*******************************************
Ascent to Hell - Part 14 of ? (14/?)
by Kronos (clb@roadrunner.com)
Rating:  NC-17
*******************************************

PAST
September 12, 1986
Thursday, 4:52 a.m.
Fairfax Hospital, Arlington, Virginia


Fox kept trying to avoid the trap, but he was stuck in 
a dream loop from which he couldn't break free.  Each 
time, the dream was slightly different, but each and 
every time, he ended up shot in the chest.  At least 
three different times now he'd awoken, covered in 
sweat, head pounding, highlights of the dream still 
fresh in his memory, hands clutched to his chest. And 
each time, Dean Waring was there, speaking softly, 
soothingly.  After this last time, it occurred to Fox 
that his mother wasn't there. And it occurred to him 
that he really, really wanted her to be.

Waring said softly, "Go back to sleep, Fox.  We'll 
talk in the morning. Don't worry about anything right 
now."

Fox forced his head to turn and saw the man sitting in 
the chair next to his bed.  He was reassured, as he'd 
been the other times.  He nodded and closed his eyes, 
drifting back to sleep.  He was unaware, a few minutes 
later, of the cool cloth wiping the sweat from his 
forehead.

It was dark and he was driving without lights.  There 
was another car ahead of him.  It didn't have its 
lights on either, but every once in awhile, Fox saw 
the brake lights flash red in the darkness.  Fox knew 
he was following the car, but couldn't remember why.  
He was pretty sure there was a bad guy in the car.  A 
killer. He wasn't sure why he was alone, why he was 
driving with no lights, why he didn't even have a 
weapon…  He just knew he had to catch the killer.

The car in front started speeding up.  Fox tried to 
see who was in the car and thought he saw one man, 
then two, then only one again.  It was confusing.  He 
stepped on the gas and tried to close the gap between 
his car and the one he was following, but every time 
he speeded up, so did the other driver.  As if they 
were connected somehow.

The road was empty of cars, empty of houses, empty of 
everything.  There were open fields on either side of 
the road, with an occasional stand of trees hear and 
there.  Fox had no idea where they were or where they 
were going. 

All of a sudden, the car in front started going faster 
and faster.  He pushed the gas pedal down to the 
floor, but the car kept pulling away from him.  He had 
to catch up.  He had to keep on the guy's tail.  He 
knew it was critical – that someone could die if he 
didn't.  But, the car kept getting farther away.

Fox started breathing faster, wondering what he should 
do.  He pushed at the gas pedal again, but he was 
already going close to ninety.  The trees flew by now 
so fast that he could barely make them out.  He felt 
the sweat rolling into his eyes, making it even harder 
to see.  He swiped at it, angry and frustrated.

And then, all of a sudden, there was a car coming 
straight at him.  It was the one he'd been following.  
It was traveling fast, so that their combined speeds 
would result in impact in just a couple seconds.  He 
cursed and slammed on his brakes, pulling the wheel 
just slightly to the right to try to avoid a roll.  
The car responded as if he'd hit a ramp with his right 
front tire.  The car lost traction and started 
spinning and rolling.  

Fox screamed silently, unable to voice his terror.  
The sounds around him were thunderous and deafening. 
The steering wheel would no longer respond to anything 
he tried, but turned of its own accord, wildly.  Fox 
hit his head against the wheel, against the window…  
He felt his legs crushed between metal and plastic.  
He tried to scream again and still couldn't find his 
voice. He could barely breathe.  Barely keep his eyes 
open.

Everything was fluid, nothing making sense.  And after 
an eternity, he realized it was quiet. There was no 
sound, nothing at all.  No chirp of bugs, no rustle of 
leaves in the wind.  He couldn't even hear his own 
breathing even though he knew it had to have been 
harsh and loud.  It was surreal.  Unnatural.

But then, he heard whistling.  Whistling and the 
uneven crunch of gravel.  Fox strained his eyes in the 
gloom and made out a figure coming towards him. He 
realized that the car had finally stopped upside down. 
Fox lay on the inside roof, his head tilted 
unnaturally. But, despite the pitch black around him… 
despite the lack of lights from either car… Fox could 
see the figure walking towards him.

He could see the man's face.  No, woman's face.  No…  
The face changed, shifted, even as the shape came 
closer. And then it was a face he knew.  One he 
recognized all too well.  And then it shifted again. 
And the killer was whistling. Relaxed. Smiling.  And 
then the killer raised an arm and Fox could see the 
gun.  He knew he was going to die.  The face, that 
beautiful face – no a scarred and ugly face… It looked 
down upon him, upon his mangled body – and smiled.  
And then the gunshot rang out and Fox knew that he was 
dead.

"No!  No!"

Fox heard the screaming from a distance.  Knew that 
someone was screaming.  And then someone was shaking 
him and calling out his name.  He heard his own name 
quite distinctly.  He forced his eyes open and saw a 
shape leaning over him in the gloom and darkness of 
the room.  He screamed and realized, as he did, that 
he'd been the one screaming all along.

"Fox, it's Dean Waring.  Wake up, son.  Open your eyes 
and wake up."

Fox forced himself to listen to the man's words.  It 
was his instructor.  His instructor from the academy.  
He knew this man.  Everything was all right.  
Everything was fine.  It had just been a dream.  
Nothing more.  Just a dream.

"Fox, boy.  Can you hear me?  Do you understand me?"

Fox nodded and tried to speak, but couldn't.  His 
throat was parched.  He couldn't swallow.  Couldn't 
force out any sound but a croak.

Dean seemed to understand what he needed.  The man 
poured a cup of water and held it to his mouth.  Fox 
drank greedily, feeling the coolness of the water 
sooth his throat.  The water spilled down his chin but 
he didn't care.  He just wanted more.

"Whoa, now.  Slow down a bit.  That'll do for now."

Fox collapsed against the pillow, the strength that 
had enabled him to lean into the cup leaving him, so 
that he was weak and shaking.

"Fox, I'm calling a doctor. I'll be right back."

Alarm spread through Fox and he found the strength to 
reach out and grab Dean's arm.  He managed a 
strangled, "No. Wait."

"Fox, you should be able to sleep for more than a half 
an hour at a time without waking up screaming.  The 
doctors can give you something."

Fox forced his eyes open and realized there was plenty 
of ambient light in the room.  He almost had to 
squint.  He focused on the older man and saw the 
concern there.  Saw the worry.  "No, it's all right.  
I just keep dreaming about …"

Fox stopped, wondering if Waring would understand.  If 
anyone would, this man would.

"Go on.  Tell me what you're dreaming about."

Fox focused on the man's eyes. Locked onto them and 
said, "The crash.  But, not the crash.  It's 
different."

"Different how?"

He was able to speak more easily now.  "It didn't 
happen the way the real crash happened.  Not exactly.  
And I keep seeing the killer's face, but it changes.  
First a woman's face, then a man's.  The woman's face 
is beautiful. The man's is ugly and scarred.  But, 
there's also…"  He couldn't mention the other face he 
saw.  Not yet.

Fox was thirsty again.  He croaked, "More water, 
please."  Waring held the cup up once more.

Fox said, "After the crash, the killer started walking 
towards me.  He was whistling.  He was smiling.  And 
then he held up a gun and shot me, in the chest."

Waring nodded.  Turned away from Fox and stared at the 
wall for a moment.  Then, the man turned back and 
asked, "Is it possible that you actually saw the 
killer earlier today when you were chasing him?  Is it 
possible that this dream – these dreams – are just 
your mind's way of trying to get the information to 
the surface of your thoughts?"

Fox squeezed his eyes shut and tried to reconstruct 
the afternoon.  Finally, he shook his head.  "No, sir.  
I know I never saw his face.  There was no opportunity 
to.  The window of the car was so filthy I couldn't 
see inside at all."

"What about before you started following the car?  
What about when the car drove back and forth in front 
of the gas station?  Is it possible you caught a look 
at the face then but didn't realize it?"

Fox thought again.  Finally nodded slowly.  "Possible, 
I guess.  But, I have no recollection of it."

"What about when the UNSUB started walking towards you 
yesterday after the crash?  Could you have seen his 
face then?"

Fox again shook his head.  "I don't think so.  I 
couldn't really make anything out. I couldn't see 
straight.  There was blood in my eyes.  I don't really 
know what I was seeing then."

"But it's possible, isn't it?  Maybe you saw enough of 
him before the chase and afterwards to actually put a 
face to the killer – at least in your dreams.  Maybe…"  
Waring paused and grabbed Fox's hand.  "Maybe, dreams 
are answers to questions we haven't yet figured out 
how to ask. Maybe you know more than you realize, 
Fox."

Fox didn't really know what to say to that. Suddenly, 
he was so exhausted he couldn't say anything at all.  
Could barely think anything.  His eyelids were 
drooping, despite the effort he was putting into 
keeping them open.  He felt lethargic.  Unable to move 
even a finger.  His eyes fluttered closed, finally, to 
the soft murmur of Dean Waring's voice.

"Put it out of your mind, Fox.  You've told me what 
you saw.  You don't need to worry about it any more.  
You're safe here."

And the last thought Fox had was about what had always 
made him feel safe.  And he whispered, with yearning 
in his heart, "Mom."

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

Present Day, Hour 33 of the Wait
Monday, 7:02 a.m.
Mercy Hospital, Richmond, Virginia

Scully jerked her head up, off the bed where she must 
have fallen asleep.  She looked around, in a daze, 
wondering what woke her.  Then she realized a nurse, 
Donna, stood by her side, speaking softly.

"I'm sorry, Dana.  There's a phone call for you.  I 
didn't catch the first name, but the last name sounded 
like Kirch.  It sounds pretty important."

Scully flushed a bit and nodded.  Kersh.  Damn.  It 
was Monday morning, though, and she hadn't actually 
put in for vacation or asked for time off.  She had 
just started to push herself up to take the call at 
the nurse's station when she heard movement from 
across her partner's bed.  Skinner was pushing himself 
up straight, a bit flushed himself.

Skinner said, "Stay here, Scully."  He turned to the 
nurse and asked, "Can you forward the call here, 
please?"

The woman nodded and left quickly, obviously confused 
about their reactions.  Scully looked across to 
Skinner and, despite the fact that she knew it was 
coming, jumped a bit when the phone rang.

She reached out and picked it up, a quick glance at 
her partner showing no response on his part to the 
sound.  "Scully."

The voice at the other end was hard and unyielding.  
"Agent.  I see you're still in Richmond."

Scully licked her lips and looked over at her former 
boss.  "Yes, sir.  Agent Mulder hasn't come out of his 
coma, yet."

"Agent, perhaps I missed a memo.  I don't recall that 
you've been assigned to Mulder's case.  In fact, I 
seem to recall that you are supposed to be here for a 
ten o'clock meeting at which you are to report on the 
autopsies you've performed over the last few weeks."

Scully looked down at her watch, wondering what she 
should do.  A small part of her was furious, while 
another was anxious.  She wouldn't put it past this 
man to make her life even more miserable than it 
already was.  And she was determined not to let him 
win.

"I do recall the meeting, sir.  I intend to be there."  
If she left immediately, she'd even have time to take 
a shower and change clothes.

There was silence for a moment and then Kersh said, 
"You better be, Agent.  I have some additional 
autopsies waiting that require your deft hand."

Scully was stunned.  She couldn't speak for several 
seconds.  "But, sir…"

"Agent, surely you didn't just use the word 'but' in 
speaking with me."

Scully felt her face going red.  She was either going 
to scream at this man or have a stroke.  She tried 
once more for reason.  "Sir, I apologize for that.  I 
did not intend to question you.  However, sir, I did 
intend to put in for vacation time so that I can be 
here with Agent Mulder."

"Agent Scully, I don't believe a request for vacation 
can be approved at this time.  Your skills are needed.  
I'll see you later this morning."

And then the phone clicked in her ear.  She pulled the 
handset away and stared at it.  Heard a throat clear 
and turned to her former boss.

"Scully?"

She shook her head and quietly hung up the receiver.  
Then, turned to him and asked, "Can he do this?"

Skinner was obviously confused. He hadn't heard the 
conversation, after all, although he probably could 
guess at most of it.  

"Can he deny my request for vacation time?"

She heard him curse under his breath, but then he 
answered.  "I'm afraid so. Only the total number of 
hours and days is guaranteed, Scully, not the actual 
time you're allowed to take it."

Scully stood slowly and ran one hand through Mulder's 
hair.  She felt her eyes flood with tears and was 
horrified when some of them actually made their way 
down her cheeks.  She swiped at them angrily, then 
turned back to Skinner.

"I need to go.  I'm not sure when I'll be back.  Tell 
Mulder…"

She swallowed hard, wondering just what to say to this 
man.  He'd known her and Mulder a long time.  Had 
saved their butts repeatedly.  Had risked his career 
often enough on their behalfs.  He'd become a friend 
along the way.  And he knew.  He knew now what she had 
just admitted to herself.  That she loved her partner.  
She loved Mulder and intended for Mulder to know it.  
Hell, Skinner probably knew it before she did.

The man rose to his feet and said merely, "I know, 
Scully.  Don't worry.  I'll tell him for you."

She tried to smile at him and succeeded marginally.  
Allowed the forced smile to fade.  Then leaned close 
to Mulder.  She whispered in his ear, not even self-
conscious any more about who might hear, "I love you, 
Mulder. I love you."  She brushed his forehead with a 
soft kiss and then said, "I have to leave for a while.  
AD Skinner's going to be here.  We really want to talk 
with you, partner.  Hurry back to us."

Then she headed to the door with a nod towards Skinner 
and walked out of her partner's room.  With every 
step, the anger at Kersh grew.  With every step, her 
resolve and determination grew.  She would make him 
pay.  For every time he put her or her partner in 
danger… for every time he acted with disregard for 
their welfare… for every time he attempted to put 
roadblocks up to prevent them from being together.  He 
would pay.

And her smile, as she left the CCU, was broad, but 
dangerous. 

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

PAST
September 12, 1986
Thursday, 10:27 a.m.
Fairfax Hospital, Arlington, Virginia

Fox woke slowly.  The sounds in the room were soothing 
and predictable.  He felt safe and warm. And then he 
realized there was a hand stroking his forehead. And 
there were words being spoken by a voice he 
recognized.  A smile came to his face before he even 
opened his eyes.

His voice was a whisper when he said, "Mom."

He felt her move closer and then felt the kiss on his 
forehead.  He smiled even more and forced his eyes 
open.  She was there, smiling down at him.

"What are you doing here?"

He could tell she was trying not to look as worried as 
she must have felt.  She tried for a wry smile.  "You 
want me to leave?"

He laughed.  "You know I don't.  It's good to see 
you."

She allowed some of the worry to show through when she 
said, "What are you involved in, Fox?  I thought the 
Academy was safe. I thought I had another month before 
I had to start worrying about you getting hurt."

Fox pushed himself up higher on the pillow, taking 
stock of his body.  He actually felt pretty good.  
Only slightly banged up.  He reached out a hand to 
take hers in his.  

"Mom, this was a fluke.  You don't need to worry.  
It's not likely to happen again."

He saw her look over her shoulder to the left and 
followed her gaze.  His instructor, Dean Waring, was 
still there, trying not to listen.

His mother said, "Agent Waring explained to me that 
you got involved in this serial murder case."

Fox was surprised that Waring would have told her 
that.

His mother continued.  "He said you've been in the 
infirmary a couple times already."

Fox couldn't imagine what had possessed the man to 
tell his mother these things.  He shot the agent a 
dirty look.  Waring pretended not to notice.

Fox pushed himself up so that he was sitting, even 
though his mother protested the movement, as if he 
were on death's doorstep.  Now, he was just getting 
annoyed.

"Mom, it just happened. It wasn't anything 
intentional. And yesterday, I was in a car accident.  
That's all it was.  A car accident."

He saw her purse her lips, obviously not convinced, 
but also not wanting to argue.  He didn't want this to 
be confrontational.  He was honestly happy to see her.

"Mom, thank you for being here.  I really appreciate 
it."

He could see her melt a bit at that.  Then, she smiled 
and said, "Where else would I be?  When Agent Waring 
called this morning, I took the first flight to DC."

Fox sat back, getting a bit more comfortable.  "I do 
appreciate it, Mom.  How long are you here for?"

She shrugged a bit, answering, "At least until you're 
released.  I think …"  

There was a quick staccato knock at the door and she 
broke off.  It opened to a man in a white coat, 
evidently a doctor, with the proverbial stethoscope 
about his neck.

"Mr. Mulder?  How are you feeling this morning?"

Fox was a bit hesitant in answering.  After all, he 
didn't know this man.  He heard movement at the bottom 
of his bed and saw Waring standing there.  

Waring said, "Fox, this is Doctor Latner. He was here 
last night when you were brought in and has been 
overseeing your care."

Fox nodded, not impressed at the man's bedside manner.  
However, he figured he'd better answer if he wanted to 
get any information from the man.  "I'm fine, doctor."

Latner was young, looking only slightly older than Fox 
himself.  The man was somewhat short, with dark brown 
hair and a tan that spoke of outdoor activities.  One 
eyebrow raised enquiringly and then Latner said, 
"Fine?  Define that, please."

Fox couldn't tell if the man were kidding or serious.  
He decided the doctor really did want to know.  "It 
means… I feel fine.  No worries.  No problems."

Latner hadn't looked at him at all after the requested 
clarification of the word fine, but scribbled on the 
file he held.  "Um, hm?"

Fox again didn't know whether he was supposed to 
answer or not.

Latner finally looked up.  "Have you urinated yet?"

Fox felt himself go red and looked over at his mother.  
There were some things you just didn't discuss in 
front of your Mom.  At least, not once you hit 
puberty.  "Ummm…"

The doctor waved him off.  "Once you show us you can 
manage basic functions without trouble, we'll cut you 
loose."

Fox was relieved.  He should be out of here by this 
afternoon.

"That means you have to eat, pee and…"

For the first time, the doctor seemed to realize he 
was talking to a grown man in front of that grown 
man's mother.  Maybe there was at least a trace of 
humanity in the man.

"… well, you know.  Probably you can be released first 
thing tomorrow."

Fox felt crushed.  Tomorrow?  He felt fine.  

"Doctor…"  Fox realized it was coming out as a whine 
and tried again.  "Doctor, really.  I feel just fine.  
Surely I can be released earlier than that?  This 
afternoon, perhaps?"

The man looked at him as if he were a specimen.  
Evidently he didn't appreciate being argued with.  The 
doctor scribbled a bit more, then flicked his glance 
up.  Fox was embarrassed at the scrutiny.  Latner 
said, "Probably tomorrow.  We'll see how things go."

And then the man glanced at his watch and headed out 
of the room without another word, the dismissal 
complete.

Fox groaned and dropped back to the bed, knowing he 
was in for a miserable day.

He heard laughter and looked across to his instructor.  
Waring was grinning when he said, "Better get used to 
it, Fox."  

Fox shook his head.  "No way.  I don't intend to spend 
any more time in the hospital.  I've had enough of 
this."

Waring laughed, then the man slapped Fox's leg and 
walked towards the door.  "I'll stop by later, Fox.  
Time for me to check in with the Bureau."

A couple hours later, Fox had convinced his mother to 
check into a hotel close to Quantico.  He made sure it 
wasn't the one he'd visited with Shirley.  That just 
didn't even bear imagining.

Then, he proved to the nurse on duty that he could 
'manage basic functions' and begged and pleaded that 
she intercede with the doctor on his behalf.  He 
cajoled, wheedled and finally, convinced the on-duty 
nurse that they'd all be much better off if he were 
released today instead of tomorrow.  

Once he got the nod from the intern on duty, 
thankfully not Dr. Latner, Fox called Waring's office 
number.  He wasn't sure if the man would be there, 
given the fact that he'd been at the hospital the 
entire night before.  Surprisingly, the man picked up 
on the second ring.

"Waring."

"Sir, it's Fox Mulder."

He could sense the worry in the man's tone.  "Is 
everything all right?"

"Yes, sir.  Fine.  I'm being released this afternoon 
and I thought…"  He tapered off, realizing that he was 
being presumptuous in calling the man at all.

He needn't have worried.  "What time, Fox?"

"In about two hours, sir.  Around dinner time.  
Before, I hope."

Waring laughed.  "Fox, I'll pick you up, if you don't 
mind.  The DC Murders team has some questions.  I 
promised them I'd speak with you about it this 
afternoon anyway."

Fox felt relieved.  He'd been worried he'd have to get 
his mother to come pick him up.

"Thank you, sir.  I look forward to it."

Waring again laughed.  "I can imagine."


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

Present Day
Monday, 9:57 a.m.
F.B.I. Headquarters, Washington, D.C.


Dana Scully adjusted her shirt collar, then ran a hand 
down the front of her jacket and up through her still 
slightly damp hair.  She'd been able to go home and 
shower quickly before heading into the Bureau for the 
morning meeting.  She had her files in hand and was 
ready to sit through the next two hours, head held 
high.  She was quite certain that the rumor mill would 
have already spread the word that Mulder had saved 
little Christian and was still in a coma following the 
encounter with the kidnapper.  People would wonder why 
she was sitting in a meeting in D.C. while her partner 
was in a hospital in Richmond.  She was determined to 
make sure that everyone would soon know the answer to 
that.

Scully headed into the conference room and made her 
way to the far end of the table where there was still 
an open spot.  A few people nodded to her.  A couple 
asked after Mulder.  She was at least able to tell 
them he was doing better.  She saw some heads bent 
close and could imagine the whispers.  Then, just as 
she was getting settled, the door opened to admit A.D. 
Kersh.

Everyone took their seats and quieted.  Scully wasn't 
surprised when his first words were directed at her.

"Agent Scully, it's good to see that you could make 
it."

Scully had thought long and hard the entire drive back 
about what she would say, if she had the opportunity. 
She took advantage of the opening.  "Sir, since you 
made it clear to me that I wouldn't be able to take 
any of my saved vacation days to stay in Richmond with 
my injured partner, I knew you must have something 
quite important for me to do here in D.C.  I came 
immediately."  She allowed a slight pause before 
adding, "As directed by you, sir."

'There, Kersh,' she thought.  'Eat on that for a 
while.'  Scully forced herself to maintain her 
professionalism as well as her cool.  She could see 
that Kersh was failing at that challenge. She could 
swear he was turning purple.  The silence in the room 
was thick and heavy.  No one was looking at Kersh, 
although a couple agents were staring at Scully, 
mouths open.  They either were admiring her courage or 
thought she was insane.  Well, actually, given her 
years with the X-Files Division, they probably all 
thought she was at least slightly cracked anyway.

Kersh finally managed to get his own emotions under 
control and began the meeting, valiantly pretending 
that nothing at all had transpired.  As Scully had 
predicted, it was basically a waste of time and 
energy.  Quite possibly, the meeting had been called 
solely to put Scully in the position of having to 
choose whether she'd be there or not.  About a half 
hour into the boredom, a knock at the door sounded, 
interrupting one of the agent's report.  

Kersh called out, "In."  His secretary poked her head 
in and then brought a message to him.  The woman laid 
it down on the desk, just a foot away from Kersh's 
hand, then turned and escaped from the room.

Scully was more than curious.  She wondered what in 
the world could have caused Janice to respond in that 
way.  She, along with everyone else in the room, 
watched as Kersh read the message.  Then, he read it 
again.  Finally, he set the piece of paper down on the 
table and turned her way. The fire in his eyes was 
clear to Scully, although quite possibly not to anyone 
else.

Scully forced herself to remain calm and merely raised 
an eyebrow.  It was her sole concession to the man.  
If he wanted her to speak, he'd have to ask her a 
direct question.

"Agent Scully.  Evidently someone has interceded with 
the Director to request your assistance in Richmond.  
You've been asked to report to SAC Landers 
immediately."

Scully bit her lip and nodded, trying to avoid 
smiling.  She picked up her files and headed for the 
door.  As she neared Kersh, she looked at him and 
said, "Thank you, sir."

'Score one for the away team,' she thought.  'Mulder 
will laugh himself silly when he hears about this 
one.'

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

Present Day
Monday, 11:39 a.m.
Interstate 95, north of Richmond, Virginia

Scully was trying not to scream. Somehow, a tractor 
trailer had overturned, managing to block all six 
lanes of traffic.  How exactly was that even possible?  
She'd heard on the radio that no one was seriously 
injured, so she felt in the clear to begrudge them all 
the time it was costing her.

Scully pulled out her cell phone and, out of habit, 
called a well-used number.  The voice at the other end 
actually surprised her.

"Skinner."

She paused, gathering her thoughts, then said, "Sir.  
I'm sorry.  I guess I forgot who I was calling."

"Agent Scully? Where are you?"

She smiled.  "I'm on my way back, but I'm stuck in a 
horrendous traffic mess right now.  An overturned 
truck that's managed to block all southbound traffic.  
I have no idea when I'll be moving again."  She 
realized then that she had a question for her former 
boss.  "Sir, where are you?"  If he was on his cell 
phone, it was a certainty that he wasn't with Mulder.

"I'm at the Richmond Bureau right now, Scully.  The 
agents here have narrowed the field down to three men.  
SAC Landers is forming three teams as we speak. 
They're going to move simultaneously on all targets."

Scully shook her head in confusion.  Why move so fast?  
Why not gather more information and be sure?  As if 
reading her mind, Skinner continued.

"The profiler assigned to the case feels that the 
UNSUB's unsettled now. He's read all of Mulder's notes 
and has been briefed on  His murder of Stevens and 
attempted murder of Mulder demonstrate that he's 
overconfident and moving more quickly now. They feel 
he's out to rub our faces in his success.  We're out 
of time here, Scully."

She nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her.  
She needed to think a moment.  "Sir, how's Mulder?"

"I was there an hour ago.  He's starting to show signs 
of waking.  The doctor felt it could be at any time.  
Both your mother and his mother are there."

She sighed, then said, "Thank you, sir.  Please let me 
know of any changes.  Or developments."

"Will do, Scully."

And then Skinner hung up, leaving her alone once more.  
She threw the phone down on the passenger's seat and 
craned her neck to try to see around the car in front 
of her.  What a time to be stuck in traffic.

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

Present Day, Hour 38 of the Wait
Monday, 12:26 p.m.
Mercy Hospital, Richmond, Virginia


Mulder heard voices.  Not just beeping and chirping 
sounds, but actual spoken words.  He tried to make 
them out and, at first, couldn't manage it.  He knew 
that someone was with him, speaking.  He couldn't tell 
if the person was speaking to him or someone else. He 
really wanted to know. He hoped it was Scully.  He 
really wanted it to be Scully.

Even as Mulder was concentrating on the voice or 
voices, trying to make out who it was and what he, she 
or they were saying, he became aware of other pressing 
issues.  He started to feel pain.  Not an intense, 
sharp, biting pain from any one particular area.  
Rather, it was a dull, aching pain that seemed to 
generate from all over his body.  His head, his chest, 
his side…

Mulder tried to remember where he was and what he'd 
been doing.  He vaguely recalled going for a run.  Was 
that it?  He went for a run and must have had an 
accident.  Was he hit by a car?  Did he fall down and 
hurt himself?

Concentrating so hard was starting to make his head 
hurt even more.  He needed some Tylenol.  Where was 
Scully?  Why wasn't Scully giving him some good drugs?

Mulder groaned.  He knew that would likely be enough 
to get his partner off her butt and running for the 
pain medication.  He felt a hand at his forehead and 
then a kiss.  He smiled, then knew he had to open his 
eyes.  He wanted to look at his partner. Wanted to see 
her beautiful face. He wanted to tell her something.  
He wasn't sure yet what it was, but he knew he had to 
tell her something.  If he could just see her, he was 
pretty sure that he'd remember what he needed to say.

Mulder fought against gravity, knowing that eyelids 
couldn't really weigh as much as it seemed like they 
did.  He managed it, finally, but was shocked by the 
face that was there.  It wasn't Scully at all.  It was 
his mother.  

The world must be coming to an end.  He must be dying.  
What the hell???

"Mom?"  He wasn't sure if he actually voiced the word, 
but she seemed to understand anyway.  She smiled at 
him and brushed the hair off his forehead.  Just like 
when he was a kid.  Tears came to his eyes unbidden.  
He couldn't control them as they rolled down his face.  
So much between them, but she still loved him.  He 
knew it just by looking in her eyes.  She still loved 
him.

Mulder closed his eyes again, not worrying about 
anything.  If the world were coming to an end, or even 
if he were dying, at least he'd learned an important 
thing before going.  His mother still loved him.

And even though he was unaware of what was happening, 
his mother leaned close and kissed him again, saying, 
"Just rest, sweet boy.  You'll be fine, now.  You'll 
be just fine."

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

Maggie Scully was touched at the gentleness the other 
woman displayed.  For some reason, she'd always 
thought of Teena Mulder as hard as nails.  Of course, 
given the choices Teena and her husband had to make to 
protect Fox, she could understand it. 

There was a flurry of activity at the door and she saw 
nurses and doctors pushing their way in past the 
agents that stood there.  Dr. Parish was back, leading 
the way.  He gestured towards the door and said, 
"Ladies, can you give us some time, please? If you'll 
go to the waiting area, I'll come out when we've 
finished our examination."

Maggie nodded and moved towards the door immediately. 
She saw that Teena took one more opportunity to stroke 
Fox's forehead, then she turned as well.  Maggie was 
surprised when the other woman took her hand on the 
way out.

Teena said with a smile, "We have to call Dana.  She 
needs to know that Fox woke up."

Maggie smiled back, her heart light for the first time 
in days.  She managed to laugh a bit before saying, 
"She's not going to be happy that she wasn't here."

Teena let her hand go.  "She'll be here when it's 
really important.  When he wakes up fully, knowing 
what's happening.  Then, he'll want to see his lady 
love."

Maggie stopped sharply, surprised at the woman's 
words.  Teena turned to her, with a look of confusion.  
"Surely you know that Fox loves your daughter.  And 
it's quite clear that Dana loves Fox. They've already 
gone to the ends of the earth for each other.  Now, 
all they have to do is actually admit it to each other 
while they're both conscious."

Maggie laughed, surprised that Teena could be so 
matter of fact about something that their respective 
children had been so obtuse about for years.  Maggie 
reached for Teena's arm and they started walking once 
more.

"You know, Teena, it occurs to me that sometimes these 
two are a bit stubborn."

"I have noticed that, Maggie."

"Perhaps we should help them a bit.  If they need it, 
that is."

"I wouldn't be at all surprised if they do.  They tend 
to be somewhat close-mouthed at all the wrong times."

Maggie laughed again.  "So, it's a deal?  We give them 
a little help?"

"Absolutely.  But, only if they need it."

"Of course, Teena."

"Would you like some coffee?"

"That would be wonderful.  And then we better find 
that phone to call Dana."

"Of course."

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

PAST
September 12, 1986
Thursday, 4:52 p.m.
Fairfax Hospital, Arlington, Virginia

Fox was dressed and sitting in the room's guest chair, 
waiting to be discharged.  He'd been ready for the 
past two hours and had used the time to go over every 
detail he knew about the DC Murders case. 

Fox considered his dream and what it might mean.  
While he'd never been one to fully subscribe to 
Freud's theory of dreams being a means for wish-
fulfillment, he did believe that dreams could be 
significant for a variety of reasons.  In fact, using 
Hall's theory that dreams are merely a cognitive 
process in which visual representations of personal 
conceptions are played out, his dream could, indeed, 
have been a way to attempt to bring meaning to the 
events of the day. Perhaps Waring was right – maybe he 
really had seen something that was then being worked 
out through his dream.

He scribbled on the pad in front of him, jotting down 
notes as he thought about them in a stream of 
consciousness approach. He doodled and sketched.  He 
made a note of questions he wanted to ask people but 
which he'd probably never get a chance to ask.  After 
a while, he tossed the pad of paper down on the table 
and sat back further, nestling into the cushions. Fox 
slid further into the chair, propping a foot up on the 
bed across from him.  He had held onto the pen and now 
played with it, thoughtlessly, rolling it back and 
forth, back and forth. 

Was it possible that the faces he'd seen were more 
than mere imaginative embodiments of his own 
suspicions?  Was it actually possible that he saw the 
UNSUB?  But, if so, why had there been three distinct 
faces?  And how did the scarred man's face and 
beautiful woman's face fit into things?  He'd 
hypothesized, given the notes, that they were quite 
possibly looking for a man who had gender issues.  Was 
this a man who was physically scarred in real-life or 
someone who was emotionally scarred?  Did this man 
have fantasies of living the perfect life if only he 
were the perfect woman?  

Fox shook his head, wishing he'd focused just a bit 
more on such psychological issues during his graduate 
years at Oxford. But, even if these faces he saw did 
somehow tie in with his previous theory, just what did 
that have to do with the other face he saw?  The one 
that had shocked him and made him question whether 
there was truly any meaning in the dream at all?

There was a scuffle at the door and an attractive 
young lady came in pushing a wheelchair.  "Mr. Mulder?  
It's time for you to be released. Are you ready to 
check out now?"

Fox shook his head to try to clear his thoughts and 
then nodded at the young woman. He smiled when he 
said, "I am more than ready."

She laughed and pointed to the wheelchair.  He 
grimaced a bit but decided not to argue.  After all, 
he wanted out of here as fast as possible, no matter 
which way it happened.  The girl said, "I'll bring you 
down to the admissions and release area.  I think 
someone will be outside to pick you up."  

"Here you go.  Last time before you're released."  She 
handed him a little paper cup with water and a pill.  
It looked like what they'd been giving him for pain. 
He considered arguing, but then decided to just get 
out while he could. 

He downed it quickly and then handed the used cup to 
the nurse, while sinking gratefully into the 
wheelchair.  She threw it away and then started 
pushing him towards the door.

For whatever reason, she took a somewhat circuitous 
route. Instead of the near elevators, she went down 
the hallway and around the other side. He didn't 
really think much of it.  In fact, it was starting to 
get hard to think about anything.  For some reason, 
his thinking, which had been clear and focused this 
afternoon, had become difficult and challenging.  He 
couldn't concentrate. His eyes started to droop.  He 
didn't realize he was so tired.  Maybe he could sleep 
on the way back to Quantico.

Fox put his head back, against the back of the 
wheelchair.  His head was too heavy for his neck to 
hold up anymore. His mouth was dry and he needed 
water.  He was having a hard time even breathing. With 
his head back, he realized he could see the woman 
pushing him. She was young and very beautiful.  But, 
she had a hard look to her face. She didn't look 
beautiful at all right now. In fact, Fox realized that 
she was very much like the girl in his dream.  And 
then, in the tiny bit of his mind over which he still 
had control, he realized he was in quite a bit of 
trouble.

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

PAST
September 12, 1986
Thursday, 5:28 p.m.
Fairfax Hospital, Arlington, Virginia

Dean Waring was annoyed.  He'd been told to stand in 
line, fill out paperwork, sit and wait… One thing 
after another.  Finally, he did something he hated to 
do.  He pulled out his badge and told them to get his 
trainee released immediately. That the man was needed 
for questioning in a homicide.  That got them moving.

He was now looking at his watch for about the tenth 
time since making his demand and wondering what the 
heck was taking so long. There was a flurry of 
activity farther down the hall and he noticed a nurse, 
hands waving in the air, speaking with a doctor.  A 
security guard stood close by, listening to her.  
Then, what chilled him, was that the nurse pointed 
directly at him.

Dean stood up and started towards the little group.  
Right at that moment, Walter Skinner appeared, looking 
harried and exhausted, but somehow excited.  Dean 
nodded to him and asked, "Everything all right, 
Walter?"

The younger agent nodded. "Yes, indeed. We've made 
quite a bit of progress, in fact. We're virtually 
convinced our UNSUB has ties to either the FBI or to a 
major metro police department."

Dean somehow doubted that, given the stringent 
psychological exams every applicant must undergo, but 
he nodded anyway. During the time they'd spoken, the 
doctor, nurse, and security guard had walked their 
way.  The nurse spoke first.

"Sir, I'm sorry, but it looks like Fox Mulder already 
left the hospital."

Dean froze, staring at the woman.  His mind refused to 
process what she'd just said.  But, then it did and he 
was furious.  "What?  Young lady, there is no way that 
Fox Mulder would have left this hospital on his own.  
He knew I was coming to pick him up."

The woman looked frazzled. "I don't know what to tell 
you.  He's not there. He had to have left."

Dean turned to Walter.  Both men were alarmed.  Walter 
said, "We need to see the room, then get an all-points 
out."  

Dean agreed.  He turned to the security guard. "Call 
the APD. Tell them there's been another possible 
abduction in the DC Murders case. ASAC Skinner will 
arrange for a description of the man we believe has 
been taken."  Dean turned to Walter. "Come to the room 
immediately after."

And with that, Dean gestured to the wide-eyed nurse to 
lead the way. His thoughts were in turmoil as they ran 
towards the elevator, leaving the doctor agog.  What 
the hell was he going to tell Fox's mother?

The room, when they arrived, was indeed deserted. Dean 
gestured for the woman to stay back and then tried to 
take in the room from a fresh perspective.  This 
wasn't easy, given all the time he'd spent there 
recently.  He walked forward slowly, eyes scanning 
left to right. The room was empty. He walked around 
the far side of the bed and saw something on the 
floor, peaking out behind the little bedside table.  
He bent down and saw it was a pad of paper.  He pulled 
it out carefully, immediately understanding the 
significance.  Now, he just had to make sense of it.

Dean continued looking around the room, then peered 
into the trash can.  It was empty except for a little 
paper cup.  He looked at the nurse, still standing by 
the door and asked, "Was Fox scheduled for any 
medication this afternoon?"

The woman still looked frightened, but she answered 
carefully.  "I don't believe so. Since he was going to 
be released, the doctor would have given him a 
prescription. I'll check the records, though."

Dean nodded and pulled out a glove from his pocket.  
He fished out the crumpled paper cup, wondering how 
fingerprints would adhere.  He waited for the nurse to 
come back and then said, "Could you get me a plastic 
bag? This might be important."

She nodded and turned, but then said, "Oh, sir.  I 
looked at the records. Mr. Mulder was not due to have 
any medication after about 9 a.m. this morning."

Dean nodded and asked, "When does the trash get picked 
up here?"

She swallowed hard before answering.  "Every morning 
and every afternoon.  This room would have been picked 
up around 4 this afternoon."

Walter came in then, gingerly bypassing the distraught 
nurse.  He looked to Waring.  "Anything?"

Dean held up the paper cup. "Looks like someone gave 
him something for the road."  Then he held up the pad 
of paper.  "Luckily, he left behind his thoughts and 
suspicions for us.  Now, we just have to figure out 
what it all means."  Dean handed the pad to Walter.  
"And Walter?"

Walter looked up from the scribbles to meet Dean's 
eyes.  "We need to find him soon.  You understand, 
son?"

Dean could see the sweat on Walter's forehead.  They 
both knew what would happen to Fox if he weren't found 
within the next few hours.

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

Present Day
Monday, 4:17 p.m.
Mercy Hospital, Richmond, Virginia

Scully was hot, tired, hungry, and just outright 
annoyed.  How the heck long could it possibly take to 
clear off a path on the busiest highway in the entire 
country?  One would think that it would be something 
of a national priority to have I-95 access 
uncompromised.

She stepped into the women's room to get cleaned up a 
little.  She laughed at herself when she acknowledged 
the why of it.  After all, her partner had been in a 
coma for a day and a half and awake off and on now for 
just a few hours since then.  It's not like he'd be 
expecting her to look her best. By now, he had to know 
that she'd been there with him almost the entire time.  

She finished splashing water over her face, then ran 
her hands through her hair, trying to force some 
discipline on the unruly mess.  She laughed out loud 
at the picture she made.  What a mess!  But, she 
really didn't care.  She turned for her partner's 
room, suddenly incapable of waiting a moment longer. 

Scully had to see him. She had to hold his hand. She 
needed to feel his warm skin and breathe in his Mulder 
scent.  

Her feet moved almost independent of thought, until 
she was at the CCU doors, knocking softly but firmly.  
Just a few seconds more.  Mere moments.  She wondered 
if he were awake.

One of the nurses smiled and waved at her through the 
glass, then released the lock so she could enter.  
"Welcome back, Dr. Scully."

Scully smiled, unable, in fact, to keep the smile off 
her face.  "Is he awake?"

The nurse laughed and said, "He's out of the room 
right now. They brought him down for a CT scan a bit 
ago. He should be back any time."

The woman must have seen the disappointment. She gave 
Scully a last smile before turning back to her desk.  
Scully sighed, then decided to wait for her partner in 
his room. As she was walking down the hall, Dr. Parish 
called out to her.

"Dr. Scully, hello."

She turned towards him with a smile.  "Hi, Dr. 
Parish."

"So, have you seen Mr. Mulder yet?  He's looking much 
better.  We're going to move him to a step down room 
this evening, in fact."

Even though she knew her partner had been getting 
better, this news sent a waive of relief washing 
through her.  "That's wonderful, doctor.  I haven't 
see him yet.  I guess he's still in CT."

The man got a confused look on his face.  "What?"

A little frisson of alarm sped along Scully's nerve 
endings.  "CT.  He was evidently taken down about an 
hour ago."

Parish shook his head.  "No, no.  You're confused.  
Mr. Mulder wasn't due for a CT until tomorrow at the 
earliest."

Scully's throat went dry and her heart started to 
race.  She turned back to Mulder's room and ran in, 
shocked by the emptiness of it, despite the fact that 
she knew he wasn't there.  

And then, the nurse at the desk was calling for her.  
"Dr. Scully.  Dr. Scully, there's a phone call from 
your boss.  He says it's important."

Scully knew.  She knew what he was going to say.  She 
walked slowly towards the desk and reached out her 
hand for the phone.  Her voice wavered as she said, 
"Scully."

There was a moment's silence and then AD Skinner said, 
"Scully, a 911 call was transferred to the Bureau."

Scully knew.  "He took Mulder.  He has him."

Again, Skinner paused before replying.  "I'll be there 
in about fifteen minutes.  Hang on, Scully.  We'll get 
him back."

Scully nodded, not even bothering to answer.  All of a 
sudden, her head was spinning and her knees were weak.  
The phone slipped through nerveless fingers. She heard 
voices screaming, as if from a distance and then she 
knew no more.


*******************************************
End Part 14 of ?
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