

Mulder's cel phone rang, and he immediately answered it. "Meena?" he replied. There was a pause on the other end before he heard Scully's voice. "Mulder? Have you heard from her?" "Scully..." Mulder replied. "No. I was hoping it was her." "Are you all right? Where are you?" Scully asked. Mulder rubbed his brow in an effort to erase his headache. "I was drugged. Scully, Krycek's involved in this. I found him when I was at Janus Biomedical. We need to follow this lead, Scully..." Scully cut him off gently. "Mulder, I need for you to get to the airport; can you drive?" "I don't think so," Mulder replied. He looked around to see where he was, and noticed a sign for public transportation. "It looks like I'm at a MARTA station; I think I might be in Manassas." "Stay there," Scully replied. "Byers will pick you up. I'll get a ticket for you to Atlanta - you can pick it up at the airport." "Atlanta?" Mulder replied. "There's a very good chance that Meena's there," Scully replied.

She hung up before she had to tell her husband there was a fifty percent chance their daughter was dead.