Three and a half hours later, Mulder and Scully were sat on American Airlines flight AA1121 direct to Miami. Mulder had commandeered the aisle seat for himself, mumbling something about it being easier for Scully to sit in the other seat as she had shorter legs, leaving her wedged in between Mulder's body and the window. It was a four and a half hour flight down to Miami International, with about 200 plus other people squeezed into coach like cattle.

Scully hated flying at the best of times, but the knowledge that she was unable to leave her seat when she wanted merely added to her anxieties. As she felt the plane moving off from the gate and taxiing along the runway, her hands instinctively grabbed the armrests on the seat. She dug her nails in hard and slammed her eyes tight shut. As she felt the plane begin to pick up speed along the runway, her fingers bit harder into the arms and her stomach gave a lurch as the wheels lifted off the ground and the plane ascended at a rather steep angle.

Her mind began running through all of the statistics on plane crashes and how they are most likely to occur during take off, when the sensation of Mulder's hand on hers silenced her brain. He gave it a gentle, reassuring squeeze and left his own there until the plane leveled out, the seatbelt signs were switched off and her eyes had opened. Scully glanced over at him, offering a weak smile of thanks as it registered that the gesture had been the only thing he had done all day that hadn't irritated her in the slightest. She pried her fingers off of the armrests and loosened her belt slightly, while Mulder opted to remove his completely. She felt a small pang of annoyance. What the hell was going on today? When had he started getting on her nerves this much?

With a sigh of resignation Scully reached down under the seat in front, pulling out her briefcase that contained the missing persons' reports and fished them out, handing a few to Mulder to look over which he accepted wordlessly.

After a couple of minutes of silence while both agents read, Scully spoke up.

"So, who are we dealing with?"

"I've got Maria Rodriguez, 35, Hispanic woman, originally from Cuba, was working as a cleaning lady at the Atrius Institute. Also David Benson, 41, Caucasian male, born in Philadelphia, worked as a lawyer and Ken Stewart, 54, Caucasian male, a scientist over on loan from NASA."

"I've got Bette Wolfe, 28, African American woman from Detroit, worked as a lab technician; Fernand Van Müller, 38, originally from Austria, an astrophysicist doing a years internship at Atrius; Edward Bosworth, 44, Caucasian male from Salt Lake City, worked as a security guard and Ella Stokes, 36, Caucasian woman from Dallas, was a lead researcher in particle physics."

Mulder, who had been jotting down the other names and descriptions onto a piece of paper as she spoke, looked up and removed his glasses as she finished, laying them on top of his notepad.

"Well, what do they all have in common?"

"Aside from all working for the Atrius Technological Institute, nothing. All different ethnic groups, born in different places, varying in gender and age. This makes no sense Mulder. If this were a serial killer, he isn't following a standard pattern or MO."

"Who mentioned a serial killer?" Mulder asked with a wide smile. Scully fought the urge to wipe it off his face. "There was never any blood or evidence found after the people went missing, no bodies turned up. From the looks of it they all just disappeared into thin air." Scully shook her head.

"People can't just disappear into thin air Mulder. It's impossible for solid matter to simply vanish."

"If you say so Scully," he replied with a slight smile, replacing his glasses on his face and returning to the files in front of him. Scully watched him for a moment, slightly baffled. He knew more than he was letting on. She would've bet her month's pay check on it.