----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Special Agent Dana Scully paid no attention to the looks she gathered as she passed through the building. Being stared at, whispered about, hadn't been a concern before joining the X-Files and it wasn't now. Mind still on the report she had just finished she didn't realise until she had closed the door of Fox Mulder's office that the lights where out and the slide projector was running. She took one look at the picture on the screen and groaned.

"Cattle mutilations......again!" she lamented

Special Agent Fox Mulder seated in his favourite position - chair tilted back, arms crossed, sunflower seeds shells scattered, smiled at her, "Not quite."

Scully sat on the edge of the desk and idly picked up a red magic marker

"Cattle mutilations aren't the only thing, " said Mulder, gesturing at the slide projected on his office wall. "In Hopetown, Nebraska in 1908 two brothers were reported missing and there bodies were recovered three months later."

"Let me guess. No livers?" Scully twirled a Magic Marker like nobody else could.

"No lips. No genitals, either."

"Mulder, the bodies would've undergone pronounced decomposition over three months. The investigators just missed them."

Mulder changed to the next slide. There was a black and white, early twentieth century photograph of two corpses, naughty bits (or what was left of them) covered with towels. Neither of the men had lips, but the removal had been done with care, or so it seemed to Scully's practiced eye.

"They don't look three months dead to you, do they?"

"No, they don't. But the photograph could've been retouched."

"If it was, the resources of the FBI couldn't find it. Neither could The Lone Gunmen."

"Not that I'd believe them. . ."

"A little statistical fluke for you. Those two brothers didn't come from the MidWest, they came from Tennessee. Specifically, Mullerville, Tennessee. Mullerville has the highest rate of twin births in the country.....And the

highest infant mortality rate."

"All this has a point?"

Scully really didn't have to ask before Mulder picked up a file on his desk and handed it to her. It was thick, very thick. The summary notes on front recorded numerous unexplained disappearances and absences in the town of Mullerville, Tennessee.

Mulder shut the projector off and grabbed his coat. "How do you feel about Southern hospitality, Scully?"

Scully pouted.

-----------------------------------------------

The fog lights of a 1992 green Camaro cut through the heavy deep South fog. Mulder ripped the top off a bottle of sarsaparilla and handed it to Scully.

"I'm not going to examine the compensatory aspects of driving a powerful car like this, Mulder."

"The lady at the rental agency must know something you don't, " he smiled.

Scully slowly sipped her drink being careful not to spill it on her trenchcoat,. Mulder suddenly stomped down hard on the gas pedal causing the eight pistons to purge out a burst of thrust forward. The once stable and heavy car violently fishtailed from side to side. Mulder casually looked over toward Scully with a sheepish grin only to notice that her once grey overcoat now had a large portion of black liquid over it.

"Mulder !" Scully yelled.

Reaching into his coat pocket, Mulder pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Scully, "I pay for the cleaning."

"Damn right you will" said Scully.

Putting the now empty bottle on the floor she took the hankie and began to dab at the spreading stain. "How much further to go?" Scully asked handing the hankie back to Mulder.

"No, you keep it," said Mulder waving the now soggy handkerchief away and giving his best boyish grin, "my mother always insisted I carry a spare. We should be hitting the city limits any minute now.....in fact, I think....this is it."

Looking up from contemplating her ruined coat, Scully saw a billboard ahead which read 'WELCOME TO MULLERVILLE, Twin Capital of the USA'

 ------------------------------------------------

Mullerville had probably always been a two horse town, probably twin horses. Mulder angle-parked the Camaro over by an old ,dusty drugstore with an old dusty wooden sidewalk that faced onto a small park with a Civil War memorial

that had the initials CSA still visible over a plaque that listed Mullerville's war dead. Mulder didn't need to look to know that the list featured a lot of the same surnames. Prior to 1890, Mullerville had not had a high infant mortality rate, but it had been pretty gung-ho on multiple births.

"Looks like a nice place to bring up kids, " Scully said.

"Are you serious? This town hasn't been small-town America anytime during this century."

"I have to find somewhere to clean up."

"You get us a twin share - there should be plenty of those - and I'll see one - "

"One?"

"Or both - of the sheriffs, Scully."

------------------------------------------------- 

Leaving his partner with the car Mulder strode off in search of the sheriff. Scully considered her options; according to their information there was a motel about a mile out of town and the grandly named Royale Guest House in the main street. The curious looks she got from a few locals decided her - the sooner she got changed the better.

Minutes later she stood outside the Royale. The last time it had lived up to it's grand name was the year it was built - 1901. Still someone had made an effort to keep it tidy, the paintwork was fresh and the windows shone. Climbing the stairs Scully entered the lobby and a surprise. The minor effort to maintain the outside character was nothing compared to the glow of the polished panelling and the sparkle of the crystal lamps that scattered the room.

"Can we help you?" The voice came from behind. Scully spun and found herself face to face with her first Mullerville twins.

Scully knew to expect a few unusual things here but what see saw standing behind the counter took her totally by surprise.

"You look lost little girl"

"I'd like to book 2 rooms for the night" Scully replied all the time, unable to grasp the image before her. She knew that Mulder had said this was the town of twins but she had no idea it meant this. Casually avoiding eye contact and trying to hide her stare, Scully began to approach the situation more scientifically than at first. She began to ponder as to what type of genetic defect or mutation could have caused such an offspring.

 -----------------------------------------------------------

Mulder stepped up onto the sidewalk that ran in front of the Sheriff's Office, unconsciously changing his stride as if he was wearing cowboy boots. The office should've had batwing doors, he thought, but instead it had an ordinary glass-fronted door, with checked curtains gathered at the sides. A gilt sign read Cade County Sheriff: T Braidwood.

The large red-headed man lounging behind a desk didn't lift his feet off it until he saw Mulder.

"Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI."

"Tom Braidwood, " said the sheriff, holding out his callused hand.

They shook hands and the sheriff motioned Mulder to a chair. "So, you've come about our little problem," he said, seating himself behind the desk again.

"I would hardly call it a little problem Sheriff, " Mulder bristled, the attitude of local police was one of the job's hazards.

"Agent Mulder, " Braidwood drawled, "Around these parts a force 10 hurricane is called a little problem. The folks just don't seem to get excited - drove me bats when I first came here. " Picking a pile of folders of the table he handed them to Mulder. "These are the files. Everything's in there, autopsy reports, the lot."

Mulder picked up the files and leant back in his chair, swivelling to look out the window. He glanced summarily at the folder in front of him, but as usual, it appeared the local law enforcement have left all the interesting details out. Mulder sighed, the folder dropping to his lap. He glanced to up to the window, admiring the line of the green Camaro parked outside. Suddenly, a young Caucasian male in a Miami Dolphins baseball cap and LA Lakers sweatshirt slipped something under the windshield wipers and then backed away from the car, looking around wildly.

Mulder leapt up, spilling coffee all over the sheriff's antique Persian silk carpet and dashed out the door, just in time to hear the sheriff say "Hey, FBI! It took ten children five years in slave labour to weave that thing!"

Mulder didn't look back. He tore down the stairs, two at a time. Outside he ran into the glare, looking for the young man. Catching sight of someone running away. He took off in pursuit, with the young man looking behind him in terror - so terrified he didn't see that he had run onto a cross-walk against the light.

The dusty red Ford pickup came out of nowhere. Tyres screeched and the boy bounced off the car onto the road. Seconds behind Mulder looked the boy; he was no expert, but even he could tell by time he reached him was dead, the blood trickling from every facial opening was a good indication.

 ---------------------------------------------

The ambulance called, the body removed, Mulder trudged back to his car, and only then remembered the note under the windshield. He opened it, and in left-handed scrawl are the words "At midnight tonight, order a drive-thru cheeseburger with double jalapenos at Wendy's on the corner of Elm and Maple. In the bag will be all you need to know".

---------------------------------------------- 

Scully, freshly changed into another of her silky pantsuits, entered the sheriff's office. Mulder and Sheriff Braidwood were standing by the front counter. Braidwood was saying, "There was no need to chase him, Agent Mulder. As far as I can see he did nothing to your car." "Sheriff, believe me, that was not my intention" Mulder replied. Seeing Scully

approach, he introduced her to the sheriff. "What's going on Mulder" she asked. "Your partner here just chased one of our local youths in the path of an oncoming car." the sheriff replied. Scully looked up at her partner. Mulder gave a barely distinguishable shake of his head. 'Something's up' thought Scully. A deputy approached with a report of the accident and Mulder quickly signed it. Gathering up the files, and promising to return them soon, he took his leave of Sheriff Braidwood and ushered Scully from the office.

 -----------------------------------------

Royale Hotel
Scully's room :

"And when I get back to the car, I find this under the wipers," Mulder handed her the message.

Scully read it through, "Obviously not a health-food fanatic. Mulder, what if the boy who was killed is the one with the information?"

"We'll just have find out".

There was never any question of not attending the rendezvous - both he and Scully knew too well that sometimes the only way to get their information was covertly.

Mulder stood and stared out the window, "This isn't a big town, it's got, what? 1300 people, including children?"

Scully nodded in response. Mulder went on, "So you'd figure most people would have a fair idea who everyone else was, particularly if you were the local sheriff, right?"

Again Scully nodded, she had a feeling she knew where this was heading. "Braidwood didn't give any indication of recognising the boy, he didn't even act like he was a stranger."

 ------------------------------------------

The Cade County Coroner's office had closed about 3:30 that afternoon, so the body of the poor unfortunate windshield messenger had to be housed at Ferris' Funeral Parlour, which doubled as Mullerville's morgue.

"Mulder, I appreciate your impatience, but I am totally out of my jurisdiction here. I can't lift a finger toward this body until the County Coroner gets here."

"When will that be?"

Suspiciously on cue, Sheriff Braidwood walked in. He was accompanied by a short, bearded white-haired gentleman who only needed a string tie and eleven secret herbs and spices to paint the perfect picture of a retired Southerner.

"Right about now, Miss Scully." Hands were shaken all round. "This is Dr Gus Mullin, " Braidwood continued.

"Been in Mullerville since the Siege of Vicksburg, delivered us all - "

"Thank you, Tommy-boy. If they want my life story, they can see it on 'America's Most Wanted.'"

"Are you from the County Coroner's office?" Mulder asked.

"Deputised in loco for the Cade County Coroner's Office, Agent Mulder, " said Mullin, pulling on some gloves and a white smock. "I look after them from cradle to grave."

Scully turned and began to suit up.

"That's not necessary, miss." said Doc Mullin, "I'll have a report for you soon enough." He sounded displeased.

"Agent Scully is a qualified doctor.....and a forensic expert." Mulder answered.

"I hope you don't mind if I observe?" Scully asked politely.

Mullin and Braidwood exchanged a look. Mullin shrugged, then looked back at Scully and smiled, the courtly southern gentlemen once more, "Of course not, There's nothing I like more than a pretty lady like yourself standing beside me."

Mullin pulled the sheet back from the boy's face. For a moment his features softened.

"Do you know him?" asked Mulder. Behind him Braidwood glared at the doctor and gave his head the merest of shakes. Mullin, intent on the body didn't see him. Scully did.

"Yes, it's one of the Paxton boys - Shane" he looked up and saw the Sheriff glaring at him. Mullin flushed red, then recovered, "If that is all gentlemen I suggest you leave and let the young lady and I get on with our work." Braidwood turned and left the room. Mulder gave Scully a slight nod and exited the room.

"Sheriff", called Mulder, catching up with Braidwood on the steps of the funeral home. "If you don't mind I think I'd like to go and see that site now".

The Sheriff turned and stared at him for a moment, then with a grunt gestured towards his car. With a sigh Mulder followed him down the steps - it was proving to be a long day.

"This won't take very long, Miss Scully?" said Mullin, pulling on some gloves. "Just a hit and run."

"Doctor, " said Scully, "I'd like to take blood, vitreous humour and tissue samples and send them up to Memphis for a full toxicological analysis."

"Why?"

Mullin prepared to make the first incision. Scully noticed the point of the scalpel touching the corpse just below the larynx. She grabbed the Doctor's arm.

"Rockatansky method? Are you intending to embalm the corpse, Doctor?"

"Force of habit, I think, Agent Scully. Would you care to make the first incision?" Some of the charm had left the doctor's voice.

"Let's prepare tissue slides." Scully took a dermatome from the sterilised kit at the side of the autopsy table, and began to scrape skin cells into a cassette.

Doc Mullin prepared a syringe. "I beg your pardon, Doctor?" asked Scully.

"Small towns have their secrets, I said, Agent Scully. Especially small Tennessee towns."

"Good." Scully took fingerprints from the corpse.

-----------------------------------------

"Good Day to you, Sheriff"

The greeting came from behind. Both Mulder & Braidwood turned.

"Afternoon; Miss Ella, Miss Lou" replied the Sheriff.

Mulder stared. He couldn't help himself. Two women in their 60's stood before him. They were twins, identical twins.........almost. Their height, features and stance were the same, they even had the same amount of grey in their hair. Their gestures and voices as they inquired of the Sheriff's health, were echoes of each other. There was just one difference - one of them was black.

"Tom, where are your manners? Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?" said the black twin. Chastened, Braidwood performed the introductions.

"Mulder, allow me to introduce the Bonaye sisters, Louella" he indicated the black woman, "and Louise. Ladies, this is Mr Fox Mulder. Mr Mulder is......"

"A guest at our hotel" interrupted Louise, her smile mirrored by her sister. With his most courteous and charming smile Mulder shook hands with the two women, "Pleased to meet you."

"We have already met your lady friend - such a lovely girl" said Louise.

Mulder blinked and stammered, "Partner. Scully is my partner."

Ella and Lou exchanged glances. Ella shrugged, "Partner, girlfriend, lover - it's all the same in the end isn't it."

Before Mulder could reply Louise went on "We offered Miss Scully our Bridal suite but she said you preferred to sleep alone because of your snoring." <How the hell would she know> thought Mulder. He made a mental note to kill

Scully at the first opportunity.

Miss Louise was speaking , "Sheriff, I'm sure you and Mr Mulder must have business to attend to. Mr Mulder, perhaps you and Miss Scully will join us for some refreshments this evening?"

"It would be a pleasure" answered Mulder and with that the Bonaye sisters took their leave. Mulder turned to see Braidwood regarding him with amusement. "Shall we get going Sheriff?"

"I can't get over those two sisters, " Mulder told Braidwood as they walked back to the Sheriff's 4WD.

"They're what you might call Mullerville's 'living treasures.' You can imagine what it was like for Miss Louella, growing up in a hick Southern town in the Depression."

"No, I don't think I can."

"They ran Mrs Bonaye out of town for it. We never saw her again."

Braidwood sounded regretful, but shook it off visibly. "The site's about fifteen miles out of town. The Parmentier farm."

"I don't remember any Parmentier's making statements in your reports." They got into the car.

"It's just the name of the farm. Miss Adelaide Parmentier stayed alive to see David Janssen find the One-Armed Man and passed away in her lounge chair. No dependants."

"Who pays the taxes on the farm?"

"You'd have to check in Memphis."

Mulder said he would.

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

The house had stood empty since August 30 1967. In any other community across America vandals would have reduced the building to a shattered hull long ago, but here in Mullerville time and the elements had done their work unassisted by human hands.

"Stop the car."

Braidwood brought the car to a halt.

"The field's out back - what do you want to stop here for?"

"I just want a quick look around" said Mulder getting out of the car.

It only took Mulder 3 minutes to circle the old farm house. Despite the weathered boards and cracked paint, there was a still a hint of dignity clinging to its' tired timber. He returned to the front of the house.

"The only thing you're likely to find here is a home for termites & possums."

Ignoring the sheriff Mulder brushed aside the curtain of cobwebs and stepped onto the porch. He pulled out a handkerchief and rubbed at the 30 years of grime coating the windows. Through the smudged clearing he could faintly make out the shapes of shrouded furniture.

"Come on Mulder, I haven't got all day."

Mulder turned and followed Braidwood back to the car. Opening the car door he gazed at the house once more.

"I'm surprised the local kids haven't done more damage."

"Oh, there's a reason for that." said Braidwood as he got back in the car, "They all think it's haunted."

-------------------------------- 

Thirty years growth of scrub pine was harder to get through than Bureau procedures, thought Mulder, as brambles tore at his coat and twisted and rotting roots threatened to break his ankles. The Sheriff passed through like a ghost - a cursing ghost with the temper of the Headless Horseman and a stream of invective that was getting quite colourful by the time they broke out of the bush into a clearing.

City-bred Mulder didn't spot what the Sheriff saw immediately. The twisted trees had once been carefully tended peach trees. The trunks were lined up along ridges, placed in rows. Their leaves were long and straggly and Mulder, to whom all trees looked alike, had momentary thoughts of a Lovecraftian New England farm with tortured souls and strange growths.

"The site," said the Sheriff.

Mulder walked out to the centre before he realised he had done it. He looked around him, then back to the Sheriff, who hung back near the trees. There were thirty of Mulder's footprints clearly visible in the dirt. Mulder paced off to the trees in a different direction, and at the edge turned back to see his prints.

He was on the edge of a fine circle of ash. While the Sheriff watched, he took a sample of it and put it in a test tube. He walked back across the circle.

"Sheriff?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Why did the Doctor call you 'Tommy-Boy?'"

"Everybody does. My daddy was called Thomas Jackson Braidwood and so was his dad. I'll be Tommy-Boy till my son's born."

"Oh? When will that be?"

"Well, " the Sheriff laughed, "got to find me a wife first."

Mulder looked up for a minute as a shadow crossed his vision. The sun had moved a little and one of the branches that criss-crossed the clearing had cast a shadow over his face.

"What kind of trees are these?"

"Peaches."

"How tall do they grow?"

"Fifteen, twenty feet."

Mulder gestured around at the edges of the clearing. "These are three times that."

The Sheriff smiled: "That's cause they're mountain ash."

Mulder looked at the overhead branches again. Yes, they had no leaves - not unusual for the middle of winter - but the peach trees did. Come to think of it, the undersides of the branches looked.....burnt.

"Come on, Sheriff. There's nothing to see here. We've been ho -"

Mulder's foot slipped out from under him. Braidwood rushed forward, a little reluctantly it seemed. "You okay? Agent Mulder?"

Mulder did not listen, but continued to brush away the ashes with his gloved hands, exposing a circle of polished, black, volcanic glass.

The circle was approximately 6 inches in diameter and slightly convex. It offered no indication as to it's depth. Taking a small penlight from his pocket Mulder shone it onto the polished surface. The light beam was swallowed by the opaque darkness.

"What is it"

"That, Sheriff - is the 64 dollar question." Mulder looked up at Braidwood. "Do you have a penknife handy?"

Braidwood opened the small holster on his belt, withdrew his knife and handed it to Mulder.

"mmm, Swiss Army."

"It was a present."

Opening a blade Mulder attempted to scratch the glassy circle. Five minutes and 4 blades later he still had not marked the surface. He stood and looked around the clearing as he brushed the dirt from his knees. Striding up to one of the twisted trees he reached up and managed to snag one of the smaller branches. He snapped off the branch, then using it as a broom swept away the ash on either side of the circle. Two more circles appeared - same size, same substance - each approximately 6 inches from the middle circle. Mulder crossed the clearing to the opposite side of the ash circle. Using the branch he unearthed three more circles.

He walked back to the centre of clearing and gazed upwards at the darkening skies. Braidwood watched him, faintly fearful - mostly puzzled. After a minute Mulder's attention snapped back to earth and he returned to the Sheriff's side.

"I want men out here first thing tomorrow to clear away that ash."

----------------------------------

"Miss Scully, this is the most thorough and painstaking autopsy I've ever seen, " said Mullin, tiredness creeping in around the edges of his drooping mouth.

"Just about finished, Doctor. Don't you do autopsies this detailed?"

"Most of our deaths are from natural causes. That and the occasional hunting accident. It doesn't take much to determine cause of death when a 30.03 has done its work."

"I know, " said Scully, so intent on preparing a lymphatic tissue slide for the FBI's regional office in Memphis she didn't notice what the Doctor was doing behind her. "What?"

"I said, 'Count backwards from one hundred.'" Scully felt a slight sting at the base of her neck. As the corpse of Shane Paxton swam up to meet her, she thought insanely 'external jugular vein.'

Darkness closed like a fist.

----------------------------------------

Mulder was silent on the return journey - already mentally planning and executing the next days search. Involved in his own thoughts he failed the notice the looks Sheriff Braidwood gave him.

Tom Braidwood was worried. He had enough problems without having to deal with the FBI. He glanced at Mulder again. There was something odd about this guy - he didn't seem to fit the usual FBI mould. After 30 years in law enforcement he considered himself pretty good at reading people but he couldn't get a handle on Agent Mulder.....or his partner.

"Agent Mulder?"

"eh?" Mulder refocussed his thoughts. They were parked outside the Sheriffs office.

"We're back in town. Is there anything else?"

"I'd like to make arrangements to search that clearing tomorrow."

"There's nothing to organise - I'll have the boys out there at 8 o'clock on the dot."

"Very well. I'll meet you there." Mulder made a mental note to be at the clearing by 6 and got out of the car.

Leaving the Sheriff he strolled off in the direction of the funeral parlour - he had a lot to tell Scully and it wasn't just about the clearing.

Doc Mullin was filling in forms as he entered. Mulder looked around.

"Where's Agent Scully"

"In there."

Scully was slumped at the desk inside the small anteroom, her head resting on her arms.

"M-Mom?" asked Scully, dragging herself back to consciousness by main force of will. She could see the edges of her forearms, the edges of the desk and the edges of a trench coated figure so impossibly far away that she couldn't believe she heard:

"Scully? You collapsed. Are you all right?"

Some kin of feeling was returning to Scully's lips and tongue, She could speak, but the edges of the desk and the figure in the distance remained wobbly and diffuse. From about three quarters of a mile away a large hand shot out to grab her.

"M-Mulder? Is that you?"

"Yeah. How you feeling?"

"I don't know. Things look strange. I feel very sleepy. Mulder?"

"Yeah."

"See the Doctor. Don't let the samples from Shane Paxton out of your sight!"

"In a minute. How are you?"

"Now! I'll be all right." Mulder turned, and in two strides was over Scully's horizon.

The corpse of Shane Paxton was no longer in evidence, and Dr Mullin was packing something into the small chemical incinerator used to dispose of hazardous material. Mulder brought his gun and badge up in one fluid motion.

"Don't make me say it, Doctor."

"I suppose if I'd had better timing it wouldn't have come to this."

Mulder had to pretend he knew what the doctor was talking about.

 "This is a small town Mr Mulder - people are more conservative, quicker to judge. I was merely trying to save his family from more grief ."

Mulder stayed silent, waiting for the doctor to provide further clues to his actions, but the answers came from another source.

"It isn't like in the big cities Mr Mulder. Folks here know about things like HIV and AIDS. They see on the TV and in the papers, but it doesn't happen here." said Tom Braidwood from the doorway.

Mulder felt a hand on his arm and looked down at his partner. Scully smiled takingly at him.

"How long had he been infected?" she asked the doctor.

"Shane ran off to Memphis 3 years ago. He returned about 8 months ago. He was a wreck - suffering from drug and alcohol abuse. When tests revealed HIV he begged me not to tell anyone."

"Yet you told the Sheriff." said Mulder quietly.

"I hauled Shane in for being drunk & disorderly one night. Halfway through the night he started vomiting and sweating. I called the doc."

"The alcohol was reacting with the medication he was taking. I had to tell Tom so he'd release Shane into my care."

"And to keep this a secret you were willing to destroy evidence?" Mulder's tone was harsh.

"As I said this is a small place - redneck territory you might say. Shane was infected cause he used dirty needles but that's not what folks will think. Sandy Paxton's had a hard enough life since Jim died and she's got 3 more kids at home - having the gossips on her back is the last thing she needs."

Braidwood looked pointedly at Mulder, "Having her son killed is pain enough."

Mulder looked down at his partner and conferred with her. The conversation was unusual for no words were exchanged. <Do you believe him?> his face questioned. Scully gave a slight shrug. <Maybe.> <Do you trust them?> her look questioned back. Mulder arched one eyebrow. Scully smiled slightly, <Silly question>.

 "There's still the question of assaulting a Federal agent, " Mulder said, turning back to the Sheriff.

"Suppose we agree to say no more about it?" the doctor said.

"Suppose I holler for a Marshal?" Mulder asked, reaching for his cellular phone.

"Suppose he asks for some witnesses?" the Sheriff countered.

"Suppose I show him Agent Scully?"

"I suppose he'd be pretty impressed, " said Braidwood.

"Mulder, this isn't important," said Scully. "Where are the tissue samples from Shane Paxton? If you're worried, we'll get an AIDS test done along with the other ones. It will be so confidential no-one will know the results."

"Will that suit you, Sheriff?" asked Mulder.

Braidwood looked at the doctor. "I think that'll be fine, Tommy boy."

Grudgingly, Braidwood said: "You know best."

"That's cause - "

"You're so old, " Braidwood finished for him. Scully didn't miss the exchange - that was a long-standing joke. It looked to her like the doctor had been the brains and Braidwood the muscle for a long time - but for what?

"Suppose you break the news to Sandy?" Braidwood turned without a word and stalked out of the room.

"What did you use on me?" Scully demanded, suddenly nervous.

"2.5 mg Halothane in a ligniciaine solution. I gauged your weight at about one ten."

"In my stocking feet!" Scully laughed, quite charmed.

Mulder narrowed his eyes: "Your name isn't Mullin, is it?"

"Why lie about things you can check?" the Doctor said. Scully went to check through the samples. They seemed intact. Mulder had arrived just out of the nick of time - soon enough to save the samples and too late to save her.

"The family name was Muller, " the doctor went on. "Yes, like in Mullerville. My father changed it after the First World War. German names weren't popular, even in backwoods Canada."

"Canada?"

"I was born in Gibsons, Saskatchewan September 21st, 1921. I went to boarding school in Saskatoon, then I went to England to study medicine."

"England?"

"Oxford."

Scully smiled to herself. Mulder and the doctor looked as if they were wearing old school ties.

Mulder let it pass. For some reason, he thought, the Sheriff had been awfully quick to get him out to the Site, but they had been prepared to face prison to cover up Shane Paxton.

"Scully, do you have those samples packed?"

"Almost."

"Good. Let me treat you a cheeseburger."

 -----------------------------------------

Mulder pushed open the door to the diner and stood back to let Scully through. The sudden silence was deafening. There were about 8 people in the room & they were all looking at him and Scully. Mulder felt a sudden compulsion to hum the theme from 'High Noon'. He suppressed the urge.

He lead Scully to a booth at the back of the room. A quiet murmur rose as they sat down.

"So, where's the piano player?."

Mulder gave a small grin and handed her a menu.

"It did feel like something from a old western. " Gesturing to the menu he said (in a very bad John Wayne imitation), "Choose, pilgrim."

Scully studied her partner for a moment, <John Wayne?> < No, Mulder was more Gary Cooper>

The waitress approached and took their order. Two cheeseburgers & fries for Mulder, burger and salad for Scully. Root beers for both.

"Two burgers AND fries?"

"I'm hungry."

<He probably hasn't eaten since yesterday.> thought Scully. <I'm going to have to have words with him about his dietary habits..........again.>

"Find anything in the autopsy."

"Nothing obvious."

"What about......you know....what the doctor said."

"There was scar tissue consistent with needle tracks. I won't know for sure till the tests are done."

Before leaving the funeral parlour Scully had called the Memphis office and arranged for someone to collect the samples the next morning.

"What about you? Anything interesting?"

"The old house out at the site is supposed to be haunted."

Scully rolled her eyes heavenwards "One X-File at a time please Mulder."

He grinned slyly at her, his eyes bright with excitement.

<I know that look. He found something.>

"What?"

Mulder glanced around the room. Scully understood - he wasn't going to discuss it here in public. The waitress returned with their burger laden plates and they turned their attention to food. The talk became general - the weather, agency gossip and Scully delivered her lecture on the importance of maintaining a regular calorie intake.

20 minutes later they paid the bill & headed back to the hotel.

A grey headed man seated at the counter watched them leave. Rising from his stool he walked to the phone by the back door & dialled.

"They're heading back to the Royale."

 -----------------------------------------------

Mulder looked over his shoulder for the third time.

"What's wrong Mulder?" Scully wasn't overly concerned, Mulder was always checking his back - it was when he stopped checking she worried.

"I don't know....for a second I thought......" Mulder shook his head in frustration, then relaxed, " It's nothing ......something back there just rang a bell."

"As long as it's not you for whom it tolls."

Mulder stopped and smiled down at his partner,

"ooooh....Hemingway - I do like an educated lady."

"At least my IQ exceeds my bra size...which is more than I can say for Miss December ."

Mulder grinned, "HA!, - you were reading that page."

Scully elbowed him in the ribs,

"Think yourself lucky - leaving magazines like that open on your desk could be considered sexual harassment."

Still smiling they continued walking.

"What did you find at the site?"

"Reasons for being here Scully." Mulder told her of his findings.

 "Why didn't you stay there....start digging straight away?"

They had reached the front steps of the Royale. Mulder stopped and scanned up and down the neighbourhood. He could handle big cities, urban backdrops, untamed wilderness, and even the frozen wastelands of Alaska....hell, he could even survive suburbia. But there was something about rural small towns that set his nerves tingling. They were close...yet removed from the mainstream. Towns like this breathed on innuendo and gossip - eventually it was either ignored or passed on into folklore. That made them dangerous - the perfect hideaway. He looked down and saw Scully was waiting for answer.

"For one thing, it was getting dark and this town has - what?.... three deputies & two patrol cars, not counting the sheriff's 4x4. The only option was calling in the state troops and all the paraphernalia," he quirked a smile at his partner, "And that would only antagonise the local law enforcement - and you know how I hate to do that."

Scully's eyes rolled so far heavenwards he thought they'd never return to their usual blue.

 "How do you know the sheriff isn't involved in all this?...whatever it is?"

"Oh - he's involved." He took in her questioning look, "Instinct Scully."

"Then why aren't we out there now....torches blazing, shovels in hand."

Mulder grinned at that.

"Because he's not a major player. He has to take orders."

"More instinct Mulder?"

Mulder shrugged, "It's worked before."

Scully looked at him for a long second then lowered her head with a shake.

That's why you're 'Spooky' she thought.

"Scully...are you OK?"

"Just a little tired. Residual effects of the sedative I expect."

Mulder let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding.

"That's another thing. If I hadn't come back you'd have lost those tissues samples."

Scully frowned, "Do you really think Mullin intended to tamper with the samples? You have to admit the story is plausible - you've seen what people in small towns like this can be like."

"You said it yourself - we won't know for sure until the tests are done.....it's a convenient story."

Neither moved for a moment then Scully shivered. Mulder took her arm & led her up the steps, "Come on, you're tired and it's cold out here." As he held open the door for her he looked back over his shoulder at the vacant street and wondered.

 ---------------------------------

"Good evening, Miss Scully, Mr Mulder."

The only thing more welcoming than the warmth of the hotel lobby was Miss Ella's smile as she handed them their keys.

"Good Evening Miss Bonaye, "

"Please Mr Mulder ....my sister & I do not stand on ceremony here, I am Lou & she is Ella," said Louisa as she emerged from the hotel office.

"Did you enjoy a nice meal - the diner is much better than the silly fast food place up the way."

"Very enjoyable, .....ah... Miss Lou." Try as he might he couldn't call her simply by her first name.

"My sister and I are about to have some tea in the lounge, would you care to join us?" Miss Ella asked them.

Mulder and Scully exchanged looks, the silent. <I'd really to get started on the report Mulder>

<Half an hour can't hurt>

<Alright>

"We'd love to Miss Ella," answered Scully.

"Lovely."

Scully followed behind as Mulder escorted the ladies to the lounge, smiling as she heard them question her partner.

"Tell me Mr Mulder, what does the 'F' stand for?"

Mullerville, Tennessee
Wednesday
4:45 am

Even Mulder had to sleep sometime, and Deep South TV could make the Sphinx droopy-eyed. There were fourteen channels to choose from, but most of them closed down at midnight, and those that stayed on were mostly religious and infomercial stations, and one peculiar one from Nashville was a strange mixture of holy rolling and Danny Bonaduce that left a sour taste in Mulder's mouth.

Mulder felt as if he'd had too much coffee. There was a slight waviness to the edge of his vision and sounds seemed loud and kind of echoed.

Scully slept the sleep of the recently anaesthetised. Her dreams were of soft pink clouds, and someone standing on a high mountain was calling her.

The viewpoint changed - suddenly she was on the mountain, looking at a vast sunset ocean. Somehow she knew she was beyond the sea. A bell began to toll, soft thudding noises. Four peals, a pause, three peals. The sun dipped below the horizon, and the sea and sky merged to one deep blue. The wooden bell kept thumping.

Scully woke as languorously as a girl in a perfume commercial. She heard a soft tapping at the door. She was wearing cotton pyjamas but she flung a sensible dressing gown on before she answered the door.

"I couldn't sleep, " said Mulder.

"So, what else is new?"

"Hey Scully, you wanna see a haunted house?"

"At this hour of the day?" Scully looked up at him. Obviously he hadn't slept - his eyes were hanging out of his head and he hadn't shaved either, there was at least a day and a half's stubble adorning his cheeks. He looked totally disreputable.

Mulder glanced at her alarm clock, his initial enthusiasm dying. "Yeah, you're probably right" he agreed reluctantly. "It'll be dawn before we get there......but?"

Scully sighed, "Give me 15 minutes ."

One boyish grin and Mulder was away.

Mulder scooted back to his room and donned jacket & shoes. He slipped his gun into the holster and flashlight in his pocket. His attention was caught by the paper remnants scattered on the bed.

Following the instructions Shane Paxton left on his windshield Mulder had gone to Wendy's at midnight and ordered the chilli burger. He'd pulled off into the car park and searched the bag - nothing. He sat in the car nearly 20 minutes, watching, waiting in case someone showed up. In the end he headed back to the hotel with nothing more then a minor case of heartburn.

There was a tap on his door, "Ready, Mulder?"

Mulder grabbed the car keys from the bedside table and opened the door.

Scully had changed to jeans, flannel shirt and jacket - she looked about 16.

"Come on. Let's go ghostbusting" said Mulder.

Moments later they were heading out of town. It was still dark and the air was chill. Scully shivered wondering whether she should have worn a heavier jacket. She turned on the heater. Mulder was already miles away, whistling softly under his breath.

"Mulder?" He looked at her. "Do you know what or who the house is haunted by?"

Mulder nodded, "Eh heh. Miss Louise told me all about when we were having 'refreshments' earlier."

The roads around Tennessee would've confused Daniel Boone. The rental Camaro had a triple-A road map in the glove compartment, but it didn't list roads the size of the ones around Mullerville. Mulder knew they'd be watched as soon as they left town, but he thought that heading NorthWest along the Interstate would look as if they were heading up to Memphis for an early start at the FBI regional office there.

They passed a few side roads which might have been driveways and then crossed a paved road about ten miles out of town. Mulder took a left turn a few hundred yards further on, pulling in slowly to avoid telltale tyre ruts in the dirt road. He switched the lights off and edged gently along between tall trees through the tepid starlight shone like a watch dial. Suddenly he cut the engine, motioned Scully to be silent. In a silence broken only by the ticking of the cooling engine they heard a car pass by on the main road behind them.

It was in no hurry.

It had no lights on.

"You got your walking shoes on, Scully?"

"I wore my satin pumps. I thought we were going dancing."

"I'll take a rain check." Mulder checked his gun, his flashlight and his badge. Scully checked her gun and badge. "Follow me and stay close."

"Mulder, " Scully smirked.

They got out of the car quickly. Mulder grimaced at the flashing lights as he locked it. It was almost impossible to get out of a car with any stealth these days. "It should be this way."

"You're not sure?"

"That way's South. If we head this way we should be in Tijuana by April."

They set off.

Something white and sharp dropped out of a tree and flew at Scully. She gave a little shriek. Then she laughed softly. A barn owl. The woods were getting to her. Mulder, oblivious, kept his attention focused on the destination. He had already noticed that the trees had begun to appear in rows. Now he concentrated on finding a spot to hide and observed the ring of ashes.

He thought he heard conversation ahead, but neither of them missed the howl of a wolf.

Scully stilled at the sound of the mournful baying. An involuntary shiver rippled through her body - briefly she recalled the case of Lyle Parker and the Amerindian werewolf.

Mulder turned and motioned her forward.

"Mulder, what......" she whispered

He placed a finger to his lips in silence and drew her closer. She could hear muted voices somewhere ahead and torchlight flickered through the trees. A harsh laugh rang out and was quickly silenced.

Mulder & Scully exchanged glances, then at Mulder's nod they edged closer.

The struggling dawn light had turned the clearing a ghostly grey. Two men stood watching as a third dug into the soil.

"Says a lot for your instincts."

"So I'm wrong for once. I'm only human."

"That's the frightening part."

"Mr Mulder?" said a quiet voice behind them. Mulder froze, Scully was too scared to squeak.

"Take it easy. I ain't gonna hurt ya. Don't shine your flashlight aroun' too much. I'm Blaine Paxton, Shane's brother." Mulder turned as easily as someone could under the circumstances, trying to balance himself, a torch, a gun and his chequebook at the same time.

In the pre-dawn Blaine Paxton looked the spitting image of the body Scully had been working on a few hours ago. Mulder wasn't surprised. He was accompanied by a shaggy, low-slung mutt that had more kinds of dog in him than a Hong Kong stew.

"Zeke here's the best 'coon dog in three counties. 'Tweren't no trouble to find the two o' you."

"All our fancy manoeuvres with the car didn't help?" asked Scully petulantly.

"They might've. I wa'n't lookin' for your car. I knew you'd be making out here as soon as I saw you come by with the Sheriff."

"I think we ought to arrest those men, " said Scully.

"I wouldn't, " Paxton said.

"On what charge, Scully?" asked Mulder, strangely pleased that he was the one using the law to back up his work this time.

"They just as likely to shoot the two of you, and they damn sure gonna shoot me."

"Why would they do that?"

"A lot of twins die in this town, Mr Mulder. I was one who was supposed to. I guess they'd like to still see me dead."

"Yeah, but why?"

"On account of them black disks - as was made by the aliens."

As Scully watched the digger unearthed another black disk and passed it to the other men who added it to the others piled beside them in a wheelbarrow.

Behind her Mulder and Blaine Paxton whispered.

"Aliens? What makes you think aliens had anything to do with those disks?"

Mulder keep his face and voice calm.

"That's why ya here ain't? You two some kind of UFO experts, right?"

Scully and Mulder exchanged startled looks. Paxton elaborated, "I heard Pete Crampton talkin' about you" he said indicating the man digging in the clearing. "He's a deputy - he told Bo Davies," this time indicating one of the other men, "he told Kev the Sheriff had you checked out."

"That doesn't explain why you think those disks are of alien origin."

Scully bristled slightly, not entirely sure she liked being thought of as a 'UFO expert'.

"Because I seen them Ms Scully." The dog beside him gave a soft whimper.

All three looked towards the clearing. The men were moving closer to their hiding place.

"Come on, " whispered Blaine, "I know where we can talk."

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

End of Part 2

A CASE WORTH INVESTIGATING:

By Sally-Ann Maslen & DJ Rout

Part 3 of 7.

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

Blaine led them along a semi path. It was dark and Scully jumped again as she heard a wolf howl in the distance. The trees overhead effectively blocked out the little light there was and she pulled her coat closer around herself as the gentle breeze suddenly seemed to pick up and cut through, freezing her bones. Mulder didn't seem to notice, he was following Blaine's every move with a wide-eyed expression of wonder on his face.

Paxton led the way, Scully followed, Mulder brought up the rear. Occasionally he fetched up against Scully as Paxton would stop for no apparent reason, then continue.

The way he took them was as twisty as a skateboard ride down Lombard Street, but he passed through the bush as silently as a ghost. Mulder was not surprised when this expedition wound up behind the Parmentier house.

"I usually hole up here, " Paxton explained, "when things gets too tough."

Paxton lifted two doors that led down into inky blackness. "Fruit cellar, " he said.

"The kind Norman Bates would use, " said Scully.

Closing the doors quietly behind them, Paxton pulled the string that switched on the one naked bulb that illuminated the cellar. An old rocking chair and a camp stove seemed to be the only furniture. Zeke, wagging his tail, settled down in a corner and put his head on his paws.

"Coffee?"

"Er, no thanks, " said Scully.

"Sure?"

"Sure."

Blaine had three mugs set up in a jiffy, anyway. Mulder noticed they were green china mugs, with gold letters on them: B, F and D.

Mulder surveyed the cellar. He was surprised at the dryness of the air - the cellars back home in his native Massachusetts always smelled damp. Here the mustiness was underlaid with a sweetness he couldn't identify.

"Mr Mulder?" Paxton offered him a coffee cup.

Mulder took it and sipped, as he continued to take in his surroundings. A few posters were tacked to one wall, their images hidden in the dimness. Mulder stepped closer - The Ramones and The Vandals.

<The guy has Langleys taste in music> he thought. The third poster was one very familiar to him; it graced the wall of his office - I WANT TO BELIEVE.

Beside it was a small black & white photo. It showed two boys - 7 or 8 years old, ragged jeans, fishing poles in hand - Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn to life. It was Blaine and his twin.

"Blaine" Mulder turned to him and spoke softly. "I'm sorry about your brother."

"Hell, " said Blaine, settling down one of the packing crates he obviously used as furniture, "that sort of thing can happen to anybody."

"Dying of AIDS?" asked Scully. "I thought - "

"Ha!" Blaine laughed sardonically. "The Doc give you that guff? Shane may have been a lot of things. Shiftless, not too bright, lazy as a skunned hog - but he sure as hell wa'n't no queer!"

"Blaine, you can get AIDS in a lot of ways."

"Maybe. We ain't so dumb in the South, Ms Scully. We get Oprah, you know. All I'm saying is, Shane didn't have AIDS, or anything like it. The Doc and Sheriff Braidwood didn't have to cover anythin' up, neither. Folks 'roun' here don't care so much about AIDS, or those sorta things. This town talks civilly to the Bonaye sisters, so - well, hell, a little disease ain't gonna bother no-one."

"This is great coffee, Scully, " said Mulder. "So, Blaine, why were they so keen to cover up Shane's situation?"

"Twins don't die in this town, Agent Mulder. "They're abducted."

 Scully shot a look at her partner.

Mulder nodded slightly, <you ask the questions.>

"Are you saying they were abducted by aliens?"

"Abducted, experimented on - maybe even created."

Neither Scully or Mulder spoke

"You don't believe me."

Scully glanced at her partner again. He was staring at the poster - I WANT TO BELIEVE.

"It isn't a matter of belief Blaine, it's a matter of proof."

"Look, Ms Scully. I may talk slow and I may look like Shane, but I ain't him. Shane barely made it thro' 9th grade. Me? I got my high school diploma - and good too. I'd be in college now, it weren't for the money. You want proof?"

Blaine put down his coffee, stood and lifted the packing crate. He prised up a floorboard and removed a small tin box.

Opening he withdrew two notebooks and handed them to Scully.

"I've written down everything I could find out - who were born, went missing, 'died' and when."

Scully flipped through the pages of tightly written notes.

"Then there's this"

Scully looked up and caught her breath. Paxton held a small plastic ziplock bag. In it was a piece of metal - a micro circuit. The twin to one she'd seen in Oregon.

"Where did that come from?" Scully asked quietly.

Blaine sat back on the crate and picked up his coffee.

"Me"

"Tell us" Mulder's words were soft.

"Back when Shane & me were little and my pa was still around, he use ta taking us fishing at night. Tell us spooky stories, that kinda thing. After he'd gone, me and Shane still used to sneak out on our own ."

Blaine took a sip of his coffee, his eyes fixed on the childhood photo.  

"This woulda bin the summer of '88, I reckon, " Blaine recounted. "Warm night, hot summer night and all. Shane and me had settled in for a quiet night's fishin', talkin'. We sneaked a few beers. Up from under the water there comes this strange light, pale as marsh gas, but movin' t'ward us. "Shane says: 'I reckon we oughten to stay 'roun here.' "I says: ''Tain't nothing but marsh gas, Shane. Ain't dangerous.' "He says: 'You know no marsh gas never moved like that.' He turns to run, then, but I grabbed - " Blaine bit his lip. Mulder was holding his mug handle so tight he drew blood from his palm. Scully's vision flicked from one to the other. She was moved by the emotion, not the story. "I grabbed his arm! Then the gas was all 'roun' us. Then they told us to stop."

Scully watched Mulder now. He believed. Completely. Scully saw Blaine watching Mulder. Yes, Paxton wanted to believe - and to be believed.

"Then they took me away. They lay me out on a table. They told me not to be afraid, and suddenly I wasn't. Then they did. . .things."

"What things?" asked Mulder.

"They made me - " Blaine looked at Scully, then the floor. "They wanted a semen sample." He put his head up. "They pulled my mouth open, then they took some scrapings from the inside. They gave me needles. Oh, the needles! The needles in my eyes!" Blaine did not scream, but his tone was so intense that it cut the air like a scream.

"Go on."

"When I could talk again, I asked them about Shane. They said Shane was the control, that I'd see him again, that I was to be silent, that there was great work in store - ..."

Blaine suddenly sprang to the light chain, and plunged the room into darkness. Scully had her gun out in a second, painfully aware she could just as easily shoot Mulder in the dark. Suddenly there was a looming presence beside her. Something hard shot between her legs, almost toppling her. The damned dog!

"No flashlight, Ms Scully, " said Blaine's harsh whisper right in her ear.

"They gave me a gift." Blaine's hand clamped firmly on Scully's gun arm.

The cracks in the door of the fruit cellar now showed a grey light, easy enough to see by outside. There were quiet footsteps outside. How could Blaine have heard them?

"I can see into the future."

In the darkness of the cellar the only sound was a gentle snuffling from Zeke. As her eyes adjusted to the light conditions Scully spotted Mulder crouched below the cellar doors, gun at ready. With one hand he reached out and patted the dog beside him. Zeke's breathing grew quieter.

A shadow passed through the cracks of the cellar door then moved on. A low murmur of voice could be heard. Scully strained to hear but could not make out the words. The shadows passed over the door again. The footsteps and voices moved off. An eternity ticked away - in reality, barely 2 minutes.

"They're gone." Paxton's whisper was ear-shattering in the silence.

Mulder slowly stood and moved towards them.

"We better get out of here - they're probably looking for us."

"They know you two left the hotel, but they haven't found your car yet - Bo figures you've gone to Memphis."

"How do you know that?" asked Scully, rubbing the bruise Blaine left on her arm. He was strong.

"I heard 'em. Tha's what they were talking 'bout."

Mulder and Scully exchanged one of their looks. The one that said 'Let's not go into that now'.

Blaine Paxton gathered up his notebooks and placed them back in the box with the micro chip. He then removed the picture of his boyhood from the wall and added it to the tin.

"This way." Without turning on the light Paxton pointed towards the door at the far side of the cellar. Mulder headed towards the door, Paxton between and Scully following. Behind the door Mulder found a stairwell leading up to the house. He took one step and stopped. There was something he had to know before he continued.

"Blaine. What do you mean by you 'can see the future'?"

Blaine gazed at him blankly for a moment.

"'Zactly as it sounds Mr Mulder. I know what happens next."

"That was how you found us in the bush?" asked Scully, sceptically.

"No, Zeke found y'all. I had an idea you'd be drivin' out here, then I 'seen' your car pulling in up to that lane yonder."

"Were you able to do this before you were abducted?" asked Mulder.

"I think it was the aliens as done it. They did a lot of things to my eyes. They didn't know about pain, though, " he said quietly.

"Artificially induced psychic power, " said Scully.

"Traumatically induced, " Mulder said. "many abductees report increased sensory perception and heightened awareness as the result of an abduction incident."

"Defocused temporal perception, " said Blaine.

"Another common abductee experience, " said Mulder.

"I read that phrase in 'Restaurant at the End of the Universe,'" Scully whispered. "You don't mind if we put this to a practical test, do you, Blaine?"

"No."

"Who's going to win the fifth at Savannah tomorrow?"

Blaine laughed - then he closed his eyes. A frown puckered his forehead.

"Win: Scottish Girl, Place: Keanu, Show: Paris Attack."

Scully reached for her cellular phone, then stopped. The only bookie she knew was Danny, back at FBI headquarters in Washington.

They went through a door at the top of the stairs, and found themselves in a small, musty pantry. There were rat droppings around, crumbled snack packets and crushed beer cans littered the floor, it appeared Blaine wasn't the only one who used the place as a hideout. Mulder noticed one other thing. There wasn't a cobweb in sight.

They risked a peek through the curtains. The morning light made the yard outside seem as bright as a new penny. Droplets of dew ran down the windows, distorting, but not obscuring the stealth copter parked on the unkempt lawn, its main rotor turning slowly, slowly, while the men around stood their ground.

Waiting.

"They been there since last night." said Paxton.

A grey haired man stood with his back to them, an army style walkie talkie in his hand. Mulder felt there was something vaguely familiar about him, but was unable to place what it was. The man turned and appeared to issue instructions to the two of the men on guard, who promptly ran off in the direction of the clearing. The grey haired man continued his conversation with the walkie talkie.

"I wonder what that was about?" pondered Scully

"He told them to help Bo and the others with the last of the lights. He wants to be out of here by 8 o'clock."

Mulder looked at Scully <I don't think psychic ability is the only enhancement Blaine has.> Scully raised her eyebrows slightly and inclined her head, <possibly>. She spoke, "8 o'clock? Isn't that when you're supposed to meet Braidwood?"

"Uh huh - and when we get to the site there'll be nothing there." Mulder looked at his watch - another 30 minutes to go. With one last look out the window he turned and sat down on the floor, his back resting against the wall, "We can't go anywhere till they're gone." Mulder looked up at Blaine.

With a nod Blaine sat beside him. After a moment of surveying the wreckage on the floor Scully carefully, and gingerly joined them.

"You want to tell us the rest? About the implant?" Mulder asked Paxton.

"When I was in the 11th grade I won this state essay contest - prize was a trip to Washington for the judging of the national competition."

Mulder nodded, he knew of the contest. Paxton continued.

"Ah never made it. Half-way there on the bus, I started gittin' these stomach pains. They were so bad, the bus driver ended up leaving me at the first hospital he came to. Turned out ta be appendicitis. When I woke the doctor gave that thing, " he nodded towards the box, "to me. Say'd he found it in my stomach."

"This was Doctor Mullin?" asked Scully.

"Yeah."

Mulder was keeping a weather eye on the chopper. The grey-haired man seemed in no hurry, and Mulder couldn't shake the feeling that they had met.

"Why would the doctor be so concerned about Shane, but let you have the implant so easily?" Mulder asked off-handedly.

"Search me."

A man in military fatigues ran up to the grey-haired man with the easy jog of a Marine. Mulder relaxed - it was not the blue team rapid recovery force that had almost killed him in Puerto Rico. The grey haired man held up three fingers. The slowly spinning rotors began to quicken.

"What did they do about the appendicitis?" asked Scully.

"I guess they cut it out."

"Mind if I examine you?"

"No problem." Blaine pulled up his shirt, exposing a bronzed Chippendale stomach. Scully probed around professionally. Almost no pang of jealousy crossed Mulder's face.

"There's a scar, " said Scully, "but it's a little high to be an appendectomy scar."

"Have you been far from Mullerville since then?" asked Mulder, still watching the chopper rev up.

"Nashville, Little Rock, Atlanta. I was goin' to go to New Orleans, but I never raised the cash."

"Mulder?" asked Scully, needing an explanation.

"Shane was the control - but they wanted Blaine to stay where he was put."

Two Marines ran up carrying a heavy footlocker between them. They heaved it, then themselves, into the chopper. The grey-haired man joined them, sliding the door closed. The chopper lifted in a storm of dust and grass seeds, with no more noise than a noisy fan.

As the sound of the helicopter died away Scully made to stand up. Blaine's hand shot out grabbed her arm.

"Wait, Miss." he cautioned. Both he and the dog lifted their heads and listened. Moments later she heard it, a radio blaring - Steve Earle singing of John Lee Pettimore and his plans for Copperhead Rd. Mulder looked out in time to see a utility truck pass, the passengers the three diggers from the clearing.

"That box they carried.....that was the black disks.......lights? you called them"

Paxton helped Scully to her feet, "I reckon Mr Mulder. I seen them glowing up from thar ground....I think they're some sorta signal or maybe a beacon."

"Blaine," Mulder's voice was quiet and tense, "Have you ever seen the signal answered?"

"I don't rightly know..... a couple of times I seen the smaller lights glowing up and than this big column of light shining down, but I couldn't tell where it coming from and I couldn't get close enough ta see. I writ it all down in the book" he said handing Mulder the tin box.

Mulder looked at his watch. 7.47am ....damn, he needed more time...time to question Paxton...to read his notes. He weighted the opinions. Wait here for Braidwood and go along with the farce of a search, find somewhere to hole up and peruse the evidence, or ......

"Scully....."

Scully knew what the ellipsis in Mulder's tone meant. It looked like they were going to split up. Experience told her that this was going to be trouble. Usually, splitting up put her in danger while Mulder did the glamorous work, chasing suspects who turned out not to be suspects.

"Mulder, if this means we have to split up. . ."

"I thought you could stay here with Blaine while I take off after the hick rednecks in that pickup."

"How are you going to catch them? On foot?"

"I'll be able to find the Camaro."

Well... Scully thought, waiting here with Blaine might not be that unpleasant. He seemed a nice enough guy....he reminded her of a young Navy officer she had a serious crush on at 13. Same raw energy.

Mulder was holding the tin box out to her. "Okay, Mulder."

Mulder checked his gun. The coast looked clear. Of course, he thought, it probably looked clear in Hawaii on December 7, 1941. He set out on his way through the woods. Blaine had given him rough directions, explaining that Zeke would be able to lead him right to his car. Mulder had declined the offer of the dog's help.

His watch beeped the turn of the hour. There had been no sign of Sheriff Braidwood and his searchers - Mulder wasn't surprised.

"Miss Scully...?"

Dana turned from the window, "Yes?"

"I think we'd be more c'mfortable in the other room."

With a nod she followed him out. Bulky, anonymous shapes hid beneath dust sheets, in what was probably the living room. She selected one that looked chairlike and sat down.

Scully opened the hardcover notebook while Blaine settled himself down to wait. Scully couldn't resist the occasional glance over the top of the book. Blaine was half-reclined on a shrouded sofa, still with his shirt untucked. Every time Scully looked back at the book it was harder to concentrate - put Blaine in a white JAG uniform. . .

A slight noise made Scully look up. Blaine had slumped on the couch.

Behind him stood a Marine colonel in camouflage gear.

From the kitchen an impossible, familiar voice asked:

"Problem, Colonel Jedburgh?"

"No problem, sir."

'.....I been told, he never come back from Copperhead Rd..' <Damn> Mulder cursed silently, <can't get that goddamn song out of my head>. He concentrated on the directions Blaine Paxton had given him, hurrying through the bushes as fast as his city bred feet could take him. The trail lead back to the clearing. The silvery eeriness of moonlight had been replaced by the chill light of early morn - the sun not yet high enough to light the enclosure. Mulder stopped briefly in the centre to catch his breath, his ragged panting breaking the silence. Mulder looked around at the plundered circle and up at the encroaching branches of the trees. It suddenly felt chillier....and darker in the circle - he ran on.

Reaching the edge of circle of trees he stumbled and fell to the ground.

Lifting his face he wiped the dirt from his eyes and found himself staring into blackness. There nestled amongst the roots and undergrowth was one of the black discs, it's edges still sprinkled with dirt. He sat up and grabbed it, <Must of rolled away from the pile> he thought. He got to his feet, cradling the disc's inky smoothness in his arms and hurried in the direction of the car.

Scully's scepticism had taken a battering in the last half-minute. Images swum in her mind. Blaine's tin box slid slowly off her lap and clunked to the floor. It sounded like a gunshot on a wet and darkened street. "Trust no-one, " she mumbled.

"Good advice, Miss Scully."

"I saw you killed!" Scully screamed.

The dark-suited figure with the unmistakable Texan accent stepped into the brightening light of early morning coming through the curtains. He stopped to lay a hand gently on Blaine's bruised head. He seemed fatherly for that second.

"There are times when it becomes necessary for people to think you're dead. Certain agencies were aware that I had helped someone get access to Purity Control."

"Fox went to your funeral!"

"I saw him there. I was deeply touched."

Scully bumped the tin box with her foot. Her attention was drawn back to it. "Are you part of all this?" she asked, looking at it.

"I'd like to be. But I need your help."

"My Help! Why would anyone who can fake their own death so effectively need my help?" Scully spat the words out.

"Miss Scully, you of all people should be aware of the problems we face in the search for the truth."

"Problems! Don't you mean the dangers? the sacrifices?" Scully was angry.....angry at him - angry because he wasn't dead, because of what he'd put her through but mostly angry for what his 'death' had done to Mulder.

She turned her back on him and went to kneel beside Blaine.

"Miss Scully....Dana.....I know what you & Mulder have been through since....since my demise. If there had been anyway I could have prevented it I would have......the dead have their limitations."

Scully didn't answer. She ran her fingers lightly across bump on Blaine's head, he moaned softly at her touch.

"Was it really necessary to hit him?" she said to Jedburgh.

Jedburgh didn't answer.

Deep Throat came and stood behind the sofa. "Agent Scully - whether you believe me or not, we are not your enemy."

Scully looked up at him, her eyes dark with distrust, "If you're not the enemy, why did you remove the discs...the evidence? It was you, wasn't it?"

"Yes, it was" the texan drawl was soft.

"Then why?"

"Salvation" replied Col. Jedburgh.

Mulder approached the Camaro casually. The keys were about an inch from the doorlock when he thought: this might be where it all ends. He took a few steps back, then began to examine the car minutely.

After fifteen minutes he confirmed that the only traces he could see were those of Scully and himself made last night. Which didn't prove much.

He flipped open his cellular, faced in various directions till he got a signal and dialled a Virginia number. It rang three times.

"Go ahead."

"This is Mulder."

"Hang up. We'll find you."

A few seconds later his phone rang. "Mulder."

"This is Byers."

"How would you like a close encounter of the second kind?"

"With your delectable co-worker?" asked a predictable voice.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Evidence?" asked Byers.

"Technology."

"All right!"

"I'm in - "

"We know. We'll find you. Goodbye."

Mulder got in, got the Camaro into gear. It was time to put some miles between him and Mullerville. Scully could take care of herself.

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

End of Part 3

Part 4 of 7.

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

Humming softly under his breath Mulder steered the car south. He didn't know where he was headed......his original plan to trace the utility truck forgotten.....It was futile anyway, the truck was long gone. The discovery of the disc changed everything he thought, glancing at the black circle on the seat beside him, <Gotta keep it safe for the Gunmen.........mmmmm?>. He pulled to the side of the road.

10 minutes later...

Back on the road Mulder drove on auto-pilot, oblivious to scenery, the ruts of the road barely registering as he reviewed each moment of the last 24 hours.

The battered red Ford came out of nowhere....a side road maybe....Mulder didn't really notice, only that it was suddenly there. He drove on.

The Ford kept a safe distance.

Mulder finished his mental jigsaw and turned his thoughts to Scully...<Damn, I've done it again....left her alone.....no, not alone.....Blaine is there.....he'll sense trouble.....I hope he.......Shit!>

The impact threw Mulder into the steering wheel. Gasping for breath he looked up at the rearview mirror - the Ford had pulled back, gearing for another ram at his rear bumper. Mulder hit the gas pedal.

The Camaro was good, but whatever that Ford was packing under its' hood wasn't standard - it took the challenge and kept coming......once, twice, three times it rammed the back of the Camaro.

'THUDK!' Mulder could hear the bruises on his chest forming as he scrambled for control...and his seat belt....<pedal to the metal>. He sped ahead.

The Ford fell back.

Mulder's thoughts were wild, <Who? Why?....Concentrate> . The Ford was gaining, <Can't be the disc....They don't know....have it...do they?......HELL!!>

The Ford slammed into the left rear fender. The rasp of metal against metal shattered his reverie.

Mulder grappled for control.

The Ford hit again.....and again and again.

Metallic sparks sprinkled against the crispness of the morning sky - a pretty sight.....if it wasn't for the ear shattering screech....

Mulder's hands slipped from the wheel. Without his guidance the Camaro chose its own path, spraying gravel and dust into the air as it headed for its spiritual home in the shoulder of the road. Sweatslick hands fought the steering wheel for control. The Camaro shuddered and whined in protest, but Mulder won the battle.

The Ford continued it's onslaught. The next impact ripped the handle from the drivers side door. Mulder's nerve endings screamed in sympathy and he lost his grip on the wheel again. Instinctively he hit the brake - the car seared rubber across the road as it swerved out of control. He had a brief glimpse of a close cropped head and a twisted, sneering smile before the Camaro left the road and slammed into a tree.

Everything went black.

 Scully forced her attention back to the situation. Mulder, wherever he was, could look after himself. Scully had to pay attention to everything, in case Deep Throat (somehow she couldn't say that without thinking of Linda Lovelace 'doing her thing' on scratchy, out of focus, videotape) made a slip.

"Did you know the blonde man that shot you - "

"Yes."

"Er. . .is dead?"

"I didn't know."

"Where do you get such people?" Scully demanded. "He was prepared to set himself on fire to protect the secret of Delta Glen."

"Well, to answer that." The grey-haired man paused - answering did not come easy to him. "To answer that - he's a fanatic. Dedicated to a cause he knows nothing about. He follows orders because they are orders."

"Well, well. How do these people live? What do they do on their time off? Where do they sleep? Who do they see socially?" Scully was thinking: prove to me they're human beings!

"Sir, " said Jedburgh.

Blaine was coming round. He moved himself upright, trembling. He saw Scully and smiled crookedly: "Didn't see that one coming."

"Are you all right?" asked Scully?

"I've been worse." Blaine looked up at Jedburgh, camouflaged with his machine gun at port arms, as relaxed as a cocked sixgun. "But I don't think I've been in worse trouble."

 Scully held her hand up in front of Blaine,

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Blaine winced as he probed the bump on his head, "3. Really...ah'm OK, Miss Scully," He looked up at Jedburgh and at Deep Throat and sighed, "Friends of yours?"

Despite the situation Scully smiled, "The jury's still out on that one?".

She sat beside him on the couch.

Deep Throat came round to face them, bending down to pick up the tin box.

Blaine was quicker, snatching up the container and cradling it protectively in his arms.

"I think that b'longs to me."

"Mr Paxton, the information contained in that box and in that book," he indicated the notebook Scully still held, "is the best proof we have that you and others in this county have been used as guinea pigs for decades."

"If you all know so much about it - why ya need me and tha book?"

Scully smiled inwardly, she was proud of him - despite his personal beliefs he wasn't about to fall for any line. She wondered where Mulder was.

"Since the 1950's the government has been systematically conducting experiments in genetic manipulation on the people of Mullerville.....they have taken them from their homes and altered them....you know what they did to you....and they will continue to do it unless we can shut it down."

Deep Throat's voice was sincere and convincing.

Blaine shot Scully a glance. Her face was set with a look of grim determination. Mulder would have recognised the look - it said 'Trust No One'. Blaine understood.

"Listen, mister, I have some quest...." Blaine stopped mid sentence.

"Someone's coming.."

Jedburgh was a blur as he moved beside the front window, weapon cocked and ready. Scully pulled her gun and ran low to crouch on the other side.

Blaine and Deep Throat froze in place like a crazy wax tableau, one seated, one standing. Scully switched her attention from the window to the two men and saw as Blaine suddenly let out a breath and relaxed. Three seconds later the children ran from the side of the house - two boys and a girl, aged 8 or younger - calling & giggling, urging each other to run faster.

They passed from sight.

"Tha Jenner kids" Blaine explained, "They like ta pretend thay're brave, using this place as a shortcut."

Scully came away from the window and stood beside Deep Throat, Jedburgh remained on guard.

"And you knew or heard them coming," Deep Throat asked.

"Sensed 'em first, then heard 'em." Blaine looked up at Scully and shrugged lightly - there was not much point denying it.

"Why didn't you sense....???" Scully waved towards Jedburgh and Deep Throat.

"Sometime it don't work....sometime it's just a feelin'....or I just do it....like with the cups."

"The cups?" Deep Throat was puzzled.

"The coffee cups," Blaine explained looking at Scully and nodding towards the cellar. "I bought 'em a week ago but didn't know why till yesterday."

Scully thought of the cups as she'd first seen them downstairs - three solid, sturdy mugs with initials on them - B, F & D. She made the connection.

"Blaine, Fox & Dana....you knew we would be here."

"Not really, not ta yesterday" Blaine shook his head in thought, ".....funny, one time it seemed Ah always knew when someone was coming and why...." He looked up at her.

For a moment Scully saw something in Blaine's face - something oddly familiar. Suddenly she realised - it was the same look Mulder would give her when he wanted her to play along some story he was setting up. She played.

 "But now you don't?" asked Scully.

"Right."

"Did this just happen suddenly, or has it been a gradual loss?" she continued.

"All on a sudden, I guess. Seemed I used to know everything that was gonna happen, then - " he sliced his finger across his throat " - zip."

"Mr Paxton, " said Deep Throat, "I have a truly revolutionary idea for you."

And Jedburgh said: "God Bless the Republic of Texas."

Scully suddenly realised she was in over her head.

"God Bless the what?" Scully gasped.

"The Republic o' Texas, I thought he said, " said Blaine.

"Texas hasn't been a republic since - "

"1840, " said Deep Throat. "One hundred and fifty years of carrying the rest of this country - through two world wars, the Depression. Four of the six largest cities in the United States are in Texas, Miss Scully. We have our own language, our own culture, the memory of the Alamo and the glorious figure of Sam Houston - "

"Wait!" Scully had to interrupt this tirade. "I don't understand why you'd want this, " she indicated Deep Throat. "You, of all people."

"Miss Scully, you know nothing about me. There've been times I regretted that, but regrets don't last very long. I have sometimes been loyal to the United States, and sometimes to causes greater than that, but I've never lost my love for Texas."

"Neither of us have lost our loyalty to Texas, Miss Scully, Mr Paxton, "

said Jedburgh. "None of us. But it seemed for some time that our quest for nationhood was thwarted at every turn. We had to stay part of the Union to protect ourselves from the Germans, then the Russians, then the goddamn Mexicans tryin' to conquer us again. Come along about 1957 and we saw we had to stay part of the Union to stop the other invasion."

"Communists?" Scully snorted.

"Possibly Communists, definitely aliens, " said Deep Throat.

"You'll be begging my pardon, " said Blaine, "if I ast you what this's got to do with me."

"Mr Paxton, the Sons of the Yellow Rose - "

"Want you, " Scully finished cynically.

At first there was only darkness, then slowly he became aware of it - a low throbbing sensation that was both pleasurable and painful. Very carefully, without opening his eyes Mulder lifted his head. Not a good idea - a groan escaped his lips, he carefully opened his eyes. The sunlight was streaming through the shattered windshield. He quickly closed his eyes again as the pain in his head increased. Breathing steadily for a moment, he tried again, this looking aware from the window. It worked - the headache was still pounding but his focus had improved.

He sat back slowly, and looked around. The car had clipped the tree and skidded, coming to rest against a barbed wire fence. Mulder got out of the car, wincing as he added new names to his catalogue of body parts capable of bruising. He inspected the damage to the vehicle - the driver's side had taken quite a beating - he was surprised he'd was still in one piece.

Mulder checked up and down the road - not a thing in sight. He pulled out his cell phone and dialled Scully.

"They want your notebook, too, " said Jedburgh.

"Yes, Mr Paxton, " said Deep Throat. "Records of the names and birthdates of the most psychically gifted people in the United States. Absolutely proven to be the most gifted citizens in the Union."

Blaine looked from one to the other. "Surely you coulda just killed me and got that?"

"You'd've seen it coming, " said Scully.

"That's what we thought, " said Deep Throat. "But when the FBI began to investigate our timetable had to be moved ahead."

"Mulder and I didn't know anything about this!"

"We didn't know how much you knew. One of our prime sources was shot by a hick Sheriff in Wisconsin."

The sudden beep of the phone startled all of them - all except Blaine that is. The young man had anticipated the call.

"It's Agent Mulder" he said, "Don't worry - He's more bruised than battered"

Scully's eyes widen with concern as the meaning of his words sunk in.

Mulder had been hurt. She pulled her phone from her jacket pocket.

"Don't Miss Scully. I don't want Agent Mulder involved.....yet."

Scully fixed him with a steel blue glare, "You heard what Blaine said - he's been hurt."

"He also said he wasn't badly hurt," rumbled Jedburgh.

The phone continued to beep.

"If I don't answer - he'll come looking." stated Scully.

Jedburgh and Deep Throat exchanged looks and Deep Throat nodded.

Scully put the phone to her ear, "Hello."

"Scully, Are you alright?"

"I'm fine Mulder"

"What took you so long to answer. Or shouldn't I ask..." he questioned lightly. <Good - if Mulder was taking time out to tease her it meant he wasn't badly hurt.> Not that it was much indication - she'd known him start making jokes within minutes of waking from a coma.

"I was down in the cellar getting some coffee." lied Scully, "Are you alright - Blaine says you had some kind of accident."

"You could say that. Someone took a dislike to my choice of rental car. I take it Braidwood hasn't turned up."

Scully eyed the two Texans across the room, "No...no Braidwood."

"Look - I'm coming back to get you and....."

Blaine was shaking his head furiously.

"Just a moment Mulder - what is it Blaine?"

"Tell Mr Mulder it's best we go our separate ways for now.

"Mulder, Blaine says..."

"Yes Scully I heard him. Does he have any suggestions?"

Scully relayed the question.

Blaine glanced over his shoulder at the Texas pair, "'Bout 3 miles in the opposite direction to what he was driving is a truck stop. We can meet there in about an hour."

Scully passed the oddly worded directions. She realised what Blaine had done - he knew exactly where Mulder was, but didn't want the other two men to know.

If Mulder thought the instructions odd he gave no indication, "Alright I'll meet you there. Don't be late."

"OK Mulder - Take care."

The call ended.

"So, " Blaine said, "you know our timetable. Mind if I ask you one thing? How you gonna get these people to cooperate?"

"Mr Paxton, in spite of some of the things I have done - and they've been things I regret - none of the Sons of the Yellow Rose are monsters. We come from the richest part of the country - funded by oil, mining, banking, insurance. . ."

"In other words, bribe them?" asked Scully cynically.

"Pay them. Those we can't convert, we cajole. Those we can't cajole, we compensate. Those we can't compensate, we pay. Those we can't pay, we ignore."

"And those you can't ignore?" asked Scully.

"Don't exist," Jedburgh said.

"Think of it as a kind of Rand Corporation, Miss Scully, " said Deep Throat. (Scully baulked a little - she couldn't speak to the man and keep calling him 'Deep Throat.' Mr. . .Throat? Did that work?) "Instead of the application of intellect and science, we apply clairvoyance, telekinesis, psychometry, astral projection, the gamut of psychic abilities to problem-solving."

"Presumably the problem of Free Texas, or whatever it is."

"Yes, of course." said Deep Throat.

Scully noticed that slip. But Deep Throat, for all that she knew little about him, didn't seem the sort of person to make mistakes like that. If he implied there was something other than the Sons of the Yellow Rose, there certainly was - but what was it?

Jedburgh seemed to be a full-on Free Texan. In Deep Throat's terms, he'd been converted, not cajoled. A C-word Deep Throat had forgotten about suddenly leapt into Scully's mind.

'Compromise. 'Those we can't ignore, we compromise,' she thought. She glanced at Blaine - he was looking at her, but seemingly going to great pains to seem like he was not concentrating on her. She turned back to Deep Throat, looked him right in the eye:

"Mulder would love this, " she said.

"Of course he would - and I appreciate that. I'm prepared to assist him in any way to discover the truth - "

"But not the whole truth, " Scully interrupted.

"No, Miss Scully, not the whole truth. But what was done here is the work of evil men. The products of their experiments are not to blame for those experiments."

"They're just tools to be used, " said Blaine.

Mulder got back in the battered Camaro. He pondered Blaine's instructions "3 miles in the opposite to which he'd been driving" - that would take him back in the direction of the Parmentier farm. There had to be something going on. Something Blaine was trying to warn him about <why else would he say don't come to the farm then give me directions that would lead me there?>. He thought about Scully - the amount of time it had taken her to answer the phone, the cautious way she confirmed Braidwood's non-appearance, and most of all, those three words - 'I'm fine Mulder.'

Seven times out of ten when she said those words she really was fine - but the other 3 meant the exact opposite. It had almost become a code between them, a little signal that things weren't quite as fine as they said. Fox was willing to bet that this was one of those times. Mulder started the car and turned it towards the farm. The Camaro didn't sound healthy - he would have to get rid of soon.

<Truck stop.....truck stop....I know I didn't pass anything like that.....what am I looking for then?>

He nearly missed it. A flash of blue hidden in the trees a little over three miles from his last location. Mulder pulled over to the side of the road. Sliding across the seat to passenger side (the drivers door having decided to stay shut), he got out and investigated. A screen of branches hid a battered land rover. Mulder tried the door - it opened. The interior smelt strangely of chilli burgers and wet dog. He checked the ignition - nothing. A short search revealed a set of tagged keys under the seat. The enamel tag read BP. Mulder grinned.

He moved the 4 wheel drive out of it's hiding place and replaced it with the Camaro. Back on the road he headed for the Parmentier place.

Driving steadily, Mulder kept one eye on the rear vision mirror - so far the only other traffic was a hay laden pickup truck that passed him just after he left the Camaro's hiding place. He glanced at his watch - the glass had shattered <must have banged it when the car crashed>. He reached over and turned on the radio.

"....by Dwight Yokam. It's 20 past the hour and coming up in the news - 4 car pile up on interstate 14, Hilary Clinton heads to Memphis to speak at the Southern Women's Health conference, Government sources warn..."

Having confirmed the time Mulder turned off the radio.

Scully had the certain impression that Mulder was nearby and getting closer.

Recognising the feeling, she looked casually at Blaine, who was sitting quietly on the couch, one muscled forearm resting easily on his thighs. He was not looking at her, but she was starting to believe in telepathy.

Normally she'd've been trying to explain this away. Of course, she thought, (or she would normally have thought, she thought) she was bound to think Mulder was close by. She wanted so badly for him to see Deep Throat.

"I guess we can go, then, " said Blaine. The certainty in Scully's mind died away, but was still there, either because she remembered it or because Blaine couldn't do two things at full strength. There were limits, then, to his powers.

"You've always been free to go, Mr Paxton."

"How come he hasn't put his gun down?"

Jedburgh obligingly rested his rifle butt first on the floor.

"So, now we just go?" asked Scully. "Even though we've seen you?"

"What good will that do?" asked Blaine. "These gents can sure hide theirselves."

"But - " Scully had desperately to think of something to keep Deep Throat there. What was that going to be?

County Sheriff's Office

Braidwood didn't like it. He didn't like it at all. No one had seen the FBI agents since Agent Mulder had returned from his late snack attack the night before. When the Sheriff had gone to check on them he'd found the <damned fool> deputy he'd assigned to watch the hotel asleep and the agents' rented Camaro gone. Regular patrols and calls to the FBI field office in Memphis had so far produced no trace of them and Braidwood was worried. Somehow he didn't think these two had been scared off like the Doctor thought - their luggage was still at the Royale and neither had struck him as a quitter.

Tom Braidwood wasn't dumb. He knew the abductions and experiments were legally and morally wrong, but when Mullin had approached for help all those years ago he'd agreed. He had know the Doc since his family had moved there when he was 6 and had always trusted the man. He had also just returned from his second tour of duty in 'Nam and was feeling angry enough at the world to do anything. Mullin's talk of making America a stronger country and besting the commies got to him and he went along readily. That ideal had long since passed but he still was working with them. Lately, however he had began to experience doubts - the disappearances <and the deaths> had been increasing. He was beginning to suspect that the Doctor was keeping something from him; and then there was that texan colonel and the gray haired man - the one with no name. Why had they turned up so suddenly? Usually it had been left to him to deter anyone who'd started sniffing around.

There was a tap on the door and Gus Mullin entered, "Found them yet?"

Braidwood shook his head, "No. I tried calling you - where ya been all morning?"

"At Sandy Paxton's - she needed a shoulder to grieve on. ......Tommy Boy, we might have a problem - Blaine Paxton hasn't been seen since yesterday morning."

"Shit!," said Tom. If somehow Paxton had met up with the FBI people they were in bigger trouble than they had earlier thought. He sat thinking for a moment then stood up and grabbed his hat as he headed for the door.

"Where you going ?" asked Mullin.

"To find Paxton before Agent Mulder does."

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

End of Part 4

From salian@eisa.net.au Tue Dec 31 22:35:43 1996

A CASE WORTH INVESTIGATING:

By Sally-Ann Maslen & DJ Rout

Part 5 of 7.

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

Braidwood shot out of town on the old post road, leaving noise and startled woodchucks behind him. He knew, or thought he knew, all of Blaine Paxton's haunts. There was a truck stop and diner fourteen miles out toward Parsonville where Blaine sometimes sat and chatted up Susie, the waitress.

Then there was the Hatfield chicken ranch, where one of Blaine's friends lived. Then the 'coon lodge up on Chickapeck Ridge.

The main thing was that Braidwood knew these places and Mulder didn't. So the Sheriff would be able to find Paxton before Mulder did.

Had Mulder known the Sheriff was racing out of Mullerville in almost exactly the wrong direction, he might've been a bit calmer about his own driving.

As it was, he drove a fine line between moving violation and Evel Knievel.

The noise of Blaine's truck obscured the faint roar of chopper blades, so Mulder didn't look up from the road to see a black chopper cruise over at treetop height. Mulder counted off four miles by the odometer and slowed down to hunt out a track back into the woods. He found one off to his left, checked the road for any traffic, and lurched up the embanked roadside about half a mile from the Parmentier farm.

He removed the keys and returned them to their place under the seat. As he did he felt the keys bump against something. He withdrew an small white envelope. It was marked 'FBI'. Inside was a single sheet of paper with a few lines of writing,

'Dear Sir,

There is a backpack on the backseat.
I think you may find it useful.

Yours

Sincerely Blaine Paxton'

Mulder experienced a sudden shiver. Cryptic directions over the phone was one thing - but this was.....spooky....<no, frightening>. He found the backpack and opened it. A pair of binoculars, a length of rope, a small first aid kit and a few other items filled it - some surprising. Buried at the bottom was a piece of paper. Mulder opened it, expecting another note.

It was instead a docket from the County General Store for the purchase of the rope and the first aid kit. It was dated 3 days ago. Fox Mulder decided he didn't have time to deal with the questions it raised. He slipped the pack over his shoulder and headed for the farmhouse.

Jedburgh answered a beep from a small radio clipped to his belt.

"Go ahead."

Scully and Blaine froze, waiting for Jedburgh to finish his conversation.

Deep Throat waited patiently. not looking at anyone really, but keeping his attention focussed on Scully, Blaine and Jedburgh.

Jedburgh said: "Approaching?"

Jedburgh said: "Leaving?"

Jedburgh said: "Proximity?"

Jedburgh said: "Sir? Blue pickup approaching. Proximity one half-mile. 4WD approaching. Proximity two and one half-miles."

Deep Throat turned to Scully. "I'm very proud of Agent Mulder. A very resourceful young man. I think you show a great deal of promise, too. Pickup, Colonel."

Jedburgh said "Pickup," into his radio and picked up his gun.

"Wait!" said Scully.

Deep Throat turned back, looking his own question.

"I thought you wanted to keep your presence at secret."

"I do Miss Scully. That is why the Colonel and I are leaving before Mr Mulder returns."

"What's to stop me telling Mulder about you?"

"Nothing what so ever Agent Scully. Since we will be taking Mr Paxton with us, it is really only your word." Deepthroat nodded briefly to Jedburgh.

Before Blaine or Scully could react the texan had the young man firmly in his grip.

Collecting the notebooks and box from the floor Deepthroat, "In the end it doesn't matter what you tell Mr Mulder. By time he begins searching for us we will have disappeared."

"Since you're already *dead* no-one will be able to prove you were here."

"Very good Agent Scully." Deepthroat was pleased.

Scully ignored his smile, "What about Blaine? How are you going to explain his disappearance? Another abduction? Or maybe a conveniently arranged death - like your own?"

"Rest assured Miss Scully. No harm will come to the boy."

Scully studied the man, "As long as he does what you want." She was still trying to stall him, willing Mulder to arrive before the two 'Sons of Texas' left. She looked up at Blaine. His face wore the blank expression she had come to associate with his 'talents'. She hoped he was urging Mulder to move faster.

Sheriff Braidwood brought his car to a shuddering, smoky halt on the Dalgleish Road about four miles from the Hatfield's ranch. He thumped the dashboard in frustration: "Now, what the hell am I doin'?" he asked the car. It had suddenly occurred to him the Blaine Paxton absolutely had to be at the Parmentier farm.

"Where the hell else?" he asked, spinning the car into a frantic U-turn.

The siren wailed to life, then yelped its urgency along the almost deserted blacktop. He flicked the radio on. "Randy? You mobile?"

"Yeah, Chief."

"Get your ass out to the Parmentier farm."

"You crazy, Chief? You know that place is - Well, anyways, I'm about a half hour from there."

"Damnation! We gotta get more'n three deputies in this town. Do the best you can."

"I'm on my way."

Braidwood span right, up a steep incline to a little used firetrail that cut a switchbacked, wavy line from the Dalgleish Road to Little Elk Lane.

The County fire department kept it free of debris (he hoped) and the car's high wheelbase ought to get him over the lumpier parts pretty well.

Besides, he smiled, he needed the exercise.

Mulder was beginning to think he didn't need the exercise. As fit as he liked to be, he found that backpacking through bourbon country was losing its appeal. What drove him on was the desire to save a man of Blaine Paxton's undeniable talents. He was less than half a mile from the Parmentier house, assuming his sense of direction was worth anything at all, because he still couldn't see it, and the unkempt bush was fighting him every step of the way.

Braidwood nearly killed someone as he shot across Little Elk Lane, cutting a more or less straight line along firetrails to the North of Mullerville. Two more trails, a left turn and he would be bearing down on the Parmentier farm from the North. If Agent Mulder found Blaine Paxton, Braidwood could see a future of himself languishing behind bars at the Federal Prison in Meadowlark, Luoisiana. An ex-Sheriff in prison. . .

Mulder found a rain-etched gully free of tangled underbrush and trotted down it, risking a broken ankle- hoping that wasn't a siren he could hear faintly.

Braidwood swerved slightly as a small critter of indeterminate description skittered across his path. He reached and turned off the siren. In the silence he cursed both the animal and himself. It should have occurred to him to get Blaine out of the way. The removal of the monitoring discs would make it make even more difficult to keep tabs on the boy. The Project's greatest success was also it's biggest threat. The only thing that gave Braidwood satisfaction was that he had warned Doc Mullin against choosing the younger Paxton twin. The doc thought the quieter Blaine would be easier to control, but he hadn't counted on the boy's will. Even with the inhibitor Blaine Paxton seemed anticipate the Sheriff's actions. He knew Blaine had been talking to the townsfolk and spooking around the Parmentier place, but he could never catch him at it.

Lost in his thoughts he didn't see the figure emerge from the stand of trees edging the fire trail. A thud and his peripheral vision caught a glimpse of something dark crashing back into the trees. He braked and looked back - there was nothing to see. He contemplated getting out and going to look, but the need to find Paxton was greater. Without a backward glanced he gunned the engine and sped on.

Mulder pushed himself up from tangled tree roots and gingerly felt his limbs <still all there>. Not for the first time he considered a career change, something easier on the body <maybe there's an opening for a punching bag at Gino's Sauna & Gym>. The temptation to just lie back and heal was overwhelming but he had recognised the vehicle that hit him. He knew Braidwood would get to the farm first but he had to get there quick.

There was an ominous feeling in the air. Had Scully not already been tense she would've recognised it as a reflex of the inner ear - her body's reaction to a sudden change in air pressure. In the next second, a storm of dust blew up from the front yard, and an impressively quiet helicopter settled to the ground, rotors whipping around with a barely audible 'wht wht wht wht.'. The 'copter was as black as a spider, with darkened windows and no markings.

A side door slid open without anyone working it.

"Mr Paxton?" asked Deep Throat.

"Yes, sir?" said Paxton, not to a commanding officer, but out of Southern hospitality. Jedburgh altered his position slightly, looking as if he'd take no nonsense from Blaine, or especially Scully.

"All clear, " said Jedburgh into his radio. He listened for a moment.

"Vehicle moving this way, sir."

"Thank you, Colonel."

"I guess I'd better be movin' on, Miss Scully."

"Blaine, no! Wait! How can you trust these people?"

"Well, " he smiled, "it don't look as I've got much choice."

Scully hated feeling so helpless. Could she draw and shoot before Jedburgh got her? Annie Oakley she wasn't.

Through the window she see an armed solider exit the helicopter and stand waiting beside it. Still gripping Blaine by the arm Jedburgh gestured to Scully to open the front door. She exited, Deepthroat following, with Blaine and Jedburgh bringing up the rear.

The brightness of the day was blinding after the shadowy confines of the house. Scully stopped suddenly, causing Deepthroat to pull up short behind her. It was all the distraction Blaine needed.

Tipping forward slightly he made as if to fall. Jedburgh relaxed his grip a fraction, and leaned to grab him. It was enough. With all his might Blaine shoved his shoulder back - catching the now off balance Texan unawares and sending him backwards into the door frame. Scully and Deepthroat turned sharply at the sound. Blaine was already bounding over the porch railing.

The guard at the copter raised his rifle - once, twice, three times he fired.

'RUN Dana' screamed Blaine. The words came not from the throat but from the mind. Taking advantage of the confusion Scully leapt from the porch and raced across the yard.

Braidwood heard the gunfire and floored the accelerator. As he came from behind the house he saw two people running.

Braidwood's eyes flicked from the soldier running after the diminutive FBI agent, and the agent herself, scooting towards the insufficient cover of the ash trees gathered around the farm. The first he knew of Blaine Paxton was the solid thump he'd always dreaded hearing, then the shadow of Blaine's body rolling across the hood to smash the windshield. In less than an eyeblink Blaine had disappeared in front of the car, which came to a scraping stop.

"The body, the body, " he whispered as he half-fell out of the vehicle. In one telescoped moment that seemed to drag on for a month, he felt every twitch of his muscles as he brought his gun up and stepped out from behind the driver's door. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Blaine's head in front of the wheel, his shoulder pinned under the tyre, but his attention was focussed on the soldier, Jedburgh, as his .357 came up level. The air was filled with a roar, for Tom Braidwood had never killed a man like this.

Jedburgh was turning to the copter when he heard the car come scraping up from behind the house. He kept going. His commander was already in the chopper. He seemed to feel rather than hear the thud-thud-thud of a heavy calibre weapon being used, but he felt nothing and kept on climbing into the machine.

>From Scully's point of view, running towards the trees like a frightened rabbit, the action happened at lightning speed, until Braidwood, leaping from his vehicle, seemed to genuflect to the rising helicopter, then a three jets of red mist shot out behind him and he knelt, staring fixedly at where the chopper had been before he crashed to the ground like a toppled mannequin. Scully thought she could hear his skull crack, but that was impossible. She ran back to Blaine.

Blaine half under the front wheel of Braidwood's vehicle, pinned by his right shoulder. He was feebly trying to push the wheel off himself, but it looked like he was gently, timidly, stroking the tyre.

"Blaine!" said Scully, kneeling beside him. With a doctor's reflexes, she reached for her cellular phone, and, not finding it, tried frantically to remember when she'd last seen it.

Blaine smiled crookedly: "Didn't, " he gasped. "See. . .that one coming."

"Dammit, Blaine, wait for me!" Scully yelled. "Where's a damn phone!"

"Here you are, Scully."

"Mulder?"

"I just keep getting here a little late, don't I?"

"Oh, " sobbed Scully. "Oh, dear. Mulder, you're right." She broke off into sobs again. Mulder gently prised her fingers off his phone, then quickly dialled.

"This is Special Agent Fox Mulder. I'd like police and emergency services to the Parmentier farm. We have two men down. My number here is - "

He was the only one at the farm who heard.

His call to the emergency services complete, Mulder knelt beside Scully, "Scully? How is he?"

Dana didn't answer - too intend on easing Blaine's pain. The ragged breathing indicated internal injuries. Without equipment or drugs she could do little more than hold his hand and hope the paramedics arrived in time. Fortunately that seemed enough to comfort the young man.

Leaving Paxton to Scully's ministrations Mulder checked on the sheriff. It was a waste of time. Scully looked up as he returned. He shook his head, Thomas Jackson Braidwood was dead.

"Scully" Mulder tried again, "What happened? That helicopter - That was here earlier wasn't it?.......the one they loaded the discs onto."

Scully still didn't answer. She had no idea what to tell him. She didn't want to lie to him - earning Mulder's trust had taken time and she didn't want to lose it, but how could she tell him about Deepthroat?

A siren wailed closer.

"You know how much I used to want one of these things?" Langley said, drumming his fingers on the dashboard of the Corvette as Frohike made it purr along the potholed highway at just over forty miles an hour. "Now that we're driving one, you muzzle it. This is a performance vehicle!"

"I know it, " said Frohike, "so if you'd like to take over the driving. . . ?"

"We're cruising through Speed Trap, USA, " said Byers, predicably taking a back seat. "I guess you've considered how to explain to a cop that we rented this vehicle on a bogus Diners Club card and a forged Belgian international drivers permit?"

"I hadn't."

"Then let Monsieur Belloc de Lourdes keep hold of the wheel, " said Frohike, swerving the high-powered Chev around a crack in the asphalt.

The other of Mullerville's two police cars came to a growling stop near the ex-Sheriff's car. Randy summed up the situation with hick's speed - two men down, two men standing. The two standing ones were the culprits. "Freeze!" said Randy, and "FBI!" said Mulder simultaneously. There was a brief pause while gun faced gun and badge faced badge. They might have remained that way if Blaine hadn't moaned.

"This man needs help!" said Scully.

Randy ran over to the prostrate Paxton. "Who did this?"

"Him, " said Scully, pointing to the gutshot Sheriff.

"Goddamn," said Randy. He walked over to the Sheriff's body. "Who did this?"

"An unidentified agent flying a black chopper, " said Scully. "I can't say anything more than that. This man needs help! We've got to get him to a trauma centre."

"Nobody touch nothin'" Randy said. Another siren could be heard by all four of those that could hear.

"Scully, " said Mulder. "Why would the men in the helicopter shoot Braidwood?"

"I don't know, Mulder. I'd better ride in with Blaine when the ambulance gets here."

"Sure, fine. Whatever."

"Nobody's leavin' here but him, " said Randy.

"Oh, for God's sake! I'm a doctor."

The only person Randy could get advice from wasn't saying much.

25 minutes later.....

Mulder stood on the far edge of the driveway watching the coroner's van go past. The arrival of the ambulance & the state police had forestalled any further discussion with Scully about what happened. While Scully & the paramedics worked at stabilising Blaine's condition he tried to answer their questions. He suspected it was only his federal badge that prevented the state troopers from taking him in. As it was, they kept a careful eye on him as they assessed the crime scene.

He was staring at the dirt at his feet and trying to piece together the facts he knew when he heard the quite purr of an engine and looked up in surprise as the sleek sportscar braked quietly beside him. The familiar faces of the Lone Gunmen looked out at him.

"That was quick, I didn't expect to see you guys for hours yet - what did you do? Hijack a Lear jet?"

Frohike gave an evil grin, "Close enough."

Langley got out and leaned on the edge of the roof, "We hitched a ride with Hilary."

'Hilary??'

'Clinton.'

Mulder vaguely remembered hearing something on the radio about the First Lady attending a conference in Memphis. He had the sudden feeling he really didn't want to know.......but he asked anyway.

'How did you manage that?'

'You know Hilary always drags the press along to when she's speeching to the masses.' answered Frohike.

'Are you trying to tell me that the Secret Service considers 'The Lone Gunmen' legitimate press? and allowed you on the same plane as the President's wife?'

'Of course not,' said Byers. 'We were representing other interests.' He reached into his pocket and produced a card

Langley grinned across the top of the car at Mulder, 'Byers even got an exclusive interview.'

'Yeah, CNN want to cut a deal for the footage.' added Frohike.

Mulder bent down and looked into the car, noticing for the first time, the professional looking news camera on the seat beside Byers. He was right - he didn't want to know; and decided not to ask how they got the Corvette.

'How did you find me?'

'It's very easy to trace a call when you know how, Mulder.'

'That doesn't explain how you found me *here*.'

'Oh, we sewed homing devices the size of pin heads in all of your .......'

Frohike started evilly when Byers, ever the sensible one, spoke up, 'We asked in town......'

'Yeah! there were these two old ladies and they looked exactly alike but one was black.' Langley was still amazed by the sight of the Bonaye Sisters.

'They suggested you might be here,' continued Byers.

'And when we saw all the police activity we knew you would be,' Frohike peered through the windscreen, 'Hey, where's your little partner?'

'On her way to hospital. No! she's not the patient.' Mulder said quickly, seeing the look on Frohike's face.

'So, Mulder. Where is it? What have you got for us?' asked Byers, getting down to the purpose of their visit.

Mulder directed them to where he had hidden the Camaro, '.....remove the hub cap from the rear passenger side wheel and you'll find a black glasslike disc approx 6 inches round wrapped in cloth.'

'Clever! Do you know what it is?'

'I was hoping you could tell me, I think it might be.....' Mulder glanced over his shoulder and saw one of the state troopers heading their way.

'Look just see what you can find out - I'll talk to you tomorrow.'

With a nod Langley got back in the car and Frohike reversed quickly out of the yard.

As he waited for the trooper to reach him with the inevitable questions Mulder made himself two promises: To hell with the budget and Skinner - next time he was renting a 'Vette, and as soon as he got home he was going to check his entire wardrobe very carefully.

"So you say, " the trooper told Mulder for what, to Mulder, seemed like the millionth time.

"Agent Scully was here, " said Mulder exasperatedly. "Why don't you ask her?"

"We will," said the trooper coolly. "Now, what did you see when you got here?"

"It's not going to change since the last time I told you - five minutes ago."

"It might, " said the trooper, taking out a portable dictaphone. "You never can tell."

"You're probably right, " said Mulder, voice dripping with sarcasm. He wanted to be with Scully - looking after Blaine.

"Sam!" said the pretty female trooper standing in the clearing at the front of the recently abandoned farmhouse. "Have a look at this."

"Be right there, Cate.

" Come on, Agent Mulder." Mulder started after the trooper reluctantly, then trotted ahead as he realised there might be another of the disks under that dirt.

Cate pointed with her baton ('we club people with it'). "Chopper landed here." In the rut of compressed earth that had been made by a helicopter's wheel. A gleaming cartridge lay in it.

"We'll get a gun ID from that, " said Sam.

"That won't find the killer."

"That's the FBI's job, if it looks like he's crossed a state line. And he didn't just fly in from Chickamauga."

"You want a ride back to town, Agent Mulder?" asked Cate.

"Thanks."

"Hang around here, Sam."

"Yeah. Sure."

Mulder followed Cate back to the car. Fifteen minutes back to town. A lot could happen in a quarter hour. . .

Scully checked the IV drip, Blaine's breathing and her watch one more time.

When she had chosen pathology and the FBI for her career Dana Scully never expected to spend much time riding around in ambulances. But assignment to the X-Files had seen her spend more time in the back of a speeding medivan than she cared to count. One important thing she had learnt - no matter how fast the ambulance was going it never seemed fast enough. She glanced down at the young man on the cot. He still held her hand, his grip surprisingly strong.

It had taken 10 minutes to free Blaine from beneath the car and nearly as long to stabilise his condition. A proper examination had revealed Paxton's injuries to be more extensive than she first thought. The impact of Braidwood's car had left the young man with a broken collarbone and arm and deep gash to forehead, but of more concern was the darkening bruises on his chest and the laboured breathing that spoke of heavy internal injuries.

What disturbed her was how they mirrored those that killed his brother.

She cast another worried look at the driver <can't this thing go any faster>.

"Only a couple of more miles now, Mam.".

Scully turned to answer the pleasant faced paramedic when Blaine gave a soft moan. From the front seat came an answering whimper.

They'd all forgotten about the dog. Even when Blaine was hit and the gunfire started the old coon dog hadn't stirred from the porch. However as soon as the paramedics attempted to load Paxton onto the ambulance Zeke began to howl - low, mournful and fearfully. It was only when Mulder let him into the front cabin of the vehicle that the beast stopped its' lament.

The ambulance turned swiftly from the road and the County General Hospital was before them.

State Highway
Outskirts Mullerville.

State Trooper Cate Baker kept her eyes on the road but her mind on the man beside her. He hadn't spoken since they left the farm.

< I wonder how long he's in town? where was he staying? .......>

"Do you know where Dr Mullin lives?" Mulder said suddenly.

"About a mile from the hospital - do you want me to take you there?" At Mulder's nod she turned the car in that direction.

Mullin's house was so small town America it screamed Norman Rockwell. White picket fence, bottle green shutters and an old handpainted shingle hanging from the porch. The picture postcard home of the lovable town doctor - it was, as they soon discovered, very empty.

Someone - assumingly the doctor - had swept through the place like a hurricane. In every room closets and cupboards hung open, drawers were overturned and mementos tipped on the floor. Gus Mullin had clearly been in a hurry to leave. Mulder bent down and began shifting through the scattered papers on the living room floor.

"Anything I can do for you Agent Mulder?" Baker asked and Mulder looked up.

One part of Mulder's mind - the part that was most basically male registered the appearance of the attractive young trooper leaning above him. Tall, dark eyed, long dark hair - if he had a 'type' this was it. For a moment Mulder's thoughts were *very* unprofessional. He closed his eyes and pushed his libidinous notions away - he had work to do.

"What are you looking for?" asked the trooper, very much aware of his stare.

"Papers....records.....anything that could be connected to a participation in the rash of unexplained disappearances in the area." Mulder looked back down at the pile of bills in his hand, missing her startled expression.

Unlike her partner back at the farm, Baker had trusted the handsome FBI agent....but Doc Mullin had delivered her - to think he had anything to do with this.........she wondered whether she should tell him of her own lost hours a mere 6 weeks ago. Dismissing the thought she knelt down to help him.

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

End of Part 5

From salian@eisa.net.au Tue Dec 31 22:35:34 1996

A CASE WORTH INVESTIGATING:

By Sally-Ann Maslen & DJ Rout

Part 6 of 7.

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

Mullerville was too small to have a hospital that could treat Blaine's injuries, but the ambulance men assured Blaine, and an increasingly desperate Scully, that it was possible to stabilise him long enough for the air ambulance to fly him to Chattanooga.

"Chopper's on its way, Miss Scully, " the ambulance man told Scully for the fiftieth time, as she pushed past him to look at the instruments. Her professional detachment was under strain, and she grabbed Blaine's hand more to comfort herself than him. For a man in pain, he seemed so sedate.

Granted, he was loaded up on painkillers.

"You'll be all right, Blaine."

"Mm hmm."

"He will."

"He'd better." Frustration breeds anger, she told herself. Stop it! You're not the one in pain.

The Casualty section at Mullerville hospital was staffed with nurses and interns - the only doctor in town was Doc Mullin, and he could be called on twenty-four hours a day - he lived only a mile from work, after all. If people came in after hours, they could usually wait until the next day.

Shane Paxton had been the only casualty they'd had in a while - and he'd been DOA.

Now the ambulance screamed up to the doors carrying nobody less than Blaine Paxton and the FBI agent!

"Somebody call 'Doc Mullin!"

"There's no answer."

"Call the Sheriff!"

"There's no answer there!"

The two men lifted Blaine's gurney out of the ambulance and rolled it quickly to the triage nurse. Scully was right behind them.

 "Get out of my way! " Scully yelled as the triage nurse came forward. "I'm a Federal agent and a medical doctor! I want ECG and defibrillation equipment on standby now! Prep this patient for immediate surgery, find me somewhere to scrub, 30ccs of atropine, a demerol injection, who the HELL is in charge here?!"

Scully looked around, imagining herself back in medical school, and spotted the charge nurse by her vicious demeanour and subordinating stare. "Who the Hell are you?" the nurse asked.

"Doctor Dana Scully, Federal Bureau of Investigation, " Scully replied, suddenly aware of the incongruity. "This man is a witness to an abduction, and he's been injured in a car accident. I want some action, or do I have to start shooting?!"

Teetering on the edge of hysteria, Scully looked around at a jury of shocked faces. Where was her training when he needed it?

"Raelene?" said a quite male voice quietly from the gurney.

"Blaine?"

"You don't wanna see this lady start shootin', do ya?" The charge nurse stared at Dana, who brushed her hair back behind her ear. It was a look that excluded every male in the room - except Blaine.

Magically, the gurney was whisked away to the operating room. Scully followed Raelene the nurse to where she could scrub. "What's happened to Doc Mullin?" asked Raelene.

"I don't know."

"But he's always been here! Why would he not be here?"

"I can't tell you. Do you have a gown?"

Scully donned the gown and cap, and began scrubbing.

"What anaesthetic are you using?" Scully asked.

"Halothane."

"Any allergic reactions?" The anaesthetist just looked at her. "I'm sorry, of course you'd know what his allergies were. Stats?"

"BP 90 over 70, pulse 63, HR 98% nominal."

"Watch that BP! We may have internal bleeding. How many units of whole blood do we have?"

"Eighteen on hand. Donors standing by."

"Really?"

"He had a big family."

"Has! He HAS a big family."

"That's what I meant."

"BP 90 over 60!"

"Saline! Where the hell's that whole blood? Didn't you do any X-rays?"

"On the plate."

Scully looked at the X-ray. Where she should've seen a clear spine shadow and the soft outlines of internal organs there was only a dark smudge. Fluid.  

Doc Mullin's house:

The search was swift but so far failed to produce the evidence Agent Mulder seeked. But there were other secrets. The bills and papers left Mullin left scattered in his wake revealed a man with a lifestyle far removed from that of small town doctor. Few in Mullerville would be un-surprised at the knowledge that his annual visit to 'Cousin Edna' in Oregon was more likely spent in the theatres and restaurants of London or at the gambling tables of Monte Carlo.

The plain wood panels of the closets and cupboards hid other surprises.

For a man of his age and generation Gus Mullin had a fascination for gadgetry. Fax machine, scanner.....Mulder unplugged the computer CPU - he would take it back to the DC lab for examination. The big screen TV and video set-up that dominated one wall of an upstairs bedroom would have the regulars at MacHenry's Bar and Grill drooling. Mulder noted the impressive collection of video tapes housed beside the TV. The doctors' taste ran to football play-offs and war movies, though Mulder recognised the titles of a few tapes that graced his own collection.

"Scalpel."

Scully prepared to make a vertical incision below Blaine's left floating rib, just a small one to get some suction on the fluid. As blood welled from the wound, a bright white light flooded Scully's vision.

"It ain't so bad, " a calm voice said.

"You can take things easy here, Starbuck."

"The future's so bright, " Blaine seemed to whisper. "Now I know everything 's gonna happen."

"Tell your mother I miss her."

"Don't blame yourself, Ms Scully, " said Blaine. "And you look after your sister now. . .Dana." The light dissolved to a blurry image of tiles or something.

" - line!"

"What?" asked Scully, squinting through - tears?

"Flatline!"

"Thoracic injection!" Scully shouted. "Twenty-five cc's adrenaline. Clear for electro-cardial stimulation."

 "Clear!" There was the thud of the capacitors discharging. "We're exacerbating the internal bleeding!"

"Flatline!"

"Go to 150!" yelled Scully.

The charger whined up to full charge. "Clear!" Thud! Blaine jerked like fish. Whine. . .

"200! Where the hell is that chopper!"

"Clear!" Thud!

"You're burning him!"

Whine. . .

"Live, Blaine, live! Dammit! Damn you, Paxton, get off your ass and - "

"Flatline!"

"Shut UP!"

Scully could hear a dull thud behind her. She knew that sound - a helicopter coming into land, too late, too late.

"Doctor?"

"Never mind, " Scully croaked. "I want - retain all instruments for examination, please, Time of - time of - "

But what was the use?

"Time of death, " the anaesthetist said. "Doctor Scully? I'll need you to witness - "

"I'll sign, I'll sign! Just. . .give me a minute."

One minute became ten. Some men from the helicopter came and wheeled Blaine away. Scully didn't notice.

The search had moved to the kitchen. At first glance it looked like nothing had changed since it was remodeled in the late sixties, but it came as no surprise to find every electrical appliance designated 'kitchen' tucked away in the cupboards. While Mulder went through the drawers Cate studied the old pot bellied stove that stood in one corner. She remembered that stove - it had stood in Wilson's Feed & General Store until the building was torn down in '81. As a small child she often warmed her hands before it while her daddy and old Jeb Wilson haggled over cornfeed. Doc Mullin would wander in and while her daddy wasn't looking, sneak her pieces of candy cane from the jar Jeb kept on the counter. Cate shook her head in disbelief. She was having difficulty reconciling her memories of the kindly doctor with the man she was discovering today. Focusing instead on the memories it evoked of her late father she reached out and touched the dark metal surface.

"Oh!!"

Mulder swung around, "What's wrong?"

"It's warm!"

Mulder moved her aside and touched the stove. She was right. Opening the front grill he could see the burnt remains of paper, a few embers glowing softly along the edges. Mulder's pulse quickened <maybe!> .

He was reaching into the belly of the stove when Cate's hand stopped him.

"Here, use these" She handed him a pair of kitchen tongs.

With a nod of thanks he took the tongs and gently shifted the ashes. Most fell apart at his touch but within seconds he withdrew what once might have been a small spring bound notebook. Few pages remained that were not burnt beyond recognition. Through the scorch marks Mulder caught barely make out the words..

'...who could have known.....unexpected..................study Blaine.....'

"Is this what you were looking for?" asked Cate.

He gave her one his rare smiles, "It could be."

'Brrinng' 'Brrinng'

Mulder and Baker froze as the phone rang. The answering machine clicked on, "Doctor Mullin isn't here at the moment but ...."

Mulder picked up the kitchen extension. A voice began speaking "Doc? It's Raelene - where ya been? Ya gotta get down here..."

"Doctor Mullin is not here right now." interrupted Mulder.

"WHO is this?" demanded the voice.

"Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI. Who is this?"

"Raelene Carter - County Hospital." The voice sobered, "Where's Doc Mullin?"

< Good question > thought Mulder, "Is Agent Scully there?"

"Yes, I'll get her."

He could hear Raelene calling. At first there was no answer then faintly he heard Scully respond in the distance.

"Dr Scully" said Raelene "It's an Agent Mulder "

"Mulder.?..oh yeah, I coming" Scully's voice sounded far away. A moment later she picked up the phone.

"Mulder"

"Scully - how's Blaine?" But even as he asked he knew the answer. He could hear the pain in her breathing.

".....he's dead. The internal trauma was too....." Scully broke off.

"Scully" he said softly "Don't...."

"I couldn't save him, Mulder......I tried....but...."

Mulder could picture her standing there - breathing deeply, steadying herself, fighting the tears.

"I'll be there in a couple of minutes."

"Thank you, Mulder."

Mulder got to his feet, carefully bagging what was left of the contents of the stove in a plastic bag for examination later. He headed to the door, only to find Cate following him. She watched him running over to the ute [assumption here] and followed more sedately. He frantically searched for the keys, checking the ignition and under the sun visor, then looked up annoyed as Cate stood there dangling them over one long nailed finger. She slid in behind the steering wheel and Mulder winced, gripping the JC bar tightly as she swung the ute around and took off down the dirt road faster than Mulder would have done, a cloud of gravel, dirt and small pebbles in their wake.

Less than three minutes later Mulder strode into the hospital.

Scully still stood by the reception desk . Mulder called to her softly, "Scully."

Dana took a deep breath to compose herself and turned to him, "That was quick Mulder. What did you do? Break the land speed record?"

"You OK Scully?"

"I'm fine Mulder." Her three favourite words. Mulder studied his partner - her voice was calm & even, but her eyes held a shimmer of unshed tears.

Without saying a word Fox drew her into his arms and gently held her. At first Scully resisted, but then she relaxed in his embrace - accepting the comfort and strength he offered.

After a moment she pushed herself away from him murmuring her thanks.

Retaining a grip on her arm Mulder walked her over to a nearby bench and sat her down . Before Mulder could ask her about Blaine she changed the subject, "Where were you?"

"Doc Mullin place - he's skipped town."

"That doesn't surprise me - he must have moved fast once Braidwood was dead; though how he found out so soon has me curious."

"Yeah, well at a guess I'd say Cyclone Gus was whipping through his house before Braidwood even showed up at the farm. From the paper trail we found he just bundled anything incriminating together and took off."

< We? > thought Scully and looked past Mulder. Raelene and a tall brunette in a state patrol uniform were standing by the desk, both failing miserably in their attempts to appear nonchalant.

"....... get the lab boys to look at it, though I think I have a fair idea what it's about....."

Something in Mulder's words & tone made her look back to him. He handed her the plastic bag covered notebook. Taking it carefully from the bag she flipped through the burnt pages, reading what remained. Placing the notebook back into the bag she looked up, "Mulder - what are you suggesting?"

Mulder sat down beside her, "That Blaine's psychic abilities were not the result of any experiment. He had the talent all along. Maybe the experiments enhanced it, maybe not - but combined with his other enhancements it must have made him valuable."

Scully thought back to scene at the farm and the determination of DeepThroat and his co-hort to take Paxton with them .

When she didn't say anything Mulder asked, "Scully, what happened with Blaine - at the farm, here?"

Scully looked at him - the memory of Blaine's words as he lay on the operating table in her mind.

"Mulder, can we discuss this later - I'd like to get the autopsy done as soon as possible."

"May I ask, " said Dr Ramage, tugging at his left sleeve unconsciously, "what the FBI's interest is in this man?"

Mulder had heard that so many times he had a mental list of pat answers:

"He was a material witness in an ongoing investigations into missing persons reports from this area."

"Missing persons is hardly a Federal crime."

"It is if one of the missing persons surfaces interstate."

"Is that all I'm going to get out of you?"

Mulder smiled winningly. Ramage creased a brow that extended back to the crown of his head. He turned to the death certificate.

"I'm certifying that Mr Paxton died of ventricular tachycardia, consequent of hypotension induced by a partially transcepted aorta. Any reason for the transception I should note down here?"

"Vehicular impact, " Scully whispered.

"That seems consistent, " he mumbled. "Didn't get much work out here. Bob and Louise Clemenger had a breach birth back in '84, but apart from that Gus Mullin did it all. Often wondered why a man that skilled didn't specialise. Would've been worth a fortune."

"I guess his practice will be up for sale, " said Mulder.

"Yep, guess os. Be an awful lot of goodwill in that practice. An awful lot."

Mulder tried to look as businesslike as possible, balancing concern for Blaine (and Scully) with impatience to get Dr Ramage out of the way so the real autopsy could take place.

Scully racked the last of the phials into a carry case. There would be no chance of moving Blaine's body to Washington. Sandy Paxton had adamantly refused to release it, much against Mulder's protestations. Still, before Blaine's body was handed over to the funeral directors, Scully could take enough samples for a toxicological study.

"But these results can't be used, Mulder!" she'd said.

"Indulge me, Scully. Aren't you the least bit curious about Blaine?"

"A little, " Scully had lied.

So now she was tucking the last of an alveoli swab into a sterile cassette and packing these away. They were going to be hand luggage on the plane.

She covered Blaine with a sheet, stripped her gloves and gown and threw them both into the trash.

"I'm ready, Mulder."

Mulder turned from Cate Baker, who had come ostensibly to get Scully's statement on Blaine's death. Cate shot Scully a fiery look over Mulder's shoulder. This time Scully ignored it. Some kind of exhaustion had settled on Scully like soot, covering her and gradually weighing her down.

"Fine."

"Will you be here for the inquest?" Cate asked Scully.

"I'll be here."

Walking back to the Royal, Mulder looked around at the town. It hadn't changed really - well, short one Sheriff, two kids and a doctor - but the way he looked at it had changed.

Scully wanted to get back into Washington and back into a suit.

A tape recorder clicked silently into action.

"Lone Gunman." Langley listened briefly. "Fine, thank you. Goodbye."

"What was that about?" asked Mulder.

"We never give our right address when we get pizza delivered, " said Frohike, lying on a couch with his hands clasped over his stomach.

"Just the delivery boy checking back, " said Langley.

"We think, " said Byers.

"And that's about as far as I'm gonna get?" asked Mulder. "Never mind.You said you had something on the black disk."

"Yes and no," said Byers.

"Or maybe, " said Frohike.

"At first we thought we were testing for a high-density polymer, but we ruled that out pretty quickly," Langley began. "It didn't respond to any tests we were able to put it through. It was physically inert."

"Solidified electricity, " said Frohike.

"'Earth vs The Flying Saucers,'" said Mulder sceptically.

"Electricity's only a quantum state of energy, which amounts to a form of matter anyway, " said Byers. "But that wasn't it."

"We took it to the Scanning Electron Microscope Facility at University of Maryland."

"Langley knows somebody, " said Frohike.

"Who knows somebody, " said Byers.

"So we found out that the disks are a hexo-tektoid array. Small components connected three dimensionally - maybe a billion of them in this disk, and it looks like they're made of a lanthanum carbon compound."

"So?"

"Connected like neurons in a human brain."

"Or an alien brain, " said Mulder.

Byers laughed: "How much would you expect to pay?"

Langley said: "There's more."

 "We ran it through the SEM, and we discovered that it was almost impossible to get a clear image."

"Why?"

"Ah, " said Byers, "that's what we said. It turns out that this material is very highly conductive."

"Super-conductive, " said Frohike.

"Not quite, " said Langley, " but very close."

"Room temperature superconductor?" asked Mulder. "That's way beyond our current technology."

"It's the Holy Grail of speculative technology, " said Langley. "So, with that information, we tried a number of other tests."

""Thermal conductivity, " Frohike said. He seemed half asleep there.

"We used a high-powered laser from the same facility. We found no detectable change in thermal activity further than four millimetres from the contact point."

"The theory is that the object converts the energy - then stores it."

"Beyond our technology?" asked Mulder.

"Not if you're in Germany, " Byers laughed. He pulled out a convenient file. "Experimental high-temperature valve, potentially for use in a fusion-torch attack plane."

"Zero to orbital velocity in 18 seconds," said Frohike.

Mulder was looking at a picture of some kind of appliance. He didn't understand it.

"The problem is that that kind of acceleration leaves the payload a kind of smear on the inside of the plane."

"Not to mention that the current state of fusion technology makes the engine a clean, but nasty, bomb."

"So, we needed a guinea pig, " said Langley.

"I volunteered, " said Frohike, waving at a small dish with wires coming out of it.

The dish held the black disk, with electrodes taped to it that terminated in measuring devices. A multiple input oscilloscope showed wiggling lines that meant nothing to Mulder.

"We began with an unambiguous stimulus, " said Langley, holding up a white card with a black 'X' painted on it where Frohike could see it. The lines on the oscilloscope wiggled a bit.

"Believe it or not, that is the exact same pattern, to within 99.5% as that stimulus produces, " said Byers.

"Yeah, but what is it?"

"It's Frohike's brain, " said Langley.

"Which proves I have one."

"It measures his brainwaves?"

"It receives, them, codifies them, transmits them, " said Byers, pointing upward. "That was our best guess, so we tried a more ambiguous stimulus."

Langley held up a photograph of - Scully, in shorts and T-shirt, taken by telephoto lens judging by the large details in the background, jogging along the Academy's inner track at Quantico.

"Where'd you get that?" Mulder exclaimed.

Langley dropped the phot in front of Frohike. The lines on the oscilloscope virtually blurred.

"She gives me fever, " Frohike smiled.

Mulder's Office
9.11am
Thursday.

"...I haven't seen...ah, here he is. We'll be there." Scully hung up the telephone as Mulder entered, "That was Kim, Skinner wants to see us in 20 minutes. She says he doesn't sound happy."

Mulder removed his jacket, slinging it across the back of his chair, "And that surprises you?"

Scully shook her head smiling ever so faintly, "No, not really. You're late.....".

"I went to see the Boys." he grinned at her, "Frohike sends his love."

Scully dismissed the small Gunman with a sniff, and started organising papers on her desk,

"We better get the expense accounts written up before we see Skinner."

A.D. Skinner's Office
20 minutes later.

"Agent Scully, Agent Mulder." The Assistant Director gestured for them to enter the office. Subconsciously both sniffed the air. The familiar smell of Morley's tobacco was missing.

Skinner waited till they were seated before beginning, "I was under the impression Agent Mulder, that your presence in Mullerville was to investigate a rash of possible abductions. Within 24 hours of your arrival, the sheriff and two local residents are dead and a highly-respected local dignitary has disappeared. "

Neither Agent responded. Skinner continued, "Agent Scully"

Briefly and succinctly Scully filled the AD in on the events in Tennessee.

"And the second man with this Jedburgh - you have no idea who he was?"

"No Sir, he did not identify himself." answered Scully truthfully.

"Agent Mulder - do you have anything to add?"

"No Sir, not at this stage." answered Mulder.

Leaning back in his chair Skinner studied the maverick agent, "Not at this stage? Would you care to explain why I had a Tennessee State Police lieutenant on the phone yesterday complaining that my agents were being unco-operative?"

"In what way were we unco-operative? Sir." Mulder was careful to keep the amusement out of his voice.

It didn't work.

"Agent Mulder. This may amuse you but it does not amuse the Bureau."

Skinner read from the folder before him, "Endangering the public, unauthorised search of property, withholding evidence. ."

"Sir, the search of Doctor Mullin house was only unauthorised in the sense that it was not planned ....and I was accompanied by one of his own officers." replied Mulder.

"And withholding evidence...?"

Scully answered for him, "The lieutenant was not pleased that we preferred to have the doctor's notebook examined by our experts rather than the Tennessee authorities."

Skinner studied the X-Files team for a moment. Neither spoke or moved under his scrutiny.

"I want a full report by 9am tomorrow - and I mean a full report. Dismissed."

Stepping into the elevator Dana Scully turned to her partner, "The nerve of that Tennessee idiot!! Withholding evidence....I thought you were kidding when you said he was probably a part of it, but..."

"Scully," Mulder cut in, "There's something I have to tell you..."

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

End of Part 6

Part 7 of 7.

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

Mulder's Office
FBI Basement
a few minutes later......

"You did WHAT!?" Scully was dumbfounded.

"I gave the disk to the Lone Gunmen."

"Mulder, you really are crazy - you gave a valuable piece of evidence to those nuts!?"

"It's perfectly safe - a lot safer with them than us."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Come on, Scully, how many times have I.....have we.....found something like this only to have it vanish into a vault or something next to the Ark of the Covenant"

When Scully didn't say anything Mulder continued, "Look.... I wasn't trying to keep anything from you, but with everything going on at the farm it wasn't exactly the time or place; then the boys turned up to collect a lot quicker than I expected, and later, well......there were other things to deal with."

Scully thought about what she was keeping from him.

"So.... do the world's most paranoid have any ideas?"

Mulder smiled and quickly filled her in on the Gunmen's experiments.

"So you're...they're, saying the disk is some kind of recording device."

"On it's most basic level. Langley & the others have only tested for visual stimuli so far, but it's likely that the disks could monitor a whole range of sensory impressions and who knows what else."

"But how would the disks know who to monitor?" asked Scully.

"Remember the implant Blaine had - the one that was removed. I think it acted as a kind of connection wire between him & the disks."

"If that was the case, why remove it?"

"I think he overloaded the circuits." Mulder put his hand out to halt her response, "While you were performing the autopsy I read through Mullin's notebook - it's pretty badly burned but what I could make out seems to suggest that Blaine's psychic abilities were not only unexpected but too much for the disks "

Mulder settled back in his chair, pencil twirling between fingers - full theory mode as Scully privately called it.

"Think of it Scully, here we have a technology capable of collecting and reproducing every sensory response a person has. If what we saw with Blaine is correct, Mullin and his cronies were abducting these people and enhancing their sensory capabilities and then monitoring the results. We both saw and felt how strong Blaine's talents were.......what if.....when Blaine had those premonitions - like the coffee cup thing you told me about - he actually *saw* it, in his mind but clearly enough to register with the disks; at the same time it's registering what he sees with his eyes - conflicting imagery." Mulder glanced up. Scully was watching him, arms crossed, head to one side.

"Too much of a leap?" he asked with twisted grin

"About halfway across Grand Canyon - maybe. You can't prove this Mulder and it still doesn't explain what the purpose of the experiments was."

Mulder leaned forward.

"No. Wait." said Scully, "I think I'll need a coffee for this." She headed for the doorway.

Stopping by the open door, she looked back at him, "Just out of curiosity - you said the Lone Gunmen got there quicker that you expected - how did they get there?"

Mulder leaned further forward, smiling widely, "Oh, you're gonna love this Scully."

XFILE 0297942292
Special Agent Dana Scully
Reference Nashville Field Office 42292

 FBI Headquarters
Friday.
11.21pm

Mulder popped another sunflower seed in his mouth and picked up his pen,

'click'

Mulder looked up at the sound of the opening door.

"You still here Mr Mulder?"

Mulder smiled at the middle-aged woman, "Just finishing up Jeanie."

The cleaner shook her head, "Young fella like you - should be out enjoying yourself on a Friday night, not working." She closed the door behind her. Mulder returned to his writings.

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

What did you think? Did you spot a discrepancy you think I might not knowabout?

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