E-MAIL: gstrommen@email.msn.com

This is a Round Robin and has 5 authors. GS led us off and each author had to find a way to include their hometown in some way in their chapter. See if you can spot it.

CATEGORY: X-File, MSR
KEY WORDS: UST
SUMMARY: Scully's gone! Is it the Syndicate? Is it the killer Mulder put away years ago? Can he find her before it's too late?
DISCLAIMER:The XFiles, Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, et al belong to 1013 and Fox productions - we're only borrowing them.

VERY IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: Please let it be known that the authors of this Round Robin met at the Haven for the FBI's Most Unwanted. The Haven is the SOLE property of Amy. This Round Robin is not supported, condoned, produced by her site, nor is it a part of it. We would very much like to thank Amy for all the hard work that goes into the Haven and makes it such a special place to visit. The Round Robin was coordinated perfectly through Onelist.com

SPOILERS: One Breath, Fight the Future
DISTRIBUTION: Gossamer, yes. Others, please let us know where so we can ALL visit.
FEEDBACK: Any feedback is welcome and will be shared with our entire group. You may send feedback to any of the authors and we will happily forward it on.

The man looked around the empty room, now occupied only by a blood stain and a frayed rope, he looked around it again as if hoping that by looking enough times he could change what he saw. It didn't work; the room was still empty.

Sighing, and wishing he could be doing anything *but* making The phone call he was about to make, he dialed the number he'd been given. It was picked up on the first ring.

"She's gone," he said, still looking at the empty room, "but it looks like she's still bleeding and she can't have gone far."

There was a brief pause on the other end, as if the person was thinking or taking a drag on a cigarette. "Find her." Then the connection was ended.

Terminating his end of the phone call, the man rubbed his hand down his face, glanced at the bloodstain, and thought once again about how much he hated this particular assignment. There were many reasons for the sentiment, not the least of which was that failure almost assuredly meant death.

Turning from the room he began to calculate where an injured woman with no money, and no idea where she was, would be likely to go in the middle of a deserted industrial area. If only he knew how long she'd been gone.

FBI Building
Washington, DC
9:20 AM
June 1
Basement office

Scully walked into the office catching Special Agent Fox Mulder in the act of flinging one of what appeared to be a line of newly sharpened pencils into the ceiling above his desk. At her entry he quickly covered the remaining pencils with a file folder and leaned back in his chair with a wide grin.

"Morning Scully, sleep late today?"

Looking up at the pencils in the ceiling, Scully looked back to Mulder and shook her head. "You know Mulder, aside from the fact that we're being threatened with rationing of pencils because of your penchant for," pause, "losing them," pause, "one day, one of thosee pencils is going to fall an take out an eye."

Interrupting her Mulder smirked and said, "A peg leg, an eyepatch, it's all the same Scully."

Ignoring his interruption Scully continued, "As for my being late, so much for your eidetic memory. If you'll recall, I told you yesterday that I had to meet with Agent Carnes in Violent Crime about possibly performing an autopsy on a body for one of their cases. They're stumped and they want a different perspective. So, aside from *levitation* what have you been doing all morning?"

"Well, Scully, despite how it appears, I have been a busy boy this happy A.M. I finished the report on our last case including the expense vouchers. But, I did have a hard time explaining why you needed reimbursement for a new shirt. Somehow I didn't think you'd appreciate it if I put down that you were slimed by an unexplained and unidentified entity. Sounded a little 'Ghostbusterish' for you."

Scully hid a smile, and walked over to sit in the chair opposite Mulder's desk, saying dryly, "I appreciate your discretion, Mulder, really. Although coming from you I'm sure that would actually be the explanation they would expect. They may be disappointed with the mundane."

Smiling slyly, Mulder replied, "Oh, I don't think they'll be Disappointed Scully, looking for the earthy, uh, I mean, earthly, explanation. I put down that you ripped your shirt off and threw it at me." He paused here to watch her reaction, and as he had hoped, her eyebrow went up, and his smile widened, "so that I could use it to stop the bleeding on my wound." As he said this he held up his left arm, recently relieved of 8 stitches, but still bandaged.

Smiling slightly, and again shaking her head, Scully asked how his arm was.

"It's fine, though of course, you're welcome to kiss it and make it better."

Suddenly feeling playful, Scully replied, "It's nice to know you think my kisses will make it better, Mulder."

Slightly shocked at Scully playing along Mulder recovered quickly And retorted, "Maybe I spoke too soon Scully, care to try it and see?"

At that moment the phone on Mulder's desk rang. "Mulder."

"She's the one."

"What?" Mulder looked at Scully and she immediately rose to listen to the call with him, but all she heard was a click.

"What happened, Mulder, what is it?"

Feeling uneasy, but not sure why, Mulder looked at Scully. "I don't know, Scully, all I heard was a raspy voice say, 'she's the one' and then hang up."

"She's the one? What does that mean?"

Mulder shook his head, "I don't know, Scully, I don't know."

"I'm going to check the records of incoming calls and see where the call came from, Mulder."

"While you do that I'm going to check out old X-files and some of my old cases for that phrase, it seems familiar, but I don't know why."

Neither was saying it, but both were hoping it had nothing to do with Cassandra Spender and events from February.

Scully's Apartment
Georgetown, Washington, DC
June 1
10:13 PM

Walking to the door in response to the pounding Scully knew who was going to be on the other side, and why. Mulder had been busy all day attempting to discover what was behind the cryptic phone call he had received that morning. She had also been doing research, and she knew that he would be coming over with his findings when he was done. She just hadn't anticipated it taking so long. Of course, it was Mulder and she wasn't entirely surprised, hence, she had not yet gotten ready for bed, and was still wearing the jeans and blue knit shirt she had changed into after work.

She opened the door to find Mulder standing there in jeans, a white tee shirt and his leather jacket. This outfit always reminded her of Christmas Eve, and a slight smile crossed her face at the memory.

"Mulder, what a surprise," she said as she stepped aside to let him in.

"You planning some late night clubbing, Scully? You're usually ready to be tucked in by now." Mulder said with a slight leer.

Scully just gave Mulder a look and led him over to the couch. "What did you find? I turned up nothing, the call was made from a phone booth outside the FBI building, some viable prints were lifted, but no matches were found in the FBI database, and it's impossible to even know if they were the fingerprints of the person who made the call."

Mulder sat down and looked as Scully, "Well, I had a little more luck, but not much. The phrase 'she's the one' or some slight variation has appeared in the X-Files twice that I could find. Once in the case that we investigated years ago involving those kids that were being tested on, they were marked with 'she's one' or 'he's one' when they were found. The other reference is the one we've both been trying to avoid addressing, which is Cassandra Spender." He paused looking at Scully. "However, I also found reference to the phrase in an old case I worked on before the X-Files. Frank Carter. He killed 16 women between 1987 and 1988, marking them with the phrase 'she's the one.' I helped work on the profile that got him caught and I testified at his trial. We were only able to pin one of the murders on him. And, yes, I checked, and he was released based on good behavior and time served about 3 months ago. So it looks as though we have plenty of options as to what was behind the call."

Considering what Mulder had just said, Scully pointed out, "It might have been nothing more than a prank call as well, Mulder. We won't know for sure unless you get more calls."

Leaning his head against the back of the couch Mulder closed his eyes. "I know you're right Scully, but for some reason I have a really bad feeling about this, as though this was the only clue or warning we're going to get before whatever is going to happen, happens."

"You may be right Mulder, but even if you are, we can't do anything more than be on guard until we figure it out." She reached out and brushed the hair off his forehead. "Would it make you feel better to crash on the couch tonight Mulder? That way I could protect you from the bogeyman."

Opening his eyes and rolling his head towards Scully, Mulder Smiled slightly, thanking her only with his eyes for catering to his fears, the greatest one being of losing her. He didn't understand why he thought the threat was directed at her, but he did. That being the case, her couch was exactly where he wanted to be, well, as close to exactly where he wanted to be as he was going to get anyway. "Deal Scully. Does this mean you're going to tuck me in?"

Getting up from the couch to get Mulder some blankets Scully tossed over her shoulder, "Don't press your luck, Mulder."

Scully's Apartment
June 2
3:15 AM

Scully woke up to what sounded like Mulder struggling and thrashing in the living room, then she heard him saying her name over and over as if calling to her. She immediately grabbed her gun off the nightstand and went into the living room, looking around before entering, expecting to see someone in there with Mulder. What she found was Mulder on the couch in his tee shirt and boxers in the throes of a nightmare. Setting down her gun she walked over and knelt beside the couch, putting her hand on his shoulder she gently shook him, "Mulder, wake up, it's me, Mulder, wake up. I'm here. It's okay."

With a sudden jerk Mulder sat upright practically knocking Scully into the coffee table. Sitting up again Scully reached out to where Mulder was sitting with his hands over his face. Pulling one of his hands away from his face, she asked softly, "Are you okay?"

Mulder was still not looking at her, but from behind the hand that She wasn't holding she heard, "I'll be fine."

Scully gently squeezed Mulder's hand. "You know Mulder, when I said I'd protect you from the Bogeyman, I was joking."

Finally lowering his hand and looking at her Mulder smiled ruefully and said, "That's only because you don't believe in the Bogeyman, Scully. I do, remember."

Smiling softly, she reached out with her free hand to again brush the hair off his face, "Want to talk about it?"

Mulder looked away from her again, "Not really."

She nodded and let go of his hand. "Okay then, I'm going to get a glass of water and hit the sack. You want one?"

Laying back down Mulder looked up at Scully, "No thanks. Good night, Scully. Sorry I woke you."

"No problem. I can get back to sleep pretty easily. Sweet dreams, Mulder." He watched her walk out of the living room and hoped her words were going to be prophetic, because going through another nightmare like the one he had just had was not something he was eager to do.

Scully's Apartment
June 2
6:43 AM

Scully walked into the kitchen to find Mulder at the table with a cup of coffee and what looked like the remains of a bagel. He looked up as she walked in and smiled. "I ran out this morning and got some bagels. Forgive me for saying so Scully, but you have a pathetic breakfast selection."

Reaching for a bagel Scully raised her eyebrow at Mulder. "Don't you read Miss Manners Mulder, it's rude to insult your hostess."

"I'm just trying to make sure you get the 'hostess with the mostest' award in the future, Scully. Of course, you could go a long way to advancing the cause if you would exhibit a bit more," waggling his eyebrows, "hospitality."

Pausing in the act of putting her bagel in the toaster oven Scully Looked over to Mulder. "Hospitality, Mulder, is a dangerous thing to ask for when I haven't had my caffeine yet."

"Ooh Scully, I don't know whether to be excited or scared." Rising from his chair Mulder walked over to where Scully was standing. "You leaving soon?"

She nodded. "As soon as I finish my bagel, have a cup of coffee, and do a few last minute touches." Mulder didn't move. "Mulder, I will be fine. You need to go home, shower, and get ready for work. I'll see you in the office."

With feigned shock Mulder retorted, "Are you saying I smell, Scully?"

"Mulder!"

He raised both his hand in surrender and began backing toward the door of the kitchen, "Okay, I'm leaving. I'll see you in the office." Turning back to her when he got to the front door, "Bye Scully. Be careful."

Sighing, but catering to his fears, she shook her head. "I promise, Mulder. You too."

FBI Building
June 2
8:23 AM
Basement Office

He had driven as fast as he could back home, showered in record time, and dressed with the speed of light, then once again sped to the office. Damn rush hour traffic. Walking down the hall to the door his sense of unease was increasing. As soon as he got to the door he knew something was wrong. It was locked and the office was dark. He pulled out his keys, and his cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket desperately hoping it was Scully calling to tell him she was running late.

"Mulder."

The voice from the other day responded. "Find her." Click.

For a moment Mulder was frozen. Then fear washed through him. He began a new mantra that was a twist on one of her favorite phrases, "She's fine, she's fine, she's fine, she's fine..." While repeating this he dialed her cell phone and received a message from DC Cellular that the customer was unavailable. He immediately hung up and dialed her home number. "Come on Scully, pick up." Ring. "Tell me I'm an overprotective asshole." Ring. "Not again." Ring. "Dammit. NO!" Ring. Then the sound of her voice. "You have reached 555-6974." Mulder pressed the end button with more force than necessary unable to stand hearing her voice at that moment knowing it was only a recording.

Turning away from the office door he ran back to the parking garage, desperate to get to Georgetown.

Scully's Apartment
June 2
9:07 AM

Running up the stairs to her door Mulder already had his key to Her apartment out. He quickly unlocked the door screaming her name before it opened all the way. "SCULLY!"

He walked through the empty apartment. Yelling her name. "SCULLLEEE! SCULLEE!"

It was like his nightmare from last night. Only this time she didn't wake him up, hold his hand and push the hair out of his eyes. He sank down onto the couch put his head in his hands and wept. Not again.

She's the One
Chapter 2 by DanaNOTScully

E-MAIL: a0041168@airmail.net

// "She's the one." // The words continued to replay in his mind - every syllable of that raspy voice tearing at his concentration - and his heart.

// "She's the one." // [Yeah, tell me about it. She's my one in five billion, that's for sure.] Fox Mulder sighed in exasperation and ran a hand through his unruly hair as he tried again to concentrate on the stacks of documents covering his desk [Scully you are the ONLY one I trust."]

// "She's the one." // [SHUT *UP*! ] He told the voice angrily. [I've got to concentrate and go through all these files so I can _find_ her! ]

// "Find her." // Soft as a whisper in his mind at first, but then growing louder and more insistent . . . // "FIND her. FIND HER! " // Repeating and speeding up until it became a rapid roar of noise like a freight train barreling toward him. // FindherFindherFindher FindherFINDHERFINDHER!" //

["What the hell do you think I'm *TRYING* to do?"] He shouted in his mind as he pushed to his feet and kicked an open file drawer closed in frustration, not even registering the sound of breaking glass as something on top the of cabinet crashed to the floor.

"What *ARE* you trying to do, Agent Mulder?" A man's voice demanded and Mulder whirled around to see Walter Skinner standing in the open doorway. Realizing he had spoken the words out loud, Mulder gaped at his boss as he fumbled for a semi-reasonable explanation. Only . . . with Scully still unaccounted for _nothing_ felt reasonable, semi or otherwise.

A.D. Skinner looked his agent over with a critical eye and determined he did *not* like what he saw. Fox Mulder appeared to have aged 10 years just since yesterday morning. He was unshaven, with deep worry lines etched into his face and his hair stuck out in all directions, silent testimony to his habit of running his hands through his hair when he became frustrated. His clothes had that 'lived in' look that indicated he hadn't taken the time to go home since Dana Scully's disappearance yesterday morning. Yet, while Mulder looked like he was already on the brink of exhaustion, it was obvious that the gears in his mind were rapidly whirring and turning over everything about the problem he was focused on.

Skinner wouldn't even pretend that he could read Mulder half as well as Scully did. He didn't know all the nuances she would have picked up on that would point to the man's actual mental state. But he'd seen men on the edge before and if Mulder wasn't there, he was close. _Very_ close. You had only to look in his eyes to see it.

He was especially concerned about the palpable desperation and self-blame that seemed to be warring for dominance with Mulder's determination to do _whatever_ it took to find their missing agent. Although he fully empathized with the younger man's desire to keep working until he found her, Skinner reminded himself that he *was* the man's supervisor. As such, it fell to him to make sure that the agents under his control -- or lack thereof, in Mulder's case - kept themselves from self-destructing while trying to solve a case. [Not just *a* case, ] an insistent voice in his head pointed out. [It's his *partner* of six years who's missing. Missing *again*. ]

Skinner swallowed hard and resumed his study of Mulder, trying to gauge exactly how deep the man was. He knew from past experience how damned personal Fox Mulder took any threat to his partner. [And with so little to go on even after *36* hours . . . ]

[Don't start thinking the worst, Walter. ] He silently admonished himself. "Agent Mul--" he began but the younger agent quickly cut him off.

"Uh, I'm sorry sir. I guess I was just . . . thinking out loud."

"Mmhhm." Skinner replied thoughtfully, his gaze flicking to the inoffensive filing cabinet and then back to Mulder. Problem was, as much as he hated to see what was happening to one of the FBI's best profilers, Skinner knew deep down that the man standing before him was the best hope they had of finding Dana Scully. Still, he couldn't let such a talented -- albeit unorthodox -- agent run himself _completely_ into the ground. Not if he could help it. "You've been down here working all evening?"

Mulder nodded reluctantly, silently cursing himself for having Lost control. His boss was eyeing him as if he expected him to have a nervous break down right then and there. Hell, maybe he's not too far off on that, Fox Mulder thought to himself as he endured the Assistant Director's scrutiny. Finally he couldn't take it any longer. "Was there something you wanted to see me about, sir?" He could hear the brusqueness in his tone but he lacked the energy to soften it.

Besides, he was too preoccupied with the case to pull himself very far away from it for whatever matter Skinner had come to talk to him about. His mind was swirling with data from the case -- and dozens of different scenarios involving the current fate of his missing partner, not one of them acceptable. He just needed to be left alone; to be given space so he could pull something useful out of everything that had been gathered.

Yet there Skinner stood, staring at him with that 'will he or won't he crack under the strain?' expression. Beneath the tough ex-marine exterior Mulder could see the repressed concern in his eyes. That was the worst. He couldn't stand the idea that Skinner might be here to offer consolation like so many other agents had throughout the day. Dammit, he didn't have *time* for platitudes, however well intentioned! He had work to do -- he *HAD* to find Scully.

Skinner stepped further into the room and took a position in front of Mulder's desk; casually flipping through a file folder hhe'd brought wit him. He was becoming increasingly worried about the young man now pacing behind the desk like a caged animal but he was determined to give Mulder the benefit of the doubt. For now.

While waiting for Skinner to get to the point, Mulder felt the threads of his remaining patience being stretched to the breaking point. Every moment that he wasted talking to Skinner was a moment he could never get back, time that he needed to use to find out what had happened to his partner. *Tick. Tick. Tick.*

"As a matter of fact, yes." Skinner finally replied, content to let Mulder's temper tantrum go for the moment.

Still preoccupied with thoughts of the case, Mulder tried to remember what question he'd asked to garner that response. "And that would be . . . ?" he prompted after a pause, not succeeding in keeping the irritation out of his voice.

Skinner glanced up and met his gaze.. "I wanted to hand deliver this to you."

*Tick. Tick. Tick.* [Yes . . . *AND*?] Mulder all but screamed out loud. He could almost *feel* the individual seconds slipping past. [Dammit Skinner, say whatever you're going to say and let me get back to work!]

[You'd better work fast.] [You've lost so much time already. What if--.] [No! I *will* find her--] [Sure, but will it be in time?] [Yes! She's going to be all right!] [You know damn well that if she was taken by Frank Carter--]

"I've been doing a little 'investigating' of my own." Skinner's voice broke in on his mental tug of war and Mulder looked down to see a folder being held out to him.

"What's this?" he asked, accepting the folder and laying it down on the desk with all the other paperwork scattered there.

"I followed up on why you weren't notified about Frank Carter's parole hearing. " Skinner explained, taking a seat in the chair opposite Mulder's desk, his movements maddeningly unhurried. "I don't know why, but I couldn't shake the idea that there might be something -- or someone behind why you never received the proper notification."

[This wasn't going to help him find Scully so who the hell cared how it had happened?]

"And?" Mulder demanded, earning him a warning glance from Skinner. Uh oh. Pissing off the boss was NOT the way to get help in finding Scully. Realizing he was being insubordinate, and knowing full well that wouldn't get him _anywhere_ with Skinner, Mulder forced himself to at least try to give him his full attention. "Sorry, I didn't mean to snap at you."

Skinner continued to regard him sternly for a moment then nodded Acceptance of the apology. "Well, it looks to be exactly as it appears - just a paperwork SNAFU resulting in you being accidentally left out of the loop."

"How do you mean?"

"Something about a fax with the names of the people to be notified coming through with a few lines blurred -- your name among them. I checked and found out that the written notice *was* mailed here but it was addressed to VCU, which of course is where you and Agent Rogers worked at the time Carter was put away."

"Carter was released 3 months ago." Mulder protested. "Why didn't somebody send it down here in time for me to testify?"

"Apparently it was misfiled in VCU and never routed."

Mulder frowned, trying to correlate that bit of news with the Efficient departmental secretary he remembered. "Janie doesn't make mistakes like that."

"Janie Thomas didn't misfile it. She had just been seriously injured in a car accident so the VCU had a temporary secretary. In fact, yesterday was Janie's first day back at work. When I asked her about the notification she did a little digging and found it in an unrelated file. Turns out that's not the only mistake that the temp made."

Skinner watched as Mulder shifted from what looked to be a genuine Attempt at listening to an expression of curiosity, as if something had just fallen into place. "Maybe that was the only mistake that counted." Mulder mumbled cryptically, leaning forward to dig a notepad out of the piles of material on his desk.

Skinner's eyes narrowed. "I don't follow. What are you thinking? That this wasn't a paperwork mistake?"

"Oh no, I'm certain it was. I'm thinking that maybe it was an 'intentional' mistake."

"A what?" Skinner watched as Mulder practically bounced on his toes with suppressed energy.

"An intentional misdirection to make sure I never knew about the parole hearing being moved up." Mulder quickly began writing something down. "I'm also thinking that maybe Janie's car accident wasn't as 'accidental' as she thought."

Realizing where Mulder was going with this, Skinner sucked in a Small breath, galled anew by the man's capacity for extreme paranoia. "You think someone _arranged_ for Janie's accident just to keep you from being notified of Carter's parole hearing?" he asked in disbelief. "She almost *died* in that accident!"

"Maybe she was supposed to." came the quiet reply from behind the desk as Mulder reached for his glasses to better study the file.

Skinner struggled to control his rising temper. How did Scully workday in and out with a man so infuriatingly paranoid? "That's ridiculous! Who would go to such lengths just to--"

"Who?" Mulder snapped back, lifting his gaze in challenge. "Who the hell do you _think_ would do it?" he asked as if it was the most logical question in the world. "First," he began counting off on his fingers, "they abducted Scully and performed tests on her, then they--"

Skinner sighed in exasperation and held up a hand for him to stop. "Enough with the history lesson, Mulder. I see where you're going with this but I don't think it--"

"It *could* be relevant to finding Scully." Mulder insisted.

Hearing the determination in his agent's voice, Skinner nodded reluctantly. Mulder was really getting desperate if he was willing to follow such an unsubstantiated and improbable lead as this. Which meant that Mulder realized they didn't have a whole lot to go on. Fearing for Scully's safety, and the consequences of what *not* finding her would do to her partner, Skinner made a quick decision.

"All right. I'll check into that 'theory' while you continue your work on the case." Seeing Mulder's surprised expression, Skinner shrugged. "That way you can expend your energy where it's most needed," he nodded to the overflow of papers on the desk, "And I can feel like I'm doing something useful in this investigation besides just ordering people around."

"Uh, thank you, sir." Mulder replied with a hint of contrition. How odd. Only a short time ago he'd been convinced Skinner's interruption was nothing more than a waste of his valuable time.

"Well, I've kept you long enough." Skinner announced as he stood and reached down to get the file he'd brought with him. "I'll get started on it first thing in the morning." He vowed as he turned and moved hastily toward the door.

"Sir . . . ?" Mulder called after him quietly but there was a definite strain in his voice.

Skinner paused to turn and look at him in question, surmising, what the younger man was reluctant to ask. "I'll keep you updated on what I find Agent Mulder. No matter how 'insignificant' it may seem to *me*."

Although Fox Mulder was clearly still a bundle of raw nerves, Skinner didn't miss the very slight relaxation in his posture, the fractional easing of the tight skin around his mouth and eyes as he nodded his silent thanks. "Don't stay here all night again tonight." Skinner admonished from just outside the doorway, holding Mulder's gaze. "When Agent Scully returns I'd just as soon prefer _not_ to have to explain to her any circumstances involving your being hospitalized from overwork and exhaustion."

Mulder nodded back at him with a faintly bemused expression. "Good night, sir." He shook his head in wonder as he listened to Skinner's footsteps recede toward the elevator and considered whether or not Skinner knew how much it meant to him that he'd said *when* Scully returned instead of *if.* It wasn't much, but when he had so damned little to go on-

[Stop that! You ARE going to find her. You just have to figure out who took her and where.]

He went to shut the office door, glancing down the empty hallway and sparing another moment to wonder over the puzzle that was his boss. Then he returned to his desk to continue trying to figure out the more immediate puzzle of what had happened to Scully. [*This* time.] His inner voice sneered. [What had happened to her *this* time.]

He resisted the sudden urge to overturn the desk in a fit of anger. Getting physically violent with the furniture had only resulted in more lost time on the case (although not a _complete_ loss it turned out) and Skinner nearly sending him home, or worse, taking him off the case.

"Damn! When will this kind of thing stop happening to her?." He groaned aloud. [Maybe when she quits hanging around someone who seems destined to always put her in harm's way?] the nasty voice in his head responded. He sighed agreement with the sentiment and reached up under his glasses to rub at his tired eyes. Okay. Time to get back to work.

What had he been doing? Oh yeah, he'd been trying to read the Evidence reports on what had been found outside of Scully's apartment building and her recovered car. Digging through the very loosely organized piles of paper he retrieved the correct folders and sat down behind his desk to study them.

Two hours later he took a break from studying files to go and make some fresh coffee. Tired and impatient, he jerked too hard at the stubborn packet of dry coffee and the small bag broke, sending tiny bits of ground coffee flying everywhere. Great. Just Great. He started to squat down to begin cleaning it up but stopped when his leg muscles reminded him that he'd spent too many hours in his office chair over the last few days. He groaned as he straightened back up. God but he was tired!

[What time was it anyway? Hell, for that matter what _day_ was it?]

Ignoring the mess on the floor he reached for another unopened package of coffee. He carefully opened the bag and poured the ccoffee grounds into the filter basket - almost forgetting to put the filter in first - before putting it in the machine and hitting the 'brew' button.

He looked down at his watch -- June 4 and nearly one a.m. No wonder he was so clumsy! He hadn't slept in over . . . well, he hadn't slept since Scully had disappeared. And that was when?

[Over 38 hours ago.] The voice in his head unkindly supplied. [And you know what they say. . . the longer they're gone the less likely that they'll be found alive--]

"Shut up." He instructed the voice as he rolled his head from side to side to try and work the kinks out of his neck. It would take the coffee a few minutes to finish so he ought to focus on the case in the meantime. Well, for starters Scully had disappeared on June 2nd somewhere between 6:50 a.m. and a little after 9:00 a.m. when he'd returned to find her apartment empty. He'd insisted that the evidence team dust practically every surface in and around her apartment but no unexpected fingerprints had turned up. However, Scully's car *had* been missing from it's customary parking place.

He shook his head in amazement at his own naivete as he remembered the surge of hope that had flooded him when he'd realized her car was gone. It had been *so* easy to convince himself that they'd just missed each other, that she was okay and on her way to the office. So extremely easy to believe that there was a logical explanation for why she wasn't answering her cell phone. In his desperation to believe she was all right he'd even been able to explain away finding her badge in the grass next to where her car had been parked. It had fallen out of her coat, that was all. Why perhaps even now she had realized it was missing and would be heading back to her apartment to retrieve it.

But even *he* didn't have denial strong enough to withstand solid evidence. Reality and devastation hadn't set in _completely_ until he'd gotten the report that her car had been found abandoned on the side of a road on at National airport.

Realizing his thoughts had strayed from mentally reciting what he knew about the case to indulging his feelings of despair, Mulder straightened his shoulders and his resolve to stick to the facts. Okay. In her car they'd found a sealed baggie containing a rag saturated with chloroform. Well, that was one question answered. Of course he only had about 6 million to go.

[Wasn't it considerate of the kidnapper to leave the evidence so neatly packaged?] Yeah, well, if it _WAS_ Frank Carter then no one knew better than Mulder that the guy liked to play games.

He was abruptly assaulted by vivid memories of the investigation into the Carter murders.
. . . the cryptic phone calls that were made to local authorities within hours of each victim's disappearance -- at first wrongly assumed to be nothing more than crank calls by the various police stations and sheriff's departments that received them.

. . . the carefully composed Polaroid pictures of the victims bearing a temporary tattoo proclaiming *she's the one* that law enforcement would receive 48 hours later. Carefully composed so as not to give away enough information to allow the police to find them before they were killed _and_so it couldn't be used as anything more than circumstantial evidence.

. . . the crime scenes where the bodies were pulled from the water, having been handled in such a way and submerged long enough that there were no traces of evidence left to link them to Frank Carter -- sometimes not even enough to accurately determine how the woman had died.

. . . The apparent randomness of the killings (among them a socialite in Dallas, an accountant in Sacramento, a viola player in Boston, an actress in Maine, a housewife in Atlanta) that had kept the local authorities chasing their own tails until somebody at the FBI had finally put together that the murders might somehow be connected.

. . . The seemingly endless hours spent pouring over the detailed information from a total of 14 murders that had occurred in 14 different states until 'Spooky' Mulder had made that one crucial connection that had finally given the authorities a chance at solving the case.

Despite all the pairs of eyes that had been investigating similar killings, in the end it was 2 young, exhausted but very determined FBI agents from VCU that had found the common link between the murdered women. A connection that, once he'd seen it, had been so painfully obvious that Mulder had hated himself for not realizing it sooner. [Sooner. Ha. Ha.]

With the exception of one older woman, all of the victims had been in the age range of 34-39 but *everything* else about them couldn't have been more different -- socioeconomic backgrounds, religious affiliations, physical attributes, marital status, their careers -- absolutely _nothing_ tied them together. Even as tired as he was now --or perhaps *because* of it -- he could clearly remember the late night comment Mike Rogers had made that had given him the inspiration to make the connection. Knowing Mulder's 'open' beliefs, Mike had jokingly suggested that perhaps all the women had been sisters in a former life. // Sisters. // // A former life. //

He couldn't explain it but in a matter of seconds he'd 'known' on a Purely instinctual level that the women had all been part of the same sorority. Chi Omega as it turned out, and not *just* the same sorority, but at the same campus. The University of Oklahoma, home of the legendary 'Sooners' football team in Norman, Oklahoma. His remarkable leap had even tied in the one murder that had everyone stumped . . . the older woman had once been the Chi Omega housemother.

It had taken them weeks of investigating before a list of potential Suspects began to emerge. At first, Frank Carter wasn't even in the top 10. His humiliating experience as the butt of a very bad practical joke by his Beta Theta Pi fraternity brothers and the Chi Omega girls had seemed insignificant compared to some of the other prospects. Gradually, however, the list had been whittled down -- and new information uncovered once they had a clearer direction to look in -- until Carter was the only logical suspect left to profile.

[Yeah, you're a real hero. A regular genius. Too bad you couldn't figure it out in time to stop him from killing those last two women.]

His heart speed up at the memory of investigating the 15th disappearance -- the frantic search to find everything they could about Frank Carter in hopes that it might lead them to the missing woman -- only to watch weeks later as her dead body was pulled from the bottom of a lake.

He'd _tried_ to shake it off but he hadn't been able to escape the nightmares about the pretty young mother of three whose life had been ended so abruptly. All because as a college freshman she'd gotten drunk and participated in a practical joke on a mentally unstable frat boy that had unintentionally gone too far and eventually pushed the guy over the edge. [After that murder you weren't too far from the edge yourself, were you?]

He'd denied it at the time, but he knew that Carter had gotten to him and in turn he went so deep to try and catch the man that he almost lost himself in the process. Years later he'd tried to console himself that in the end it had paid off. Sort of. Not that he'd been able to save Carter's last victim -- although everyone had sworn up and down it wasn't his fault. Sarah Martinez had only been a Chi Omega pledge for 2 weeks her freshman year which explained why her name hadn't shown up on the membership rolls they'd used to find and warn the members. Sarah had somehow stuck out in Carter's mind though and her affiliation with the sorority had been enough to make her a target.

They'd finally caught Frank Carter -- caught him right in the act Of murdering Sarah Martinez -- but that bittersweet victory, and the triumph of later seeing Carter put away, had come at a high price -- the death of 16 women and Mike Rogers who'd been fatally injured at Carter's capture.

[What is it about you and partners anyway? Even the *temporary* ones always seem to wind up injured or dead.]

Oh God. *Scully . . . *
He felt a sharp pain like someone had just sucker punched him and he angrily shoved away from the counter. // What the hell was he doing? //

He didn't have *time* to waste reliving the highs and lows of the Carter case! Roughly shaking his head to clear it, he forced his mind to focus on the case in the here and now. [On Scully.]

*IF* Carter even had Scully -- and he didn't even want to _think_ about what could happen if it turned out that someone was using Carter's timely release to send him down the wrong path. No, he'd keep an open mind to such possibilities but for now it was best to pursue Frank Carter because he had been a dangerous man when captured in 1988. From what he'd read of Carter's time in prison, he seemed to only have gotten more dangerous as the years went by.

Regaining some of his equilibrium, he idly wondered why he was in the break room instead of his office. Faint clouds of steam rising off an untouched pot of coffee reminded him that he'd come in search of caffeine. Fighting a weariness that seemed to go soul deep, he plodded over to coffee maker and poured the pot's contents into the carafe he'd brought with him. Once back in the surroundings of his office he sat the hot carafe down on top of a filing cabinet and began looking around for his favorite mug, the one with the picture of "Big Blue" that Scully had given him years ago. Hearing a crunching sound underfoot as he approached his desk he glanced down and saw broken shards of the mug littering the floor. //When the hell had this happened?//

Kneeling down to collect the broken pieces he vaguely remembered Something falling off the file cabinet after he'd kicked a drawer closed. That it had turned out to be the coffee mug Scully had given him suddenly made his throat tight and his vision begin to blur.

Wiping his eyes dry with a quick swipe of the sleeve of his right arm he rose and tenderly deposited the remains of the mug in a desk drawer. He doubted the mug could be repaired but he wasn't willing to put it in the trash. Doing that would seem like he was giving up on Scully and he would *never* give up on her. Or on getting her back safe and whole.

Forcing back the brief surge of strong emotions, he walked over to An overhead bin and pulled out one of the coffee mugs she kept at work, pouring hot caffeine into her University of Maryland mug before sitting down at his desk. Okay, back to what we know compared to what we don't know. Um . . . oh yeah. The chloroform rag in her car.

Unfortunately no prints had been found on the baggie or rag and other than Scully's there were none on the car. In fact, not much of anything of any use whatsoever had been found there. He still wanted to take a look for himself at the car and the location where it had turned up, but he didn't honestly think the car would tell him much beyond reassuring him that nothing had been missed in the investigation.

Other than the 2 phone calls he'd received they still had next to *nothing* to go on. Day before yesterday he'd been totally convinced that the voice of the second call had precisely matched the voice of the first caller. But now [nearly 40 hours later] he was so tired he couldn't even claim to be certain of _that._ And even if the voices WERE the same, it still didn't _prove_ that Carter was behind Scully's abduction, no matter how much everything seemed to be pointing to the ex-con.

Hmm, maybe that was part of what was bothering him -- the fact that It seemed like such an easy assumption to make. Memories of his Conversation with Skinner tickled the edges of his consciousness, forcing him into yet another meaningless round of "is it Carter or isn't it?" Of course, so far the trail to Carter's whereabouts was cold. And while agents were checking into his last known acquaintances and whereabouts Mulder already knew they'd come up empty. Carter had eluded police long enough to kill 15 women in one year without being caught so the chances that he'd be easily found were likely to be nil.

He hoped, no he *prayed* that it _wasn't_ Carter who was responsible for Scully's disappearance because he knew what Frank Carter did to his victims and the thought of Scully in that man's hands . . . Suddenly the coffee that had just started to revive him felt like a lead weight in his stomach and he turned to the trash can just in time to throw up.

"Scully . . . "

Third Floor Conference Room 'B'
FBI Building, Washington, D.C.
8:30 a.m., June 5

Fox Mulder paused in doodling on his notepad to rub at his temples. He'd spent the last 30 minutes fighting an incredible headache from lack of sleep as he sat around a conference table listening to reports by various departments working on the case.

Although the room was packed to overflowing with agents -- chairs pushed as close together as possible, some agents standing along the walls, some leaning against the credenza, others straining to hear from the crowded doorway -- Mulder noted with slight amusement born of exhaustion that there was *no* *one* seated to either side of him.

He was certain that some of those assembled were using this tactic To deliberately _try_ to hurt him [Sorry fellas, but with Scully missing I'm well stocked in the hurt department so you'll have to try again later> while others were probably keeping their distance simply because of his reputation and/or the rumors circulating that he was going to crack under the strain of this investigation. He supposed that Scully would argue that at least a _few_ of them might be attempting to respect his privacy by giving him a little space.

Which was quite all right with him. Perfectly fine, in fact. Just the way he wanted it. If they only knew. The irony almost made his lips twitch upward in something approaching a smile but he just didn't have the energy or the will to see it through. Not when he nneeded so desperately to be alone right now. Alone and solely focused on finding the object of this meeting, Agent Dana Katherine Scully.

The voice of a man who was clearly winner of the FBI's "Most Boring Speaker Award" continued to drone on and on reporting his department's findings while Mulder silently struggled to keep from screaming at everyone to just get the hell out there and FIND her! Finally Mr. Boring ran out of things to say and Mulder jumped immediately to his feet to head for the door when Skinner pinned him with a *Don't You Dare* glare that froze him to the spot. Ignoring the crowded room, Mulder's eyes begged Skinner to release him from this meeting but his boss firmly shook his head indicating this was *not* negotiable.

Resigned to his fate for at least another half-hour, Mulder lowered himself back down into the chair and jerked his notepad closer. See Skinner? I _must_ be paying attention if I'm taking notes, right?

Yeah, right. As if he was actually serious about listening to the Next presentation and taking notes. Besides, no one in this room was going to tell him anything he didn't already know.

Sensing that Skinner was still watching him, he uncapped a fresh pen and made a blank outline on a clean sheet of paper. Since he was stuck here he would put the time to good use. With his eidetic memory of the pounds of paper currently decorating his desk he would continue to sift and search for something that *was* useful.

Two of the VCU's finest began explaining what they'd come up with so far. It was all Mulder could do not to snort in outright derision. *He* could sum it up in one word: zilch.

Oh they could babble on about the forensics reports from Scully's apartment, her abandoned car, the search of the area where her car had turned up, what flights had been outbound that day and what measures they had taken to find and apprehend the suspect, one Frank S. Carter.

Mulder knew that the key to finding Scully didn't rest with their geographic profiles. He also knew it wasn't hiding in any of the limited pieces of evidence that had been gathered. And it certainly wasn't going to be revealed from a meeting of too many people with too much to say in too small of a room.

How he knew this, he couldn't say. He just _knew_ it.

One reason might be that in spite of his pronounced fatigue he was Starting to get his second (or was it third?) wind. He felt edgy. Wired. As if there was an invisible current of electricity snaking out and catching him for the most fleeting of moments then fading away.

That prickling sensation at the back of his neck had returned and after what had happened when he'd shoved it aside last time [Scully I'm so sorry I didn't prevent this from happening to you] he was now paying very close attention to his instincts. Something was going to happen and soon. He could feel it.

['Use the force, Luke.'] came his mind's sarcastic reply and this time he almost did smile.

He had to keep looking for a way to find out where Carter had taken her. [IF it's Carter who's taken her and you have yet to prove that.] [And even if it *is* Carter you know damn well that if he took her to exact _revenge_ then all bets are off.] If that was the case then nothing from the previous investigation was guaranteed to be of any help. [If he's even the one you're looking for.] *Enough!* Nothing would be accomplished by going over that time-wasting debate again right now.

He'd start by throwing out everything he knew about the original case, about Carter, even about Scully if he had to. With a clean canvas he'd carefully select each item to create a picture that would take him down a new path and lead him to find Scully. However elusive the clues might be at present, he'd keep on until he found what he was looking for.

"Like that *Truth* you keep searching for, Agent Mulder?" his inner voice sneered as he absently jotted down some notes.

Frowning, he firmly wrote "shut up" on his pad of paper and for the moment the voice stayed mute. He quickly turned the page and began writing on a new sheet just in case somebody dared to come close enough to read what he was writing. He wasn't exactly Mr. Congeniality to begin with and the last thing he needed was for someone to misinterpret his note to self and think he'd written it about the VCU agents. Not that the VCU wasn't going all out to do their best to find Scully.

He glanced up at the men speaking, trying to look interested and once again feeling that urge to say to hell with the meeting and return to his office. He *needed* to be secreted away in his basement lair pouring over everything that was known about Frank Carter, losing himself to the point that he could find that crucial piece of the puzzle that would allow Scully to be found.

[You know *exactly* how she's going to be found.] His inner voice told him disdainfully. [Just like all the others . . . on the bottom of a lake.]

[*NO!*]

Sitting back in his chair, Mulder shut his eyes tight as he battled to maintain his self-control. When he opened his eyes again he was startled to find practically every pair of eyes in the room staring at him. Fearing he'd spoken aloud, he started to apologize for disrupting the meeting but he was distracted by the sound of harsh breathing from close by. He didn't understand everyone's blatant scrutiny until he realized that *he* was the one having trouble drawing air into his lungs.

"Are you all right, Agent Mulder?" Someone to his left asked.

"Would you be all right if your partner was missing?" Another agent snapped irritably in reply.

"Let's all take a quick break, why don't we?" Skinner suggested as he moved around the crowded table to take a seat beside his stricken agent. Agent Carnes from VCU followed quickly on his heels with the cup of water Skinner had requested for Mulder. When no one moved to leave Skinner's gaze swept the room and everyone immediately decided they had better places to be.

"Agent Mulder?" Skinner asked firmly, trying not to show how worried he was in front of all these prying eyes. Using a trick he'd seen Scully employ, he placed a hand on the man's right wrist as if to get his attention, but really to check his pulse. Mulder's breathing had slowed down slightly but he was still breathing too fast and his heart was definitely racing. "Try to relax a little. Concentrate on taking deep, even breaths. Good. That's better. Here," he pressed the cup of water into one of Mulder's shaking hands and was relieved to see the man blinking his eyes as if waking from a long sleep. "How do you feel?"

Mulder glanced around the quickly emptying room and stood unsteadily, running his free hand over his face. "What happened?"

"You tell me. One minute we're listening to a VCU report and the next you're having some kind of a panic attack. What do you remember?"

"I was just sitting here thinking about the case . . . " Although the room was warm from overcrowding, a sudden chill swept through him and he glanced down at his notepad, surprised at what he saw written there. "Oh God . . ." *Could* it be that simple? A ringing phone interrupted his thoughts and he hoped somebody would answer it before he lost his focus.

"Mulder." Skinner's hand tightened on his wrist. "Mulder, the phone."

Yeah, the damned phone was-- wait! It wasn't the conference room's regular phone but the special phone the wiretap guys had brought in -- the one to which his basement line had been transferred during this meeting on the very slight chance that Scully's abductor would call in again. By the fourth ring the room was almost cleared out and by the fifth ring the wiretap technicians were nodding to him that they were ready when he was.

On the seventh ring he let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and carefully lifted the receiver in synchrony with the techs. He brought the phone to his ear and was just about to speak when he heard a loud, ragged sounding breath being drawn on the other end. // What the hell? // If this was some damned crank call he'd personally see to it that the person was found and fully prosecuted--

[Or it could be Carter 'toying' with you again. If he's got Scully he'll enjoy taunting you as long as possible. Don't let him hear how terrified you are.] Right.

"Hello?" he asked brusquely .

"Mul . . . Mulder?" A woman's voice at the other end asked uncertainly.

"Scully?"

"Uh-huh." The voice was weak but there was no mistaking that it belonged to his partner.

The tightness in his chest released immediately. "I'm here, Scully. Talk to me." The memory of hundreds of other phone calls with Scully flashed through his mind in the span of a few seconds and he couldn't contain his delighted grin at hearing her voice again. Oh thank God! She'd managed to get away from Carter and find a phone! Once she told him where she was he'd have her picked up in no time! She was going to be okay, _everything_ was going to be okay.

Weak with relief, he collapsed into the chair, tenderly cradling the phone to his ear as if it were more than just the carrier of her disembodied voice. He had a brief flash of curiosity about whether or not she could feel how securely he was holding the phone, and by extension, *her*. [_If_ it's even her.] his inner voice taunted. [Carter's very clever. It could be a trick. Or an auditory hallucination, perhaps. You know, it's not like you've slept since she disappeared--]

"Scully?" He repeated, his voice rising a little in pitch as his fear escalated. He knew it was stupid to give in to such doubts but he couldn't bear the thought that this might not be real. Not when it was so soothing to hear her voice and not when he so badly *needed* reassurance that she was all right. [Reassurance that she was still *alive*] he reluctantly allowed himself to admit. "Scully, are you there?" His insides twisted when she didn't answer immediately.

"Yeah . . . um, I . . . " She sounded . . . lost. Not what he was used to hearing from Dana Scully and it chilled him to even guess at what Carter might have done to her.

"Scully, where *are* you?" he demanded anxiously, his elation at her call fading as he realized how increasingly labored her breathing sounded. "Scully? Scully are you there?"

"Yeah, 'm here."

"Tell me where you are so I can come and get you." He urged as he heard her draw in another gasp of air.

"Muld-" She broke off as a man's voice began cursing in the background, quickly becoming louder.

[Dammit!] "Scully!"

The stream of cursing ended with a loud *thump* that made Mulder Reflexively pull the receiver away from his ear, but even with the phone held out beside him there was no mistaking a woman's scream before the line abruptly went dead.

[No! Oh God! No, please *NO!*]

"Scully? *Scully!* " Mulder shouted frantically into the phone, repeating her name over and over until the dial tone finally intruded on his senses and he realized no one was there. Horrified, he lifted his eyes to the technicians sitting across the room - all his hopes hanging on the possibility that they'd been able to get *some*thing useful but knowing that the call hadn't lasted long enough. Both men shook their heads at him sadly, empathy evident in their expressions as they stared back at the agent with the haunted eyes and missing partner. He continued to stare at them while Skinner demanded to know what had happened and one of them explained that the line had suddenly gone dead.

[Dead.] Mulder's mind repeated numbly as he watched the technicians remove their headphones.

[Scully I'm so sorry . . . ]

She's the One
Chapter 3 by Catriona The Truth Beacon

E-MAIL: scully1013_1121@yahoo.com

" Alex," came a voice from the depth of one of the room's corners," you've kept us waiting."

The young man who had just entered made no attempt to apologize. No apology would be fit for these men. His eyes darted across the room searching for any kind of trap any hint of danger. His quick eyes counted 5 men in the room, all sitting in chairs, one sitting far back in a corner. No table, no clock, no distinguishing features. The room smelled off stale smoke and it was almost pitch black except for a small amount of light radiating from a single bulb.

Feeling satisfied, he cleared his throat and began to speak, addressing no one in particular, "Frank Carter's off his head. We should kill him now, before he does something to jeopardize our plans."

The man in the corner answered, "Kill Frank Carter and we risk exposing ourselves, our plans and our work."

"Frank is off no use to us now, he's served his purpose. He's thrown the FBI down the wrong track. Few phone calls here and there. That's all we needed him for in the first place," snapped the young man.

"Enough Alex," ordered the man, "what are the results of the test?"

The young man clearly smarting glared at the older man in the Corner before speaking, "As we expected, we've taken blood and tissue samples and we've examined the chip in greater detail. The chip is allowing us insight into their technology. With this new knowledge we hope to be able to finalize the vaccine before someone else does."

Before replying the man took in a deep breath of his cigarette and exhaled slowly, "Continue the tests, get as much information as you can."

The young man, with one last dark glance around the dim room, Headed for the door. Before he got there, the sinister voice echoed around the room, "Keep Frank Carter alive." It wasn't a statement. It was an order.

June 7th
06:30
Fox Mulder's Apartment

/// Mulder, help me!///

Mulder awoke startled. His forehead was covered in beads of sweat And his clothes were wrinkled from days of wear. His hair was limp and he was pale. Mulder didn't want to admit it to himself or to anyone but he was exhausted, drained. It had been five days now since she had disappeared. VCU had turned up zilch and he had fared no better. Desperation was setting in and he could almost feel the weak hold he had on her survival slipping away with every tick of his watch. But despite his exhaustion he couldn't sleep. A few fitful hours at a time, if he was lucky. But he didn't want to sleep, partly because he felt he was wasting time but mostly because Scully was in his dreams, crying out for help.

Mulder shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Slowly he got himself to his feet, and looked around his surroundings. He was at his apartment. Skinner had ordered him to go home and get some sleep or else he was off the case. He had felt to weak to argue.

[So, what are you going to do today? Waste more time going over reports on Frank Carter? What good will that do???]

The taunting voice in his head had been plaguing him for days. Skinner had yet to find anything on the temp and Byers was still looking.

[Well G-man? Nice day isn't it? Wonder how your partner is? She's probably ten feet under...]

"Shut up!!" he yelled, "Shut up!"

Desperation and fear swelled up inside him, and he slumped against The wall, sliding down it. He put his head in his hands and cried. As the tears rolled down his cheeks he could taste the saltiness of them. He remembered a similar situation a few years back when Scully had been in a coma after her abduction and the life support was going to be turned off. He had cried then because he thought he had lost her and he cried now for the same reason.

[You always mess up Mulder. When she was sent to you it was like someone had signed her death wish for her. No use crying about it. What good will that do? And if she is dead then she'll never know how you feel about her will she? But even is she does come back you wouldn't have the guts to tell her you son of a bitch. Bill Scully was right - you are one sorry son- of- a -bitch.]

The shrill ringing of his phone suddenly filled the room. Mulder didn't know why, but he felt this call was important. Struggling to his feet he managed to walk to the phone. He picked up the receiver.

The voice was barely above a whisper, "Agent Mulder. Listen to me, and listen very carefully. She isn't dead. If you want to save her, take your head out of the sand and look past the evidence. Frank Carter's involved but someone's controlling him. Find the Temp."

Before he could muster a response, he heard the dial tone of the phone. He didn't know why but he believed the voice but something about it was familiar, something it had said. He had heard it before, but couldn't place it.

[What are you waiting for? Go! You are not doing anything standing around here.]

7:15am
Fox Mulder's office

"We're sorry, but the caller was using some kind of scrambler. We can't get the number."

"Thanks," he replied before smashing the phone back down.

Rubbing his eyes, Mulder leaned back in his chair. A cold shower and a quick change of clothes and something to eat had put him in a better mood. But sitting in his office 40 minutes on with nothing to go on had changed his mood considerably. He couldn't get a trace on the call that he had received that morning and he hadn't heard from Skinner.

He stared blankly at the reports in front of him. He knew what They said, in fact, he knew they inside out. Nothing had been turned up in Scully's car, her apartment and no one had seen anything.

[Ok then what about the temp?]

[Ok, Mr. Smart ass - if she left you off the ' loop' on the Frank Carter, what else could she have done?]

[What did she have access to?]

[Reports, documents, invoices you name it, she could get her hands on it.]

Before his brain could reply it was interrupted by the telephone ringing.

"Mulder."

"Mulder, its Byer's. There's something I think you should see."

8:00am
Where do the LGM live?

Mulder ran his fingers through his hair in disbelief.

"Give him a seat before he collapses," Langly quipped. "Mulder, what the hell have you stumbled on?"

"I don't know. All I know is Scully's missing and I've got to find her. Where did you guys get this stuff?"

"Let me tell you, it wasn't easy," answered Frohike.

Mulder began to pace around the room. "Ok, help me out you guys. The temp's real name is Melissa Anderson and she's worked for the CIA. She takes a job in the FBI under the name off Louise Noble. She stays there for three months, then disappears off the face of the planet. During her stint at the FBI she lives in an apartment in Georgetown, not far from Scully's. Its no use going to her apartment now as it's probably been 'cleaned' and there are new tenants. And there's no record of the calls she made."

Mulder ran a hand through his hair and continued pacing, "Do we know why she left the CIA?"

Byers leafed through a sheet of papers, "It say's she took a post in Europe, helping fight terrorists,"

Mulder opened his mouth to speak but his cellphone rang before he had a chance. " Mulder."

"Agent Mulder," came a familiar voice, "you better get you ass down here pronto. You've got to see this."

"Sir?"

"I'll explain when you get here."

Mulder switched off his phone, "That was Skinner. He says he's found something. You guys see if you can get me those numbers."

"Sure thing," replied Frohike as he got up to open the door for Mulder. As he undid the many locks he turned to Mulder and asked quietly, "Is she alive?"

Mulder flinched and answered, "She better be."

[She better be alive. Scully if you can here me, hang on. I'm not giving up. Please hang on.]

9:00am
Edgar Hoover building

As soon as Mulder walked into the room Skinner could see something Was different. He saw hope in the younger man's eyes and he sensed new determination.

"Agent Mulder," he said, "it seems you were right about the temp."

Mulder glanced at Skinner waiting for him to continue. Skinner Cleared his throat and began, "It seems Louise Noble was an alias. Her real name - Melissa Anderson. It was when I asked Janine to look to see if the temp had made any more mistakes that she came up with something I think you should see."

Mulder looked up and saw a woman in her early thirties enter the room. Her black hair was cropped and her skin fair, her green eyes contrasted against the darkness of her hair. She was about 5"6 with heels.

"Agent Mulder?" she questioned.

"That's me," he replied and held out his hand and she shook it. She looked at Skinner and he nodded.

"Agent Mulder," she began, "Louise, I mean Melissa didn't leave you out of the 'loop' by accident. There were numerous letters sent to you regarding the testimony but none got through to you. And that's not all. She didn't do a lot of work here as a temp. Instead she seemed to be 'clearing up.' Files have gone missing..."

"On who?"

"Frank Carter. And not just that, she erased his fingerprints from the FBI database, which would mean that the prints you lifted off the phone could be Frank Carter's. And she seems to have taken all files on Agent Spender too. And the phone calls she made. We asked Holly to see who she called but the records are gone."

Mulder let out a deep breath and looked at Skinner, "Adds a new twist to this altogether doesn't it?"

"Doesn't it."

Mulder looked at Janine and asked, "You said she took files on Agent Spender?"

"Yes, she took everything. In fact, if you were to walk into the FBI now - you wouldn't find a trace of Agent Spender. He would just be rumor."

[Ok, then what's all this mean?]

[Think, what would ' they' want from Scully?"]

[A Human Alien Hybrid?]

[But why would ' they' do that - it would only speed up colonization.]

[And Agent Spender - they're certainly covering their tracks.]

"Agent Mulder?" questioned Skinner.

"Huh?"

"You okay?"

"What? Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking."

Skinner watched Mulder carefully. He could almost see the wheels turning in the younger man's brain.

10:30 am
Disused Warehouse

Scully listened to the sound of water dripping from a leaking Pipe somewhere behind her. She wasn't sure what day it was or how long she had been here but she was beginning to doubt she would ever get out.

Through half open eyes she could she Frank Carter sitting a chair At the front of the room. He didn't move he just sat there. She Felt helpless just sitting there but she was weak, weak from the tests. The tests weren't painful just tiring. As far as she could gather they were on the chip on her neck. But she had had blood taken too. Usually there was a woman doctor doing it, Melissa somebody but this morning she hadn't been there.

Scully desperately wanted to cry but she knew that showing fear Was showing defeat. She had to be strong. Something was weird - these doctor's knew what they were doing.

[Dammit Scully - you know what's going on. It's 'them'.]

[Then what the hell is Frank Carter doing here?]

[They need a 'scape goat. ]

A door opened and shed some light in the pitch-black room but Closed just as quickly. A man had entered but Scully couldn't make him out.

"Frank."

"What the hell is going on around here? Why is she still alive?" Frank gestured with his gun at Scully.

"We need her Frank," replied the man who had entered.

Scully thought she knew the voice but she couldn't be sure.

"Here where do you get off telling me what to do. She's my prisoner and this is my game."

"Frank, keep her alive or else."

"Or else what?" he replied, jumping to his feet.

"Or else we dispose of you." The man opened the door and left slamming it shut behind him.

Frank slumped back on his chair and stared at Scully. Scully closed her eyes pretending to be asleep or drugged.

[Please help me Mulder.]

11:00am

"Bingo," Mulder muttered under his breath. He had telephoned Byers on a hunch to see what Frank Carter's time had been like in prison. Byers had just emailed him with the police report.

"Good behavior my ass." Mulder stared down the list of offences Carter had done in prison. Minor theft, caught in possession of drugs and attempted assault on a prison guard to name a few. Mulder whistled in amazement.

[So G- man, where does this leave you?]

[How did Frank get out on early behavior?]

[He would need connections right?]

[And he gets released not so long after the events of February..]

Mulder debated his next move for a few minutes then grabbed his Jacket from the back of his seat and headed for his car.

Prison
1:00pm

"Yeah, I knew Frank Carter," replied the man sitting on the chair," shared a cell with him. Weird guy." The man had bleached blond hair with brown roots and green eyes. He was about 35 and was doing time for assault and battery. He watched Mulder nervously as Mulder continued pacing up and down the small interview room,

"Did he ever have any friends come to visit him?"

"What's it worth?"

Mulder turned and faced the man in the chair and grabbed him by the neck, "It's worth me sparing your life!"

"Ok, I'll talk," wheezed the man.

Mulder let go off his neck and started pacing again.

The other man in the room watched him for a minute then rubbed his Neck before starting, "He had weird visitors. Well he didn't get many visits until around January. Then this woman came to see him a lot. Businesswoman. Don't quite remember her name. Could have been Lauren but I don't know. Then this man came once or twice. Tough man. Tall guy -about 6-foot maybe. Frank almost seemed afraid of that guy. And then once I remember this guy who came in with the woman. He was old, well older than the woman was and he kept smoking. Look that's all I know."

Mulder didn't stop pacing, "Did they ever say where they came from?"

"No, but Frank didn't say much about them. He kept boasting he was going to get even with some FBI agent and he was going to get out of here real soon. We didn't believe him at the time, but it seemed to have worked for him. He got out. He talked about how he was going to take this woman to some place, where no one will find her. Said that this way he could get even with this FBI agent."

"Did he say where he was going to take her?"

"No, some warehouse maybe. I'm not sure."

Mulder stopped pacing and headed for the door, "Guard."

Fox Mulder's apartment
3:00pm

Mulder fumbled in his pocket for his key.

[Hey there G-man. So figured out what's bothering you?]

[That phone call this morning.]

[What about it.]

[Something the man said.]

As Mulder went to put the key in the door something struck him.

[Pull your head out of the sand..]

[Of course - Alex Krycek.]

[That would fit - he's probably the 'tough' guy at the prison.]

[But that's some assumption - ok, say the voice on the phone was Krycek this morning - why would he want you to find Scully?]

Mulder suddenly dropped his key back in his pocket and pulled out His mobile phone and dialed the LGM's number.

"Byers, it's me. Mulder."

"Mulder, what's up?"

"Can you find out what Melissa trained as?"

"Why? What's up?"

"I need to know did she train as a doctor or anything like that."

"Hang on a second."

Mulder could hear Byers yell something at somebody and then there was a hurried conversation. About 3 minutes later, Byers returned, "You struck gold. She trained in Europe doing medicine for 3 years. Specialized in developing vaccines."

"Thanks."

"Mulder what's going on? What have you got?"

"Tell you later."

Mulder hung up and began to walk to his car.

[Ok, then do you think that she is involved in the black oil vaccine?]

[Yeah and if 'they' do have Scully then it might explain what they want with her.]

Mulder shuddered at the memory of his time in Tunguska and prayed Scully wasn't going through the same thing.

[But they could be doing anything to her. It could be about Emily, the virus carried by the bee or the chip...]

[The chip - maybe they want to examine the affects that virus carried by the bee had on it? ]

[But the chip's what probably attracted the bee to it - some kind of electrical pulse.]

Mulder's cell phone rang and he reached for it still deep in thought, "Mulder."

"45 Great Victoria street. 4:00pm"

The dial tone sounded before Mulder could speak. It had been the Same voice as the one on his phone that morning.

Mulder quickened his pace as he ran to the elevator and pressed (G). As the elevator went down Mulder became aware his hands were shaking.

[Get a grip.]

[Mulder this could be a trap.]

[I don't care. In fact it's the last chance I've got to find her.]

As soon as the door opened Mulder burst out and ran to his car. Opening the driver's door he sat down and pulled the door shut. Then reaching into the glove compartment he pulled out a map. "Great Victoria Street," he muttered.

45 Great Victoria Street
4:29 PM

Mulder looked around the empty lot with one hand on the gun in his pocket. Although the day was bright this place was full of shadows cast by the derelict building. He jumped suddenly as an object was thrown out of a window. Mulder looked up and then ran to the door of the building. He looked around but couldn't see anybody. He cautiously took a step in and then he felt a gun pointed at his head.

"Mulder," came a familiar voice.

"Krycek?" he whispered.

Krycek pushed Mulder forwards, "Turn round."

Mulder turned round slowly and then said, "Krycek what are you doing here?"

"Listen to me Mulder. Scully is still alive. You want to find her - find the temp."

"What could will that do - she's hardly likely to talk, is she?"

"She'll talk alright, she needs a buddy right now. Developed a conscience. Not a good idea."

"She's on the run?"

"On the run for her life."

"And why are you telling me all this? Aren't you supposed to be loyal to these men?"

"Mulder, my only loyalties are too myself."

"Have they hurt Scully?"

"Tests Mulder, that's what they're doing. I don't think they'll kill her though. Probably offer you a proposition, an offer to work for them. They know you'd take it, if it meant seeing Scully again. That's why you've got to find her soon."

Krycek started to walk backwards still holding the gun pointed at Mulder.

"Where do I find the temp?"

"Hide in plain sight agent Mulder. It's what they do. That's how they survive. Oh and Mulder..."

"Yeah?"

"Trust No One."

Krycek who was now at the door suddenly broke into a run. Mulder Knew better than to follow and sat down on the floor and put his head in his hands.

[So where do you start Mr. Oxford graduate?]

[Do you tell Skinner?]

[No, ask him to find out more about the temp.]

[And you?]

[Start digging.]

[Hang on Scully, please. I'm going to find you.]

Disused warehouse
6:00pm

Scully could feel Frank Carter watching her. He was just sitting There studying her. He didn't speak just sat with his gun in his lap facing her. Scully tried to slow down her heartbeat and she was sure that he could hear it, as it was so loud. She had been here 5 days and she was still no closer to figuring out where about she was.

She had been jumped as she was opening her car door. There were two men, one drove and the other held the rag of chloroform to her face. It had been very professional, all over in a few seconds. She had dropped her badge in the struggle. They had driven for about an hour in her car then they had dumped it somewhere and transferred to another car. About this point she had lost consciousness completely. When she woke up she was here. She figured she was in some disused warehouse. She couldn't hear any planes or anything but there was something weird - there was a funny smell. She couldn't place it. The ropes that bound her arms dug into her skin and were causing her to bleed. It was quiet usually but at times she could hear men's voices and sometimes a woman's. But she hadn't heard the woman's today.

[Don't feel sorry for yourself, you have to be strong.]

[If it's 'them' then they probably won't kill you.]

[Sure, be delusional.]

[What if Mulder doesn't find you?]

[He will find you. You've got to believe in him.]

She's the One
Chapter 4 by AmandaB

E-MAIL: abarnes@mis.net
AUTHOR'S NOTES: "I had a fantastic time writing this and getting to know my fellow writers better. What's better than a MSR between friends?"

"Hide in plain sight", Mulder muttered to himself, twenty minutes later back in his apartment. "Plain sight...What do I know about Melissa Anderson?" Mulder glanced down at the notebook he held in his hand, looking over his messy scrawl.

Former CIA
Covers using clerical skills
Louise Noble
Doctor,vaccinations
Developed conscience...what are they doing??

"Obviously, she couldn't go back to the Agency, and the Bureau would be too suspicious. She would want to stick to a field that she knew something of, but not in her chosen profession. Maybe a hospital...as an admitting nurse?" Mulder stopped for a moment and rubbed his eyes. There was no telling how many hospitals were in the District's general area, he felt he needed to count not only DC, but Maryland and Virginia as well.

Mulder's eyes strayed to the TV he had on for background noise. Instead of the usual skin and sheets his television fared, there was a taped basketball game from February.

The announcer called, "From the campus in Lexington, Kentucky...it's your Kentucky Wildcats!" Mulder shook his head. Leave it to him to program the wrong station into his VCR...college games were never his type. But, the tape served his purpose, background noise was what he wanted, background noise was what he got.

Again, Mulder shook his head. Lack of sleep was making him dwell too much on little things, when all he really needed to do was Find Scully. Well, he needed to start with the Temp, but Scully was the sum of his hopes.

She always had been.

"Stop it," Mulder ordered. "Back to the task on hand. You already know what Scully means to you..." Mulder's profiler brain laughed at him. Best stick to profiling yourself, Foxy. Or wasn't that just you talking about yourself in the third person?

Mulder groaned. What he needed right now-besides Scully and sleep-was a miracle. "You hear me God? A miracle. I need a miracle."

Mulder's doorbell rang.

Disused
Warehouse
6:32 p.m.

For quite sometime now, Scully had felt Frank Carter's eyes on her. All day long they had been alone, she had heard none of the voices she usually did, and no tests had been preformed. She hadn't eaten, been to the bathroom, or moved in several hours. She knew Carter was feeding her grudgingly, the look in his eyes told her he'd rather kill her than hold her as a hostage. He hadn't talked to her, other than to say that she was not to try anything when he allowed her to use the restroom. Scully had wanted badly to use her kung-fu to incapacitate him, but she knew that in her weakened state she'd be no match against him.

Yet, still, he stared at her. Not the type of stare Mulder employed on her, the stare that made her feel pleasantly warm and oddly safe. No, this stare broke her out in goosepimples and coldflesh. It made her feel misused, but he hadn't yet laid one finger on her. She kept her eyes closed or averted as much as possible, but sometimes she felt that she had to look at him, just to make sure he was still where he had been before. She wondered what he was thinking.. Had it always been his plan to come and get her? How could he have even known about her? No, she knew that Carter was a patsy. In the end he would be disposed of...

But what of her? She assumed that she wouldn't be killed, but who knew? What if she no longer had any purpose to them? What then? Which was worse? To have a purpose to them and be in fear of abduction for the rest of her life, or to no longer have purpose and be killed?

And Mulder. Scully knew that if she came out of this one, he would never leave her side. This was too much for him, not to mention her. And, if she died...Scully didn't want to think about it. Never seeing him, never telling him...

['Scully, I love you." "Oh, brother."] And what would her death do to him? It wasn't worth thinking about.

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?" Carter's voice broke the silence, hoarse after being out of use for so long. Scully cringed.

42 Hegal Place
5:22 p.m.

Mulder warily stood and walked to the door. Glancing through the peephole he quickly swung back and opened the door to admit the Gunmen.

"Dude," Langly said, looking Mulder up and down, "you still look like hell."

Mulder nodded at him curtly, and said, "Is that the only reason you're here? To tell me I look bad? I know how I look, but I. Don't. Care," Mulder's voice dropped, "Do you have any news?"

The three men glanced at one another in their patented way and nodded. Mulder exhaled a breath he didn't even realized he'd been holding. "Well..."

"We've found Melissa Anderson." Frohike practically beamed with pride. Before Mulder could ask he went on, "she's working as an admitting nurse at George Washington Medical Center under the name of Lauren Peyton. Her shift tonight ends at seven. You can make it if you go now."

"How?" Mulder asked.

"If we tell you," Langly said ominously, "we'd have to kill you."

Mulder smiled faintly and looked at the three men for a moment. Byers shook his head at Mulder and motioned for the door. "What are you waiting for?"

"Thank you." Mulder turned and ran out the door.

Frohike turned to the other two men and smiled. "I hope he finds her..." he trailed off, speaking not only of the temp, but also of their other most favorite FBI agent.

Yellow Cab
5:41 p.m.

Mulder leaned back in the cab's back seat and closed his eyes. The driver had already turned off into the later afternoon traffic, and he knew that he was going to be stationary for some time. His thoughts, inevitably, turned to Scully. Why? This one question was one he asked himself frequently. Why did they persist on taking her? Why did she stay with him? Why did she refuse to leave?

Why was frequently paired up with where is she? Which was often put with is she ok? Mulder was by now excellent at asking questions dealing with his partner's health. He wished that he could make it all go away; he wished he could make her life free of the evils that had been placed upon her.

But, Mulder knew that telling her to leave wasn't now the answer. She'd already answered that one for him. ["You should get far away from me. As far as you can." "I can't. I won't. My place is here with you now."] 'My place is with you'; 'My place is with you'.

At that moment, in the back of a dingy cab, with Scully's remembered voice floating through his mind, Mulder made a promise to himself. When Scully came back (not if, when) he would do things differently than he had in the past. He wouldn't push her away, and tell her to leave. He wouldn't be a jerk to make her draw away. Instead he would hold her in his arms and tell her the things he'd only dreamed of saying.

And once he held her, he would never let her go.

George Washington Medical Center
6:37 p.m.

Everywhere he looked Mulder was reminded of amenities that his partner probably didn't have. Here was a nice, safe hospital, with doctors and nurses who could care for her. There was an abundance of medical supplies to help her with any pain she may have, and best of all, there were visitor hours. During those hours Mulder could sit by her bed and hold her hand, using humor and familiarity to make her feel safe again.

Mulder had to shake his head again to loosen the fog: his partner wasn't here, but the key to finding her was.

"Excuse me, Fox Mulder, FBI." Mulder said to the woman at the information desk, showing her his badge, "I'm looking for Lauren Peyton."

The woman looked in shock at the wild-eyed man before her, yet gave him the desired information after looking it up on a hospital clipboard. "Go down the hall, and take a left. She's at the nurses station to the right."

Mulder walked briskly down the hall to the station. Once there he again showed his badge and asked for Lauren. The other two nurses looked on in amazement as Lauren stepped forward and came to him.

"I'm Lauren Peyton. Do you think we could speak in private?" Mulder nodded. Lauren/Melissa spoke quietly to the other two nurses, and grabbing a sweater and a lunch bag stepped up to Mulder. "This way please."

Bench outside of GWMC
6:46 p.m.

Mulder looked at the 'temp' that he had spent some time searching for. She hardly looked evil. In fact, she looked almost sweet. She had light blond hair, that she had pulled into a ponytail. He noticed that she probably had dimples when she smiled, and figured that she probably didn't smile a lot in the effort to hide them. A pretty woman in business such as the CIA couldn't afford to be too cute, or else she'd never be taken seriously. The woman looked at Mulder sideways, and gave him a rueful half smile. He noticed that he was correct on the dimple assumption.

"I knew that if anyone would find me, you would do it first." Melissa/Lauren stated.

Mulder raised his eyebrows as if asking "Oh?"

Melissa gave a deep sigh and nodded. "I was told about you when I first started the tests with Dr. Scully. He told me that you would find her no matter what. He said that that was the one thing they had to account for, 'a fool in love who would ruin all of our plans'. But, secretly, I thought it was nice. The tests aren't hurting your Scully, but they are draining and repetitive. She's lost a lot of strength."

Mulder, in turn, asked, "She's ok, then?" He barely dared to hope.

Melissa nodded. "The last time I saw her she was weak, but otherwise ok."

Mulder put his head down onto his hands and allowed himself a moment of hope. She was still gone, but at least [this time] he knew she was ok. She was ok.

Melissa looked at the man next to her. Would anyone ever love her like that? Would she ever let them?

Mulder looked up once more and stared at Melissa. "Who is he?"

"Who?" she asked, looking around.

"The 'he' you referred to... 'he' told me you'd find her..."

"Oh. Agent Mulder. I thought you knew. These men have no names. Not to me, in any case."

"Then why do-did-you work for them?"

"Agent Mulder. I am a doctor, specializing in vaccinations. Science is my faith, my background, it is what I trust above all else. So, imagine, my being told that I could work on a 'new' vaccination for an unknown 'alien' virus. I was intrigued, and I was young. I didn't know what I was getting into, not really. I wanted a chance to do something large scale, something I felt had value. And, in the beginning, that's what I felt I was doing. I distanced myself from the 'test subjects', and everything was fine. But, after awhile, the 'subjects' pleading eyes got to me. They didn't ask for these tests to be preformed on them...but it isn't as if I could just walk out. Oh, no. This is the closest I've gotten to getting away, but I dare not go too far. Not yet..."

"What are they testing Scully for? What is this vaccination?" Mulder knew at least part of the story, it had been told to him by the well mannered English man, ironically during another hunt for Scully. The virus was the original inhabitant of Earth and it was returning to colonize. Earthlings, thus far, only had a weak vaccine against the virus...and it looked as if they were searching for more.

"Dr. Scully has twice been introduced to the virus. And twice she has recovered, remarkably. We have cases of people turning green and nearly mutating, so the fact that Scully is alive and well is greatly appreciated. They are testing her immunization to the virus, Agent Mulder. And, so far, she has tested immune. But, whether it is the after effects of the weak vaccine you gave her, or of her earlier abduction, or even her own unique DNA, no one yet knows." Melissa glanced at her watch and stood, motioning for Mulder to do the same.

They began to walk towards the parking deck.

"Why did you steal Agent Spender's files? I realize taking Carter's was to allow for a scapegoat...but why Spender?"

"I never knew the answer to that one. The smoking man was adamant, however, that any trace of Jeffery Spender was removed from any and all FBI databases. That went part and parcel with the job as Louise Noble, and I never questioned it."

Mulder nodded. "Thank you, Melissa. Now, you've given me the why, and I can fill in the who. But, where? Where is my partner?"

Suddenly the world slowed. Mulder knew the feeling. It was as if time were trying to prepare you for an ultimate blow. Years later, Mulder would look back and realize that it probably couldn't have happened any other way...

Crack!

Melissa Anderson/Lauren Peyton dropped with a gunshot wound to the head.

No one saw a thing.

George Washington Medical Center
2:30 p.m. June 12

Five days had past and still Fox Mulder knew nothing. He sat at the bedside of Melissa Anderson, who was not expected to awaken. She now, was his only hope.

Mulder closed his eyes and thought of Scully. His eidetic memory called up her face, her scent, her voice...it had been eleven days since she had gone missing, and he was no closer to finding her than he had been in those first frantic hours.

Mulder, again, wept.

Disused Warehouse
June 12, 10:00 p.m.

Dana Scully sat hunched over in the corner that Carter liked to put her in after everyone else had left. The tests had resumed, without Melissa, and the toll on Scully was tremendous. She was weary, listless, and almost continually cold. She felt afraid as well. Doctor Dana Scully, who had faced down Flukeman, Mothmen, and killer kitties was afraid. If she could have, Scully would have smiled.

Carter had not spoken to her again since the night he had asked if she were thinking of Mulder. Scully had simply chosen not to answer, and the matter had dropped. Scully closed her eyes. Mulder. Thinking of him almost caused a physical ache in her, she longed to be with him-the only place she truly felt safe.

Suddenly, Scully felt a presence beside her. She looked up meeting the dark gaze of Frank Carter.

"Do you enjoy having his love?" Carter sneered at her, seemingly joining in a conversation that was already in progress. "Does he shower you with gifts, kiss you softly, and make you cry out in passion? Or is he hard with you? Does he hurt you?" Carter yanked Scully up, and held her by the forearms shaking her a bit with each new word. "How is he feeling right now? Alone and sad because his love has been taken? I've heard he's running around like his ass is on fire searching for you. Does that make you feel special?" Carter's eyes were now gleaming.

"He hates it when you're hurt doesn't he? How do you think he'd like it then, if you were...hurt especially by me?"

Scully's eyes glazed over with fear. What was he saying... she felt a pain slice through her arm. Scully looked down, amazed as Frank Carter began to rub her blood on the wall and ground. Suitably smeared, Carter turned and grabbed Scully.

"Come on, bitch. I promise you there will be a party tonight, but not here. You and I are leaving town..." Carter led her outside for the first time in days. She was loaded into the back of a car. Then, the world was black.

She's the One
Chapter 5 by Leanna a. k. a. LCShipper

E-MAIL: lcshipper@hotmail.com

AUTHOR'S NOTES AND DEDICATION: "I want to thank my fellow group-fickers for letting me join in the fun, my friends and family for helping me out, not just in writing, but life in general, and to anyone remotely involved in The X-Files for giving me the characters and the healthy sense of paranoia necessary to write this!
I want to dedicate this to my Grandma, who passed away in May. Grandma, I miss you, but I know in my heart that you will always be here to watch over me.

Fox Mulder sat in a stiff-backed chair, having not moved for at least 3 hours. His eyes were fixated on the computer monitor that showed Melissa Anderson's vital signs. Each beep of the monitor seemed to recall another horrible time that he'd spent in a hospital, anxiously waiting for news on Scully's condition, or just hoping that she would survive, that they would survive. From the day Scully had mysteriously turned up in a hospital after having been missing for so long, it seemed that one or both of them ended up in one at least once a month.

But this was different. She wasn't here. He was sitting at the bedside of someone he barely knew, yet he knew that her information about where Scully was being held was his only chance. It was quite possibly her only chance as well, he thought, rubbing his tired eyes.

What could he do? Run through the streets screaming her name like a man possessed? Without some clue where she could be, the situation was as hopeless as it could get. But, she was still alive, he thought, reprimanding himself for the very idea of giving up on this, and stood to walk closer to the bed where Melissa lay. Her chest rose and fell mechanically, but the rest of her body was still. He held her limp hand for a moment, trying to will her awake. Only the monitor responded with a [Beep!].

A tear fell from Mulder's eye. How many lives had he ruined during his search for the truth? True, Melissa Anderson got mixed up with the wrong people on her own, but Scully....Scully....[Scully, I promise I'll find you]

A noise in the doorway made Mulder spin around to find its source.

It was Alex Krycek.

"What the hell are you doing h..." Mulder began angrily

"She's gone, Mulder. Even we can't stop him now."

Somewhere Between Pittsburgh and Washington, D.C.

Scully woke up with her face pressed against the back seat of a car. She barely moved, not wanting to attract Frank Carter's attention. She looked out the window across from her just as they passed a sign that said "Washington, D.C. 20 miles." He was taking her back to Washington? Could he be that stupid? She gasped when she felt cold metal on the back of her neck.

"Put your head back down on that seat before I blow it off, girly!"

Carter's eyes were wild, as if he truly would kill her if she tried anything. He turned back to the road, keeping the gun in the hand that was not steering. Scully decided that staying as still as possible was the best course of action. The last thing she needed was to be shot dead when she was so close to familiar surroundings, so close to Mulder. She winced as the rope binding her hands seemed to cut her wrists deeper and deeper. The pain made her feel hopeless yet again. Perhaps it wouldn't matter how close they were to Mulder. For all he knew, she was dead, or being driven further away from him. How was he to know that Frank Carter was instead bringing her closer to him....

George Washington Medical Center

Mulder looked at Krycek, puzzled. "I don't understand. I thought you said..."

"Look, forget what I said!" Krycek snapped. "Frank Carter's a psycho killer, and that's that. I knew this would happen. The guy took off with her. We can't stop him now."

"No. No, you're bluffing." Mulder said with disbelief.

The shrill ring of his cell phone made him jump. He pressed the send button. "Mulder."

"Hey Mulder. Miss your girlfriend?"

It was Frank Carter.

"Frank? Frank Carter?" Mulder tried to keep his voice down so he didn't attract so much attention from the hospital staff. He turned away from Krycek and walked to the other side of the room. "Where are you, you stupid piece of..."

"Uh uh. You're not gonna get her back by calling me names, are you now Mulder? I bet you miss her, huh? She sure misses you...right, Scully, my dear?"

Mulder heard him handing the phone to someone and prayed that it was Scully.

"Mulder?" She said, sounding dazed.

"Scully! Are you...are you alright?"

"I'm....I'm alive." She said. "That's about all I can say for myself."

"Scully, tell me where you are. Where does he have you?"

There was silence on the other line, and then he heard Carter in the background say something gruffly.

"He's taking me to the Arboretum....Mulder, you can't come, he'll kill us both...he's..."

The line went dead. Mulder turned to where Krycek had been to find that he was long gone. He ran out of the room and out of the hospital, his only thoughts of getting Scully back safely.

Washington Arboretum
2:30 a.m.

The parking lot of the Washington Arboretum looked empty as Mulder pulled in, but then he saw an old blue car in the far corner. He pulled up alongside it, and found that neither Frank Carter or Scully were inside.

Could it have been a trick? No, Mulder decided. He knew that Carter had purposefully brought Scully back to D.C. to taunt him, and a face to face meeting was what he wanted.

Mulder's thoughts were interrupted when he noticed a sheet of paper on the driver's seat. On it, Carter had scribbled

"Mulder- Welcome to the party. Meet us in the Oriental Garden."

Mulder looked around until he saw a sign for the garden. He took off in the direction of the Oriental Garden, praying that she was still alive. Mulder slowed to a walk when he heard Carter's voice saying something to Scully. The dense plant life around him prevented him from seeing where it had come from. As he pulled his gun out of the holster, he heard Carter yell towards him.

"Mulder!" He said, and Mulder could see the odd look in his eye, a disturbing mixture of pure glee in what he was putting Scully and him through and some good old fashioned insanity.

"You're late for the party! I know Scully was eager for you to arrive, ain't that right, babe?"

Scully, not wanting to encourage him, said nothing until he jabbed her in the neck with the gun barrel. "I said, isn't that right?"

"Uh huh." Was all she managed to get out. He was going to kill them both, she knew.

Carter just smirked at the sudden power he had over these two lives.

Mulder raised his gun. "You don't want to do this, Carter. Don't you see, you'll end up right back in prison." The look on Scully's face pained Mulder to extremes, but he did not let Carter see past the facade of "Special Agent Mulder, Hostage Negotiator".

Carter flinched at the mention of prison, but held the gun firmly against the back of Scully's head anyway. "Don't try that with me, Mulder. You'll ship me right back there anyway."

"Try me. You let Scully go, and I won't mention any of this to anyone."

There was a momentary change in Carter's expression, as if considering, but then the determined, psychotic look returned.

"But then...I wouldn't get to watch your face when I kill her...the one thing you love more than anything else." He smiled eerily, then scowled. "You took away everything I held dear when you got me locked away, don't you know that? Everything's gone for me!" He shouted. "So now I'm going to take away your everything."

Mulder and Scully's world seemed to move in painful slow motion.

A shot pierced the quiet night.

Scully screamed.

Mulder cried out, "NO!!" in a voice that did not sound like it came from him.

Carter and Scully both fell to the ground.

For a few terrifying fractions of a second, Mulder thought Scully had been hit. His fears were alleviated when he saw her use her remaining strength to shove Carter's lifeless body off of her with her legs. He ran towards her, only stopping to untie the binding on her wrists before taking her in his arms. Together, they let out a breath that they seemed to have been holding for the past eleven days. They held onto each other, both grateful that somehow they were together again.

A sudden realization hit Scully, even in her weakened state.

"Mulder?" She pulled away from him to look around.

"Yeah?"

"Who shot Carter?"

"I...I haven't the slightest idea." Mulder said, and suddenly got to his feet to look around as well. Scully stood up next to him, wincing in pain. He saw the knife wound on her arm. "Scully, you're hurt pretty badly. Let's get you to the hospital."

She nodded in silent agreement, and took his outstretched hand. They walked together to his car, reunited once again.

On week later
X-Files Office

It was Scully's first day back on the job since the Frank Carter incident, and Mulder arrived at the X-Files office bright and early, hoping to greet her when she arrived. He opened the door to find Scully already there, engrossed in what he assumed was a letter she had gotten.

"Hey, Scully, I knew you were coming back to work today, but why so early? Just couldn't stop thinking about me, right?" Mulder said with a sly smile.

Scully's eyes met his, and he knew something was wrong. "Mulder, you'd better take a look at this." The look in her eyes worried him.

"It was slipped under the door when I got here." She handed him the sheet of paper.

In meticulously neat handwriting, it read: Sorry about the close call. Don't forget...She's still the one. J.S.

"J.S.?" Mulder wondered out loud. "Spender?"

Scully nodded her head in agreement. "That's all that came to my mind, Mulder." she said, adding, "A dead man saved our lives. Very fitting. Don't you think?"

Mulder looked at his partner worriedly. "Scully, I don't know exactly what their plans are, but I do know that you're not out of danger yet. Maybe now more so than ever. Look, forgive me if I start to sound over-protective, but Melissa Anderson.."

"You sound it already, Mulder." She said, with a weak smile. "We already know that my life as well as yours is constantly in danger. That's just part of our job. You, Me, and the X-Files, for better or for worse." Scully said, trying to ease the guilt that she could see was already firmly in place in Mulder's mind.

Mulder moved closer to where she was sitting. He crouched down and took her hand in his. "I'm just tired of all the close calls, Scully. I thought I'd...lost you."

"You haven't, Mulder. You won't." Their eyes were locked. "Now," she began, lightening the mood, "How about a nice, straightforward X-File for my first day back?"

Mulder smiled, "I thought you'd never ask, Scully." He got up, moving to pick up a few files from the cluttered desk. "Actually, you can take your pick. We've got...strange lights in Wyoming, crop circles in Pennsylvania, and, oh yes, a high school girl in a little towwn called Ringoes, New Jersey who claims that her trip to Roswell, New Mexico last summer has left her with the ability to communicate with aliens."

"And...I get to choose? Mulder, you spoil me," she said, sarcastically. "Did you say the town's name is...Ringoes?"

"Yeah, Langly would be proud, right?"

"Well, I could use a nice small town to unwind in for a few days, I guess. Ringoes it is."

"Excellent choice, Miss Scully." He said, heading for the door, " I'll get us the plane tickets right away."

"Okay." She replied, and gave the ominous note from Spender one last look before running to catch up with Mulder. He turned, surprised.

"Hey, Mulder...I was thinking, New Jersey's not that far. How would you feel about a nice, scenic car trip?"

"Sound's like a plan, partner." Mulder said, and for once, getting back in the car and heading off to Nowhere, New Jersey was more of a comfort than either of them could have imagined.

THE END.

Hope you all enjoyed reading as much as we enjoyed writing. Remember, feedback to one author is shared with the group. Please check out the second Round Robin Story "Over a Barrel" by 5 more members of the HavenGroupFanFic - brought to you by Onelist.com.

Don't forget - our group is not sponsored, nor is it a part of the Haven for the FBI's Most Unwanted.

Thanks for reading