A/N: If you could, if you would, in a box, with a Fox... listen to "Set Fire to the Third Bar" by Snow Patrol while reading this chapter. It will enhance it, I promise.

It was nothing short of a miracle, and even that word didn't begin to cover it. He'd never wished, hoped or prayed for anything more in his life. He spent three days on the suspect's profile, and finally, finally after some surprising help from the military, they had a name. Gavin Alexander Rafferty. He had been dishonorably discharged from the Marines in April, under conditions that were not specified. He was one of three men that fit the profile. One other man was dead, and the other in prison for drunk driving.

Once they had a name and a face to go on, Mulder and several field agents had run quite probably the most extensive background check in the history of background checks. It had been a long process, but they had finally tracked down his mother, who had been more than happy to help them. She told them everything about her now wayward son, from the rewards he received in kindergarten, right down to the name of his prom date. It was halfway in to her stories that Mulder had jumped up from her couch and ran out the door, dialing Skinner on the way.

Scully was in northeast Washington. Rafferty had left all of his victims at camps that he had attended as a child. This camp was the only one left on the list. How everything came together so seamlessly was beyond him, but he would take it.

Scully had been missing for 9 days when Mulder's plane touched down in Washington. The local agents picked him up and they began the two hour drive to the camp. They had sent agents ahead to stake out the camp, but the area was so spread out, it was going to be hard to contain. They were starting in the main buildings and working out, slowly and quietly. No one around had reported seeing anyone coming or going from the camp, but that really didn't mean anything.

Mulder sat in the passenger seat, watching the pine trees and jagged rock formations pass by the window. He would never forgive himself if they didn't get there soon enough. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he had always figured his luck would run out. He had been dreading that day, but he never thought it would come this soon.

They turned off the highway and onto a dirt road. It wound around the backside of the lake, past a few farms and lake houses. The trees became dense and the road narrowed almost impossibly right as they reached the camp. Mulder jumped out of the car almost before it stopped and walked right up to the man who seemed to be in charge.

"Agent Mulder?"

"Yes."

"I'm Agent Stine. We spoke on the phone."

"Yes. Have you found anything?"

"We found no signs of Rafferty or Agent Scully so far. There is a group of cabins about 2 miles down the road. I sent some agents on foot and I just heard back from them as you pulled up. They found fresh tire tracks. I told them to hold off going in until we got the okay from you. The car isn't there anymore, but that doesn't mean that he didn't ditch it somewhere and walk in."

"Let's go."

He hopped into Agent Stine's car and they got back out on the road. Mulder wanted to urge the man to go fast, but he knew the quieter they entered, the better. The two mile drive seemed much longer, and by the time they finally turned off the road, Mulder's heart was in his throat. He was well aware that he could find Scully dead in a matter of minutes.

Agent Stine had gathered his men and was giving them instructions on how to proceed. Quietly and efficiently was the basic idea. They nodded in understanding and fanned out again, groups of them checking each cabin. Mulder stood where he was, wanting more than anything to find her, but worried at the state she would be in. He wanted to stay here in this moment, still full of hope, not forced to face the reality of what could be. It wasn't long before the desire to hold her in his arms thrust him forward to join the search. They searched the cabins top to bottom, checked the bathrooms, and even walked through the brush, looking for any indication that Scully was still here.

"Agent Mulder, there's an equipment shed in the next clearing."

Mulder just looked at the man, then ran off in the direction he indicated. Branches flew in his face, but he didn't really pay them any mind. He skidded to a halt at the small equipment shed and he pulled the lock picking kit out of his pocket. His preparedness would have been ironic in another situation, but he really didn't have time for such trivial things right now.

The lock sprang open and he yanked the door open. The smell of dirt, grass and general mustiness hit his nose and it was so thick a feeling that he batted it away. The shed was filled with old sporting equipment, a lawnmower which had seen better days, and two hand saws, which were hanging on the wall. There was a wooden box in the corner, about five feet long by three feet tall. It too was locked. Mulder kicked the shed door open farther to allow more light in, and noticed the dust on top of the box. It had been disturbed recently.

His hands shook as if on a Richter scale as he tried to pick the lock. She was in here, he knew it. His mouth couldn't form words, his throat dried up and couldn't call to her. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his fingers from spasming as the rusty lock finally gave.

He hefted the box lid up and there she was. She was curled up into a ball, whimpering and trying to hide her eyes.

"Scully, Scully, it's me. It's Mulder. You're okay."

He reached down to touch her and she pulled away, as if in pain. He reached down again, slower this time, and touched her cheek. She didn't react as harshly, but he still wondered if she recognized him.

"Scully, it's me."

She turned to look at him, then groaned and covered her eyes.

"I'm going to lift you out, okay Scully?"

She nodded and he reached down into the box, lifting her out easily. She buried her face in his chest as they sunk to the floor, her bound hands grasping at his shirt.

"You're alright," he whispered, rocking her slowly, as he would a small child. His lips found her forehead and rested there for a long time until her whimpers died down.

"Are you hurt, Scully?" he asked, pulling away a little to look at her. She clutched his shirt harder, trying to hide her face.

"Is it the light? Too bright?"

She nodded and he moved her a little so her eyes were more protected from the sun.

"I'm going to take you home, sweetheart," he said, brushing her matted hair back from her face. "You're going to be just fine."

She nodded as he stood up from the floor and carried her out into the light.

A/N: This is not the last chapter. I'm really only about half done, I promise.