Summary: Ron Sandoval is assigned to the X-files following Mulder's disappearance. However, his journey into the alien conspiracy has just started. When a mysterious man presents him with the final piece of the puzzle, he must betray a friend or lose a world...

Disclaimer - Ron Sandoval and DeDe Sandoval belong to Tribune. Incidental characters belong to me. everyone else is property of Chris Carter, FOX and 10-13. fusing the universes was a warped idea I had while high as a kite on cleaning fluid.

"You change partners, you change the rules."
-from the movie "Entrapment"

June, 2000

Ron Sandoval's hands shook as he read the letter. Emblazoned on the top was the official crest of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and the words were both thrilling and frightening.

*In light of your exceptional investigation skills and exceptional bravery in the line of duty, the Bureau has approved your promotion to Special Agent. Furthermore, you are being transferred to the Washington DC office and reassigned to the Paranormal Division…*

His first thought was *A promotion! Two years out of Quanitico! * The second was a bit more sobering. * How the hell is DeDe going to take the idea of moving clear across country? *

It wasn't like he had done much. He wasn't even supposed to be on the case. He'd disobeyed orders to further investigate a group of anarchists he had been infiltrating, and didn't even get a conclusive result on just what killed them while he was spared. What he did find were two strange FBI agents. Not only did they believe him, they initiated him into their quest - something far bigger than he could have imagined.

Things went badly. One of the agents met the fate of those townspeople - vanished into thin air. Then, anarchists were all but written off when whatever passed for Bellefluer's sheriff uncovered the bodies of two missing teens near the site…no one else was found. Even if more searches weren't turning up much, Sandoval knew how much could vanish without a trace in the Oregon woods. He could be an old man before they found any other bones.

Various other things had set his teeth on edge about that case. It was as if he had suddenly dropped out of the real world and wandered into a David Lynch film. The cast included the town's ET-obsessed residents, an old man who seemed fixated on both the case and the awful-smelling Morleys he was always puffing on, an acid-blooded, shape-changing hunter, and the protagonists…

Well, he was grateful that Dana Scully was nothing like the air-headed bimbo in that God-awful Gary Shandling movie he watched on the flight here. Mulder, on the other hand, had been freakier than anything a movie producer could pull out of his imagination.

Sandoval folded the letter carefully and went back to packing. His transfer was effective immediately, and he would have hated to arrive at his new position late.

When he got off the plane in Dulles International, he was rubbing his eyes and adjusting to the three-hour time difference. It was raining in DC, unseasonably cold and sad looking. It was about 8pm Eastern time when the plane pulled into the terminal. Sandoval left the gate, mentally plotting the wait time for both a phone call and a taxi ride to the hotel.

He was surprised when he saw that some one was waiting for him. She was a little paler then he remembered her from Oregon, and she looked very tired. As soon as he got off the plane, he ran up to her.

"Agent Scully?"

She smiled wanly. "I heard the news. Welcome to 'FBI's most Unwanted, Agent Sandoval."

"Oh, please. Just call me Ron." He paused before asking. "Is it all right to call you by first name? I knew that you and he didn't…"

Great. Three minutes off the plane and he'd managed to rub in the disappearance of her partner. Sandoval felt himself blush the instant it left his mouth.

She had to admit, it was refreshing to hear someone that wasn't her relative call her "Dana" for a change.

"Sure. I'm just not used to it."

Sandoval seemed rather contrite. Maybe the events in Oregon hit him hard as well. Or, maybe it was just her own grief making her see things.

"Look," he offered. "Can I give you a call after I get these dropped off at the hotel? Anything I can do to help."

She nodded. "My car's in the parking lot. Where do you need to go?"

They packed the car, and Scully fired up the engine. "Actually, Ron, I'll be over at Mulder's…tying up loose ends for the next few days. You're welcome to sleep over at my place."

He buckled the seat belt. "Thank you for the offer, but I would rather not. The Bureau is paying for the relocation, and I would rather not explain sleeping at my new partner's house to DeDe."

"Your wife?"

Sandoval smiled and pulled out his wallet while they were at a traffic light. A round-faced woman grinned as she hugged Sandoval. "That's her. We'll be married a year come September." He put the wallet back in his jacket. "Actually, she took the news better than expected. One of her job offers was a law firm out here."

He actually felt relaxed around Scully, it wasn't a bad thing, especially since he was going to be her new partner.

*Replacement partner,* he reminded himself. *You couldn't save Mulder, and it's your fault he's God-knows-where. Why she hasn't killed you already is the first X-file you're going to have to solve, Agent Sandoval…*

"Start asking questions now, Ron. You won't get a chance later," Scully said, pulling the car into the thick traffic.

The younger agent sighed and leaned back, looking out the window. "I don't want to offend you."

"After being 'Mrs. Spooky' for seven years, I don't think I can be offended much."

The younger agent sat up. "First of all, what steps are being taken regarding Mulder's disappearance?"

Scully swung onto a side street.

"Skinner told me that an independent investigator will be assigned. It's going to be hardest on you," she admitted.

Sandoval nodded.

"Sure you wanted that promotion?"

"I'll manage," he said.

Scully swung in front of a motel on the outskirts of the city that Sandoval pointed out to her.

"And I promise that I will do everything I can to help you. I'm just not so certain about what this new division entails. I heard all the garbage from the rumor mill when I left - chasing ghosts and monsters for crying out loud!"

She smiled lopsidedly. "That's our job."

Sandoval pinched the bridge of his nose. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"We explained what it was we actually do back in Oregon. It's not ghosts, monsters, or necessarily aliens. What we hunt is the unknown. We find it, shine our respective theories on it, and sometimes we only get to see a small part of what it actually is. It's still more than either of us would see without each other." She looked up. "So much has happened during the past eight years…we've…Mulder and I… helped each other through it. If we didn't respect each other, he wouldn't be alive and neither would I."

"So you respected him?"

She got a small, distant smile on her face. "No, it's not that. There isn't a word for it."

"You two reminded me of people who've been married for fifty years. You'll debate, negotiate, compromise, and then it suddenly doesn't seem to matter. If I didn't know better…" Realizing he was speaking to a senior agent and about to make his third failure at diplomacy in one night, Sandoval quit while he was ahead.

"Not quite," she answered. "Go check in. I'll bring the car around."

Sandoval walked in the lobby and got the key to his room, heading over to the pay phone to call DeDe and check in. Leaning against the next phone was an elderly man, lighting a cigarette. Taking a few puffs on his newly-lit cancer-stick, he pulled an envelope out of his jacket. "Congratulations on your transfer to the X-files, Agent Sandoval."

"You. I saw you in Oregon. What do you want?"

"Just to tell you the other side of the story, Agent Sandoval," The man smiled, and exhaled. "Now, is it Ronald, or should I call you Jason?"

Sandoval backed up and tried to hide his discomfort. "Excuse me?"

"It must have been hard. You weren't even old enough to know what was happening. All you probably remember is being pulled out of your home in the middle of the night, given an American passport with a new name, and sent to live with your aunt and uncle in the US."

All the warmth drained from him. "Is this meant as blackmail, Mister…?"

"My name is unimportant. I haven't had a good one in years." He took another drag off the cigarette. "And no - this is not blackmail. Your parents and I had some mutual friends. They were heroes - giving themselves up so the Project could continue in the Philippines."

"My parents died in a car accident. My aunt and uncle changed my name in an attempt to 'Americanize' me. Do not expect me to believe your stories."

"Believe what you like for the moment," There was a pause and an almost friendly smile.

"I've watched your career with interest. Who do you think recommended to the Bureau to recruit you before you took the bar exam?"

"Why?"

The elderly man flicked ashes on the cement, swirling the smoke around in his mouth before blowing it out. "Well, you can only hold off the Grim Reaper for so long. I'm searching for a protegee, a person to pass my legacy on to. Teach the things I know."

Sandoval walked into the phone booth and picked up the receiver, dialing his home number in Portland. "I'm calling my wife. Do you mind?"

"Sandoval," said the elderly man, putting out the Morley next to the "no smoking" sign in the booth. "I represent an organization in need of men like you. In need of ambitious men who can keep secrets and do what is necessary to keep those secrets. We offer knowledge...that is the true power when it all comes down to it. We offer you a chance to be the elite - the survivors. When our associates really do come in, then you will see the scope of our work and the need for preparation. While I'm sure Mulder and Scully have told you their side of the story, they don't have all the facts." He gestured to the envelope.

Sandoval picked up the envelope, and undid the clasp. The phone was starting to ring.

"How do you know I won't just run this by Dana in the morning?"

"You can understand how the general masses would react to hearing about what you saw, wouldn't you? If they succeed, there will be chaos, social dissolution. Scully cares about as much about the consequences of this as her partner did. Read what I have given you, consider it very carefully and see whether the benefits outweigh the price."

The phone picked up, DeDe's voice on the other end. "Hello?"

"Oh," added the man, "and do not tell DeDe anything about this - or much about your work at all. I would hate for you to lose her prematurely." The man turned around and headed for the exit. "I'll make my offer again in a few months, after you've settled in."

Late that night, Sandoval tossed and turned. The envelope sat on a table like Pandora’s box, daring him to open it.

Should he tell Scully about that man? No, she had enough to deal with now. He could handle that chain-smoking jerk on his own, he was sure. Maybe he did have information. It wasn’t like his birth name was common knowledge. Heck, considering the Marcos administration, Sandoval was surprised that there were any records at all. Government mismanagement at its finest, from what he could tell. A new life in America, and a new name…

*A name you never even admitted to DeDe…*

Sandoval got up and walked over to the envelope, undoing the glue that held it shut. What could be in that anyway?

He got the seal halfway undone when he remembered the man’s not-so-veiled threat towards DeDe. Angrily, Sandoval opened his suitcase and shoved it in, zipping it up.

He wasn’t the only one with a sleepless night.

Scully could see a man, his features vague and blurred beneath the golden liquid. He was at the bottom of some kind of tank. As she came closer, the man started to struggle, swimming closer to the surface. He clutched his throat, the other hand ripping out a breathing tube…

A breathing tube like the one shoved down her own throat in Antarctica. It was not of plastic, but of a flesh-like organic substance. He lay just underneath the surface, close enough to see, almost close enough to touch.

Mulder!

He recognized her, and reached out, hand breaking the surface, coming close. His hand turned, the center of his palm lit with a blinding light.

Scully bolted up in bed, coughing and gagging, practically feeling the illusionary tube down her own throat.

Washing her face and taking some deep breaths, she repeated the same words like a mantra. This is not real, you did not see him, and you don’t know what is happening to him. What you just saw is all in your head…

She looked up in the mirror. “Liar,” she retorted to her reflection.

Even worse was that the last people to see Mulder couldn’t tell her anything more. Skinner had only a few facts, and Sandoval couldn’t do much else other than confirm what Skinner had said, and add the few facts he could remember after he woke up from a concussion. Scully almost felt sorry for the younger agent. She saw herself in him - a normal agent, used to normal cases, suddenly thrown into deep waters of alien conspiracy and mysteries that made little sense.

Later as she walked down the halls of the Bureau, she didn’t have to turn around to see the stares, didn’t have to listen to hear the whispers. “Spooky” went missing, was sucked up into a space ship, or went AWOL, or lost his mind - maybe even got killed. “Mrs. Spooky” had been abandoned to deal with it. Maybe she and the new guy from Oregon had killed him and covered it up. Maybe he went crazy and thought she was an enemy. Maybe he found a new girlfriend and skipped town. Maybe he vanished because he had knocked her up…

Well, maybe one of those rumors was true - but not in the way they thought it was.

Scully walked up to the elevators, seeing a familiar face. He dangled a pocket watch from his fingers and leaned up against the wall. Seeing her, he looked up.

“Greetings Alice. I would have gown down the rabbit hole without you, but they have not assigned me a key to the office yet.”

“Funny,” she said, opening the elevator door. “You don’t look like a white rabbit.”

“Left the floppy ears in Portland,” he said, following her in. “And I’m warning you right now. I went down there a little earlier. The Queen of Hearts may not be waiting, but someone wants to shorten us by a head. I couldn’t get in the office to see who was in there.”

Scully huffed. Whoever it was, he was going to get the riot act read to him.

ADDITIONAL DISCLAIMER: Some scenes are modified from "Within" and "Without" by Chris Carter

---------

Sandoval walked two steps behind Scully as her high heels tapped out a samba. Oh, man. If he was hearing it from DeDe’s shoes, he would be smart to run out for a while, returning with roses and a Hershey bar.

A pair of anonymous-looking men pushed past them, carting large boxes of files. Scully paid no attention.

Sandoval adjusted his tie and rubbed his thumb over the pocket watch. It was taking willpower not find somewhere to duck. He didn’t belong here, not in DC, not in an office that patently belonged to someone who had a reputation suited for it. He really had no business being here. Still, if his place was to walk behind Agent Scully, so be it.

Striding into the office, she addressed another three of the nondescript men.

“Excuse me,” she said. All three stopped when her voice cut the air. “Can somebody please tell me what's going on here?

One of them, looked up, a little sheepish. “We're collecting material.”

“For?” She was trying not to yell, but he voice still skirted the edge.

“For anything that might be pertinent to the manhunt,” he answered.

“What manhunt?” she asked. “Manhunt for who?”

He smiled and dared to relax. “You're kidding, right?”

“Look, there's nothing. If you're looking for Mulder, you're wasting your time, gentlemen. You won’t find them here. I have work to do and a new agent to break in, so get the hell out.”

They ignored her. Scully walked right up to one of them and shut the file drawer he had been snooping in earlier.

“Are you listening to me?” she asked.

“I'm not the man to talk to,” the agent said with a shrug.

Scully put her hands on her hips, watching another box of files leave. “Well, then whose stupid idea is this?”

Skinner hadn’t felt his blood pressure get this high since that one-armed rat hit him with the nanobots. He could have smashed that goddamn phone or throttled the messenger on the other end.

“Yeah, well, somebody might have had the courtesy to tell me,” he finished, slamming the receiver down.

He saw Scully hovering in the doorway. Damn. He was hoping to tell her first. She must have found the jerks in the office.

“There are agents tearing apart Mulder's office who say they're part of an FBI manhunt,” she said calmly.

Skinner pinched the bridge of his nose, then shuffled his stack of paperwork. “I know. I heard. Believe me, this is not my idea. I just found out about it myself.”

“They're not going to find Mulder this way. You know that and I know that,” she said.

“I told you. I will find him. I'm going to do that. Okay?” He dropped his voice to an almost whisper. “Now, I want you just to cool out. I don't want you doing anything to upset your pregnancy.”

Scully was not going to back down. “Look, I don't understand. You are the Assistant Director. Who is going over your head on this?”

“Our brand-new deputy director,” he answered, frustration creeping into his voice thinking of the phone call.

His phone rang again. The caller ID display indicated who it was - A. KERSH EXT 562. Scully stared at Skinner in disbelief.

“Better get Agent Sandoval. Kersh wants to talk to him, too.”

As the three of them entered Kersh’s office, Skinner assessed his agents. Scully was staying glacial, but he knew she was fuming. She kept her hands to her sides and stood next to him.

The other agent was a bit more of a puzzle. It didn’t help that the decision to assign Sandoval was made above his head - maybe above Kersh’s head. Skinner thought back to when Scully had gone missing, and Mulder got assigned Krycek for a partner. He almost lurked in the corner like a statue aside from the silver watch that dangled from his fingers. His dark eyes swept the room, and even when he was pretending to be absorbed in his own thoughts or the watch, Skinner could see that the man never took an eye off Kersh, and was watching he and Scully carefully for cues.

Skinner saw the instincts of a viper in the young man.

Kersh seemed oblivious. It didn’t surprise Skinner one bit. “A.D. Skinner, Agent Scully, Agent Sandoval. Thanks for getting right over. I don't want to lose any time. We have one of our own missing and the only acceptable outcome is that we find him safe and alive. I'm sure all of you agree.”

Skinner stood straight. “That goes without saying, sir.” Calling Kersh “sir” was easier than he thought. It still made him ill.
“Good. This comes at a stressful time, with my new appointment. But I'm thankful for your cooperation in the hunt for Mulder.” Kersh ignored them, pretty much, throwing another set of books into a box.

Scully placed her hands behind her back. “Our cooperation? With due respect, there aren't people better qualified to be directing this action, sir.”

Kersh pushed up his glasses and looked at them. “Right now, you three are the two primary witnesses to Mulder's disappearance. I want your statement taken asap.”

“As witnesses, sir? Or suspects?” Sandoval looked up.

Scully glanced sharply in his direction. Sandoval made a gesture of avoiding her gaze, keeping his face and body in a position of practiced neutrality. Kersh glowered at the two agents. Skinner watched and got more nervous. A newly minted Special Agent baiting a Deputy Director was not something most people could get away with.

“What he means, sir,” Scully said, “is what is our status in this investigation?”

Kersh sat down. “Just get your statements taken.”

Skinner asked. “Taken by who?”

Kersh pushed papers into a pile. “My task force leader on this, Special Agent John Doggett. He's waiting to hear from you now.” His emphasis was on the last word. “The memo I sent has the room number.”

The trio nodded and headed for the door. Kersh took off his glasses and addressed them.

“One more thing. Anything leaves this building about aliens or alien abductions or any other nonsense that might cast the Bureau in a ridiculous light-- hey, you can forget about looking for Agent Mulder. You'll be looking for new jobs.” Replacing his glasses, he sat down behind the desk, returning to his papers. “That's all.”

The door slammed behind the trio. Skinner walked over to the side.

“Agent Sandoval, just what did you think you were doing in there?”

Sandoval didn’t blink. “Taking the heat off you and Agent Scully. I still have a reputation as an outsider. Plus, I will admit to baiting him, sir. I wanted to see what he does consider us. I would guess that he would not be above the possibility of framing us for Mulder’s disappearance.”

Scully rubbed her forehead like she had a headache coming on. “I don't believe this.”

“This isn't about finding Mulder,” grumbled Skinner. “This is about Kersh covering the FBI's *** .”

They walked down the hall towards the room that Kersh had indicated.

“Why do I get the feeling they'd be happy if we never found him at all?” Scully said.

They stopped outside the door.

Skinner put his hand on Scully’s shoulder. “Look... I saw what I saw. I have to make a statement in there. I'm not going to tell them it didn't happen.”

“Well, you heard Kersh. They don't want the truth,” Scully was edgy. “You give them the truth, and they'll hang you with it.”

Skinner sighed. “They can hang me with a lie, too. I'm not going to sell Mulder out.”

“I think he may be right,” Sandoval said. “And if he lies, then we’ll all have to lie.”

Scully ignored Sandoval. “What good are you to Mulder if you give them the power to ruin your career?”

Skinner shook his head.

“We will find him,” she said.

As they entered the Bullpen, Agent Crane, an all-business man assigned to Missing Persons approached them, gesturing to Skinner.

“Assistant Director, you can come on back with me. Agent Scully, I'll ask you to please wait on the wall until we call you. Agent Sandoval, you’re after her.”

He led Skinner away. Scully sat wearily in one of the red chairs lining the wall. Another man was sitting two seats away. He was about 40, and rugged-looking, his lanky frame relaxing in the hard plastic. Steel blue eyes looked into a file folder, then back up at the ceiling. He wore an FBI badge on his suit, but it was twisted on his lapel, covering his name and photo. He looked at Scully as she sat down, then got up and crosses to a water cooler. Sandoval sighed.

“Well, I’m not going to be murdered before my first cup of coffee. Can I get you one?”

“No thanks, Ron.”

“Anything else?” he offered. “Blindfold? Cigarette?”

“Just a cup of water.”

Sandoval patted her shoulder and went around the corner.

Scully’s mind was on other things. Unconsciously, she lay an arm across her stomach and gazed up at the ceiling. A moment later, she saw a paper cup out the corner of her eye.

“Water?”

“Thanks, Ron.” As soon as it left her mouth, she bolted up. The person speaking had a different kind of accent - a cross of New York and Deep South. She turned to see the man that had been sitting there earlier.

“It could be a wait. I don’t blame that guy who was with you for wanting to get a cup of coffee beforehand.”

Scully smiled graciously. “Thank you.”

She took the cup, and sipped some of the cool water as the man sank into the chair next to hers and began reading his file.

“Weren't you his partner? Mulder?”

Scully pulled back, thrown off guard by the question. “Yes.”

He shook his head, looking back into the file. “I guess nobody's beyond suspicion on this thing.”

“Why are they talking to you?”

He crossed his legs and leaned back, speaking casually. “Me? I knew Mulder back a bit. They're developing a working profile-- character background.”

Her eyes narrowed. Who was this jackass? “I'd say they have all the character profile they need on him.”

He glanced at her in a “nudge and wink” manner. “Certainly his reputation. I doubt we agents ever really truly know each other - even our partners. Not at the end of the day. Their real lives, their friends, girlfriends, deeply personal things, issues.”

Scully snapped on her mask, inwardly boiling. “I think I know Mulder as much as anybody.”

“Yeah, probably so. I always took the rumors with a grain of salt.”

“What rumors are those?” A sickening sweet edge came onto her voice.

“Well, you know,” he said.

Her eyes narrowed.

“Well, that, from the beginning he never felt a real trust with you, that you were ambitious.”

“Where'd that come from?” Ok, this slime wanted to play hardball.

He laughed. “There are women here at the Bureau that he would confide in. I don't know if you knew that or not.”

“No. When was this?”

“I don't know, it's just talk. So, what do you think happened? To Mulder? What's your theory?”

******** . Don’t play cards you don’t have.*

“What's my theory?” Her voice was silk on razor blades. “My theory is you don't know Mulder at all. You never did.”

Reaching out, she flipped over his badge.

Her eyebrows went up. "John Doggett. Kersh's task force leader. You might have just introduced yourself.”

“Well, I was getting around to it,” he said, trying to make light of it.

She threw the contents of her drink in Doggett’s face and stood up. “Nice to meet you, Agent Doggett,” she said calmly.

She dropped the cup, and walked into the questioning room, closing the door behind her. Other agents in the bullpen who had been watching with interest, lowered their eyes and went back to work.

Doggett sat stone-faced as she left. Well, that went over less than graciously.

A young Asian man walked around the corner with a cup of coffee in one hand and a cup of water in the other. He sat in the chair next to Doggett’s, placing the water on the ground and quietly sipping his coffee. Doggett glanced at the badge.

Doggett nodded. “Agent Ron Sandoval. The last-minute replacement.”

“Despite the circumstances of my assignment, Agent Doggett, I will still take my job seriously.”

“Oh, really? Honestly, I looked over your file in Portland. You’ve got potential. Too much potential to piss your career away on being Spooky the Second.”

Sandoval put down the coffee and picked up the water. “And you have better things to do than try and bait my partner.”

“What you are you gonna do with that glass of water?”

Sandoval smiled sweetly and put it on the armrest of Doggett’s chair. “Dana already beat me to it.”

Later that evening, the rain tapped out a drumbeat on Scully's window, interrupted by the percussion of thunder. She sat in front of her computer. Part of her wanted to relax and accept, but that was overridden by the desire to see Doggett's FBI file.

He was 42, born in Atlanta, and currently assigned to Criminal Investigations.

Well, between that and the reaction Sandoval got out of Kersh, it definitely smelled like dead rats. Mulder's disappearance was going to be treated like a routine kidnapping - and covered up as much as possible.

She kept looking.

Military History

1977-1983 - US Marine Corps

24th Marine Amphibious, 2nd Marine

Seargeant E-5

9/1/82-10/30/83 - Multinational Peacekeeping Force,

Lebanon Development

Work History

1987-1995 - New York Police Department

Detective, Fugitive Division, Warrant

1995 - Graduate, FBI National Academy, Quantico

1995-Present - FBI, Special Agent, Criminal Investigations

She started to scroll down as her stomach lurched. Pulling off her reading glasses, she ran for the bathroom, just making it to the toilet.

She was starting to get used to this. After she was done inverting her stomach, she wet a washcloth and wiped her face, then tottered weakly to the kitchen. Time to put on the pot of ginger tea.

On the way back from the kitchen, she picked up the phone. After four rings, the answering machine picked up.

"Hi, this is Margaret Scully. Please leave a message.

(Beep.)

Scully's tongue suddenly knotted as she forgot what she was going to say. "Mom, it's Dana. I, uh... I'm sorry I haven't called you in a while. I've been busy with work and, um, with something...else that I should probably tell you about in person. I mean, I don't even know if you're in town or if you're checking your messages." Her voice cracked, despite her best efforts. "But, um...but I really need to see you and talk to you. There's a lot of stuff that's going on with me right now and, and I just really need to talk."

A click on the line like the sound of a telephone being picked up followed.

"Mom?"

No answer, save another click. She hanged up the phone and ran to her window. A tall dark-haired man dressed in black stood on the sidewalk outside her building.

Storming back to the telephone, she dialed another number.

"John Doggett."

"You stay out of my business!"

"What? Who is this?"

"You better have a court order!" she hissed. How could he play dumb? The least he could do was have the balls to admit spying on her.

He still sounded clueless. "For what? Who is this?"

"How many phones are you tapping? How many agents are you doing surveillance on?"

There was a long pause. "Is this Agent Scully?"

"Thank you," she said curtly. "You just answered all my questions."

Restraining the urge to slam down the phone, she hung up. Outside the door of her apartment was a shadow outside in the hall, the floorboards creaking with their steps.

Snatching her gun off the table, she threw open the door.

The hallway was empty.

She ran down the stairs to the floor below. A man stood on the fire escape.

"Stop there! Right there! Now come on through the window nice and easy."

Her landlord, Mr. Coben, turned to see her, rain dripping from his shirt sleeves.

"Okay, I'm coming. It's me, your landlord. I started fixing the antennae on the roof, and..."

Scully felt like a fool, and breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, Mr. Coeben. I'm sorry. There was a man. There was someone in the building. Did you see anyone?"

"Yeah, yeah, you know him, he works with you," he said. "Tall guy-- brown hair."

Scully was astonished. "Who? You... You don't mean Mulder?"

"Yeah, Mulder."

Scully turned back to her apartment and ran off. A few weeks later, when Mr. Coben was asked about this, he responded that he'd been out of town to visit his cousin. The person that Scully saw rubbed a faintly glowing mark on his hands and climbed back down the fire escape.

"Mulder? Are you in here?"

Scully looked through her apartment - the kitchen, bathroom and bedroom. No one else was there.

She must be seeing things. So was the landlord.

Heading back to the desk, she took a step back. The computer was missing. Cords had been hastily unplugged, but no other trace remained of it. Picking up the end of a power cord in disbelief, she rubbed her fingers over it.

Something more than theft was going on here.

Sandoval finally succumbed to temptation, pulling out the envelope and ripping it open. If that rotten-smelling man had any information on Mulder, then it was going to get used.

The contents spilled out onto the table, and Sandoval started to read through it. Documents, pictures, disks, and charts - a goldmine of information lay in front of him.

Tapping his fingers on the table, he picked up the first chart. UFO sighting reports, and the pattern over the last year where they had been spotted. Another document was about the different types of UFOs that had been logged. A thick, bound printout got his attention.

"Dear Ronald, The Synod would also extend its welcome, if it knew just yet." it began. Sandoval almost dropped it there, but then scowled and continued reading.

This was the kind of thing he would expect to encounter in a bad movie. Then again, his whole life became a bad movie when he saw what he did in Bellefleur.

"So far, the Taeon Synod and its forces have been able to keep the other two factions in check. The Jaridian Rebels that decimated our leadership two years ago have been eliminated, killed by their inability to withstand this planet for long and their unnaturally short lifespan. As for this new faction, the Synod has not granted us any information yet as to their capabilities or even their name. They merely assure us that this species will be wiped out before any of the pending plans for Earth are set into motion..."

Sandoval put down the paper and rubbed his eyes. Going to the window and stretching to relieve the knot in his back, he looked out the window. Was that Skinner's car he saw?

Sandoval threw on a trenchcoat and packed the contents of the envelope back inside. The last paper had a phone number hand-written on the top. Sandoval scowled and re-hid the envelope, packing that piece of paper in his pocket.

He went to the lobby and out to his rented car. Sure enough, it was Skinner, far off in the parking lot, using a payphone. Sandoval had a strange feeling about this. Getting into the rented wreck he had, he waited until Skinner got into his car and headed off. Firing up his own car, Sandoval followed at a discreet distance.

Using his cell phone, Sandoval called the number he had seen on the envelope. Four rings and an answering machine picked up.

"Hello, you have reached Alvin Kersh. Leave your name and number."

Sandoval hung up the phone and cursed.

Sandoval got out and walked up to where he could see this. A battered-looking heap of a VW microbus parked near one of the dishes spilled out one of the oddest trios Sandoval had ever seen. He kept low, off to the side in the bushes. Was this new boss of his friend or foe? After today, he was certain that the people one could trust in this situation could be counted on a single hand, perhaps even less than that.

Skinner was addressing what was apparently their leader, a squat, balding, little man with stacks of printouts in his fingerless-gloved hands.

“What is it, Frohike?” asked Skinner. “Anything useful?”

"It took some serious voodoo," Frohike said, handing over the printouts.

"Major satellite hacking," added a wiry, long-haired blond man standing slightly behind the other.

The third, a prim-looking, mousy fellow in a suit picked up a fallen paper. "But we got your data."

Skinner scowled, looking over the stack. "What am I looking at?"

"You're seeing real-time images right off the JPL Topex Poseidon," Suit answered.

“We're wired right into the dish,” said the first with a shrug.

“We're not able to find raw data with UFO activity on it,” warned the third.

Frohike pointed to the blond. “But Langly was able to hack into the data storage here and pull up something just as tasty.” He pointed over to the mousy-looking man. “Now Byers broke into air traffic control. We put it all together and it comes out as this.”

Sandoval dared to move in a little closer. Computer terrorists that were spying for an Assistant Director of the FBI? Well, this was getting even better.

The mousy-looking man, Byers, pulled open a laptop. “You're looking at UFO activity in the Pacific Northwest just prior to Mulder's abduction.” A map of Washington, Oregon, Idaho, and British Columbia pulled up. It was speckled with yellow dots, but from here, Sandoval couldn’t pinpoint an exact “where” to any of them.

“All these markers correspond with reported alien abductions,” said the man that had been identified as “Langly,” “It's a regular shopping spree.”

“So Mulder's abduction...” asked Skinner.

“Was a UFO whistle stop on the way to the next pickup,” Frohike said, shuffling the papers around.

“Where?” asked Skinner, ”Where's the UFO activity after Mulder's abduction?”

Sandoval almost wanted to break cover to get a better look. All right, so these people - whoever they were - were allies. At least, they appeared to be allies.

“Like we said, we can't tell.” Byers shrugged. “Not from the data we're pulling down.”

“Look, if we can figure out where that ship was going, where it was gonna be, we've got a chance to find Mulder,” said Skinner.
Sandoval started backing up, heading to his car. He had just opened his door when he felt something whack him in the back of the head. Losing consciousness, he slumped to the ground.

Scully walked into Mulder’s apartment, the first time since he was gone. She felt surprisingly numb, like she was just dreaming. Like she would wake up - he still would be here, and she still would be barren.

She turned on the television, just to have a little noise in the background. It was on CNN. Funny that she had been expecting a sports network.

It didn’t shock her that his computer was missing, too. All that remained was a round space in the dust, evidence that something once was here.

She felt drained and tired. Walking over to his bed, she collapsed on it. The sheets still had his scent. One of his blue dress shirts lay on the bed. Pulling it to her, she curled up. The last thing she heard before she fell asleep was CNN.

“The discoveries recently cannot be ignored. We have the DNA. We have the evidence. Even the most Doubting Thomas among us has to seriously ask himself ‘Are we alone?’”

*Oh, yes, very alone,* thought Scully.

“SCULLY!!!”

It was more a thought than a shout, but horribly real. She could see him clearly. He was naked. His arms and legs were in shackles, and he was chained to something that looked like a chair designed by a sadist. Metal rods had been driven into his ankles, and his wrists were cuffed to the chair. A metal brace held his head fast. Metal probes dug into his cheeks - three in each - stretching his face out in a way that made her wince in sympathy just looking.

A bright light shown above him (them?), a watery lens covering the source. All around were shadowy figures, creatures that terrified her.

Was she feeling his fear?

*I’m here. I can see you. Where are you?*

Dark hazel eyes darted about the room. Did Mulder, wherever he was, hear her?

His voice was a weak rasp. “Scully?”

A high-pitched whirring sound began, and a mechanized double-pronged probe pushed towards his hand. Digging into his palm, he cried out. The pain was horrible. An electric blue flash passed over his body.

She heard it inside her mind. *Scully, HELP!*

She dived for the chair, but there was so much pain. She collapsed uselessly…

She bolted up in Mulder’s bed just to hear the rattle of a doorknob.

Skinner had just driven away when they heard a sharp cry around the bend. The three of them ran towards it.

They saw a young man on the ground, and another man with facial features they weren’t quite able to make out rifle through the other man’s jacket, taking a slip of paper from him and pocketing it.

The trio ducked behind a wall.

“Either one of them could have been tailing us, or Skinner,” Byers said.

“I get the feeling that the second fellow’s here to shut the first one up,” said Frohike, picking up a stone.

“Guys…” warned Langly.

The second man pulled a pistol from his jacket, screwing on a silencer. He checked it one time, and was starting to aim it at the second man.

Frohike tossed the stone. It knocked the would-be assassin down, the gun going off.

The three of them gasped and turned away. Langly gagged. Byers looked green. Frohike recovered his wits first.

The man with the gun had accidentally shot himself in the head. Blood soaked the concrete behind him. Sponge-like pinkish gray matter, what used to be brains, were scattered on the concrete.

The man that would have been killed groaned and moved. Frohike took the slip of paper out of the would-be killer’s jacket and stuffed in his jacket. Byers searched the man, pulling out an FBI badge and a letter that was next to it.

“Frohike…”

Frohike took the badge. “Ronald Sandoval. And what’s the letter?”

Byers unfolded it. “Agent Ronald Sandoval, for bravery above and beyond the call of duty…et cetera…you have been assigned to the Paranormal Division!” Byers was in disbelief over the last statement.

“As in X-Files? That Paranormal Division?”

“It’s here,” he said, showing the letter. “What should we do with him?”

Scully snatched her gun just as the door clicked open. Bolting out to the living room, she saw a man, half shadowed.

“What are you doing here? Turn around, slowly. I am armed.”

Doggett put his hands up and turned around. “I could ask you the same,” he said suggestively. “Mind putting that down?”

Scully lowered the gun. “I came by to feed Mulder's fish. Doesn’t explain what you are doing here.”

“And then you got tired and decided to take a nap.” Doggett lowered his hands. “Came to find you. You weren’t at your apartment. Guessed you were here.”

“You've got a way about you, Agent Doggett,” Scully said sharply. “ That might have worked with the NYPD but you're talking to a fellow FBI agent now and I'd appreciate some respect.”

Doggett was getting a little angry. “Respect like you showed me over the phone? Give a little, get a little, Agent Scully.”

“Who ambushed me with the phony chitchat about Mulder and then put a wiretap on my phone?” Scully fired back.

“That's B.S!”

“And now you're following me,” she said.

“I just came by to feed the fish,” Doggett said. “And to tell you that your new partner’s car was found at a bank of satellites outside of town.”

Scully crossed over to the fish tank. “What Sandoval does is his business, and what do you want to get on me, Agent Doggett? What is it you hope to find?”

Doggett shook his head. “I'm just trying to find Mulder.”

“You wouldn't know where to look,” she said, putting down the gun and taking out the fish food.

“Next to Agent Sandoval’s car was an unidentified man, Scully. He…well, he shot himself, but I don’t think it was on purpose.”

Scully turned and stared. “And now he’s missing?”

“Yeah.”

Scully pinched her nose, mentally going over the rotten possibilities.

Doggett shook his head. “Now, as for ‘What happened to Mulder?’ I know what you're gonna say or not because you think I'm the big bad wolf. Do you really believe it?”

“You think by talking in circles, I'm just going to get dizzy and-and blurt it out-- this so-called answer?”

“That he was abducted by aliens?”

“You said it,” she snapped. “I didn't.”

“I guess I just find it hard to swallow that a scientist, a serious person, could buy that.” Doggett came closer. Ever see an alien, Agent Scully?”

Scully threw up her hands. “You want me to go on record? I will go on record to say this: that I have seen things that I cannot explain. I have observed phenomena that I cannot deny. And that as a scientist and a serious person it is a badge of honor not to dismiss these things because someone thinks they're B.S.”

Doggett frowned “So you think he was abducted? Along with Sandoval?”

She looked away.

“I'm just trying to find him,” Doggett said. “Same as you. Same as Sandoval.”

Scully’s cell phone rang. She walked away from Doggett and fished it out of her purse. “Scully.”

Frohike’s voice was on the other end, “Hey, Scully. We caught a stray dog last night. Wonder if he’s yours.”

“Describe the stray.”

“Male, About 30, and Asian. About five-foot-seven and carries an FBI ID that says ‘Ron Sandoval.’”

Scully pinched her nose. “Ron, I’m going to kick your *** .”

“Someone tried to kill him last night. We..uh…helped the would-be killer earn a Darwin Award. Gave an anonymous tip to the cops.”

“Thank you. Yes, he’s my stray dog. Where is he?”

“It’s Saturday, so we’re letting him sleep it off. His attacker whacked him pretty hard. The three of us have been watching him for any sign of serious head injury. So far nothing.”

“Good. I’ll be by. Thank you.”

Doggett shoved his hands in his pockets. “Lost your dog?”

Scully smiled. “Nope. Agent Sandoval’s safe. Some concerned citizens stopped him from getting mugged last night.”

She was headed for the door when Doggett stopped her, picking up a folder he had put on the table earlier. “Uh, Agent Scully, I found these in his desk. Car rental receipts on Agent Mulder's Visa. Four consecutive weekends in May. Same mileage each trip -- 370 miles, 375 miles... where was he going?”

SculIy paused. “I don't know.”

“Like I said, maybe you really didn't know your partner,” Doggett admitted.

Scully bit her cheek. She knew where he was. They had decided to take the risk and see a fertility expert, and he was also getting a discreet check-up on his mystery illness. Damned if she’d tell either to Doggett.

“Get out, Agent Doggett.”

Doggett and she left the apartment. Locking the door behind her, she started for the stairs. As soon as she left, Doggett’s cell phone rang.

“John Doggett.” It was Gary, one of his associates. Gary rattled off some long explanation, but when he mentioned a name, Doggett stood ramrod straight. “Agent Mulder? At the FBI?”