^*^*^ The Given Building Sub-basement Level 2 7:24PM Her soft-soled shoes squeaked slightly on the new cushioned linoleum flooring in the hallway outside the suite as she made her way to the entrance or the vault door as she liked to think of it. Her knapsack was filled with last minute items although she knew Jorge himself had seen to it that all other provisions were in place. He'd personally assured her that the larder had been stocked for a six-month stay if that's what she required. For once, she had bestowed genuine praise upon a subordinate. He had gone above and beyond and would be rewarded handsomely for his efforts. Of course, she wouldn't be here that long. With any luck she, her associates and her 'guests' would most likely be here no longer than a few weeks; a month at the longest, but it never hurt to be prepared. It had been a sheer stroke of luck finding and obtaining discreet access to the old tunnels connecting the biological sciences building to its counterpart structures in the vicinity. A few greased palms and carefully chosen promises of revenge exacted should tongues wag ensured complete seclusion. It had taken only two months for the preparations to be made; plans drawn out, work completed and a friendly building inspector who gave her the occupancy approval. Diana smiled then, a full-blown, one-sided picture of mirth and excitement. The real beauty of her location was her ability to hide in plain sight. The constant rush and press of students, faculty and staff camouflaged her visits. Since she was already known on the campus, her comings and goings did not arouse suspicion -- she was a known quantity. Or so everyone thought. Inserting the keycard, she stepped forward, her eye level with the sensor device. Ward and Bishop had seen to the retinal scanning device telling her that it topped the fingerprint swipes so often used in high security sectors. Whatever. Money was not much of an object for her, but high-tech security was. The airlock was unsealed with an accompanying heavy whooshing sound, the door irising open and then closed again as she stepped through. She moved quickly into her area of the suite, depositing her knapsack on the workbench, actually Dr. Sonjah's station, and proceeded to the smaller inner room. She followed the same procedures here, now waiting impatiently for the door to open. Once inside, she hastily scanned the area noting that everything was as she had left it just a few days earlier. Walking the perimeter, she glanced over at the concealed door. Her alternate route to safety should something go awry. Not that she was worried; she'd come too far for doubts. But, Diana Fowley was also a realist and had a healthy respect for back-up plans. Should all hell break loose, she would be gone before anyone had a chance to even notice that she'd been here. Although still quite lop-sided, her smile broadened considerably when she thought about the room's soon-to-be first occupant. Dialing Aja Sonjah's number, she turned on the speaker and paced, listening to the busy signal before stabbing at the 'redial' button. The second time was the charm. "Sonjah here." The crisp and succinct salutation made the Fowley woman smirk. The doc was damn good, but she was also full of herself. Making her the perfect, if unwitting, accomplice. "It's time, Aja." Three words were all she needed and she ended the call. She checked her watch, silently counting down the minutes until the doc would arrive. She was much too excited to contemplate the minutes until her plan came to fruition. ^*^*^ Swanton, Vermont 7:30PM They had exited Interstate 89 onto local Route 21, heading northwest toward East Alburg, just south of the Canadian border. The traffic had thinned considerably once they left the interstate and Mulder was hard-pressed to see much scenery other than farmland and the occasional residential area. As Jemel swung the truck to the right, he noted what looked like a narrow, meandering river. They crossed, now on a winding back road following small signs for 'Duck Creek'. He was playing in the big leagues now, Mulder mused silently, knowing that his somewhat dry sense of humor might not be especially appreciated right now. Nonetheless, he couldn't resist asking, "Are we almost there?" In the darkening night around them, he couldn't make out Zale's or Jemel's expressions, but the snort he heard told him his bit of humor hadn't gone unnoticed. Silence reigned for all of about ten seconds and then he heard Jemel defer to her associate. "Here or farther north?" She slowed the vehicle, but did not stop entirely. "Hold on a sec, but keep driving." Zale flipped open his cell phone and speed dialed. "Yeah, we're in Duck Creek. Where to tonight?" After a few nods, he flipped the phone closed. "Take your next right and head for Brush Creek. Road's going to be your typical back country two-lane. Follow it till you can't go any farther. No border crossing tonight." "Who changed the plans? Proteus distinctly said we'd be crossing. What're you not sharing, Zale?" She spat the words at him as if hoping to wound him. "'Proteus said'? C'mon, Jemel, that's childish coming from you. You know plans are subject to change. We're not dealing with an exact science here," he snorted, laughing at his own feeble attempt at a joke and then continued, "Well, then again, it *is* a pretty exact science, but we've got to stay sharp. Now, just drive or I'll take over for you." Mulder felt the tension like static electricity in the cab, but wisely kept silent. This was not his affair and could prove useful in terms of who was the stronger of the two. So far, it seemed to be a draw. Forcing herself to remain neutral and curb her earlier outburst, Jemel replied, "I'll drive." Simple, to the point, and silence shrouded them once again. Approximately twenty minutes later, she drove off the two lane blacktop and pulled into a sandy scrubby trail, pine trees framing them. Shutting off the engine and killing the headlights, she reached for the door handle. Zale's hand on her arm stilled her. "Wait," he intoned quietly. Mulder didn't realize he was holding his breath, his eyes darting from side to side and then out the windshield and at the side-view mirror until Zale spoke again. "We're supposed to sit tight till we get the signal. You'll be getting out first, Chris. Head for that stand of trees and wait there until you see me or Jemel approach. Got it?" His words were clipped, but without the directive quality they'd had with him earlier; possibly a sign he was finally being accepted into this group. "I've got it." Mulder's response was equally succinct. Jemel, for her part, felt as if she were being left out of the loop, although that was pretty much standard operating procedure lately. What good did serving as the Boss's Number One do when she seemed to be the one taking, rather than giving, the orders. That was about to change. "Look, Zale," she whispered gruffly, "we're not sending Chris out there first. Either we all go or I go and I don't care who you just talked to unless it was the man himself." Chris had to face the window to keep himself from chuckling. These two were quite the pair. He wondered idly if he and Scully sounded like that to outsiders and then mentally shook his head. No, they couldn't; they were much more in synch and there wasn't the need for either of them to vie for power. They knew who signed their paychecks, knew what it meant to work as a team. Although, Mulder amended, Scully knew much more about the teamwork part of the relationship than he did, but at least they knew enough to keep their disagreements professional. Zale finally sat perfectly still, nodding only once and then turned toward the woman driver. Mulder wished he'd just stop moving; he was getting tired of the man's hips butting into him, nudging him against the hard door. And he found himself quite surprised when Zale apologized to Jemel. "You're right, Jemel; what would you suggest?" Mulder could swear he heard a patronizing smirk in his voice, but to his credit, he waited to hear what she had to say. "We all get out now and make for the woods. I don't want to be sitting ducks in the cab." Her response was definitive, but Mulder was concerned that they'd be even worse off without the vehicle should they need it. However, he conceded that they knew their work better than he, knowing he'd be keeping the truck in plain sight. ^*^*^ Radisson Hotel 7:30PM She felt like her partner. Or rather, the bed and floor had that 'on-a-case-Mulder look'--papers strewn on the bedspread, folders stacked on any available table surface. The only things missing were the empty and half-empty cups of coffee, wrappers from the latest in junk food and sunflower seed remnants. Scully hadn't realized she'd become so lost in her work until she'd turned to refill her water and knocked a few folders onto the carpet; meager pages drifting to the floor. Having visited the UVM library and been granted permission to pull some monographs and other printed materials for temporary use, she had spent the afternoon making notes and making some minor, but interesting discoveries. And now she needed a break. Setting her glasses on the bedside stand, she rubbed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. She headed for the bathroom, for another glass of water and added some ice from the bucket on the countertop. Making her way to the stuffed chair by the window, she set the tumbler down and picked up her cell. Although he'd only left a few hours earlier, she found herself missing her partner. That seemed to happen a lot lately, she thought. Something about that thought was faintly troubling, but she couldn't put her finger on exactly why. On a basic intellectual level, she knew that being parted from a loved one often made one sad, made one long for their return. But it was more than that. She took another gulp of the cold water, the melting ice cubes hitting against her teeth, and then held the glass in front of her watching the movement of the cubes in the clear liquid. There were times when they were away from each other for short spans of time due to work where it actually hurt and she wondered about the depth and source of such a strong feeling. She who prided herself on being fiercely independent and keeping others at a relative and safe distance had not only let him in, but allowed him; no--wanted him--to be an integral part of her life in all things. She knew that she retained her sense of self when she was with him, but sometimes the intensity of their connectedness gave her pause. Scared her. She faced the fact that although she was no stranger to intimacy, she couldn’t recall any previous relationships wherein she'd felt so at ease, so cherished, so loved and so valued for simply being the only person she knew how to be. And that was why she needed to call Mulder now. She wanted to hear his voice, but also knew that he would probably have the phone turned off and would not be able to talk to her, so she planned on leaving him a message. How desperate was she when his recorded voice would suffice? Not desperate at all, she corrected herself, just a woman who missed a very important person in her life. Finishing the last of the water, she set the glass down beside her and toed off her unlaced tennis shoes, placing her feet on the ottoman. Fingering #1, she slouched back with the phone at her ear, listening to it ring. After the fourth ring, the message played, 'Mulder. Leave a message.' Smiling to herself at the effect the four words had, she replied, 'Mulder it's me. I'm working on a little research and am taking a break. I--' she found herself pausing, suddenly phone shy with her own partner. 'Oh heck, I miss you. Love you.' She hung up letting the phone rest in her lap. The smile lingering. *^*^* Brush Creek, Vermont Sometime Later... He wandered off ahead of Jemel and Zale, hoping to call Scully and let her know where he was. But he had paced no more than about fifty steps when he felt Zale's hand on his shoulder. Stuffing the phone back in his pocket aborted his attempt to retrieve his waiting message. Although he hadn't had enough time to see the caller ID, he knew it had to be from Scully. "Where do you think you're going, Chris?" Zale's question held no malice and he spoke in a gruff whisper. "Rule Number 2 -- don't go off on your own. In this profession, one really can be the loneliest number." Allowing himself to be redirected back toward the waiting Jemel, Mulder scanned the area. They really were out in the middle of nowhere and he idly wondered why this spot was chosen. The remoteness was certainly a factor, but other than the possibility of being closer to their contacts, he saw no rhyme or reason for the location. His mouth half open, the was partially formed when he noticed the lights off to the northwest. From the shape and height, he was relatively sure he was looking at rag top jeep and two larger SUVs traveling in single file over the rough terrain. "Show time." Jemel situated herself between the two men. "Zale, you know the drill. Chris, you're flanking us; hang back and close to the truck. I hear you've got a good memory for detail. Make use of it here. Descriptions, intonation; whatever you can pick up." Mulder was confused. Thought this meeting was a mutually beneficial arrangement, but it was sounding like a set up. "I thought they were on our side," he quipped, trying to keep it casual. His attempt at humorous inquiry was lost in the sound of the vehicles screeching to a stop and in the shroud of dry soil kicked up from the tires on-a-dime stopping. Mulder watched with piqued curiosity as the lightweight plastic windowed doors of the first vehicle opened, disgorging three occupants; one man and two women. The two dark colored SUVs were driven by men. If looks were to be believed, this group had probably been bikers in their younger years. Either that, he mused, or they owned stock in a biker clothing company. Dressed in head to toe black leather, the driver and two passengers of the first off-road vehicle approached Jemel. The two women appeared to be twins, cropped dark hair tucked behind their ears which boasted a cascading line of small hoop earrings. They seemed to be sizing up Jemel -- almost as intensely as she was them. The driver approached Zale, ignoring his companions, and shook his hand, then clapped his shoulder. Mulder's attention was diverted to the two approaching men. Both were blocky; nearly as solidly wide as they were tall. Zale introduced them as Blake and Dennis. For some reason, he had failed to introduce the first man and Mulder had the idea that Zale had no plans to do so. Somehow, it had turned out that they were now standing around making what passed for small talk in gender specific groupings--three men and three women. Jemel kept shooting looks in both Zale and Mulder's direction, but Mulder was the one who read her signal -- 'Get over here now.' Lightly elbowing Zale and nodding in her direction, they hastened over to the women. Zale and Mulder were introduced to Star and Sarah. And that signaled the end of informal chit chat. Moving as a rag tag unit into the more wooded area, Mulder glanced once back toward the truck, his gaze surveying the area as they walked. Recalling Jemel's instructions to scope and memorize the area and the proceedings, he then inspected the area more closely. The moon was in its second quarter lending a wan milky light through the clouds. Once they left the more open area, he noticed how the pines crowded the narrow path, their weight causing them to form an archway, drenching them in near-blackness. After about fifteen minutes, Zale held up his hand, bringing the group to an abrupt halt. Sarah and Star unzipped jacket pockets, producing small penlights, setting them on the lowest beam. As if on cue, the unnamed driver opened the flap on his waist pack and drew out four small, stoppered vials. ^*^*^ Office of AD Skinner Still Monday, 25 September 8:12PM He stood facing the drawn blinds behind his desk, small spots of bright light slipping between the horizontal slats, telling AD Skinner that it was far past quitting time. Now there was a concept, he thought sarcastically. He seemed to spend more and more hours at the Hoover Building, his 'home away from home'. Another idle thought, this one leaning toward ironic...in a very sad sort of way. At one time, he'd wanted the Bureau to be his life; had been consumed by his sense of duty, his need to serve his country in a way that was hopefully far removed from his tour of duty in 'Nam. But always playing the offense, always hopefully one step ahead of the real or imagined enemy. Then he'd met someone who offered him more, offered him a concomitant and a complimentary way to live his life. She was brightness to his sometimes dour outlook, spontaneity to his oft-times rigid planning, softness to his occasional gruffness. Initially, he'd been pulled into her lifestyle, allowing her to draw on that which was already there, allowing it to surface as she'd known it would. Her unwitting demise as his life partner had been assuming that Walter S. Skinner was ready to let the rest of him fall away, to allow his cleverly-hidden warmth to show itself. He never faulted Sharon; not really. She'd wanted the best for him, to make a life for them, but, in so doing, had all but denied his need to serve, to try to right all that he perceived was wrong in his corner of the world. 'A losing battle' she had told him so many times. 'Try to relax and let us live' she entreated. He'd tried and he had truly loved her; probably still did, but that hadn't been enough. So, he'd buried himself further into life behind his office walls, sometimes forgetting what lay outside. Skinner really couldn't say that he'd been bored, however. His two X-Files Agents saw to it that he had a never-ending stream of surprises and gaffes and just plain excitement. Not to sell Mulder and Scully short, they also continued to see to it that he had a very high case resolution rate. So, he'd put up with the rest. And, to be fair, he thought, they also kept him on his toes. In their own way, they had the same goals even if their objectives sometimes differed. One of their last cases had also been fateful for him in the private sector, as he was wont to refer to it. Through work connections, he'd met ASAC, now AD, Whirll from the Boston Field Office. Turning back to his desk, he gathered the five file folders he'd been juggling and tried to pull them into some sense of order. And found himself smiling, albeit sparingly. Kristy was good for him. Very good. She understood the machinations of Bureau life and had the biting drive necessary to make changes even when they occurred one small step at a time. He plopped down in his office chair, the weight of the memories washing over him. He hadn't really talked to her since she'd moved to DC, her promotion instigated by him, but no less deserved. Oh, they'd had the occasional work conversation, but had also been so deeply buried into work that even with the new proximity, had not found enough time to connect. He'd have to rectify that. Soon. Pulling his small calendar book from his pocket, he made a note to call her when he got home, knowing she kept the same crazy hours he did. Crazy hours...he knew he'd stayed for a reason and his mind zeroed in on Mulder. He was waiting for an update on his trip north. Well, they both had their cell phones. God knew Mulder lived with that thing attached to his ear most times. When he wasn't losing or destroying it, Walter amended silently, shaking his head. Although he'd spoken to both Agents earlier, his gut was telling him he needed to know more about what was going on. His motivation wasn't spurred by his concerns about their capabilities; he knew the extent of their skills, their ability to handle the unknown and their intuition. It had more to do with the fact that Skinner felt that as with so many others they'd investigated, there was more than one layer involved. The complexity always made him a bit on edge; especially when he couldn't jump right in himself. The need to act growing, he stuffed the files into his briefcase and grabbed the phone, deciding that he would check in with Kimberley Kresge before trying to reach Scully. Dialing her cell, he reached her almost before the first full ring was heard. A good sign. Removing his glasses and setting them on the gleaming wooden desktop, he leaned forward, the elbows of his white dress shirt on the blotter. Her voice was crisp, attentive. "Officer Kresge, this is Walter Skinner. I'm sorry for the late hour--" He was about to get to the point, but she'd stopped his apology, telling him that law enforcement 'types' didn't seem to *have* special hours. He hoped she could hear his small smile as he continued. "Agreed. I need an update on your field agents." Equally all-business, she paused, the sound of rustling paper making its way through their connection. He sighed heavily. Maybe this wouldn't get as complicated as he'd feared. "Thank you, Officer--" She'd cut him off once again. He found himself actually laughing. He needed a colleague like her. Keen and sharp, quick on the uptake, but able to show her more human side. "I think this case probably is getting to me a little. Too many variables. But then again, what else was new? Mulder and Scully seem to be drawn to them. Thanks again, Off...Kimberley, and keep me posted. At whatever hour." He ended the conversation, dialing the Albany Field Office. ^*^*^ Radisson Hotel 9:00PM Lifting her fingers from the keyboard, Scully stretched, arms overhead, letting out a deep sigh. Having spent the better part of an hour typing in some supporting information gleaned from the various library journal articles, she was feeling sleepy and stiff. And it was much too early to be this tired. Pushing away from the hotel room's work area, she saved her document and then dimmed the screen on her laptop. Something was niggling at her, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. It hovered maddeningly just out of reach, her brows furrowed in mild consternation. Sometimes, walking away for awhile and otherwise occupying her mind, would bring clarity. Hands at her waist on her lower back, eyes lowered, she paced toward the suite's door. In her mind, she saw the various article titles superimposed on her earlier reports on the CAT54 substance. She was missing a connection that was frustratingly close at hand. 'Enough', she told herself and shook her head in an attempt to clear it. Her sleepiness of mere minutes ago had vanished and she was filled with an anticipatory energy. The same energy that always seemed to invade her when she was close to making an important discovery or connection. But she felt caged in her otherwise spacious accommodations. Usually when she reached this precipice working on a case, she'd share her seemingly-scattered and random thoughts with Mulder. What felt 'scattered' to her would appear organized and prioritized to him. Most often, he'd merely listen to her, nodding, verbally using those minimal encouragers that miraculously seemed to help her move on; uttering nothing more than a few well-placed, 'uh-huhs' and 'got its' or 'yeahs'. Occasionally, he'd pull out the well-formed question that would help her gather the stray bits of information together, helping her bring it into focus, those stray bits coalescing into a cogent answer. She needed him here now. Usually it could wait for a short time, but this case, these answers, were interwoven in an intricate pattern, tying together the discovery of a potentially dangerous weapon and...and their very lives. They had both been exposed to the substance although only she seemed to retain any lingering effects. She'd not experienced the dizziness or fainting associated with her earlier time in Burlington, but she wouldn't delude herself into thinking that the substance was completely out of her system. The fact was she just didn't know enough. She needed him here to give voice to her newest concerns. Concerns that to her own ears sounded alien, foreign. Concerns that she was sure would elicit a raised eyebrow -- or maybe two -- from him. She found herself wondering about the substance's ability to transport more than people. She'd made a possibly unfounded leap that it might be used to transport the very drugs her partner was trying to interrupt. In her partner's absence, which she was feeling much more keenly than usual and was unable to tamp down, she decided that she'd get out of the room for awhile. Kicking off her shoes, she padded to the bureau and pulled out her workout leggings, bra and a tee shirt -- one of Mulder's favorites. She had just started to change when the room phone rang. ^*^*^ Brush Creek, Vermont Mulder couldn't stand still, but that was nothing unusual. He was rarely comfortable observing, although he was a skilled observer, able to note details and absorb the intricacies of a scene with the best. It was just that he preferred to be actively participating. If the others noticed his fidgeting and not-so-furtive glancing behind and around them, he couldn't tell. Zale had taken two of the four vials while Jemel had reached for the others. As her hand remained poised palm open and up, Sarah stepped in-between the driver and the blonde-haired woman. "Not so fast," she stated, her words clipped. Although she stood her ground, Jemel's hand retracted as if burned, coming to rest on her hip, her posture clearly defensive. The challenging tone of her jabbing question to the woman in possession of the vials was all but lost under the sound of roaring engines. Wasting no time, Jemel barked commands, mobilizing Mulder and Zale neither of whom took the time to worry about the other merchandise. Craning his head behind him as he ran pell-mell for the truck, Mulder noted the five scrambling as well, but they seemed to be taking their time about getting moving. Acting rather than thinking, he yelled over the looming vehicles he was sure were headed their way, "We've been set up." Jemel never even turned around to answer, yanking the driver's side door open and gunning the engine just as her two male companions slid along the bench seat. She scanned the rear and side view mirrors, but could see very little given their distance from the small clearing and the stand of trees along the path. Mulder noted at least three sets of headlights before they were doused. The fact that there was no hasty departure of vehicles only served to confirm his earlier assessment. Had they not moved so quickly...he didn't want to go down that route. They'd have been clearly outnumbered. Zale broke the tense silence first. "What did Proteus tell you about this group we were supposed to meet?" The edge in his tone rattled Mulder; especially since he was addressing not only his colleague, but the big Boss's right hand associate. Clearly sneering at him, Jemel replied coolly, "The same thing he usually does -- absolutely nothing." She paused for a beat and then asked, "And I suppose you think I was privy to other information?" Mulder tried to gauge their interaction, but with only the occasional streetlight and the dim instrument panel white light, it was difficult. Obviously reconsidering his earlier sarcasm, Zale shook his head and took a deep breath. "No, I don't think that. It just seems strange. Especially since we were allowed to leave with two of the vials." Turning now to him, Zale snorted, "So, Chris, what's your take on all this?" Carefully choosing his words, Mulder replied, "Smells like a set up to me. I'd wonder how long the boss has used this particular group and what he knows about them." He hastened to add, "But I guess that's not my place to ask." Clearly needing to gather more information, he also worked to keep his commentary in character. He was therefore doubly surprised when Jemel spoke. "Actually, this group is our newest set of contacts. They were recommended to Proteus by one of his new female recruits who seemed to have quite the pedigree." Mulder was sure that Jemel had bitten her lip to keep from adding, 'the bitch'. And the conversation dead-ended. Silence was the rule for the next several miles until they were back out on the open road. Mulder's mind moved initially in a rather linear progression; reviewing the earlier scene, memorizing the faces and what little details he was able to absorb. Once he'd filed it all away for his call to Skinner, he sighed. His new colleagues seemed to be equally lost in thought, the truck's cab devoid of anything other than the engine sound droning over the dark pavement. The sound of the turn signal pinging pulled Mulder from his thoughts as he saw the sign for the Sunoco station ahead. Swinging in a wide arc to the pumps, Jemel dropped the gearshift into neutral and set the parking break. All three alighted and split up. Jemel headed around the truck bed to attend to fueling it while Zale made for the small convenience store. Although Mulder was hungry himself, first things were first. He wanted to call Scully. Heading around the corner of the store, he found a less well-lit and less traveled area of the parking lot. Glancing around to ensure his distance from his current colleagues, he caught Jemel's half-smile. He knew he needed to be farther away. He quickly strode into a small wooded area approximately 500 feet behind the storage area and flipped his phone open. And listened to it ring and ring. Holding the phone away from his ear, he looked at it as if it were about to tell him what he needed to know; where she was and why she wasn't answering her phone. All he got for his efforts was the small green glowing lighted face that read 'dialing'. He tried again, this time getting her voicemail. Leaving her a message to call him, he hoped she wouldn't detect the concern he knew had slipped in to his tone. Thinking -- no, hoping -- she might be in her room and have turned off her cell, he tried the hotel next. And ended up leaving the same message there. This time, it wasn't possible for him to keep a level tone. ^*^*^