Prologue

3:21 AM
Highway 371
Minneapolis, MN

  The beat up Ô79 Buick clattered and clunked as it swerved, barely missing the bumper of a large moving van. The horn in the Buick honked loud and long, interrupted only by the masses of profanity the driver was emitting.
  Michael Samson was obviously under the influence of alcohol. The 41-year-old accountant had been fired earlier that night, and had spent the many hours since at the local bar. That was his first mistake. His second was picking up the car keys.
  His Buick skidded and jumped as he made the mad dash home to his wife and children. At 80 miles per hour speed, Samson dodged cars, blowing the horn and swearing loudly. He was a sure-fire pull over at any second.
  Then, fate took itÕs toll.
  Fate, and a Ô92 Ford pick-up truck.
  His alcohol-induced blurred vision didnÕt allow him to see the truck coming. Samson hit the breaks too late, not realizing he was in the middle of an intersection. The noise was horrid, with the sound of blaring horns, screeching tires, and scraping metal. And suddenly, nothing.
  Samson stumbled out of the Buick, now laying on itÕs side. He was dizzy from the impact, no doubt, but didnÕt seem to care. He walked over to the spot where the Ford sat. Blood streamed down the driverÕs motionless face.
  Samson squinted at him. He raised his fist and swung it with impressible force. With a CRUNCH! the fist collided with the obviously dead manÕs face. Samson nearly fell backwards, but was able to stay on his feet. ÒNext time,Ó he said to the body. ÒWatch where youÕre going, you worm.Ó
  Samson turned his attention now to the tree-covered landscape just outside the intersection. He struggled, swerving as he walked, off of the road, only stopping to flick anyone off who honked at him.

* * * *

  A few minutes later, the police arrived at the scene of the accident. Lieutenant Jim McDougall stepped out of one of the multiple police cars. He looked from one car to the next, from the overturned Buick to the smashed Ford. He shook and lowered his balding head. ÒItÕs a shame,Ó he said. ÒA complete shame.Ó
  McDougall just stood there, face to the ground, until Officer Lucas Portlann walked over. Portlann tapped him on the shoulder, and McDougall jumped up. ÒAnything wrong, McDougall?Ó asked Portlann.
  McDougall sighed, tears welling up. ÒThe boy... the one in the Ford... is he all right?Ó
  Portlann looked down at a small piece of paper he was carrying, scanning it for the information McDougall requested. ÒUhh... eyewitnesses say the one in the Buick caused the accident. He just got out and walked over to that field.Ó Portlann stopped reading to point to the field. He returned his eyes to the paper. ÒBut as for the boy... well, the truck got hit really hard, and...Ó
  McDougall interrupted. ÒIs he alive, Officer?Ó
  Portlann looked up. Slowly, cautiously, he shook his head. ÒHe was dead on arrival, sir.Ó
  McDougall winced, allowing tears to break free. He drooped his head again. ÒOfficer, you get out in that field at catch that drunk,Ó he said. ÒAnd bring him to me.
  ÒI want to see the man who killed my son.Ó

* * * *

  Frustration and alcohol were all that were controlling Michael Samson at the moment. He stumbled about, not really knowing or caring where he was going. He was running into trees, tripping over his own feet, all the time while quietly muttering to himself.
  But soon, quite muttering wasnÕt all Samson heard. He spun around, to see a young, black officer running after him, yelling. ÒHEY!Ó the voice called. ÒHEY!!! Stop immediately!! I repeat, stop immediately!Ó
  Portlann wiped the sweat off of his brow as he continued to sprint. He called out again. ÒThis is the Metro Area Police!! Stop!!Ó His call had no affect. He tried once again. ÒStop immediately! Stop! STOP!!!!Ó
  Samson didnÕt care about the advancing police officer. He just continued stumbling along, muttering.
  Portlann was quickly advancing. In only a few seconds...
  Samson still stumbled about, not worrying about the man chasing him.
  Only a few seconds...
  Then, came the green light. It was bright, incredibly bright. And whatever it was, it caught both menÕs attention and stopped them dead in their tracks. They both stared at the light, emitting from the top of the forest of pine trees nearby.
  There was a quiet hum as the light began to raise above the trees. The two men gaped at the awesome sight. Slowly, the light raised. They just stood, wrapped in awe and amazement. It was Portlann who broke the silence.
  ÒGeez, itÕs a... oh, my God, itÕs...Ó
  But he didnÕt need to finish. Both men knew exactly what they were staring at as it stopped itÕs ascent, hovering with only a soft hum above the trees.
  They knew exactly what it was.
  They were staring at a UFO.

* * * *

  The ground trembled as the explosion sounded.
  McDougall spun around, turning to the field that Portlann had run off into. There, a bright fire blazed, debris flying about the air. It was like a bomb had gone off. But who in their right mind would bomb a field?
  McDougall could only stare, confused.

* * * *

  Ò...and then, BOOM! It crashed! Must not of been more than 100 feet behind me!Ó
  Michael Samson sat in the dimly lit room on an uncomfortable chair. He glanced around the room excitedly, still nervous about what he had seen only an hour before. He thanked God he was still alive.
  SamsonÕs nervous gazing was interrupted by the voice of the elder man that sat across the table from his. ÒAnd then what happened?Ó the man asked.
  Samson coughed as the smoke from the cigarette the man was holding entered his lungs. His eyes shifted from the elder man, to the younger, dark haired man with the mustache in the dark trench coat. Both looked to be getting impatient, so he decided not to hesitate any longer.
  ÒIt exploded! The whole front end just exploded!Ó Samson cried out. He wiped the sweat from his cheeks.
  The man with the cigarette exchanged glances with the younger, then came closer. ÒWhat would you say you saw out there?Ó he asked, in a frightening voice that sent a chill up SamsonÕs spine.
  SamsonÕs head drooped, shaking back and forth. After a minute, he brought his head back up to look into the elderÕs eyes. ÒI wish I knew,Ó Samson said. ÒI just wish I knew.Ó

* * * *

  ÒAnd what would you say you saw out there?Ó
  Officer Lucas Portlann sat in the same dim room, in the same uncomfortable chair, talking to the same two men. ÒI dunno,Ó he stuttered. ÒIt was like somethinÕ out of the movies. Like in those Science Fiction films. YaÕ know, a... a spaceship!Ó
  The cigarette smoking man turned to the younger man, and snickered a little. He gave a slight nod, and the younger man returned it. The younger man ran his fingers through his mustache, then exited the room.
  ÒWhat was that all about?Ó asked a nervous Portlann.
  The cigarette smoking man paid no attention to the question. ÒYou think what you saw was an extra-terrestrial spacecraft?Ó
  Portlann shrugged. ÒDonÕt think it coulda been anything else.Ó

* * * *

  ÒWould you look at this mess? Anything that was in there didnÕt live to tell the tale!Ó
  It was a cold Minnesota morning. And yet, hundreds of workers were running about, cleaning up debris. From a safe distance, Portlann, Samson, and the two men stood, watching. The larger piece of the UFO was attached the the bottom of the helicopter. With the raise of a workerÕs hand, the helicopter raised, then flew off into the distance.
  The cigarette smoking man took a puff, and blew the sweet smoke outwards. He turned to Samson and Portlann. ÒIt looks as if a weather balloon went down,Ó the elder man said. He flickered a small smile. ÒProbably nothing that important. Thank you, gentlemen, for your help.Ó Both men nodded, then turned. Portlann guided Samson back to the police car, parked at the edge of the highway. The elder man called out again.
  ÒOh, and Portlann?Ó he asked. Portlann spun around. The cigarette smoking man smiled. ÒGo easy on Samson here.Ó Portlann nodded, then continued guiding Samson the car. As they left, the younger man with the mustache turned to the cigarette smoker.
  ÒTheyÕve seen too much,Ó said the elder man. The other nodded.
  ÒDonÕt worry,Ó the younger said. ÒThatÕs the last thing theyÕll see.Ó

* * * *

  Portlann pushed Samson into the car, shaking his head. ÒMan,Ó he said to Samson. ÒWhen we get to the station, you better pray to God Lieutenant McDougall is in a good mood. If he is, you might just receive a slow-painful death and not torture.Ó
  Samson winced as the door slammed next to him. Portlann walked around the car and got in on the driverÕs side. He put the keys, and began turning the ignition. ÒMan, you just better pray...Ó Portlann said.
  The engine gunned.
  Portlann barely had time to turn his head.
  The car exploded with a tremendous force, rolling it into the middle of the street.
  And before PortlannÕs life suddenly ended, he swore that he could have heard laughing in the distance.

* * * *

  Mulder sat in his apartment, flipping through television stations like there was no tomorrow. It had been a boring week. It seemed like nothing paranormal was happening around the country. So this is what he did every night. He just came home and vegged out in front of Sally-Jesse.
  Suddenly, he heard the front door open. His senses became alert in an instant. He looked around, hoping to find his gun. Painful realization told him he had left it in the kitchen. He swore to himself.
  The footsteps creaked as they approached. Whoever was in the apartment was getting closer. There was no way Mulder could make it to his gun. He winced as the intruder stepped around the corner and into the room...
  Mulder sighed with relief and stood up. It was Scully. He walked over towards her.
  ÒScully,Ó he smiled. ÒWhat are you doing here? And... and howÕd you...?Ó
  Scully interrupted with a beaming smile. ÒShh.Ó she whispered. She walked up closer. MulderÕs heart began to race. She pressed herself against him and brushed her lips against his. Mulder smiled. He turned his head to kiss her and...

* * * *

  Mulder awoke in a cold sweat.
  He looked around, startled. Everything was as it should be.
  He got out of bed and walked around. He had dreamed it all. Again.
  The dream seemed to be coming more often.
  He shook his head and went back to bed.

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

Chapter One: Witness

Federal Bureau of Investigation
Washington, DC
3:23 PM

  Ò...Mr. Michael Samson, and Officer Lucas Portlann. Both are blown to bits by a car bomb only five hours after they witness a UFO crash.Ó
  In his dark office within the lower levels of the FBI Headquarters, Agent Fox Mulder stood. The only light emitting from the room came from a slide projector, positioned in front of a white screen. His partner, Agent Dana Scully, smirked. It had been a while since she had had the ÒpleasureÓ of one of her partnerÕs famous slide-shows.
  With a small *click*, and Mulder walked up to the screen. ScullyÕs face turned from a smirk to mild disgust as she looked at the slide now being shown. The bloody remains of the two victims were scattered across the highway. Mulder continued.
  ÒPortlann and Samson were the only two major witnesses, but another police officer, Lieutenant Jim McDougall...Ó Mulder paused to changed slides. With another *click*, McDougallÕs photo filled the screen. Scully let out a silent sigh of relief, now that the gory wreckage scene was gone. Mulder continued. Ò...McDougall saw the fiery explosion from a distance, but was the only man besides our two road killed buddies to actually investigate the wreckage.Ó
  Scully shook her head. She looked into his eyes. ÒMulder,Ó she smirked. ÒThis is a tabloid story. Hundreds of them come in every week. ItÕs about as intriguing as the National Enquirer.Ó
  Mulder chuckled. He approached Scully. ÒYou donÕt think itÕs a little strange that the only two excellent witnesses become victim to a car bomb less than half a day after they witness a Ôweather balloonÕ crash?Ó
  Scully shook her head with disbelief and sighed. ÒMulder,Ó she said. ÒEvery day, hundreds, maybe thousands, of UFO sightings are reported! Yes, itÕs a little awkward, perhaps a little confusing, why the two witnesses suddenly died, but there is obviously an explanation!Ó She stood up, and sighed again. ÒI mean,Ó Scully continued. ÒWhat makes this different than any of the other stories that are reported every day?Ó
  Mulder turned to face her, a smile on his face and a glint in his eye. He pressed a button on the projector, and the machine clicked to the next slide. Mulder walked up to the screen. Scully stared, puzzled.
  It was a newspaper article from the Star Tribune. The headline read, *Downed UFO or Weather Balloon?* She began scanning the document as Mulder read it aloud. ÒEarlier this morning, at approximately 3:30 am, two men witnessed what both believed was a UFO crash. The government was called in immediately with a team of FBI agents lead by an anonymous elder man...Ó Mulder stopped reading, turning back to Scully. She stared, a pale expression on her face.
  Mulder nodded, his smile widening. Ò*THATÕS* what makes this tabloid different. My... buddy... is in control. And I think *HEÕS* the reason we no longer have effective witnesses.Ó Scully raised her eyes to meet MulderÕs.
  ÒI think,Ó Mulder smirked. ÒThat the cover upÕs already begun.Ó

* * * *

Minneapolis, MN
7:19 PM

  It was cold and lonely in the empty bar. Jim McDougall sat off-duty, in front of a Miller Lite and a small television playing a rerun of ÒPardon My Zinger!Ó. His mind wandered, from his sonÕs death to the fact that justice wasnÕt brought to the crime. He shook his head to no one in particular. Slowly, he tipped the rest of the Miller into his throat.
  He stood up slowly, the stool creaking as he did. One beer wouldnÕt have an affect on his driving, he thought. He dropped a few wadded-up bills on to the counter and silently walked out the door.
  The Miller hadnÕt dampened his depression, that was for sure. McDougall slowly walked to the squad car and opened the door. Gunning the engine, he backed out from the parking place. He admired the scenic landscape in this portion of the town. It was so nice. It reminded him of playing baseball with his son years ago, before anything like what had happened could have.
  So nice...
  So nice, that he didnÕt notice the silhouette of the figure raising in the backseat of the car until it was too late.

* * * *

8:29 PM

  The car door slammed shut as Mulder and Scully advanced to the house across the street. Mulder blew outwards and shook his head, laughing. Man, he though. ItÕs the middle of October, and I can see my breath.
  The door was answered almost immediately after Mulder knocked. A blonde women, probably in her middle forties, stood. ÒYes?Ó she asked to the two agents. ÒWhat do you want?Ó
  Mulder and Scully stood outside the household of Lt. Jim McDougall. Mulder jumped on the question. ÒAgents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully. WeÕre with the FBI,Ó he said. ÒIs your husband home? WeÕd like to ask him a few questions.Ó
  The women, obviously McDougallÕs wife, shook her head. ÒHe isnÕt home yet,Ó she said. ÒProbably working late. But he should be home shortly.Ó She paused nervously. ÒIf youÕd like, you can wait inside.Ó
  Mulder nodded, and flashed a smile. He was glad to get out of the October cold.

* * * *

  ÒJim hasnÕt said much since the incident a few nights ago. Billy was our only boy, and... *sob*... IÕm sorry.Ó
  Mulder and Scully sat at a small table in a cozy kitchen with a weeping Mrs. McDougall. Mulder looked around. He was still cold. How could anybody in their right mind want this kind of weather in October?
  Mulder turned back to the weeping lady. ÒMrs. McDougall,Ó he asked. ÒWhat does your husband think he saw out there?Ó
  Mrs. McDougall wiped her eyes with a handkerchief sitting on the table, then looked at the two FBI Agents sitting across from her. ÒI donÕt know what he saw,Ó she said, shaking her head. ÒBut he says he had never seen anything like it. It wasnÕt like any airplane that he knew about, so he says.Ó
  Mulder smiled. ÒDoes your husband believe in the existence of extra-terrestrialÕs, Mrs. McDougall?Ó Out of the corner of his eye, Mulder saw Scully roll her eyes as she sighed. He smirked a little. How many years had she been his partner? Three? Four? And still, she was as skeptical as the first day he met her.
  ÒI donÕt know, Mr. Mulder,Ó said Mrs. McDougall. ÒYouÕll have to ask him for yourself.Ó
  Mulder, nodded, then continued with the questions. ÒArenÕt you a little nervous? I mean, the first two witnesses were killed due a car bomb less than half a day after they witnessed the crash. Do you think your husband is all right?Ó
  Mrs. McDougall opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted by the ringing of a telephone. ÒExcuse me,Ó she said to Mulder and Scully, standing up. ÒI bet thatÕs Jim now.Ó

* * * *
  ÒScully, all I want to do is ask Mr. McDougall a few, simple questions. Nothing but!Ó
  Scully shook her head at Mulder. ÒMulder, just take it easy! This man just lost his only son! What youÕre going to ask him can wait a few days if needed!Ó
  Mulder shook his head. ÒNo, it canÕt,Ó he spat. ÒBecause IÕm afraid that the coverup will take itÕs full swing by then. YouÕve seen this kind of thing before, too.Ó
  ÒListen, Mulder. I donÕt care WHAT you...Ó
  Suddenly, a loud sob came from the next room. Mulder and Scully both looked up at the same time, frightened and surprised. They ran into the living room, where Mrs. McDougall was pressed against the wall, cradling the phone, tears streaming down her face. Scully knelt down beside her. ÒMrs. McDougall, are you okay?Ó she asked.
  But she didnÕt need an answer to know what had happened. And neither did Mulder. Scully slowly turned her head up. Mulder just stood, his face wrapped in a meaningless expression. They both knew exactly what had happened.
  And they knew they no longer had any witnesses.

* * * *

9:02 PM

  The corner of 35th and Maine had been completely blocked off as they hauled away the body from the totaled squad car. Mulder and Scully stood with Lieutenant John Breams of the Metro Area Police, looking over the crumpled car.
  Ò...from the look of it, he died on impact. Too bad. He was one heckuva good officer. And IÕve never known him to hit the bottle *THIS* hard.Ó
  The large oak tree outside of Washington Middle School had withstood the impact of both the car, as well as the body that had been flown through the windshield. The spot where the corpse had laid was covered in and still strongly smelled of blood. Mulder turned away from the gruesome sight to Lt. Breams. ÒHow do you know he was intoxicated?Ó Mulder asked.
  Breams pointed to the disfigured car. ÒTake one whiff inside,Ó the young officer said. ÒAll youÕll smell is blood and beer.Ó
  Mulder walked to the wreckage. Breams was right. The overpowering smell nearly knocked Mulder to his feet. He held his breath as he began to examine the interior.
  Scully walked over to the stretcher where the body lay. Slowly, she peeled down the thin covering. It was a horrible sight. He was covered in scrapes and cuts, and his stomach had been completely torn open, probably from his flight through the windshield. His left arm was shattered, every bone broken. She turned to one of the men who had been wheeling the stretcher away. ÒCan you turn him over?Ó she asked.
  The back of Lt. McDougall was just as bad. Sliced from head to toe. She shook her head at the sight. She began to turn him back to his front side, when something caught her eye. There was a cut in the upper neck, a very fine cut, which had penetrated the Medulla Oblongota. It was too fine and too deadly for such a random injury.
  ÒMulder,Ó Scully called, not taking her eye off the body. Mulder looked up from the car and ran over to Scully. She continued, still staring at the corpse. ÒLook at this. ThereÕs an incision made here, but no piece of glass could have done this! ItÕs too deep, and it chopped his Medulla nearly in half!Ó
  Mulder winced at the sight of the body. ÒAre you saying it looks like he was murdered?Ó
  Scully turned the body back over. She looked up at her partner. ÒMulder, why would anybody want to kill McDougall?Ó
  Mulder flashed a small smile, ignoring the question. ÒScully,Ó he began. He paused, to look at the body. ÒBoth you and I know EXACTLY why.Ó

* * * *

  Mulder sighed with relief and stood up. It was Scully. He walked over towards her.
  ÒScully,Ó he smiled. ÒWhat are you doing here? And... and howÕd you...?Ó
  Scully interrupted with a beaming smile. ÒShh.Ó she whispered. She walked up closer. MulderÕs heart began to race. She pressed herself against him and brushed her lips against his. Mulder smiled. He turned his head to kiss her and...

* * * *

  Mulder sighed as he sat up. He flipped on the lamp next to his bed. He shook his head.
  The dream was happening too often. WAY too often. How could he deny his feelings? He shook his head, whispering a curse to no one in particular. He got up to make some coffee.
  He had to tell her.
  Soon.

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

Chapter Two: Investigation

Near Highway 371
Minneapolis, MN
8:21 AM

  ÒGeez,Ó thought Mulder out loud, rubbing his arms rapidly up and down his arms. ÒItÕs even colder than it was last night. What are these people, Eskimos?Ó
  Fox Mulder and Dana Scully slowly approached the area where the UFO had crashed a few nights earlier. Scully flashed Mulder a smiling glance from his comment.
  Mulder looked around. One hundred yards ahead sat an area of charred grass and sticks. Besides that, everything looked clean. Mulder swore silently to himself. He wished he could have gotten there before the cancer man had.
  Despite the cold, it was a fairly nice morning. Mulder smiled at the thought. ÒAhh,Ó he chirped to himself. ÒSmell that clean, fresh air. A nice break from the big cities.Ó He turned to look at his partner. ÒItÕs a perfect morning for UFO hunting, wouldnÕt you say, Dr. Scully?Ó he laughed.
  Scully shook her head, obviously not amused. ÒIÕm tired, Mulder,Ó she spat. ÒThis was my week off. Thanks to you and your alien obsession, IÕm out here looking for a tabloid header.Ó
  Mulder smirked a little at the attitude she had towards the case. ÒTouchŽ,Ó he smiled.
  She continued. ÒLetÕs just cut the crap, Mulder. I want to go home.Ó
  They had now reached the burnt area in the grass. Mulder stopped, still smirking, as Scully bent down and began to investigate the crash sight. Suddenly, he found himself thinking about the reoccurring dream.
  God, she was beautiful...!
  Scully paused and turned when she realized her partner wasnÕt helping. ÒHey, Mulder!Ó
  Mulder shook his head, dumbfounded, trying to think clearly again. He managed to choke out a, ÒHuh?Ó
  She shook her head impatiently. ÒYouÕre the UFO nut,Ó she spoke. ÒAre you going to help with the investigation or what?Ó
  Mulder returned a sarcastic smile, then walked over to help.

* * * *

  Skinner began to choke as he entered the office of the mysterious figure, due to the smoggy, smoke-filled air. He barely managed to withstand it, but the fact that one simple cough could mean his job when dealing with such a high authority figure kept his choking sensations in.
  The vision in the office didnÕt surprise Walter Skinner in the least. It was worse than the smell. He thought he recognized the outline of pictures on the wall, but couldnÕt be sure. He jumped, however, when an elderly voice suddenly came from the cloud of tar. ÒSit,Ó was the cliche it chose.
  Skinner nodded, still trying to not breath in the deadly poisons in the air. He walked to what resembled a desk behind the thick clouds and sat in a chair placed for him. Upon squinting, he recognized an elder man with dark gray hair, and, not surprisingly, a cigarette. ÒSir,Ó Skinner asked to the man. ÒYou wanted to see me?Ó
  The man behind the cloud took a puff from the cigarette. ÒAgent Skinner,Ó he rasped, before blowing out a cloud of dark smoke, adding more into the air. ÒI understand youÕve assigned Agent Mulder to the...Ó He paused, searching for the right words. Ò...the, uh, ÔWeather BalloonÕ crash in Minneapolis.Ó
  Skinner winced as the smoke began to make his eyes water. ÒYes,Ó he said, slowly but firmly. ÒYes, thatÕs correct. Is there a problem?Ó
  The elder didnÕt answer the question. Instead, he shot back another, this one with a tad of sarcasm in his voice. ÒSkinner, is this the same Mulder whoÕs obsessed with the so-called ÔX-FilesÕ?Ó The elder man chuckled. Skinner opened his mouth to answer, but was stopped by another question. ÒThe same Fox Mulder whoÕs reputation is summed up by his nickname, ÔSpookyÕ?Ó He paused. ÒSkinner, is this the same Fox Mulder whoÕs irrational decisions and reports have almost gotten him fired, time after time?Ó
  ÒSir,Ó Skinner said, finally getting used to the smoke. ÒMulder is a fine agent. HeÕs helped the government a number of times! He was the one that caught Boggs, remember? And...Ó
  ÒSkinner,Ó interrupted the elder man. ÒYou assigned the same Fox Mulder whoÕs been so possessed with finding his long lost sister that he believes was captured by aliens to a UFO crash case?Ó
  Skinner nodded, beginning to get angry. ÒYes,Ó Skinner spat. ÒThatÕs the same Mulder. But heÕs a fabulous agen...Ó
  ÒSkinner,Ó said the cigarette smoker, standing up. ÒSkinner, I want Mulder off this case. I want Mulder off this case immediately. Those irrational decisions will no doubt be made on this case, and, like you said, heÕs too good of an agent to lose to that... *dark* side of his.Ó The cancer man chuckled to himself. Yeah, he thought. That sounds good. That sounds caring enough.
  Skinner shook his head, but was once again interrupted by the elder. ÒI understand that the ÔX-FilesÕ have been taken out of commission before, is that correct?Ó
  Skinner paused, making sure that he was not to be interrupted again. ÒYes,Ó he replied, simply, seeing where the tar infested man was going.
  ÒAgent Skinner,Ó the man said, pacing back and forth behind his desk. ÒMulder, working on the X-Files, while trying to cope with his sisterÕs ÔabductionÕ... well, itÕs not a good combination. We canÕt afford all of the pressure on him,Ó the man smiled. ÒAnd so therefore, I have decided to discontinue the X-Files.Ó
  Skinner winced, but not from the smoke. Anger boiled inside of him. One swing of the fist...
  ÒPermanently,Ó the man finished.
  Skinner didnÕt move. He wouldnÕt. One wrong move, and his job was as useful as last nightÕs garbage. The man was trying to get to Mulder, but why...?
  ÒReassign Agent Mulder to violent crimes, or something else,Ó the cancer man continued, sitting down again. ÒAnything else. Just donÕt lose him.Ó
  Skinner clutched the side of the armchair he sat in. Slowly, he stood up. The elder manÕs eyes followed him. ÒCall Mulder,Ó the man said. ÒGet him back here as soon as possible.Ó Skinner nodded, and walked to the door. With a creek, it opened, exposing the fresh air outside.
  Just one swing...
  Skinner sighed, and walked out the door.

* * * *

  ÒWoo-ee, man! Never seen ANYTHING like it. Where nÕ earth did you dig this up?Ó
  Mulder stood in the dark room, overlooking FrohikeÕs viewing in the microscope of the substance he had found that day at the crash sight . It was a bright green and glowing. ÔKind of like liquid Jello,Õ was how Byers had described it.
  Behind Mulder, Scully stood with Byers and Langly. She looked around what the three ÔLone GunmenÕ called an office. Scully chuckled to herself. ÔIt looks like my room did when I was 10Õ, she thought.
  Frohike continued. ÒMan, Mulder,Ó he said, adjusting the microscope. ÒWhatever this crap is...Ó he said, trailing off. Mulder tapped FrohikeÕs shoulder, and Frohike slid out of the way. Mulder looked into the microscope. The green substance wiggled about, and Mulder shook his head.
  To phrase it in the words of such an analyst as Frohike: Yeah. What was this crap?
  Mulder sighed. ÒYouÕve never seen anything close to it? I mean, this is something brand new?Ó
  Frohike flashed a slight smile. He raised his hand, putting his index and middle fingers together and sticking them in the air. ÒScoutÕs honor,Ó he chuckled, pushing Mulder out of the way.
  Mulder sighed, shaking his head. ÒHmmph,Ó he snorted.
  His concentration was suddenly broken by the ringing of a telephone. He immediately jolted upright, grabbing the phone. ÒMulder,Ó he answered.
  Scully gazed on from behind. Suddenly, Mulder spun around, an angry and confused look on his face. ÒWhoa, whoa, whoa,Ó Mulder said, obviously not the least bit happy. ÒWhat do you mean IÕve been reassigned?Ó

* * * *

  Skinner shook his head at MulderÕs comment. ÒYou heard me. SomeoneÕs pulling your strings, if you ask me, Mulder, but I was ordered personally. YouÕve been reassigned, and so has Agent Scully.Ó Skinner paused, wondering what MulderÕs reaction would be to what he said next. He winced, then continued.
  ÒMulder, the X-Files have just been permanently shut down.Ó

* * * *

  ÒWhat?!Ó was all Mulder could choke out.
  Scully stared as MulderÕs confusion sank away, molding into pure anger. He began yelling into the cel phone. ÒWhat in GodÕs name do you think youÕre protecting, huh?!Ó Mulder yelled in a fit of rage. ÒI mean, what do you think are you doing? Man, I must be getting pretty close to popping the lid off this whole UFO secret to get FIRED.Ó
  Skinner sighed on the other end of the line. ÒMulder, you havenÕt been fired,Ó Skinner said. ÒYouÕve only been reas...Ó
  ÒReassigned,Ó Mulder spat, interrupting. That was the FBI term for ÒfiredÓ. Mulder was unaware that he had The Lone GunmenÕs attention, as well as ScullyÕs, too. He continued. ÒYouÕre just taking me away from everything youÕre protecting. Because IÕm getting too close to figuring it out! You cancel me out. Just like the X-Files. You cancel me out.Ó He sighed, then continued.
  ÒSkinner, youÕve got a lot of nerve calling me here. But you know me. And you know IÕm not going to take this kind of crap from you. I donÕt care how you feel about it, but IÕm staying with this case. No question, no argument, no nothing. You got that?Ó
  Skinner tried to speak again. ÒMulder, listen...Ó
  Mulder interrupted, too furious to care what Skinner had to say. ÒNo. YOU listen.Ó Mulder winced. He paused, then threw the phone to the cold cement floor. Pieces went flying it every direction, but Mulder wasnÕt pleased yet. ÒSkinner...Ó Mulder said, but he was too disgusted to finish. And with that, he threw his foot down. Hard. The phone went to abrupt silence.
  Mulder sighed, wiping the sweat from his brow. Suddenly, he became aware of everyone around him. He glanced from Scully to Langley to Byers to Frohike. All of their eyes were fixed, motionless, upon him.
  Angered and confused, Mulder threw his foot to the floor again, harder this time. The cel phone was completely unrecognizable. Mulder sighed, staring at the floor for a minute. Finally, he grabbed his overcoat and walked away.

* * * *

  Mulder lay, still upset about the events that had occurred earlier, on the bed in ScullyÕs motel room. He glanced about, until finally his eyes fixed upon her. Scully sat across from him in a small, green chair. ÒSo thatÕs it, huh?Ó she asked, already knowing the answer. ÒThis is our last case as partners.Ó
  Mulder remained motionless, his voice coming out in one monotone pitch. ÒNot if I have anything to say about it,Ó he spat.
  Scully sighed, long and heavy. ÒWhen are you going to learn, Agent Mulder?Ó she smiled. The smile abruptly faded. ÒRight now, youÕve still got a job. Rebelling could get you fired.Ó She drooped her head, not knowing what was the right thing to say. ÒDonÕt play an ace if a two will do, Mulder,Ó was what she came up with.
  Mulder slowly sat up. He immediate brought his eyes up to stare into hers. He smiled a little. She had the most beautiful eyes...! And suddenly, he knew what to say. He knew that it was time to tell her.
  ÒMulder?Ó Scully asked, her eyes taking on a confused look. ÒMulder, what is it?Ó
  It was time.

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

Chapter Three: Abduction

Near Highway 371
Minneapolis, MN
2:16 AM

  Mulder ran.
  It was a particularly cool night in Minneapolis, but Mulder didnÕt seem to notice. Sweat dripped down his forehead. Hidden by the darkness of the forest of trees near where the UFO had crashed, Mulder stared straight ahead, fixed on one destination.
  He swore to himself. How could he have been so stupid? Yelling at Skinner was dumb, and probably got Mulder fired, but what he had just done was ever worse. The day had fizzled as soon as he confronted Scully...
  Mulder continued to run.

* * * *

  Mulder stared into her eyes, sitting across from her in the motel room. ÒMulder, whatÕs wrong?Ó Scully asked, confused. 
  MulderÕs mind raced. What was he supposed to say? He needed to tell her. But how? ÒScully...Ó he began, but words failed him. He shook his head, searching for the right words, but frustration clogged his brain.
  Scully was nervous. What was wrong with Mulder? ÒMulder,Ó she said. ÒPlease. Tell me.Ó
  It was time.
  It was as she said those words, that all of MulderÕs emotions, all of his instinct, all of his feelings snapped. Everything molded together. He gently placed his hands upon her smooth cheek. Scully began to tremble. ÒMuld...Ó she said, trying to speak. But she was muffled by MulderÕs lips suddenly being pressed to hers. She didnÕt know what to do, but she didnÕt struggle. And for the first time in years, everything in Fox MulderÕs life was perfect.
  Scully slowly pulled away, trembling more than before. ÒM-Mulder?Ó she managed to choke out.
  Mulder sighed, placing his face in his hands, then abruptly raised it again. ÒDana,Ó he smiled, using her first name. ÒI... I...Ó
  Scully only stared into his dark eyes.
  Mulder sat perfectly still for a minute. He gulped a small, unrecognizable gulp. ÒScully,Ó he said. ÒThereÕs a dream I want to tell you about...Ó

* * * *

  Mulder was nearing the edge of the forest now, and was still showing no signs of slowing. How could he have been so stupid? To tell her about the dream, to ask her that stupid question, and to KISS her?! Twigs and sticks protruding from the ominous trees scraped deep into his skin. Mulder paid no attention.
  He just ran.

* * * *

  The exhaust growled as Mulder screeched down the street.
  The neighborhood was a cozy one, a place where you wouldnÕt expect anything to go wrong. But it had. He swore at himself repeatedly, wondering what had caused him to make that one mistake that would forever change his relationship with the best friend heÕd ever had.
  It had torn his heart in two. The kiss was so wonderful, but she hadnÕt said a word as he told her of the dream. But then he made that fateful mistake. ÒDo you love me, Dana?Ó he had asked. And she had just stared.
  Just stared.
  Mulder looked around. He saw a deep forest to the left of him. And Mulder knew exactly where it lead. To where this whole mess had begun. To the clearing alongside the highway.
  Mulder skidded the car to the left. He opened the door of his car, throwing his overcoat on the front seat. He turned to the woods, and began to run. Towards the crash site.
  There was something he needed to do.

* * * *

  ÒSkinner, for the last time, I have no idea where he is.Ó
  Scully sighed a heavy sigh, shaking her head back and forth. She sat silently on the motel bed on her cel phone, Walter Skinner on the other line. ÒOkay, Scully,Ó Skinner said in a calm voice. ÒJust calm down. Do you have any idea why he would run away like that? It just doesnÕt seem like the Mulder I know.Ó
  Scully searched frantically for a reason. She didnÕt want to tell Skinner about the kiss, or the dream, or anything. ÒSkinner, you took away everything important to him! Mulder thinks the X-Files are his only chance for finding his sister!Ó Scully stopped and though about what she had said. She was wrong. Skinner wasnÕt the only one who had made Mulder miserable.
  SkinnerÕs calm voice had become an angry one. ÒListen, Agent Scully,Ó he hissed. ÒI would *never* take away MulderÕs X-Files, okay? The reason? Because heÕs too good of an agent to lose.
  ÒI was ordered personally by a much higher official to discontinue the X-File project immediately. He told me to get you two back here as soon as possible. Why? I have no idea. But donÕt blame me.Ó Skinner finished with a sigh.
  Scully was now equally as angry, but she fought to keep it in. ÒFine,Ó she spat. ÒBut heÕs my partner, and IÕm going to find him.Ó Scully brought her ear away from the phone.
  Skinner became suddenly nervous. ÒAgent Scully,Ó he yelled. ÒDonÕt you dare leave that motel. Stay right where you are! Leave this to...Ó
  Skinner stopped and glanced at the phone.
  He had been interrupted by the dial tone.

* * * *

  ÒYou... you lost them?Ó
  SkinnerÕs body had become numb to the smoke the first time he had sat in the cloudy office, only hours before. Still, his eyes couldnÕt peer through the smog that well, and he still couldnÕt identify the elder man.
  Skinner spoke. ÒMulder took off to God knows where,Ó he said, shaking his head. ÒScully followed.Ó Skinner stopped, then looked up into the evil eyes peering through the cloud. ÒBut donÕt you *dare* blame your doings on me. ItÕs *your* fault that MulderÕs gone. YouÕre the one who discontinued the X-Files.Ó Skinner stopped, furious.
  The cancer man was equally furious, standing up. He shot his head through the cloud of smoke, stopping it inches from SkinnerÕs face. It was the most hideous sight Skinner had ever seen. He was an elder man, a wrinkled face probably caused by the cigarette smoke. Below his eyes the skin was stained yellow, and the eyes themselves...
  ÒYouÕve got a lot of nerve,Ó the cigarette smoking man bellowed. ÒGet out of my office. DonÕt even consider reporting back to this building.Ó He paused and pulled his face back. ÒWeÕll leave these kind of cases to REAL agents.Ó
  Skinner trembled, his fist ready to swing. But he didnÕt dare. He through his chair to the ground with a grunt, and walked the the door.
  Just one swing...
  The door slammed shut behind him.
  The cancer man just shook his head.

* * * *

   Scully came to a screeching halt at the sight of MulderÕs abandoned car.
  Slowly, she opened the door. Approaching the car, she searched frantically for Mulder. She looked everywhere. He was nowhere to be seen. She looked inside the car.
  MulderÕs overcoat was heaped in a pile next to his badge and gun. The gun. Maybe Mulder had...
  Stop it, Dana, she though. Pull yourself together. Your rejection wouldnÕt have forced the best friend youÕve ever had to kill...
  No.
  Mulder was alive. She could feel it.
  Quickly, she jumped into her car and sped away.

* * * *

  Mulder panted and wheezed after running what had seem like an eternity. Sweat dripped down his brow and into his eyes. He looked down at the charred spot in the grass. This was the place. Slowly, he brought his head to the sky. And began to scream.
  ÒITÕS YOUR FAULT!!!!Ó he yelled to the eternal darkness above. ÒItÕs all your fault!!!! You came in to my life when I was twelve and you RUINED IT!!!Ó Mulder panted, trying to catch his breath.
  ÒItÕs because of you my life is nothing!! You took away everything!!!! ItÕs because I investigated this crash that the X-Files are gone! If not for this case, Scully still wouldnÕt know about my feelings!! YOU TOOK MY SISTER!!!! My life is a mess because of you!Ó
  Mulder dropped to his knees. His head drooped to the ground. ÒItÕs your fault,Ó he said, almost a whisper. Tears began to flood his eyes. ÒItÕs all your fault.Ó
  And then came the humming.
  Mulder glanced back up to the skies. What he saw made his heart skip a beat. He clutched the charred grass as it approached. ItÕs bright, glowing green made him squint, but he wouldnÕt take his eyes off of it.
  It was a UFO.
  It was all he had ever wanted.
  The circular object flew until it was positioned directly above him. Mulder stared into the object, immediately jumping to his feet. No way was this a weather balloon. There was no way.
  The whirring and humming soothed Mulder as a small hatch opened in the bottom. He winced as an even brighter light, this one white, surrounded him. He through his hand above his eyes, still staring in awe.
  It was more than worth the wait. The light engulfed him, nearly swallowing him whole. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, smiling to no one in particular. The light began pulling at him, slowly. He didnÕt fight. His feet left the ground and he slowly was picked up into the bright light.
  ÒSee, Samantha,Ó he smiled, approaching the opened hatch.
  ÒI knew someday IÕd find you.Ó

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

Epilogue

ONE WEEK LATER

Dana ScullyÕs Apartment
Washington, D.C.
11:21 PM

  Scully tossed and turned, trying to get comfortable. The bed wasnÕt the problem, though, and Scully knew it. Slowly, she sat up, turning on the small lamp next to her bed. She rolled her head in a circular motion, and sighed a heavy sigh.
  Scully had tried everything. She had tried reading, but it hadnÕt helped. She had tried counting sheep, but stopped counting them as the 300th one passed. She had tried a late night rerun of ÒMystery Science Theater 3000Ó, and still nothing. It was no use.
  Her mind was stuck on him.
  Agent Dana Scully had lost the best friend she had ever had. She stayed in Minneapolis, where Mulder had disappeared, for 48 hours, looking for him every passing minute. When he hadnÕt shown up, though, she feared the worst. And she blamed herself for rejecting him.
  Dana, she though to herself. You should have stayed longer. You should have looked harder. ItÕs all your fault. ItÕs all your fault.
  Slowly, she got out of bed. She knelt down next to the window and stared at the stars. Her mind drifted back to him, as a soft tear began to roll down her cheek. She brought her fingers up and slowly wiped it away.
  She sat for what seemed like an eternity. How could she have lost the best friend she had ever had? And even worse...
  How could she have slipped on that one kiss?
  She shook her head, stood up, and walked back to bed.

* * * *

  Byers and Frohike huddled above Langly as he picked over and over at the substance with a sharp instrument.
  They had been working day in and day out on this green liquid crap that Mulder had found. They hadnÕt heard from him, so they assumed he was still working on the case in Minneapolis. Langly shook his head as he removed the tool. ÒMan,Ó he said. ÒThis is some weird crap. First itÕs like a liquid, then you hit it with something and it turns into Jello. Strangest thing IÕve worked with. Strangest thing IÕve ever seen.Ó Frohike nodded and walked away.
  Langly continued talking to no one in particular. ÒItÕs almost as if...Ó Byers squinted, waiting for Langly to continue.
  ÒItÕs almost as if itÕs... alive.Ó
  Langly went back to work.

* * * *

   Mulder had felt the presence in the room for a while, now, but he was too woozy to see.
  A bright, white light shine all around him, still too bright to bear with his eyes closed. He squirmed a little, but found himself strapped to the table he was laying on. He shook his head back and forth, but was calmed by a warm, clammy hand placed up his head. He instantly relaxed.
  And then, there was the needle.
  Mulder screamed in pain, and then there was abrupt silence. He shook his head. Oh, how he wanted to see...! But it didnÕt matter. He already knew what was happening.
  They were testing.
  Mulder smiled, and whispered, ÒSamantha...Ó as the next needle was stabbed into his arm.

* * * *

  Mulder sighed with relief and stood up. It was Scully. He walked over towards her.
  ÒScully,Ó he smiled. ÒWhat are you doing here? And... and howÕd you...?Ó
  Scully interrupted with a beaming smile. ÒShh.Ó she whispered. She walked up closer. MulderÕs heart began to race. She pressed herself against him and brushed her lips against his. Mulder smiled. He turned his head to kiss her and...

* * * *

  Scully awoke. She looked around the room.
  ÒDana,Ó she said to herself. ÒWhen you finally do get to sleep, you wake yourself up by dreaming MulderÕs dream!Ó  Slowly, she stood up. She looked at the clock. 3:02 am. She only had two more hours before she would have to report to work anyway. She stretched her arms above her head, but suddenly felt uneasy.
  Glancing outside, she noticed a dark silhouette creeping around to the front of the apartment. Suddenly, Scully became alert. She glanced around, looking for her gun. It was somewhere around... but where?!
  There wasnÕt any time to answer that question. The door flew open with a deafening crash. Scully didnÕt know what to do. She glanced around, not able to move. A man in a dark coat entered her bedroom.
  With the swing of his arm, his hand was wrapped firmly around her wrist. She tried to fight, but a slap across the face from the other hand stopped her. The man pulled her out the front door and into the cool, night air.
  Scully couldnÕt find the strength to fight as the man pulled her around the corner of the apartment and into a dark alley. He threw her up against the cold, brick wall. She winced in pain as her head cracked against the brick, but she didnÕt say a thing.
  From inside the dark coat, he slowly exposed a .44. ScullyÕs eyes quickly widened. But she didnÕt move. Her body began to tremble as the man slowly, probably for dramatic effect, brought the gun to her skull.
  ÒYouÕve seen too much,Ó said the man.
  Scully swore she knew that voice...! Scully brought her eyes to him. ÒW-What...?Ó she asked, nervous.
  The man shook his head as he spoke. ÒThe charred grass, the green substance, everything. You KNOW too much.Ó Scully shook head as if to protest, but was silenced by the manÕs voice. God, where had she heard his voice?
  ÒThatÕs the last thing youÕll ever see.Ó
  Time stood still as the dark, hidden man slowly prepared to pull the trigger.
  A soft, lone tear ran down ScullyÕs cheek. ÒMulder,Ó she though out loud. ÒIÕll be with you again... soon.Ó
  She winced, and braced herself for the worst...

* * * *
  
  The cancer man paced back and forth in his office.
  Had he done the right thing? Maybe Scully hadnÕt seen anything, and there was no reason to send... *him*... after her.
  And what about Mulder?
  Should he have told her?
  The cigarette smoking man sighed a deep, heavy sigh, then sat back down in his comfortable, smoky chair. He pulled out a smooth, white Morley from his pocket.
  Well, at least he still had his *true* friends...