Author:Genevieve

title:What Now Wedding Plans

Rating: pg-pg13 (violence, language, sexual reference.)

disclaimer; FX and X-Files, and all their characters do not belong to me, and I am not trying to make any profit off of this story. I refuse to accept any kind of payment other than opinion feedback.

This is part 2, and most likely the final part of What Now. Please enjoy!

I must note that this story includes characters from, and a storyline nexus with X-Files, so some of the FX fans out there may not enjoy this very much (that is, if you don't like, or haven't seen X-Files.) But I hope you like it anyway. Please feel free to email me with comments at:'

SakuraKinomoto3@yahoo.com

Anyone who wants to archive this story should feel free to do so.

What Now? Wedding Plans

10:30 p.m. the night before Leo’s final case.

Outside the Midtown South Precinct

New York City.

Leo McCarthy walks toward his car, keys and case folder in hand. The darkness outside tonight is so total, that if Leo didn’t already know his way inside out –the result of doing this half a million times-, he would not have been able to find it. The only light for him to see by is a street lamp on the opposite side of the street from him. He is so distracted by this latest case building in his head that he doesn’t notice someone approaching him from behind. A hand comes out from behind him and presses a cloth over Leo’s mouth. The smell of chloroform fills Leo’s nose as he tries in vain to fight his attacker. He is unconscious before he manages to do anything…

Leo never fully awakened from that night forward, he never fully regained consciousness. If he had, he might have realized that he was being held captive in some sort of mansion in Reeves County Texas. That currently, he sat in a study of sorts, in a wheelchair with IVs in his arms. He also might have noticed that a year had now passed since his capture. Leo wouldn’t remember seeing his surroundings even though his eyes sat open, staring blankly; glazed over from the chemical pumping from an IV into his blood. So Leo sits, unaware of anything at all, in a nearly empty mansion, with no one watching him, as a storm of plots and lies, gathers around him.

***

Monday

7:00 a.m. (one year later)

F.B.I. Headquarters

Washington D.C.

Agent Fox Mulder got out of his car and headed inside for his office. He reaches his basement office, to find that his partner has beaten him there: never a good sign. She sits at Mulder’s desk, with a thick stack of folders in her lap. “This is never good you know,” Mulder said to Scully as he entered his office, filled with trepidation. Whenever he got to his office to find Scully already there, he always ended up regretting it for one reason or another -usually because of whatever case she was about to show him though. Knowing that he would regret it, Mulder asked, “What have you got there?” “The case-file for the murder of Agent Josh Smith: who specialized in corporate espionage.” Scully said without looking up, waiting for what she knew would come. Mulder came around the desk and stooped behind her to get a look at the file she had open on the top of her stack. <Why does he do that? Does he do it just to drive me crazy?> Scully wondered, not able to understand why she couldn’t concentrate when Mulder leaned over her like that. <And just HOW does he smell so amazing all the time?! I am not going to be able to concentrate on anything if he keeps this up for much longer.> Scully continued to marvel at Mulder’s affect on her as he read the file she was holding over her shoulder. Ever since the most recent re-opening of the X-files, Scully couldn’t help but notice just how wonderful Mulder was, though probably just in her eyes. He was so brave and strong, so intelligent, so intuitive, passionate, and absolutely charming! Not to mention sexy! As much as she didn’t want to be, Scully was in love with Mulder. Hopelessly, totally, completely, beyond the point of no return.

<How the hell does she manage to distract me from everything just by brushing her hair off her face?> Mulder asked himself, as he stared at the back Scully’s head instead of the file she was holding. <I can’t seem to solidly focus at all anymore… Not since the X-files have been re-opened>. Something had changed, and He had been looking at Scully the way he knew he shouldn’t, practically all the time. When he finally managed to pry his eyes and mind away from Scully’s amazing possession of grace, and focus, he looked at the file she had been holding.

***

7:30 a.m.

256 Brewery Lane

New York City.

Angie smiled warmly as she woke up in bed with Rollie and he was still asleep. Angie loved watching Rollie sleep; he lost all the anxtyness from his eyes and face and just looked peaceful and innocent. Angie wrapped her arms around the still sleeping Rollie and squeezed him tight. <God, I love you SO MUCH!!> She thought. If someone would have told Angie five weeks ago that she would be this happy and feel this lucky and loved, she would have thought they had taken one too many hits to the head. But now, she couldn’t imagine not being with Rollie, and loving him and having him love her. She felt that if she wasn’t living with Rollie and getting ready to marry and start a family with him, she would be dying, literally, physically dying from the inside out, a little bit at a time. Even though Loubar was dead, if Rollie didn’t love Angie the way he loved her, and as much as he loved her, she would be out of reasons to get up in the morning. Angie kissed rollie’s forehead as she thanked god for finally giving her, her Rollie. Angie lay awake for about 30 minutes hugging Rollie and watching him sleep. Today Angie and Rollie had a meeting with a director about a movie proposal for Tyler FX, but after that, they were going to take care of some other business that had to do with a proposal. Today Rollie and Angie were going shopping for engagement and wedding rings! Just the prospect of it thrilled Angie to her very core. It wasn’t about buying jewelry, but about having physical proof of her and rollie’s love. Rollie woke up to find Angie already awake, just lying next to him smiling at him warmly. “Morning angel,” Rollie said, giving Angie a lazy smile in return. “Hi, it’s about time you were up.” Angie said, as she got up out of bed to take a shower.

***

7:30 a.m.

J. Edgar Hoover Building

Washington D.C.

“Is this it?” Mulder said, as he finished reading the file that Scully had given him. “No this goes with that case as well.” Scully said, indicating a large, overstuffed folder sitting on the desk. “Have you gone through it all?” Mulder asked, wondering just how long Scully had been there. “No, I’ve just finished looking this over.” Scully replied, indicating the file Mulder was holding. “Well, what’s say we split this?” Mulder said, pointing to the large folder. He picked it up and started separating it into piles before Scully even answered him. Mulder and Scully spent the next 2 hours sitting in Mulder’s windowless office, reading through the paper work on Agent Smith’s death. “Believe it or not Scully, this isn’t the first time I’ve seen a case like this one; exactly like this one in fact.” Mulder announced, when he finished looking at his stack of reports. He sat up straight, and turned on his computer, typed some things in, and after a few seconds, a murder investigation report came up. The victim’s name was Detective Leo McCarthy of the NYPD. The case was dated one year ago, but it was also marked solved.

***

8:30 a.m.

GC’s diner

New York City.

Rollie and Angie made it to the diner just in time; Richard Bennet (the director) arrived only 5 minutes later. Angie always thought it was pig-headed of movie directors to expect every one else to be on time, when they saunter in any time they please. But she usually kept this opinion to herself. And Rollie. “Hello, you must be Rollie Tyler, I’m Richard Bennet, and who is this?” Mr. Bennet asked with FAR too much enthusiasm for Rollie’s liking. “This is my fiancée Angela Ramirez.” Rollie informed him, putting an arm around Angie’s waist as he spoke, letting Richard know exactly where things stood. Angie smiled to herself as Rollie did this, enjoying his harmless jealousy immensely. Richard cleared his throat uncomfortably, before saying, “Let’s talk about this movie then,” as he took a seat. He desperately needed to change the subject away from his attempt to flirt with this hot-but-spoken-for FX woman.

***

2:14 p.m.

New York City suburbs.

As they got out of their rental car and walked up the steps to the home of Agent Smith’s partner Agent Porter, Mulder and Scully took in the surroundings. The house was beautiful, with red brick walls, and white columns supporting the open balcony above the porch. Small bushes ran along the walls at the foundation, hiding any possible opening for a basement window, if there even was a basement in this place. The house gave Scully an impression of colonial America. Mulder knocked on the door, and he and Scully glanced at the surrounding neighborhood as they waited to be answered. A man about Scully’s height with strawberry blonde hair, and bright green eyes, answers the door. “Can I help you?” He asks, looking Mulder and Scully over, as if trying to determine why they were here by their outward appearances. And something about their clothes or their body language must have told him something, because when Mulder and Scully pulled out their IDs, this man was not at all surprised. “I’m Special Agent Mulder, this is my partner, Special Agent Scully, we’re looking for Agent Charles Porter.” Mulder told the redhead. “You’re speaking with him.” The man replied. “We’re investigating your partner’s death Agent Porter, and we need to ask you some questions.” Scully said. “Please, come inside.” Agent Porter said eagerly, stepping aside to give Mulder and Scully room to enter.

The inside of Agent Porter’s home matched the outside, reflecting a similar style and setting of warm colonial America. The dark reds, greens, and purples gave the whole place a very pleasant homey feel. Mulder and Scully were shown into a sitting room, which offered seats in the form of two love seats facing each other, and two chairs, adjacent to them. Mulder and Scully sat down next to one another (a little closer than necessary ) in one of the love seats, and got right down to it. Mulder decided the best way to go would be to be absolutely straightforward. “The file on Agent Smith says that you were partners for five years, how well did you get to know him in that time?” Mulder asked. Agent Porter got a dreamy look in his eye, and said, “Fairly well,” and just as he did so he seemed to snap out of whatever reverie he had just been in, and blushed almost imperceptibly. But not imperceptible enough, that Mulder and Scully didn’t both catch it, and exchange glances with one another. They didn’t need to be hit over the head to figure out what had been going on between Agent Porter and his recently late partner Agent Smith. But Mulder and Scully kept their discoveries to themselves, and didn’t question it further, as it wasn’t relevant to the case at hand. It did however, open a large avenue of information up to them, and Scully took advantage of the opportunity. “Did you notice Agent Smith acting strangely near the time of his death? Afraid, or nervous perhaps?” She asked, observing Agent Porter closely for reactions. “Yes he was; about a week before our last case together, he didn’t… meet me for a drink we were going to have together, and the next day at work, he didn’t seem to remember anything about even discussing the drinks. In fact, he barely seemed himself. It was like when we just met, before we got to know each other as well as we do- did I guess I should say.” Porter finished dejectedly, as if he couldn’t quite bring himself to believe what was happening, let alone accept it. “When you say he didn’t seem himself, what exactly do you mean? Did he forget that you don’t like salami or when your birthday is or something like that?” Mulder asked, trying to pinpoint the exact discrepancy. “He was able to recall all sorts of details, big and small, but his attitude wasn’t quite right, he just wasn’t the Josh I knew. In fact, it seemed like the only thing that was right about him were the informational details.” Agent Porter said, hoping the weight of his answer would ring true with these two; which it apparently did. Both Mulder and Scully sat forward a little, and exchanged a glance filled with a nexus very familiar to Agent Porter. “Did you inform your director of your suspicions that Agent Smith wasn’t well?” Scully asked, knowing full well that that would be the best professional course of action. “Not immediately, but when he came to the office on the second day, and he was just the same as the day before; I did talk with our superior. But he didn’t take me seriously because I didn’t have any evidence of J- Agent Smith’s strange behavior; no one else seemed to notice at all. When that didn’t work, I decided to go right to the source, so I observed my partner covertly and searched for some kind of proof that he wasn’t himself. He seemed extremely anxious to get to work on a case we were given, so I decided to just play along and let him forget about what was bothering him for a while, I figured he would tell me when he was ready: he always did before…” Agent Porter seemed miles away, or at least a few days away, somewhere and sometime where he could see and/or hear his former partner.

***

12:25 p.m.

The biggest jewelry store in the mall

New York City.

Even though Angie had assured him that she was fine, Rollie knew that it was irritating her a bit that they were going to do yet another ‘slasher’. But he was pretty sure he knew just what to do to cheer Angie up, and he would take care of it as soon as he could get away from Angie long enough… But for now, he had one of the most crucial shopping decisions of his life to deal with. Angie’s eyes glowed as they approached the counter, and got the first glance of the selection of engagement, and wedding rings. “Can I help you find anything special?” The charming clerk asked, noticing Rollie and Angie’s area of concentration. “We’re looking for wedding bands, and an engagement ring.” Rollie informed him, happy as a clam to be saying this about himself and Angie (who by the way, never looked up from the display case in front of her.) “Congratulations! Did you have anything particular in mind? Or would you like to browse our selection?” The clerk asked, sounding genuinely happy to help them. “Well, Ange?” Rollie asked, looking at Angie for a response. “…What?” Angie replied, not having heard the question. “Do you know what you want, or do you want to browse?” Rollie asked, barely containing his laughter at Angie’s dazed behavior. “I think we need to browse a little, just to be sure…” Angie said, very eager to look over all the breathtaking rings in this place. Even though it REALLY wasn’t about the jewelry, Angie was amazed at the variety and beauty of everything she saw here.

After about half an hour, they decided on a yellow gold engagement ring with three square diamonds on it, all the same size (and that is not very small) and wedding bands that fit into this ring, that were plain shining gold (not cloudy) and fairly thin and lightweight. “And would you like them engraved?” The ever-helpful clerk asked. Rollie knew without having to ask, or even look toward Angie, that the answer was, “yes we would.” And with that they each wrote down separate messages, and kept them hidden from one another, as they gave them to the clerk. “Good, these will fit, so often, people get it into their heads that they can have entire sonnets engraved onto their rings, and it just doesn’t work that way. So if you’ll just come back in about an hour, these should be engraved, and ready to go. And here is your receipt, so you can pick them up.” The clerk finished, handing Rollie his credit card back along with the receipt the printed out of the cash register.

Angie only took her eyes off of Rollie for a second while she was looking at some software at a shop near the jewelry store, when he disappeared! And no matter how hard she looked she couldn’t manage to spot him. And he’s so tall! After about 10 minutes of fruitless searching, he came up behind her and startled her to death. “God Rol, don’t do that to me- what’s that?” she asked noticing a nondescript shopping bag, that Rollie had. There was no store logo, and Rollie refused to let Angie see what he had bought; which turned out to be a big mistake, because she was determined to find out what it was and where he’d gotten it. “Hands off Angela, what I buy is my business, and no matter how many times you try, you won’t get your hands on this.” Rollie informed her, after she tried (as covertly as she could) for the 15^th time to reach for Rollie’s mystery-bag. After that, Angie decided that if Rollie was really this determined to keep something a secret, she probably didn’t want to know anyway. They did a little window shopping to pass the rest of the hour, then headed back to the jewelry store, to pick up their purchases. Rollie handed the receipt over to a different clerk than the one who helped them before, and it only took about 3 minutes for the guy to come back and present them with their rings, engraved and boxed, and ready to go. When Angie pulled her engagement ring out of the box, she inadvertently got a look at the engraving on her wedding band, and laughed. “I’ve heard that saying about how great minds think alike, but this is silly.” She said, because she realized that she and Rollie had picked identical messages. Both rings read: ‘Love always A, and R’. Rollie looked at his ring after Angie’s remark, and laughed as well. “Rollie, how would you like us writing our own vows?” Angie asked, thinking that the usual ‘in sickness and in health, etc.’ just wouldn’t express what she wanted to say. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” Rollie answered, taking Angie’s left hand and the engagement ring from her, and sliding the ring on her ring finger. Still holding Angie’s hand up, and admiring her ring, Rollie walked Angie out to the truck, and they set off home.

***

2:45 p.m.

Reeves County, Texas.

Leo McCarthy sits, unaware of time, numb to every sensation he should have felt, as two large, fairly burly men wheel a fellow captive into the room. Just like him this man is drugged, and sitting in a wheelchair, and totally numb to life. “Sleep tight Agent Smith.” One of the kidnappers said, as the two left the room. The two men exited the room, into a hallway, at the end, and proceeded to the opposite end, passing eight doors along the way, all of which looked the same: big, heavy, dark wood. They entered an identical door, at the end of the hallway that connected to the rest of the mansion. They were greeted by an old man with a cigarette in his hand, and a thick cloud of smoke around his head. “Well?” the man rasps. “Agent Smith is in place sir.” One of the lackeys informed him. “Good, you may go.” The Smoking Man answered. Without further ado, having been dismissed, the thugs left the room, closing the door behind themselves. A moment later the phone rings. “Yes?- Yes of course, I’ll be there as soon as possible. I’m leaving now. Goodbye.” And with a worried look on his face, Blacklung hung up the phone.

***

3:05 p.m.

New York City.

Mulder and Scully discussed the new information on the case, as Mulder drove them towards 256 Brewery Lane, to speak with the witnesses of the second death: the death of Leo McCarthy. “This is really not much to go on Mulder,” Scully said, re-reading the case-file, and notes from the interview with Agent Porter. “All we have is the fact that these two law -enforcement officers died, one year after the other, of seemingly identical causes, and one of them- that we know of so far- was acting odd, but only so odd that his… partner could tell. His superiors and the rest of his peers didn’t seem to notice.” Scully was not very encouraged by the lack of tangible evidence of deliberation in these deaths. “Do you think it’s a coincidence that exactly a year apart, an NYPD detective, and an Agent of the FBI die of identical causes, and that one of them wasn’t acting like himself, in fact may not have even been himself?” Mulder asked, clarifying his theory, and confirming Scully’s fear. “Mulder, just because Agent Smith wasn’t acting like his usual self, doesn’t mean he was being impersonated. And even if he was, how in the world could someone have pulled off an impersonation like that, right under the noses of the FBI?!” Scully was growing more and more irritated by Mulder’s leap of conclusions by the minute. “Look Scully, let’s not discount, or credit anything, until we talk to Mr. Tyler, and Ms. Ramirez, ok?” Mulder suggested, trying desperately to buy some time that he could use to build up his theory with.

***

5:33 p.m.

46^th street

New York City.

In a large room with only sunlight for illumination, 10-15 men sit, stand, and walk around and gravely contemplate the situation which has arisen, and brought them all together. “Something must be done.” Said a man of average height; but above average girth, with a uniquely commanding voice. “Our associate in Washington should have dealt with this before it reached this point, this is downright dangerous and stupid.” The Commanding Man declared as he paced the room, looking meaningfully at each of his colleagues in turn. Just as an older, Well Manicured man was about to speak, the door opened, and Blacklung entered, cigarette in hand, smoke cloud trailing behind. He looked around innocently curious as he asked, “Who called this meeting, and for what purpose?” The Commanding Man stepped forward a step and said, “I called this meeting, to discuss what is being done about Agents Mulder and Scully, and their investigation into matters which they must be kept ignorant of.” “Agent Mulder and his little partner know nothing which they have not been allowed to learn, that situation is entirely under my control. I grow tired of this group’s lack of faith in my abilities. Do you want some sort of proof that I am handling this situation? Fine, you’ll have it!” The Smoking Man said, turning and storming out of the room as he finished. “If he can’t handle this situation, I’ll see that someone does. We cannot allow this to come to light.” The Commanding Man said with finality. And his associates nodded and murmured their agreement.

***

3:26 p.m.

256 Brewery Lane

New York City.

Rollie and Angie were sitting/laying on the sofa, admiring Angie’s engagement ring, when there was a brusque knock on the door, and Bluey started barking. “Window one Blue,” Rollie called, getting up and heading over to the surveillance monitor, to see who was calling. A man a little taller than Rollie with short brown hair, and a woman around Angie’s height with red shoulder-length hair, both wearing suits, stood waiting to be answered.

Mulder and Scully stood on the porch of what appeared to be an old brewery, with a plaque next to the door reading: FX Rollie Tyler. There were no windows on the door, or on the sides of the building at or under eye level, so Mulder and Scully were stuck waiting to see if anyone answered their knock. Mulder lifted his hand to knock again, as no one was answering, but just before he knocked a second time, the door opened, and a man slightly shorter than Mulder with longish brown hair, and eyes that matched, answered. “Can I help you?” He asked, with an Australian accent. <Oh great, an accent. Just wonderful.> Mulder thought. For some reason that he was never quite able to understand, most of the women in his acquaintance seemed to swoon over guys with foreign accents. “Mr. Tyler?” Scully asked, making sure they had the right guy. “Yes…” Rollie replied, wondering what he had just taken the blame for. “I’m Agent Scully, this is my partner Agent Mulder, we’d like to ask you a few questions about the death of a friend of yours: Detective Leo McCarthy.” Mulder and Scully showed Rollie their IDs as they introduced themselves. “What?! Look Leo died over a year ago, the case was closed.” Rollie asked, terrified of what could possibly have come up. “We have reason to believe that Detective McCarthy’s death wasn’t all it appeared to be. This will only take a few minutes of your time. May we come in?” Mulder asked kindly, noticing Rollie’s uneasiness. Rollie, too disconcerted to speak, simply opened the door wider and stepped out of the way to allow Mulder and Scully to come inside. They thanked him as they entered, and then got their first glimpse of the loft.

Both Scully and Mulder were amazed to discover that they had walked into more of a movie FX man’s workshop than someone’s home. Mulder however didn’t find it as odd as fascinating. “Wow.” Was all he said, more an amazed whisper than an actual word. Rollie closed the door and stepped ahead of Mulder and Scully into the lounge in order to tell Angie what was happening. “Who are they?” She asked as Mulder and Scully followed Rollie into the lounge. “They’re with the FBI, and they want to know about Leo’s death.” Rollie said, growing more on edge by the second. “We’re sorry to bother you, but we have reason to believe that Detective McCarthy’s death was orchestrated by someone who has also seen to the death of a fellow Agent of ours, who died a few days ago.” Mulder said, explaining why they were there. Rollie took his seat next to Angie and she immediately took hold of his hand. After taking a deep, shaky breath Rollie looked at Mulder and Scully, who had taken seats without being invited, and said, “What do you want to know?” Scully pulled her notepad out of her jacket and after looking at a few pages quickly she asked, “Was Detective McCarthy acting strangely at all just before his death?” At the puzzled looks on their faces Mulder said, “Like he wasn’t feeling well, or like he was having trouble remembering things. Maybe he ate things that he never used to like, or something of that nature.” Rollie dug through his memories of the events surrounding Leo’s death, but nothing came to mind. “No”- But Rollie was cut off by Angie who apparently did remember something. “The day before Leo died, Colleen called the here, asking if Leo had come by the night before. She said that he’d stood her up, but that she’d already checked with the station and he wasn’t working. She was wondering if you and Leo went out drinking or something. When I told her I hadn’t seen him, she said just to never mind, that it wasn’t all that important anyway. But I don’t really know if that helps: Leo stood Colleen up a few times.” Angie said, directing all but that last part at Rollie, the last bit to Mulder and Scully. Mulder gave Scully a significant look and said, “Actually that does help, thank you. We’ve taken up enough of your time, we’ll be on our way now. If we have more questions, can we contact you here?” Mulder stood and waited for Scully to stand so he could put his hand on the small of her back as they headed for the door. “We’ll be here.” Rollie responded, watching the two Agents leave.

***

10:53 p.m.

Cellowyard Motel room 8

New York City.

After leaving the loft, Mulder and Scully got in touch with some of the people who had been working at Kanreyy industries, the company that was being investigated by Agents Smith and Porter, at the time of Agent Smith’s death. But because of the time it took to track down a list of the people they would need to interview, and their addresses, they didn’t get around to all of them. They would have to continue that tomorrow, along with visiting the wreckage of what was once the Kanreyy building. But for now showers and sleep were the only things Mulder and Scully were going to do. It was slightly unfortunate that the Motel Manager had bumped Scully into Mulder’s room, to free up her room for a huge reunion party that barreled in, but not so unfortunate that they were going to demand another room or leave. Mulder just got a pillow and blanket and took the armchair next to the TV. When Scully got out of the shower, she found Mulder on the chair, with his blanket barely hanging on to him, and apparently dead asleep. She walked over to the lamp on the table next to him and turned it off, then pulled Mulder’s blanket more securely onto him and kissed him lightly on the lips before heading to the bed and lying down. As she walked over to the bed she whispered, “I love you Mulder.” If she had left the light on she might have seen the look in Mulder’s eyes when they popped open from surprise at being kissed. As it was, she went to sleep thinking she’d gotten away with it. Mulder was so stunned by what Scully had done, that he didn’t say anything, he didn’t even move. He just sat there, and stared at the lump in the blanket on the bed that was Scully. The time on the clock read 11:22 p.m.

***

10:37 p.m.

Cellowyard Motel, outside room 8

New York City.

Trying to stay out of view, a Man hides in the shadows of his car; keeping an eye on room 8 as he dials a number on his cell phone. “Yes sir, I found them, they were talking with some movie guy earlier then they talked to some Kanreyy employees, now they’re turning in for the night… Yes sir, I’m hiding… No sir they haven’t seen me following them… Yes sir, I understand.” The Shadow Dude says, and hangs up the phone. And Shadow Dude continues to watch room 8 as the night flows on. He didn’t understand why Death-stick Man was so specific about this, why couldn’t he just nab the dude, and off the chick? It would be so easy that way. But oooh no, he just had to get the guy without his partner knowing it; he had to take him while she wasn’t around.

***

Tuesday

7:02 a.m.

Cellowyard Motel room 8

New York City.

Scully woke up to the sight of Mulder still sleeping, looking just as sexy as he did last night, and was just about to get up when Mulder started to stir, so she abruptly shut her eyes, and pretended to still be asleep. Mulder woke up abruptly, not even realizing he had fallen asleep. It took him a minute to remember why he was sleeping in a chair, but then last night came back to him. He remembered the motel manager sticking Scully in here with him, and giving her the bed, and… did he dream that last part? Or did Scully kiss him last night? Try as he might Mulder couldn’t convince himself one way or the other. Realizing that the only way to know for sure would be to ask Scully, Mulder scrounged up all the courage he could muster, and got up to wake Scully. He walked over to the side of the bed, and rubbed Scully’s cheek lightly with the back of his hand. “Wake up sleepyhead, it’s morning.” He said, while he was thinking: <God she looks unbelievably sexy right now!> Scully made a big show of yawning and stretching her arms, in order to sell her still sleeping story as far as she could. But she couldn’t help smiling at Mulder; she gave him a big warm smile that caused him to raise his eyebrows. All of a sudden Mulder realized that he hadn’t dreamed what he thought he might have: Scully kissed him last night! And told him she loved him (which he already knew, but he’d never heard her say it.) It was always sort of a given that she loved him and he loved her back… But now he was starting to think maybe ‘a given’ wouldn’t be enough anymore. Scully looked at Mulder’s eyes for 0.03 seconds and figured out he was about to say something important, but they needed to work. And, she just wasn’t quite ready to talk about what it was Mulder was getting ready to bring up, so she jumped up and practically ran out the door saying something vague about breakfast. Mulder was left standing in the motel room alone. Mulder understood from that ‘subtle’ dodge, that Scully wasn’t ready to talk yet, but he wouldn’t be put off forever.

Scully didn’t know why, but from the minute she stepped outside the motel room and headed for the car, she felt sure she shouldn’t leave Mulder alone right now. She REALLY wasn’t ready to talk yet, but she had a strong feeling that he just wasn’t safe by himself. She tried to forget about it all the way to the bakery where she got something quickly, and she thought about it the whole way back. Of course she found him safe and sound, just finished with his shower, and making a few phone calls, right where she left him. She knew it had been foolish to think that Mulder was in trouble; he could take perfectly good care of himself, even if he didn’t have the best diet. Not that she was helping in that respect: she had brought some Danishes and coffee for breakfast. Which fact, made her feel even more foolish than she already did.

***

7:31 a.m.

Cellowyard Motel, outside room 8

New York City.

Shadow Dude was annoyed; he had fallen asleep an hour before dawn, and had only awakened a few minutes ago when his phone had gone off. It was Death-stick Man, and he wanted to know if Mulder had been retrieved yet. He wasn’t the least bit happy to hear that he had spent the entire night in the same room with his partner, completely inaccessible, and that he had yet to be alone. Shadow Dude didn’t think there would be any point in mentioning that when he woke up to the sound of his phone ringing, he had seen Mulder’s partner going back inside the motel room, having left it while Shadow Dude was asleep. What Death-stick Man didn’t know wouldn’t get him killed. He hoped. But Death-stick Man’s patience was running thin, and Shadow Dude didn’t know how many more opportunities he would get. He sat more diligently now, watching the door of #8, waiting for Mulder or his partner to come out. The minute that happened; he would jump.

***

6:10 p.m.

Mickan Studios, ‘The Boiler Room’ set

New York City.

It had been more than 24 hours now since those feds had dropped by and so far they hadn’t contacted Rollie again. He hoped that the information he and Angie had given them had helped, and that they would catch whoever was responsible for Leo’s death. He still couldn’t quite believe after all this time, that it turned out that there was someone else altogether, responsible for Leo dying. Rollie was missing Leo something awful right now, what with the wedding coming up. He wanted Leo to be able to see it more than anything, and he hoped that somehow he would. Rollie had a pretty good idea what both Leo and Rick would say if they where there: Rick would say, “You don’t deserve her Buddy.” And Leo would say, “It’s about damn time Pal.” Rollie smiled warmly at the thought. They were getting ready to quit for the day, just packing it in, when Rollie’s cell rang. “Tyler here,” he answered. “What? Alright, Angie and I’ll be there, in… 30 minutes.” And he hung up the phone. “Ange, we have to go: those feds that stopped by yesterday need us to meet them, they said we could be in some sort of danger.” He said, as he hurried up with packing the rest of the equipment into the van. He and Angie got everything put away quickly, and Rollie explained as they drove. “Agent Mulder said that because we knew Leo, and because we answered their questions yesterday, someone could try and come after us. He didn’t say exactly who might be after us…” And on they drove, Angie growing more nervous as they went.

***

5:11 p.m.

Cellowyard Motel, room 8

New York City.

After another practically fruitless day of questioning, Mulder was beginning to become exasperated. The lack of connection between the victims’ cases didn’t help much, and Mulder was sure that Scully was going to suggest going back to Washington, and forgetting about this whole thing. But he truly believed there was something to this; they just hadn’t found the clue yet. Determined to find the answers he knew were somewhere, Mulder sat down on the end of the bed, and pulled his briefcase open to get the case-file out and study it for the 10^th time. Scully checked her watch, decided she could use a little caffeine, and remembered seeing a soda machine around the corner. “I could use a soda, you want anything? I’m buying.” She asked Mulder, as she grabbed her purse and walked to the door. “Pepsi please and thank you.” Mulder said, with his head down, looking at the papers in his hands. “Ok,” Scully replied, as she left. The minute Scully left the room, the feeling she had had earlier came back tenfold, but she mentally shook herself, telling herself she was being ridiculous.

The second Scully rounded the corner, heading for the soda machine, Shadow Dude climbed noiselessly out of his car and knocked on the door of #8. “What happened Scully, did you forget your wallet?” Mulder called from the other side of the door, getting up to let her in as he spoke. Mulder opened the door to a fist flying at his face, and was knocked down. He tried to reach for his gun, but was beaten to the punch by Shadow Dude, who whipped out one of his own, with a silencer on it. Mulder raised his hands in surrender, and was desperately trying to think what he should do when he heard a gun cocking, but not the one in this guy’s hand. “Put that down now, or I’ll fire.” Came the deadly serious voice of Dana Scully, from behind the intruder. The man immediately dropped his gun on the floor and put his hands in the air saying, “Don’t shoot, please don’t shoot me.” He was terrified, taking Scully very seriously. “Who sent you?” Mulder asked demandingly, as he got to his feet. “Are you ok Mulder?” Scully asked him, as she stepped around the man in the doorway, and came into the room, never taking her gun off him. Shadow Dude backed up to give Scully space to enter the room, not wanting to irritate these people any further. Scully glanced quickly at Mulder and then returned her gaze to the man whom she was pointing her gun at. Mulder looked at Scully. “ I’m fine Scully.” He said, gingerly feeling the cheek that had been hit, and was turning and angry red. He winced as the gentle touch of his finger caused his cheek to sting. Mulder looked to the intruder. “Who sent you?!” Mulder repeated, growing quickly impatient. “I don’t know, I call him Death-stick Man, `cause he smokes so much.” The man answered sounding anxious. “Are you talking about Morley Man?” Mulder asked, quickly becoming angry and apprehensive. “Yeah Morley, they’re the ones.” Shadow Dude replied. “I got him Scully.” Mulder said to Scully, pulling his own gun out and pointing it at the intruder. Scully un-cocked her gun and put it back in the holster on her hip. She proceeded to her suitcase from which she pulled a pair of handcuffs. Mulder followed her with his eyes, keeping his gun trained on Shadow Dude. When he saw what she was getting he raised an eyebrow and smiled evilly, but Scully just gave him a ‘not now Mulder’ look and he quit. Once Scully had the guy cuffed, Mulder shoved him into the chair which he had been sleeping in, and started questioning him. Scully closed the door, and sat down on the end of the bed. “What did ‘Death-stick Man’ hire you to do to me? Did he hire you to kill me? Or just try and scare me off this case?” He asked, determined to know the truth, even if this guy didn’t want to tell. “Hey, it wasn’t like that. I was just supposed to get you away from your partner there, and get you to the airport, that’s it. His other guys were gonna deal with you from there.” Shadow Dude answered, sounding slightly hurt at the accusation.

***

5:45 p.m.

Blacklung’s Hideout

Reeves County, Texas.

Leo and Josh sit in their wheelchairs, unaware of life, while Blacklung has a phone conversation down the hall. “What do you mean you haven’t gotten the opportunity? Has his partner been shadowing him every minute of the day? Doesn’t she have her own room to sleep in?!... I don’t care if you have to follow them around for the rest of your pathetic existence, you will bring Mulder to me, or else!” And with that Death-stick Man slammed the phone down. “I am losing patience with that incompetent fool. If he doesn’t deliver Mulder within the Next 2 hours, you’re going to go get him in that fool’s place!” Blacklung spat, at the man sitting in an armchair across the room from Blacklung, a man with Mulder’s face.

***

6:47 p.m.

Cellowyard Motel room 8

New York City.

“Now what?” Mulder asked Rollie, wondering what they would end up doing next. “Now you fill Angie and me in on just what it is exactly that we’re dealing with, so we can figure out what to do next.” Rollie replied, feeling a little apprehensive about getting mixed up in law enforcement yet again, but at the same time, unwilling to stay out of it. He couldn’t let the feds handle this one on their own, not if it involved Leo. Rollie and Angie sat down next to one another on the left side of the bed, and Scully sat on the right, while Mulder paced around. And together Mulder and Scully painted a picture of Death-stick Man’s character, and style of manipulation. By the time they were finished, Rollie and Angie were both more than a little disgusted. “You mean he gets away with all this?” Angie asked, horrified by the idea of a man like that walking around free and clear. “There’s no proof. There’s never any proof.” Scully answered, understanding Angie’s disbelief, if she had heard about Blacklung like this, she wouldn’t believe it either. “Well, lets get to work, if we’re gonna find this guy, our best chance will be to go wherever he was going to take you Agent Mulder.” Rollie said, ready to get started.

***

10:32 p.m.

Nelounig Lodge, room 5

Reeves County, Texas.

Angie booted up her laptop to check her e-mail etc., while Rollie was checking the special devices he brought. He didn’t have as many as he would’ve liked, but he hadn’t had much warning. How was he supposed to know the FBI was going to want his help? At least he would be able to do a little. He wouldn’t know for sure until he saw the actual place, but Rollie was fairly sure he could get the feds inside without this ‘smoking man’ knowing they were there. (With Angie’s help of course.) “So, how pissed was Rich, when he found out we won’t be making the shoot tomorrow?” Angie asked, turning away from her laptop which was sitting on the table in front of her, to face Rollie on the bed. “He nearly blew a gasket, but I told him it was important, and I’d owe him one.” Rollie replied, without looking up from the gadget in his hands. Rollie was glad this wasn’t bothering Angie, after all, it was only a one-time thing, it’s not like those two feds were going to show up at the loft every other day. They weren’t Leo.

Room 6

Scully hung up the phone, having just finished her call to the Texas field office. They were ready and willing to lend all the assistance she and Mulder needed, they just had to say the word. Two babysitters were already on their way, to take care of their captor. Scully could still hardly believe his name was Clyde, Clyde Herrmann. Mulder had just about died laughing at the wannabe criminal named Clyde, Scully just wanted to roll her eyes. She still did, even now. More than anything Scully wanted to bust in on Blacklung, and she knew Mulder agreed, but they wouldn’t get themselves anywhere busting into his house without a warrant in the middle of the night. All they could do for the time being was wait, and plan out their next move very carefully. Skinner had already lectured her before they left for Texas; he strongly cautioned both her and Mulder about keeping their cool, and doing everything by the book, so that if they actually found something, Death-stick Man wouldn’t be able to slip through any cracks. And Scully knew that Skinner was right, but it just wasn’t easy waiting like this.

Scully wasn’t left waiting by herself for very long; about 10 minutes after her impatience gripped her, there was a knock at the door, and she didn’t have to guess who it was. She already knew. “They certainly don’t waste time here do they?” Scully asked Mulder, as she let him in. “Yeah, that must have been some favor you called in.” Mulder replied, sitting heavily on the end of Scully’s bed. Scully gave Mulder a ‘very funny’ look, and he smiled apologetically in return. Scully sat beside Mulder, and they waited for a call from the Agent who was going to start the surveillance. He would call if anything happened tonight, otherwise, Mulder and Scully would relieve him and his partner in the morning. For now, Mulder and Scully should have been trying to sleep. But they just couldn’t. So they sat, not doing anything, but not doing anything together, which was ultimately preferable to doing nothing alone.

***

Wednesday

6:30 a.m.

Outside Blacklung’s mansion

Reeves County, Texas.

Mulder sat in his rental car, hidden from view of the house by some overgrown bushes at the edge of a neighboring house. The so-called ‘neighboring house’ was actually about 100 yards from Death-stick Man’s hideout, but with binoculars Mulder (and the other Agents) could have a perfectly good view of everything going on in the front yard, and anything going on in the front rooms with windows as well. At present however, nothing was going on that could be seen or heard from Mulder’s location. So here he was, waiting, just like last night. Nothing had turned up last night, and Mulder was sure of that: he stayed up all night, he and Scully, and they called Agent Witter every hour to no avail. It was quiet as a tomb outside Blacklung’s lair last night, and today was shaping up to be a repeat of its predecessor.

It seemed wrong to Mulder that a man as evil as Blacklung was hiding in a house like this one. Two stories, fairly recently built, and the outside-wall was made of what looked like off-white and tan cobblestone. There were small windows every 10 feet or so, on both floors, but none of them revealed any glimpse of life at all, and they hadn’t the night before; according to Agent Witter. Mulder was just starting to wonder how much longer Scully would be finding a bathroom, when she crept back into the car. “Anything?” She asked, already pretty sure by the look on Mulder’s face of the answer. “Nothing.” He replied tiredly. Mulder passed Scully the binoculars he had been using, and flopped his head back against the headrest of the driver’s seat, and exhaled heavily. Agent Porter, who had insisted on coming along, was keeping surveillance around the back of the house, and every so often he would check in on the radios they had borrowed from the Texas field office, the employees of which seemed disappointed not to be able to do more. But at present they had enough Agents for criminal transport and surveillance, and there really wasn’t anything else to do. Clyde-the-kidnapper had insisted that he be protected, as in the witness protection program, but settled for going to jail for attempted kidnapping and murder, as well as trespassing. His babysitters were taking him to prison as Mulder and Scully sat.

Since Scully was taking a turn watching the house, Mulder decided to close his eyes for a minute, but as soon as he did, they flicked back open again. A shot was fired from inside Blacklung’s hideout. Scully dropped the binoculars and called the police, while Mulder jumped out of the car and ran towards the house, his gun in hand. Scully caught up with him just as he was braking the door down, and together they went cautiously inside. Every step they took was orchestrated so their backs were covered by one another. The interior of the house looked more like a furniture store than a house that was actually lived in. There were tables with lamps on them, but the lamps were off. There were sofas and chairs with strategically placed coffee and end tables arranged in the two rooms to the right of the entrance, to the left was a staircase leading up to the second story. After a quick survey of the lower level, which revealed no evidence of habitation, Mulder and Scully made their way guardedly upstairs.

The walls upstairs matched the ones downstairs: Brown and other varied fall shades, which the furniture matched. The stairs ended on a long hallway, with eight identical doors. All dark wood, and very sturdy looking. They were spaced apart only a few feet each, just enough for windows in between, and four faced four. Mulder and Scully stood against the walls on either side of the door and paused. Mulder signaled with his hand to Scully that he would open the door, and that she should go first. He tried the doorknob, expecting it to be locked like the front door was, and thinking he would have to break this one just like he did at the entrance; which is why he was a little surprised to find the door unlocked, and opening at his touch. For some reason Scully had that same feeling from a few days ago; that she shouldn’t leave Mulder alone. But she gave herself a little mental shake, and got ready to go in the room. Scully was about to enter, when Agent Porter whispered her and Mulder’s names from the top of the stairs to let him know he was there. He joined them outside the door, and signaled with his hand that he would check in the door opposite the one they were about to enter. It, like it’s brother, opened without the need of force. He entered the room, leaving Mulder and Scully to the room they were in front of, so they entered.

Scully froze 3ft inside the door, and probably never noticed anything about the room except what had caught her attention. A man was lying on the floor with a gunshot wound to his forehead, the man looked like Mulder, exactly like Mulder. Scully didn’t make note of the fact that this room was decorated in fall colors just like everything else in this place, or the bookshelf taking up the entire expanse of two walls, with holes where the windows were, and a few medium brown leather chairs and dark brown end tables. Just like she didn’t notice the oddly tropical looking potted plants in various corners. She knelt next to the man with Mulder’s face, checking his pulse, and then when she realized he was dead, she brushed the bangs out of his eyes, which she closed tenderly. Then she stood, though just barely; it seemed to Mulder that she might collapse any second. But not from shock, more like from sadness, or sorrow.

Before Mulder managed to say anything, Agent Porter called his and Scully’s names from another room down the hall, and it sounded urgent, so Mulder took Scully’s head in both his hands, putting his face so close to hers it was all she could see. “I’m right here, that is not me on the floor. Agent Porter found something in the other room, and we need to find out what it is, we’ll figure this out I promise, but not yet.” He told her assuredly. Scully took Mulder’s gun-less hand and together they walked out of that room back into the hall. Mulder called Porter’s name, and listened carefully to figure out where it was coming from, because all of the doors on the right side of the hall (where Porter had been searching) as well as the one at the end on the left were open. As it turned out, Porter was in the one at the end on the left. As they passed the open doors, Mulder noticed that they all looked identical to the one he and Scully had just been in, all the way down to the plant-placement. The only thing different, was the lack of dead Mulders. When they reached the room where Porter was waiting, they found it to be the same as the rest; bookcases, leather chairs, etc. But instead of being empty, or being the final resting place of a dead Mulder look-alike, it contained two men in wheelchairs hooked up to IVs, and completely out of it.

The sight of these men in this state seemed to snap Scully out of the whammy that had hold of her, and she strode over to them, and put her gun down to start examining them one-handed. During all this, she refused to let Mulder’s hand go; he was going to have to stay with her, at least for now. “We’ve got to get these men to a hospital, now.” Scully said when she finished her exam of the victims. She turned to face Mulder and said, “They’re being drugged, we have to keep them undisturbed and get them transported as softly as possible. There’s no telling what upsetting them might do.” Mulder knew what they needed to do. “Agent Porter, call 911, tell them we need an air lift… That’s your partner isn’t it?” He asked, pointing to the man Mulder was pretty sure was Agent Joshua Smith. He was fairly positive he recognized him from the photos in the case file they had, but Porter would know for sure. “Yeah,” Was all Porter managed to say. He was stunned for a second, but snapped out of it pretty quickly and did what Mulder asked. Then Mulder did his part.

***

6:47 a.m.

Nelounig Lodge, room 5

Reeves County Texas.

Rollie was thoroughly irritated that the feds weren’t letting him and Angie help, they insisted that they were only here because they needed protection. But as Angie had said, “Why did they fly us all the way here just to stick us in a hotel with a babysitter? Why didn’t they just get us a shadow at home?!” Rollie wholeheartedly agreed with her; if they didn’t need to help, they could be at the set getting some work done and getting paid to do said job. But oh no, no, they got to sit on their thumbs and wait around for the almighty FBI to let them know if it was safe to go outside yet. If Rollie hadn’t talked Angie into web-surfing for wedding ideas, she probably would have punched out their ‘protection’ by now. And Rollie was feeling like that sounded like a damn good idea right about now. He was about to stand up and try to argue his way out of this irritatingly small room, when the babysitter’s walkie-talkie started making static noises, and then Agent Mulder’s voice said, “A shot was fired, we entered the house and found two victims of kidnapping, and one casualty; he was shot. We’re transporting the kidnap victims to the hospital for medical attention. One of them is Agent Smith, the other is possibly Detective Leo McCarthy of the NYPD. Bring Mr. Tyler and Ms. Ramirez to the Reeves County hospital so they can positively ID this guy, we’ll meet you there.” Agent Witter punched the button on his walkie-talkie down, and replied, “I read you Agent Mulder, we’ll be there in 20 minutes.” Then he grabbed his jacket off the back of a chair, and looked at Rollie and Angie, waiting for them to get up and get going. They both stood up and headed out the door, without taking so much as a pair of keys with them. They got in the car without a word, and rode to the hospital in silence only broken by the cursing of Agent Witter, when they got stuck behind traffic.

***

6:53 a.m.

Outside Blacklung’s hideout

Reeves County, Texas.

A helicopter was already getting ready to land on the lawn when Mulder and Porter wheeled the two victims out of the house. Scully preceded them over to the EMTs who were climbing out of the helicopter before it was even all the way on the ground. The knowledge that they were coming to transport an injured FBI Agent, had apparently rushed them. Scully gave them a brief account of what she found with cursory exam. The patients were loaded gently into the helicopter, and it took off to the hospital. Agent Porter headed to his car and took off toward the hospital before the helicopter was 60ft in the air. Mulder took Scully’s hand, and lead her over to their rental, and opened the door for her. She got inside and he shut the door, then went over to the driver’s side and climbed in himself, shutting his door behind him. Mulder looked at Scully, and found her looking ready to cry. And he knew why, it was written in her eyes. He took Scully’s left hand in his right, and said, “I’m fine Scully,” then he put her fingers on his neck so she could feel his pulse. “See?” He continued, trying to reassure her. At that Scully’s bottom lip quivered and a tear slid down her cheek. Mulder let her hand go, and put both of his hands on the sides of Scully’s head, and kissed her wet cheek. “We still have work to do here—he gestured toward the house—but when we’re done, we’ll talk, ok?” Mulder said, wanting to just sit there and hug Scully for 5 hours. Instead he got back out of the car and told the Agent who had just arrived, that the entire property needed to be swept over for evidence, trace and otherwise. They needed a full forensic team out there. Then he got right back in the car, and started it up to head for the hospital.

***

7:35 a.m.

Reeves County Hospital

Reeves County, Texas.

When Mulder and Scully got to the hospital, Rollie, Angie and Agent Witter were already there, standing around in the reception area. Rollie was furious about something, and Agent Witter was failing in his attempt to try and calm him down. “What’s going on? Are they here yet?” Mulder asked as he and Scully approached the reception desk. “Yes they’ve bloody gotten here, but no one will tell us what’s going on!” Rollie yelled, angry at being kept in the dark and waiting. “Did you see them? Was the older man Detective McCarthy?” Mulder asked, wanting to be absolutely sure the patients were who they thought they were. “Yes it was! All this time we’ve thought he was dead, and it turns out he’s been held prisoner!!” Scully turned to Mulder and whispered, “I’m going to try to find out what’s going on? Can you handle this?” Scully, who was significantly more cool and professional after Mulder’s promise of a talk, went to see what the situation was with their patients.

Mulder convinced Rollie and Angie to calm down and sit down by assuring them that Agent Scully was a medical doctor, and was going to figure out what was going on and let them know very soon. Agent Witter went off in search of coffee, and Mulder noticed that Agent Porter was not here. “Have you two seen Agent Porter?” He asked Rollie and Angie, wondering if he had done the same as Agent Witter, or maybe gone to pee. “No, not since we’ve been here.” Rollie answered without looking up from his feet which he had been staring at since he sat down. Angie just sat next to him, holding his hand and mentally supporting Rollie. She knew he needed her, and she would take care of him. Mulder decided it would be a good idea to give Tyler something to do to get his mind off waiting, at least for a little while. “Is there anyone you should call about Detective McCarthy? Next of kin or friends of his, who should know?” He asked. Rollie stood up and looked at Angie as if he just realized he’d made some terrible mistake. “We’ve gotta call Francis, and Colleen, do you think Francis has Colleen’s number, I don’t think I have it I”— Rollie was cut off from his tirade by Angie, who stood up and took both of Rollie’s shoulders, making him face and pay attention to her. “One thing at a time Rol, use your cell and call Francis. We’ll take it from there ok.” She said assuredly. Rollie took a deep breath, sat down, got his cell phone out and dialed Francis’s number.

***

8:35 a.m.

Midtown South precinct

New York City.

Detective Francis Gatti sat at his desk, going over some paperwork with his partner Mira Sanchez. The precinct was buzzing with activity, officers bringing criminals in and out, people shouting into phones, other phones going unanswered. Francis was in the middle of confirming the time of an arrest, when his phone rang. He set the paperwork down and picked up the phone. “Detective Gatti here,” He said. “Francis, its Rollie, are you sitting down mate? Well you bloody well better be. We’re in Texas, and you’ll never believe who we found. Its Leo. We found Leo mate, he’s alive, he was being held prisoner in some bastard’s mansion out here… No we haven’t been able to talk to him yet—he was being drugged, and he was still out of it when he got here to the hospital. I don’t know much else right now, but I’ll call you as soon as we get some answers.” And Rollie hung up, leaving Francis stunned, unable to sit back down in the chair he had shot out of on hearing that Rollie had found Leo. He couldn’t talk; he could barely breathe. And so his new partner was left asking unanswered questions about who was on the phone. Francis continued to stand in front of his desk holding the phone’s receiver, before he finally snapped out of his reverie, hung up the phone, and walked over to the Captain’s office. He knocked on the door, and walked in, shutting it behind himself. Mira trailed after him until he shut the door to the Captain’s office, then she grabbed her purse and went to lunch, feeling extremely left out.

***

7:40 a.m.

Reeves County Hospital

Reeves County, Texas.

Scully came back through the same pair of swinging doors she had disappeared behind a few minutes ago, looking gravely informed, with a doctor carrying a medical chart in tow. The doctor stopped in front of Rollie and Angie, and Scully continued a few feet down the hallway, looking at Mulder as she passed him to tell him to follow. Once out of earshot of the anxious friends of their patients, Scully gave Mulder and update. “The doctor says they’ve pumped Detective McCarthy and Agent Smith’s stomachs, and taken them off of the IVs they were on. I’ve asked him to have the substances in the IVs as well as the contents of the victims’ stomachs tested, though I doubt they’ll find anything. They’ll be monitoring them round the clock, and Agent Smith is likely to wake up any time now, but with Detective McCarthy, it’s more difficult to say. The length of time he was being drugged makes Dr. Longbottom nervous, because the Detective will most likely suffer life-long side effects if he wakes up at all. Basically all we can do right now is, wait. Have the forensic guys gotten back to you about the house?” Scully said, anxious to know what else was at that house aside from a dead Mulder look alike, and two supposedly dead men, who were drugged. “No, I’m still waiting”—Mulder was cut off by Agent Porter, who came barreling into the hospital, looking about ready to fly everywhere at once. Mulder and Scully strode over to him, and Scully hastily gave him the good news about his partner’s 99% guarantee of awakening today. As if an invisible vice was lifted off of him, Agent Porter suddenly seemed exponentially calmer. Mulder noticed that he had something in his hand, and supposed whatever it was, was probably the reason for his delayed arrival at the hospital.

Dr. Longbottom hugged the chart he was holding tighter to his chest, preparing himself to deliver unfortunate news to the friends of one of his most mysterious patients. “I’m Dr. Longbottom; I’ll be treating Detective McCarthy and Agent Smith. They were both heavily sedated when they were brought in, but they were kept hydrated and fed intravenously. It seems that whoever was holding them prisoner, wanted them healthy, for which we should be thankful. Their captors could have wanted to injure them, or even ignore them. Now because of the timetable I’ve been given it’s going to be difficult to tell when exactly Detective McCarthy will wake up, but it could just as likely be in ten minutes as in ten days. I am confident that he will regain consciousness, and not be too much worse for the wear, so why don’t the two of you go visit, and talk to him; let him know you missed him. I’ve always found that even though there isn’t any scientific proof, it really does help patients to get better when they have their loved ones around. Detective McCarthy is in (Dr. Longbottom glanced at the chart in his hands) room 369 on the 2^nd floor.” Before the doctor was even through with the word ‘floor’ Rollie and Angie were already dashing toward the elevators at the end of the hall. Dr. Longbottom then turned to the FBI Agents and came walking toward them, as it seemed, with a purpose. “Are any of you Agent Porter? Agent Smith is awake, and is insisting to speak with Agent Porter.” The doctor said, hoping one of these three was Agent Porter, or at least knew how to reach him. “That’s me, where is he?” Charles Porter asked, ready to dash as soon as he got a location. “Agent Smith is in room 453, 3^rd floor--and please refrain from upsetting him-- I’m sure he’ll be fine, but I think it’s best if he takes it easy for a while.” Whether or not Agent Porter heard Dr. Longbottom’s request however, would be hard to say; as he was gone with a flash down the hall, as soon as he heard the room number. Mulder and Scully thanked Dr. Longbottom, and followed Agent Porter, though at a slower pace.

***

Room 369

When Rollie and Angie stepped into Leo’s room, it was quiet, too quiet, it would have been completely silent if not for the beeping of the monitors hooked up to Leo. Rollie walked inside and sat down in a chair that was next to the head of the bed, the only thing between Leo and the big window which only showed a grey sky above a greyer landscape. Angie pulled another chair from the opposite side of the bed around to the side Rollie was sitting on, and sat down in it right next to him. She took hold of Rollie’s hand, and looked at him expectantly. As if waiting for that prompt, Rollie started talking. “Can you believe this? Look at him Ange, he’s been drugged up and held out of his mind for a year! A YEAR! We had a funeral for him. He has a gravestone with his name on it! When he wakes up, he’ll still think its last year. He won’t know about Mira, he won’t know about—hey Ange, let’s not tell him about us, and see if he figures it out. I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately, and I think Leo knew I was in love with you long before I ever did.” Angie just rolled her eyes and said, “Whatever you say boss.” For which, Rollie thanked her with a kiss.

***

Room 453

Agent Porter walked into room 453, to find Agent Smith awake and staring at the wall clock that ticked too loudly on the wall opposite his bed. His eyes flicked to the doorway as Porter entered, and they got a glow to them, and a smile to match spread across the rest of his face. Porter always loved seeing those dark brown eyes glow the way they were at that moment. The sight of them now after he’d thought Josh was dead, made him so happy he started to cry. Josh was a head taller than Charles, not much broader in the shoulders, but with longer arms, and bigger hands. He wasn’t what you’d call muscular, but he wasn’t gangly either, just like his partner. His hair was short, unkempt, and so dark brown, people often mistook it for black, it was only in direct sunlight that you could really see it was brown. But Charles could barely see all this through the tears in his eyes. “Don’t cry Charlie, come here.” Josh rasped, holding his arms out for his partner. Charles did as he was told immediately, climbing into Josh’s bed with him, and hugging him tightly. They lay with their foreheads together, Charlie crying his heart out. “They said you were dead, they found a b-body, it was so charred and black. They said it matched your dental record though. There’s a gravestone with your name on it at Rochester Memorial, and your mother has a flag.” Charlie kissed Josh tenderly as he finished. “I love you so much Joshua.” And he kissed him again. Done poring information onto his partner, Charles just lay and looked into Josh’s eyes, and Josh gazed right back.

Out in the hallway, Mulder turned from the tiny window in the door of room 453, and looked at Scully. She agreed that they should leave their fellow Agents alone, for the time being at least, so they left the hospital, to go back to the hotel and start on the mountain of paperwork they were going to have to fill out. On the way back to the hotel, the forensics team called Mulder, and reported that aside from several Morley cigarette butts, they found no signs of habitation in that house at all. And they searched thoroughly. But Mulder still planned on taking one last look himself before he and Scully headed back to Washington.

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