Title:       Connected
Author:      lovesfox
E-mail:      lovesfox@rogers.com
Website:     www.geocities.com/fanficcorner
Rating:      R (language, some violence)
Category:    X-File, Mulder/Scully friendship/UST
Keywords:    Mulder/Scully UST, X-File
Spoilers:    Nothing specific, up to and including S7
Summary:     An experiment results in a new ability

Archive:     Yes to Ephemeral, Gossamer and Spooky's.  
             Others - with permission, please

Disclaimer:  The characters herein do not belong to
             me, they belong to Chris Carter and
             1013 Productions.

Thanks:      As always, to my betas Nancy and Mortis


*~*~*~*~*~*
Connected
by Lovesfox
*~*~*~*~*~*

Part 1 of 12

Unknown Location
Unknown Date & Time


Cold.

It was the first sensation to register.  She was so cold.

Scully shivered, and tried to concentrate.  Her mind was 
slow to respond, felt stuffed with cotton.

Discomfort.  Extreme discomfort.  The surface she lay upon 
was hard, and unyielding.  Pressing into her cheek, her 
chest, stomach and legs, her outflung arms.  

Forcing her eyes open, and meeting only darkness, she 
attempted to move, managing to roll partially on her side 
and to draw her arms inward.  Pain was the only reward, and 
she tensed in reaction.  Her entire body ached -- a low, 
deep ache like one experienced during a bad flu.  

Her head worst of all.  It throbbed, unmercifully.

Several slow, deep breaths helped, and her muscles gradually 
relaxed.  Only to tense up again as she suddenly thought 
about her partner.  Where was Mulder?

A picture flashed in her mind.  It was of her and Mulder.  
They had been meeting with Doctor Vladimir Kushov in his 
laboratory, hearing about the scientist's fantastical 
discovery, when...Her head gave another twinge, and she 
winced, trying to remember.

The pain eased, and the memory returned.

Black-clad men in gas masks had suddenly burst into the 
lab.  Before either she or Mulder had done more than reach 
for their weapons, the commandos or whoever they had been, 
had sprayed something from tiny canisters held in their 
gloved hands.  

Something cloudy and heavy that had hung in the air and 
made her eyes sting and water.  She had coughed, feeling 
like she was choking, her head spinning, trying to reach 
Mulder.

And then nothing.  Until now.

Obviously the canisters had contained some form of knock-out 
gas.  She shivered again, from the cold, and at the thought 
that they had been deliberately drugged, and this time drew 
her knees up towards her chest.  A moan slipped past Scully's 
lips as her head and stomach protested the movement.

The sound echoed slightly, and was duplicated.  By someone 
else.

Her heart skipped a beat, started thumping, fear and unease 
roiling through her.  "Mulder?" she called out, her voice 
raspy and hoarse.  One hand went to her back, groping for 
her holster.

Her empty holster.  No gun, and a check of all her pockets 
revealed she was minus her ID, her wallet and her cell phone 
as well.

She heard shuffling, like a body rolling over, and low groans.  
Then a croak that was his voice.

"Scu-leee?  You...okay?"

Relief covered Scully like a warm blanket, and despite 
everything else, despite the fact she had no idea where they 
were or how they came to be there, she felt better.  Not 
alone.  "It's me, Mulder," she confirmed.  "I'm...not sure 
how I am, though."

"Know that feeling," was his wry response.  More shuffling, 
a muttered curse, and then he asked, "Are you hurt?"

"Not exactly," she said slowly, experimentally attempting
to sit up, and succeeding.  "My head is pounding and my 
body aches all over, but nothing specific.  I'm also missing 
my gun and my phone."

A pause, followed by scraping noises.  "Shit," faintly
reached her ears, and she assumed he had been similarly
relieved of those items.  His next words confirmed it.
"Ditto on all counts."  More shuffling sounds and then he 
called, "I'm not restrained at all...Can you move, Scully?"

The thought that she had not been restrained in any manner
should have occurred to her, but it hadn't.  With a small
frown, she stretched her legs out slowly.  "Yes, I can."

"Keep talking, Scully, and I'll work my way towards you,"
Mulder said next.

"O-kayyyy," she answered semi-absently, blinking quickly 
and turning her head, trying to make out anything in the 
inky blackness.  

Dragging and scuffling sounds came then, and she imagined
Mulder crawling cautiously and blindly across the unknown 
terrain of the floor.

"Scully?" he called, sounding both anxious and impatient.

She was supposed to be talking, so he could use her voice
as a beacon.  "Sorry, Mulder," she told the empty space 
in front of her.  "Um, let's see...how about the human 
skeletal system?"  Without waiting for his response, she 
began, "Anterior view.  Skull, mandible, hyoid bone, 
cervical vertebra, clavicle, sternum--"

A heaviness in the air, a presence, had her stopping in
mid-recitation.  Seconds later something brushed her pant 
leg, and then Mulder's hand was on her thigh.  Dangerously 
close to another part of her body.

He had apparently been somewhere to her right.

The weight of his hand disappeared almost as quickly as 
it had appeared, as if Mulder had realized where he had 
grabbed her and was embarrassed.  "Found you," he said, 
his breathing somewhat labored.

Her own embarrassment was forgotten, to be replaced with
concern.  "Mulder, are you all right?"  Struggling up 
onto her knees, she reached out carefully with both hands, 
making contact with his cheek and his shoulder.  She patted 
both locations, soothed.  "What's wrong?"  Panicked, she 
added, "Were you hurt in the...the attack?"

"I'm just...winded," he replied, one of his hands coming 
up to cover hers on his cheek briefly before removing her
hand and squeezing it.  "Felt really weak and light-headed
for a moment." 

She thought back to that moment in the lab, saw their 
positions again, and realized that Mulder had been closest 
to the commandos.  "I think you got a heavier dose of 
whatever was in those canisters," she opined.  "Are you 
experiencing any other symptoms?"

Mulder squeezed her hand again, bringing it to rest on his 
knee, still in his clasp.  "I think we've covered everything."  
He cleared his throat, coughed a little, and then remarked, 
"Nice place we've got here.  Cozy.  Cheap on electricity."

Scully smiled and shook her head.  He was all right.
Despite her fears, she attempted to follow his light vein, 
knowing it was his way of trying to reassure her, and himself.  
"I don't know, Mulder.  I think I like my own place much 
better."

He chuckled before mock-cheerfully saying, "Well let's blow 
this popsicle stand then, huh, partner?"

She tried not to think of how hollow his laugh and his words 
had sounded, and nodded, forgetting for a moment that he 
couldn't see her.  Her voice was husky when she replied, 
"Definitely."

***

Mulder grimaced as he knee-walked along the floor, his 
joints aching from the steady contact with the hard, cold 
concrete.  Sweeping his hands lightly over the cement 
surface of the wall he and Scully were now investigating 
-- each moving in opposite directions --  and finding 
nothing, he inched forward again.

Sweep wall, find nothing, move on.  And repeat.

After discussing the very limited options regarding their 
current situation, they had decided that exploring their 
'prison', and hopefully locating a means of escape, was 
essential.  Hence his current activity.

The faint sounds to his left told him Scully was carrying 
out a similar search.  "Anything?" he called to her, despite 
the fact he knew she would tell him if she were to find 
something.

Her sigh telegraphed her frustration and exhaustion, which 
matched his.  "Not yet," she replied a moment later, her 
voice faint.  Dismal.  

Pausing for a much needed rest, he lowered his arms, hands 
coming to rest on his thighs, and sank down butt-to-heels.

Sitting thusly, Mulder took stock.  The nausea was now gone, 
and while the throbbing in his head had subsided, he was 
aware of an odd buzzing.  One he would almost describe as 
being in his mind.  He decided it must be an unusual side 
effect of whatever gas they had been exposed to, and hoped 
it would clear soon.  It was distracting him from the task 
at hand, as well as throwing his concentration to hell.

In an effort to banish the feeling, Mulder forced himself 
to recall and chronicle the events of the morning -- the 
events that had led them to this unknown location.  This 
predicament.

The call through the X-Files office line from a Dr. Vladimir 
Kushov early that morning, while slightly unusual, had not 
raised any flags or sounded an alarm.  Immediately intrigued 
at the scientist's revelation -- that the doctor had been 
working on an experimental drug involving mind control -- he 
had corralled Scully the moment she had walked into the office, 
hustling her out to his Bureau car.  With a promise to fill 
her in on the way to the lab, of course.  Despite her 
skepticism, Scully's curiosity had been piqued.

The address supplied by Dr. Kushov had led them to a rather 
unremarkable building on the outskirts of Washington.  Said 
building had turned out to be a busy medical center.  He and 
Scully had been met in the lobby by the very nervous scientist.  

A Russian whom neither of them had met previously, Kushov was 
in his early-fifties.  Short and swarthy, he was possessed of 
a facial twitch and fluttering hands that had made Mulder feel 
jumpy himself.

Oddly enough, the doctor's lab had been down in the basement.  
The gleam in Scully's eye as she flicked him a glance had told 
him she wanted to say he should feel right at home.  He had 
answered her unspoken comment with a little smirk.

Kushov had led them past the dual, gleaming metal elevators in 
the lobby and around one corner to a door with a keycard entry.  
Glancing over his shoulder in both directions, the doctor had 
pulled a white plastic card from his lab coat pocket and shot 
it through the slot.  Yanking the door open, Kushov had gestured 
them through with a marked edginess.

Descending concrete stairs one floor, they had followed the 
quick-footed doctor through an almost-labyrinth of hallways 
before he had stopped in front of a white-faced, unmarked door.  
A series of buttons to the numerical keypad lock, and then the 
scientist was herding them inside.  Once again checking over 
his shoulders, nervously scanning the empty hallway.

Kushov's theatrics had only served to intrigue Mulder further.

The room they had entered was a typical laboratory -- long, 
waist-high counters covered with assorted equipment, various 
microscopes and test tubes.  Just to the left of the door, 
there was a work station with an elaborate computer set-up 
and several monitors.  All of which displayed what Mulder 
vaguely recognized to be scientific calculations of some sort.

Dr. Kushov had urged them over to the computer and sat down 
before it.  Pointing at one of the screens, he had babbled 
jargon Mulder had not followed one iota.  Glancing at his 
partner, he had seen her nodding her understanding, an excited 
interest animating her features.

Then things had gotten hairy.

Scully had been bending over the doctor's shoulder, leaning 
towards the monitor, index finger pointing.  He had been 
looking about the lab and not at his partner and the scientist 
when Scully had made an odd sound.  As he turned back in 
concern, she had straightened up and stepped back, hand going 
to her waist, a confused look on her face.  His own hands had 
come up in reaction, reaching for Scully, a question on his 
lips, when Dr. Kushov had risen from the chair and brushed 
past him, mumbling what had sounded like, "It's not too late."  

He had felt a sharp pinch near his hip, but before he could 
react other than to clutch at his waist as Scully had done 
just seconds ago, there was a thunderous crash.

As his eyes had taken in the team of men in black uniforms 
and gas masks swarming into the lab, he had been reaching for 
his gun.  Uselessly as it had turned out, for several of the 
commandos had sprayed some sort of gas at him and Scully, 
rendering them incapable of much movement.

A last look at his partner, seeing her stumble and fall, and 
then he was falling as well.  Still, his eyes managed to find 
Dr. Kushov in the back corner of the room before apparently
succumbing to unconsciousness.  That was all he could remember 
until hearing a moan that he had just known had come from 
Scully.

Squatting now in their dark prison, he could recall the look 
on the scientist's face.  It had not been one of surprise, 
but rather...resignation.  As if Dr. Kushov had expected the 
attack.

Rising back up on his knees, Mulder moved a few inches to 
his left and started a wall sweep again, his brain working 
furiously.  "Scully, I think we were set up."

Several beats of heavy silence, and then she replied with 
skeptical curiosity, "By whom?"

"That's the question, isn't it?"  Mulder shifted yet again 
and began musing out loud.  "On the telephone Dr. Kushov 
said he had heard about me, about our investigations into 
the paranormal."

"Not unusual in and of itself," was her response. "We've been 
contacted before by people who've read articles about the 
X-Files, or heard of some of your exploits."

"True," he murmured, chuckling inwardly at her usage of the
words 'your exploits', and moved another couple inches over.  
"His story seemed to check out though.  Even the Gunmen had 
heard of him."

His mind supplied a picture of how Scully would normally 
have been regarding him if they had been in the office or 
on a case.  Arms crossed, eyebrow slightly raised, the 
skepticism clear on her face.  She had always made him work 
for her support and assistance, and he was grateful for that 
fact.  It was never a given; she didn't agree with every 
word he spoke simply because he was the senior agent.  A 
partnership at its best. 

Mulder continued on despite the lack of a response, starting 
with what he considered to be the most compelling evidence.  
"Scully, Dr. Kushov was not surprised when those commandos 
burst in.  I think he knew the attack was coming."

Her voice when it came sounded puzzled.  "And he wanted us 
there for it?  Why?"

That was something he hadn't yet figured out.  "I don't 
know," he answered slowly, the gears in his brain turning.

Scully was silent again for several moments -- the only 
sounds in the room were their hands sweeping the wall 
and the shuffling as they moved along it.  "Mulder," she 
said at last, her voice both speculative and disturbed. 
"Just before the attack, I felt a sharp pinch in my side."  
She paused, and then clarified, "Like a needle."

Mulder remembered that moment when she had seemed to falter.  
And he also remembered that right after, as Kushov had 
passed him, he had felt a pinch near his hip.  "So did I, 
Scully," he told her.  "Right after."

He heard her sharp inhalation.  "Mulder, I think Dr. Kushov 
injected us with something!"

"The plot thickens," he murmured.  They needed to get the 
hell out of this place and back to Kushov's lab.

Scully made no further comment, and he was just about to 
call out when she said rather excitedly, "Mulder, I think 
I've found something!"

Dropping to all fours, he crawled as rapidly as he could 
along the wall in Scully's direction.  Bumping into her leg, 
he realized she was standing and rose to his feet as well.  
He lifted his hands up to the wall, fingers searching.

She had found a door.

***
End Part 1 of 12