For the first time since his arrival in Britain, Mulder looked old. The weight of over sixty years of existence hung on his shoulder like a dark shroud. Its weight was heavy, and he bore it on his shoulders much like Atlas bore the weight of the world.

When Phoebe saw him, it took every ounce of strength to suppress her reaction.

Phoebe beckoned the young inspector to come with her. He followed her, picking up a damp raincoat and carrying his soaked umbrella by his side. "Mulder, this is inspector Barclay. He is to provide you with safe and expedient conduct back to Brittlegate Manor," Phoebe said. "And Mulder," she continued, "it's my turn now to insist that you don't fight me on this."

"Don't worry, Phoebe - I've lost the strength," he replied. "If you'll follow me, sir," the young man replied, indicating with an outstretched arm that Mulder should proceed.

Phoebe looked on as the two men left. "No Mulder," Phoebe thought as she watched Mulder disappear. "You've lost the will."

A heavy rain fell on the British Isles, soaking London and the whole country as though it were trying to wash away the day before its time. The car sped through traffic without stopping, its lights flashing and sirens blaring a warning to clear a path. Curious pedestrians looked inside, hoping to catch a fleeting glimpse of the person inside the car. Perhaps it was a wayward celebrity, or maybe an important head of state. But the only thing they saw was a man who was lost in sorrow and despair.

As the car left London and made its way onto the M9, Mulder fell asleep. He really just collapsed, the weight of the day forcing his eyelids down over sorrowful eyes. In his exhausted and fitful sleep, his mind played the scene over and over and over again - the car careening out of control, the sight of his daughter, the crash, the explosion. And Scully's face. Her face. Her face....

"MULDER!!!!"

Mulder awoke with a start. The car, which had been moving like a Zephyr through the countryside, was now inching slowly forward. The inspector looked at Mulder through his rear view mirror. "Sorry, sir," the young inspector apologized. "Bit of a backlog here, but not to worry. They're trying to clear the way here - we'll be on the go in a jiffy...."

Mulder looked outside to try and get his bearings. He saw a building in the distance, and after a moment, he recognized where they were.

They were outside of Sternwood Castle.

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

Gregory the butler met the car the moment it pulled up to Brittlegate Manor. He solemnly opened the door, holding the umbrella over Mulder to protect him from the rain. The two men walked silently up the marble steps, and into the Manor.

Mulder couldn't bear to return to their room. Not now, not just yet. He went instead to the library, and stood in front of the great picture window, watching the rain. It was as though the heavens were weeping for him because he had no tears left. Geoffrey left tea for him on the small table next to the armchair, but he never touched it. After a while, Geoffrey came back to remove the still - laden tray.

"If I might say so, sir," he said before he left the room. "She was a lovely woman; your wife was a very lovely woman, and we are all dreadfully sorry for your loss."

Mulder nodded his head in acknowledgement and thanks.

Mulder climbed the stairs, one by one, to their room. When he opened the door, he was thankful to see that the maid had not cleaned it, but left things just as they were when he had left. There were still remnants of her, of her presence, in the unmade bed, her clothes draped across the dressing table chair.

It was as if she were gone for just a little while, and not forever.

Mulder walked into the bathroom, and turned on the light. Scully's negligee and robe were draped on the hook on the door, just as she had left them. He took down her robe, and cradled it in his arms, holding it as though he were holding her. He brought it to his nose, the scent of her filling his nostrils and his soul. And his heart did something he thought it had already done.

It broke, utterly and completely.

Mulder buried his face in the soft folds of her garment, and cried in huge, racking sobs. His sorrow dragged him down to the floor, and he fell fast and without resistance. He raised his head to heaven, as though his voice would carry through brick and mortar, through trees and clouds up to the woman he loved.

"Scully!" he sobbed.

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

Phoebe finally wrapped things up at the hospital at eight p.m. It had been a long day. If someone had told her twenty-four hours earlier that she would have to investigate cases involving the death of a classmate and a classmate's wife, she would have told them they were crazy. Yet here she was, making the final notes on each case. It really was true what the song said - what a difference a day makes.

There really wasn't much else for her to do until the forensics report was done on the car crash, and she didn't expect that to happen until tomorrow or the next day. The steady, driving rain had done a lot to hamper the investigation. An investigation dome had to be raised quickly around the crash site, but even though they worked as fast as they could, there was bound to be some evidence lost.

In Phoebe's professional opinion, she knew they might never know what happened in that car crash.

Phoebe rubbed her neck, trying to massage the kinks out of it. Her neck was one big knot of tension, and she knew it would be that way for a while. She grabbed her briefcase and started to leave when she heard someone call her name.

"Chief Inspector! Chief Inspector Montague; a word!"

Phoebe turned around to see Chief Medical Examiner Louisa Cranford running after her down the hall. Her cheeks were flushed, as though she had been running the hundred-yard dash, and she was drenched from head to foot. "Yes, Dr. Cranford, of course," Phoebe replied when the woman reached her. "Thank... You...," she replied, almost out of breath.

"Steady, now..." Phoebe said.

Dr. Cranford finally regained her composure and spoke. "We've discovered something in the investigation that really cannot wait until morning."

"Yes," Phoebe answered, "go on."

"We were able to find the cremains of four distinct individuals in the wreckage of the car crash. Bloody hard because there really wasn't much left, and of course you know the rain.."

"Please continue, Dr. Cranford," Phoebe replied, urging her to speed along in her discussion. "Well, as you know, part of our investigation always begins with a Western Blot, and that's where I found it," Dr. Cranford replied.

"Found what?" asked Phoebe.

"This..."

Dr. Cranford pulled out the DNA evidence discovered in the test. "Here's where your basic knowledge of biology comes in. As you may recall from Biology, human beings are comprised of 46 chromosomes or twenty-three pairs. Men, women, children - all of us. But if you'll see here, there are twenty-five pairs, or fifty seperate chromosomes. In each case."

Phoebe at that moment instantly knew what they were dealing with.

Phoebe pulled out her cell phone, and dialed her office. "This is Chief Inspector Phoebe Green Montague of Scotland Yard. I need for you to connect me to Interpol at once."