Chataqalan 5

Something hurt. Something hurt a lot, actually, and the more she thought about it, the more certain Reyes was that she was that something. She slowly opened her eyes, squinting. "What-?" she began, not sure what else she was going to say.

"Dr. Scully," she heard a voice call. "Agent Reyes is waking."

There was a brief flurry of footsteps scuffling through dirt, and then Scully, looking concerned, was peering down at her. "Monica, good. How are you feeling?"

Monica took a deep breath. Ouch. "Like crap," she answered, finding her throat dry and her voice rusty. She swallowed, which helped a little, but not nearly enough. "Please tell me I'm just really really hung-over."

"No such luck." Scully smiled. "Do you know where you are?"

"Hell?" Reyes ventured.

"Close," Scully deadpanned.

"Not hell? Must be grad school, then." Reyes groaned. "What the hell happened?" She moved to sit up, but Scully's hand was on her shoulder, applying just enough pressure to hold her down.

"Hang on a second," Scully said. "Don't try to get up too fast. You've been out of it for a while and you're bound to get dizzy. You may have a concussion or-"

"I'm fine," Reyes answered, waving Scully off and pulling herself into sitting position. In protest, her head and stomach simultaneously began swimming in opposite directions. Hunched over her knees, she held her middle and closed her eyes, waiting for the sensation to pass.

"Nausea?" Scully asked.

Reyes took a deep breath. Her ribs were a little sore, but they'd been worse. She had badly skinned knees, but someone had cleaned them and she could tell by the smell, applied antiseptic. So how long had she been out? More to the point, why had she been out?

"Monica?"

"A little." She lifted her head, which didn't make things worse. "Actually, it's passing," she said, hoping it really was. She inhaled deeply again, and found that she had told her friend the truth - it 'was' passing. "Ribs are pretty sore. I must have fallen hard on something."

"You've got a big bruise on your side, but nothing appears to be broken," Scully said. "How's your head?"

Monica hoisted one brow. "Insert punch line here," she said.

Scully rolled her eyes. "I can't imagine why you and Mulder don't get along better," she muttered, "considering you share the same sense of humor. Really, how is your head?"

"Fine. Really. I've had concussions. This doesn't feel like a concussion. This is more like being run over by a tequila truck."

"A pleasure I've never had," Scully assured her.

"Shame." Breathing deeply again, Monica found she really was feeling better.

"Your x-rays came back clear, but, as I am sure you know, they don't always show everything. Lucky we had the portable x-ray machines and the power to run them."

"Yeah, lucky," Monica agreed absently as she examined her hands. The palms were tender, the heels, bruised. She'd fallen, and fallen hard, and had apparently tried to break her fall.

Scully sat carefully on the corner of the cot. "Here, look at me," she said, gently taking Reyes' chin in her hand. "Follow my finger."

Reyes complied. It didn't hurt, which she took as a good sign.

"Your pupils look better now," Scully said, dropping her hand to her lab coat pocket. "They looked like saucers for a while there." She pulled out a penlight and pointed. "Look up there."

Reyes looked upward as her friend directed, her mind trying to piece together what had happened to her.

Scully clicked the flashlight off. "I think you mostly got the wind knocked out of you, but you shouldn't be moving around too much," she added. "You'll need to be thoroughly checked out when we get back to civilization tomorrow, but in the meantime, I think you'll live."

"Comforting words from a pathologist," Monica said.

"Mulder always used to say I sounded so disappointed when I said that," Scully said, offering Monica a wry grin and a bottle of water. "Drink."

Monica had had enough injuries to know the drill, so she took a small trial sip. The tepid liquid went down easily and hit bottom with no ill effects, so she did it again. They were in the meeting tent, she realized, the one that was open on all four sides, and a coolish breeze was blowing through, which meant it was probably early evening. A few cots had been brought in, but she saw there were very few of them occupied. "Wait - tomorrow? What's happening tomorrow?"

"It's been decided it's too dangerous to stay here any longer, but tomorrow is apparently the soonest they can get us all out. They want us leaving under very heavily armed escort."

"What exactly happened?"

"What do you remember?" Scully asked.

Monica rolled her eyes. "Dana, don't doctor me."

"Under the circumstances, I don't have much choice," Scully replied matter-of-factly. "What do you remember?"

"I'm not sure," Monica answered finally. "You and I were talking, then I was talking with Irina-"

Scully nodded. "Go on."

"And I talked to DuFour - no, I talked to DuFour first, then to Irina. Then Irina and I were going to talk to you."

"You had an envelope with you," Scully said quietly. "You were going to talk to ASAC Perez, and you had an envelope-"

Monica nodded. "Right. I dropped it when I was talking to DuFour. He told me that Bobby had gone to investigate the ambush, right? The ambulances they sent this morning, it wasn't an accident, they were ambushed -"

Scully nodded. "Simon told me that's what they suspected."

Monica nodded. "So what happened?"

"An explosion," Scully answered. "Several explosions, in fact. I thought we were being shelled at first, but it turned out they were just bombs."

"*Just* bombs?" Monica asked.

"Incendiary devices, actually."

"Ah," Monica said. "A little exploding and a lot of burning? How many?"

"Equipment tent, records tent, the morgue trailer, and Vetkova's tent."

"I was with Vetkova," Monica said. "Is she okay?"

Scully gave a non-commital shrug. "You went down before her tent went up, but she got hit by the full impact of it. They couldn't rouse her or get any good pictures. I'd guess she has a severe concussion at the very least, possibly some internal bleeding. She was evaced to Veracruz."

Monica winced. "And it was safe to send her out? What about-"

"Agent Perez and some soldiers accompanied her," Scully explained. "They were better prepared this time."

"Bobby came back? What did he find out?"

Scully shrugged. "We didn't exactly have time to chat. He stopped by briefly to see if you were okay before he left. And Simon told me they were able to call back to the camp and say they'd arrived at the hospital."

Monica nodded. "So the comm stuff is working now?"

"No," Scully shook her head. "Not mine, anyway."

"You've tried to call Mulder since all this began?"

Scully nodded. "Still no luck."

Monica nodded. "Were there many other serious injuries?"

Scully shook her head. "You were knocked unconscious, a couple of people caught shrapnel, a bunch got hit by flying glass and debris, but nothing life threatening. A broken arm, I believe, a couple of sprained ankles, but those were mostly from people running around in a panic. Most of these people are not field agents."

"All those explosions and that's it, casualty-wise? Me, Vetkova, and a broken arm?"

"You, Vetkova, a broken arm, and just about every speck of useable equipment and evidence."

"Evidence. Right." Monica said. "I put it down on the camp table. I forgot it so I was going back. Vetkova grabbed me by the arm and -- ouch!" She looked at the spot she'd just touched. Angry bruises met her gaze.

"You okay?" Scully asked, peering at Monica's upper arm.

"Bug bite, I guess. Just bruised," Monica replied, intent on piecing her story back together. "Okay, so she grabbed me and then, um - " Monica closed her eyes tight in concentration. "And then - and then nothing," she finished with a frustrated sigh.

"Dr. Scully," a voice called. "Can you come look at this leg? I think it might be broken."

"Sure," she replied. "Just let me finish up here."

Scully glanced around before leaning in. She put her index finger below Monica's left eye and gently pulled the skin down, as if she were examining her. "This probably isn't the best place to discuss this, but I was talking to Mulder before all hell broke loose." She switched to examining Monica's right eye. "His research implicates her as the infiltrator."

"Her? Vetkova her?"

Scully nodded slightly and continued her examination.

Monica pulled back. "I don't think so."

"Excuse me?"

"She told me she and Drew are working on the same side."

"It's not like we haven't suspected Drew's mixed up in this somehow."

"No," Monica shook her head. "She told me the people who were massacred, the Qetual, are really the Huecha. Those are the same people Mulder and John met on that oil rig, right? The ones with natural immunity?"

Scully nodded. "Mulder figured that out, too."

"Irina's part of a team working on developing a vaccine."

Scully shrugged. "She very well may be," she answered, palpating the glands in Monica's neck for cover. "We know there have been several groups working on it for the better part of almost sixty years. That doesn't mean her intentions are exactly honorable. You know as well as I do that anyone who can develop and control this vaccine can essentially rule the world."

"I know," Monica said, "and Irina said the same thing."

"Misdirection," Scully suggested. "That's how I'd do it."

"I don't think so." Monica sighed. "She told me Drew's with Interpol-"

"Interpol?"

Monica nodded. "He's involved in an internal investigation at Scotland Yard. Drew's apparently one of the good guys."

Scully seemed to consider this. "That doesn't quite track," she said at last. "Considering he's missing and has been since before these bombings began, and by his reaction to- "

"I know, I know," Monica said. "But she claims she's one of the good guys too," Monica continued. "She knows a lot about the X- Files, Dana, a lot about you and Mulder, a lot about-"

"That information isn't hard to come by if you know where to look," Scully said, "or if you're trying to build up a nice thick layer of protective coloration."

Monica paused. Everything Scully said made sense. And yet, she couldn't get over the feeling that they were missing the big picture, somehow. Vetkova was telling the truth, or at least what she understood to be the truth; Monica was certain of that. But how could she explain to Scully what her gut just knew. "She's got a chip," Monica whispered finally.

Scully's eyes widened. "A what?"

"Like yours. A chip."

Scully stopped even the pretense of an exam, and swallowed hard. She looked flustered, Monica noted, but only for the briefest second before she recovered her composure. "I wasn't under any illusions that I was the only person in the world with one," she said evenly.

"Neither am I," Monica answer. "But-"

"It doesn't mean anything," Scully interrupted. "That doesn't make her any more or less likely to be telling the truth."

"I know, but it makes her more likely to be invested one way or the other, don't you think?"

"Monica-"

"No," Monica interrupted. "She said she had proof. Tangible proof. Proof she could show me."

"Proof that conveniently got blown to bits?"

Monica sighed, feeling suddenly deflated. "I don't know. She said she would show me. She said - oh!"

"Oh?"

"The egg," Monica explained. "The toy she gave you for William. She asked me if you had it. I said yes, and she said then she could show me the proof. I think there must be a connection. Do you have it on you?"

Scully shook her head. "No."

"Did it get blown up?"

"No," Scully said, "but -"

"There's something about it, Dana, something important. We have to examine it, figure out-"

"Monica, think about it. It's probably another bomb."

"Wouldn't it have gone off when the others did? If the idea was to do you some harm, wouldn't it have exploded?"

Scully shrugged. "Maybe it was designed not to. Maybe it's just sitting there waiting for someone to touch it or drop it or look at it the wrong way. " She swallowed hard. "Maybe the whole idea was to kill my son."

Monica closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "It's not," she finally said. "Irina was giving it to you for safekeeping. I can't explain how I know it, but I know it."

Scully stood. "You need to rest, Monica."

"Where is it, Dana?"

Scully shook her head. "It's too dangerous."

"Is it still in the camp?" Monica asked. When Scully didn't answer, she went on. "If it's a bomb, and it's still in the camp, then by your own argument, we're all in danger. Doing nothing is worse than at least getting it well out of the camp."

Scully hesitated. "But -"

"But nothing," Monica said, seeing her opening. "You know I'm right."

"Doctor Scully, please," a plaintive voice called, "are you almost done? There's a piece of glass or something in this wound..."

"Just finishing up," Scully answered.

"Dana-"

Scully looked at her. "The work tent we were in today," she said quietly. "Number four metal cylinders, on the third shelf. It's sealed. Get it out of the camp."

Monica nodded.

Then a little louder, Scully said, "Well, I'd say you're good to go, Monica. Lieutenant Currie," she called to the corpsman who'd been assigned to help out in the casualty tent, "can we spare a couple of T3s for Agent Reyes?"

"Yes ma'am," came the reply.

"I'll give you a couple of pain pills, you can take them if the ribs are bothering you when you're ready for bed. I suggest you go back to the tent and pack for the trip home in the morning."

Monica stood, steadied herself, willed herself not to wince when her ribs twinged. "I'll do that," she said.