The burgundy Audi A6 raced along US-285 South, a lone vehicle flying at 90 miles per hour in the early morning hour. It wasn't their typical car rental, but Scully had not argued much when the agent at Avis had suggested they should "relish a true driving experience". With an inner shrug, she had simply handed him her FBI-paid credit card. She had to admit he had been right. Presently at the wheel, dressed in blue jeans and a light green turtleneck, her hair tied in a pony tail, she was enjoying how the scenery zoomed by.

In the passenger seat, cellphone stuck to his ear, Mulder listened grimly to a voice on the other side of the line.

"Thank you," he said into the receiver. "Yes, I'd appreciate that very much."

A spell sound came out of his cell phone as soon as he hung up. Mulder opened the attached image, which displayed a rundown industrial-looking brick building with an imploded roof and black graffiti on the walls. He held up his cell phone towards Scully.

"The last piece of the puzzle," he said.

Scully took her eyes off the road to look at the image.

"What am I looking at?" she asked before focusing on the road again.

"Altova Labs," said Mulder. "Or at least what resides at the registered address of Altova Labs. The building does not seem to be fit for rats."

"Altova is not there?"

"Altova is not anywhere," said Mulder. "Other than one static web page with no information on it, there is no sign that this lab ever existed. Officer Sanchez from the Chula Vista Police Department, who kindly sent me this photo, said he grew up in the area. This building has been condemned for as far back as he could remember."

Scully wrinkled her forehead. "So, how is that the last piece of the puzzle?" she asked.

"It's like the last piece of any puzzle we try to solve," said Mulder, putting his cell phone away. "Another dead end." He stared at the road ahead.

Scully let out a deep sigh. She understood and felt Mulder's frustration. He had dedicated his life to investigating the most unusual unsolved cases. What he got back was dead ends.

This case was no different. They had made some progress. Together, following Mulder's unparalleled intuition, and Scully's scientific conclusions, they had arrived at a strange, but at least plausible cause of death for their patient zero, Tony Crane. Thanks to Mulder's persistence, they had identified and tracked down another possible victim, Dan McNiff. They had done their best trying to save his life - but failed. At the bottom of it all, there seemed to be an unknown entity, the Cocassin, a creature, likely a parasite, that attached itself to human hosts, fed on their blood, and injected cocaine in them, using its effects to control them. There was no actual proof of its existence other than Mulder's own claim to have seen it twice. Scully believed him, of course, but wished that there was more material evidence she could work with.

With many missing pieces already, one more key piece of the puzzle had fallen through. The Government Lab responsible for handling the materials of plant origin from Guatemala, which could have shed more light on their experimental glue processing technology, had proven untraceable, possibly even fictitious. Not that Scully expected to find out much from them, but the fact that a covert Government facility engaged in undisclosed experimental work may have been involved in the mysterious deaths of the two boys made Scully uncomfortable, even angry.

This was what work on the X-files was like: incomplete, inconclusive evidence; missing pivotal information; fragments of unbelievable, scientifically fringe facts linked by loosely fitting patters and leading to dead ends. Over the years, Scully had grown resigned to that reality of her work, and yet, she found herself irked by it every time, wishing she could dive in deeper and bring the case to a more logical, rigorous conclusion through sheer obstinate persistence. That's how Mulder operated. That's what pushed him to keep going as the years went by and the unresolved cases piled up. Despite her own frustration, Scully found herself admiring his dogged determination in the face of repeated failure.

She stepped on the accelerator and watched the speedometer climb to 100. Why not, she thought. It was a wide, open, empty highway, and there was no one else in sight.

She had gotten lost in her thoughts when Mulder tapped her on the shoulder.

"Slow down, our exit's coming up."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise but took her foot off the accelerator.

"The GPS says it's not for another fifteen miles," she argued.

"The GPS is misleading," said Mulder. "Intentionally," he added.

This brought a smile to Scully's face. If anyone knew where that exit was, that would be Mulder. It was not his first time driving along these New Mexico roads.

"There," he said, pointing to the right. "Careful. It's at an uncomfortable 120 degree angle to the right."

Scully hit the breaks and took the unexpected sharp turn onto a barely visible part of the shoulder where the grass seemed to be somewhat sparser and trampled. Only once the Audi was on that patch, Scully could see the dirt road spawning from it and heading into the desert.

"Why is this turn not on the GPS?" she felt compelled to ask as she carefully drove along, trying to avoid the potholes and boulders.

"GPS points to the tourist location," clarified Mulder. "As you can imagine, the real site is actually off limits to the public."

They navigated a series of turns following Mulder's guidance through progressively smaller, increasingly indiscernible dirt roads overgrown with vegetation. Finally, a few miles in, one of the roads dead-ended at a high electric fence with curling barbed wire on top. A large sign on it read "Restricted Access: Violators will be Prosecuted."

Scully pulled over. Mulder stepped out of the Audi and stood next to the fence. He peered through at the open field beyond. It was a barren, wasteland field, flat and empty, covered in low bushes and dried grass.

Scully watched him through the rolled-down window. That was his moment, a moment of reflection. He had spent the better part of his career looking for evidence of extraterrestrial life, and the Roswell crash site was, in many ways, ground zero. He had been there before, of course, but, like a kid at a playground, he came back time and again, seeking the feeling, enjoying the experience, living the moment.

She had agreed to join him on this short road trip before they flew back to Washington. She had considered it a whim, a caprice, part of Mulder's eccentric uniqueness. Watching his meditative, zen-like gaze, however, she realized that the bond he had with this place was more profound, personal. Mulder carried a passion in him, and it was that passion that connected him to his work and drove him forward.

A slight pang of jealousy played a melancholy chord in her. She worked on the X-files too, but her drive was different: professional ambition, scientific curiosity. For Mulder, the professional and personal merged.

It was several minutes before Mulder turned and looked at Scully.

"Ready to go back?" she asked.

"Not yet," he said softly. He held out his hand. "Come over and stand here with me for a moment."

She gave him a surprised look, but stepped out of the car and stood next to him, placing her hand in his. Together, they stared beyond the fence. The empty field was quiet, as if acknowledging that it wasn't going to share its secret.

A minute passed. A sense of calm descended over Scully. It was a feeling both comforting and liberating, a feeling of belonging. She felt her frustration and professional jealousy melting away. There may not always be answers, she thought, but Mulder was not alone in his quest. They were in it together. The X-files were as much hers as they were his.

At last, Mulder turned to face her. He looked into her green eyes and gave her a shy smile.

"OK," he said "Now, I'm ready."