The Bet By Xenith xenitha@yahoo.com Disclaimer: The X-files belong to Chris Carter and 1013 Productions, not me. I'm only borrowing the characters for now. I'll put them back when I'm done. Rating: PG Category: SA Keywords: Scullytorture, Muldertorture, Scullyangst, Mulderangst, M/Sc/Sk friendship Spoilers: Thru 7th season Archive: Sure! Spooky's yes! Feedback: Love it! Love it! E-Mail address: xenitha@yahoo.com Discussion List: Yes!!! Yes!!! Summary: Mulder bets Scully that he can disappear so thoroughly over the weekend that she couldn’t find him. Scully takes him up on it then discovers how very necessary it is that she find him. Fast. Author’s Note: The plot for this story is not new. I first saw it done on “I Spy”, then later on “Starsky & Hutch”. But it’s too good a plot device not to turn against Mulder and Scully! May 11, 2000 Blackie’s House of Beef 7 p.m. “He’s not gonna show, Mulder. We’ve spent all day in this car for nothing.” Dana Scully stretched her arms overhead and gave a big yawn. They’d been sitting in the car since 7 that morning, waiting for a mysterious informant to meet them. Mulder had received an e-mail the previous day from an old contact in the New Spartans. “But the New Spartans disbanded. They aren’t a danger any more,” Scully had commented. “No, they aren’t. But old members of the Spartans have gone into new splinter groups. I met Chuck at a few of the meetings and he never was comfortable with the group’s violent goals. I think he’s on the up and up. He says that his group has come up with some new weapon they plan to resell to terrorists across the country.” As a result, there they were, parked in a Crown Victoria on a beautiful day in late spring. A beautiful, long day in late spring. “C’mon Mulder, let’s go home. Sometimes these things just don’t pan....” She stopped as Mulder straightened up in his seat. “I think that’s him. Stay here in case he spooks....” Mulder got out of the car and walked across the street to the man who’d just exited the hotel. He greeted Mulder, then doubled over coughing; coughed into Mulder’s face. Great. Mulder with a cold was no picnic. They spoke for a while, then shook hands. Soon Mulder was returning to the car. “Well? Did he have anything?” Mulder just looked frustrated. “No. He claims that his group has a secret lab that’s developing a new weapon, but he can’t say whether it’s a nerve gas, a bio-weapon or just plain explosives. I told him to call me again when he knows more.” Mulder started the car and pulled away from the curb. “Well, so much for your superior powers of investigation. We know that they’re planning something big and soon, but just can’t find out what. Some kind of major test?” Scully yawned again and settled back in her seat. “Probably a test, but of what I don’t know. And what’s wrong with my superior powers of investigation? I think I’m a pretty above-average detective, thank you very much Agent Scully.” “Whew! No need to get huffy about it. I was just pointing out that everybody has slumps now and then..and...Mulder? Why are you stopping?” “I am not having a slump. Just because the Evebury abduction didn’t pan out....” Scully interrupted, “Mary Evebury was not abducted by aliens, she’d run off for a wild weekend in Atlantic City to play the slots...” “As I was saying...and because the evidence for the ghost of the Plaza Hotel was less than satisfying...” “Mulder, they denied everything. You were taken in by an internet hoax. There never was a ghost in room 129, and nobody knew anything about it. Sometimes Mulder, it’s the slow and steady piecing together of evidence that wins the game. Leaps of instinct can be useful, but the guts of what we do is the logical analysis of facts.” “Scully, are you implying that you are more logical than I am? That you are better at piecing together facts? Scully?” “Mulder, I’m sorry I ever brought it up.” “Oh no, Dana Scully, we aren’t going to let this drop. Answer the question.” “Mulder...um...I think that my strengths are in the deductive reasoning part of the job, just as your strengths lie in the...uh...inductive reasoning part.” “You’re saying I’m not logical.” “I’m saying that you’re intuitive. Can we go home now?” “No, we can’t go home yet. Scully, I am so damned logical and deductive that I bet I could disappear in this town so thoroughly that you, with all your special skills and little investigator tricks couldn’t find me.” “Mulder....I don’t want to go there.” “Scully, I could and you wouldn’t find me.” “I could find you. I always do.” “Five bucks says I could disappear so thoroughly that you couldn’t find me, no matter how logical and deductive you are.” “Okay, but let’s sweeten the deal. You disappear after work tomorrow and I have until Monday, 8 a.m. to find you. You stay within the city limits of D.C. The loser does *all* the expense reports for the next 30 days *and* buys the winner a meal with booze at the restaurant of the winner’s choice.” “You drive a hard bargain, Agent Scully.” “I’ve been wanting to eat at that new Italian restaurant, Fiorello’s, for a while. So, are we on, Agent Mulder?” “I want a three hour grace period. You don’t start hunting for me until 8:00 p.m. tomorrow. Deal?” “Deal. And I’ll find you, G-Man. You can run but you cannot hide.” May 12, 2000 5:00 p.m. Mulder left the office, whistling, on the stroke of five. “You’ll see *me* at 8:00 a.m. on Monday Morning, Scully. Of course, I might see *you* before then, but you won’t see me!” Mulder picked up his jacket and smirked. “In your dreams, Mulder, in your dreams!” Scully grinned back. Oh, she was gonna get him, but good. “Oh, I always see you in my dreams Scully. Bye!” Mulder gave a good-natured wave and waltzed out the door. Scully stayed behind to finish her report, and to give Mulder his grace period. A three hour grace period, huh? She knew she didn’t need it. There was nowhere he could hide that she wouldn’t find him, he was so predictable. Search the X-Rated theaters, a greasy spoon or two, or just sit still and he’d find her. 7:45 p.m. Scully checked her watch. Time enough to get dinner before she tracked Mulder down and dragged his sorry ass back. She gathered her jacket and was opening the office door, to meet Skinner almost head-on. “Oh, hello sir. You’re here late on a Friday,” she commented. Skinner looked grim and was carrying a folder. “Agent Scully, I hoped that you and Mulder would still be here...” He looked around seeking Mulder. “No, Mulder’s left for the day. Why? Has something come up?” Skinner handed her the file. “We’re investigating the death of this man, Charles Sorenson, formerly with the New Spartans.” Scully’s eyes widened as she stared the autopsy photograph inside. “I know this man. I just saw him yesterday evening.” “In what context?” Skinner’s face took on an anxious cast. “Did you have any contact with him?” Scully shook her head. “No. But Mulder met with him...and...what did this man die of?” She scanned the chart inside, her face growing paler word by word. “The body of Charles Sorenson was found early this morning, dead of an unknown disease. Given Sorenson’s ties to the New Spartans, we are investigating the probability that he was exposed to some new type of bio-weapon. Where is Mulder? The disease may well be communicable.” Scully was already walking to the desk phone. She noted the time as she punched the numbers. 7:59 p.m. C’mon, Mulder, answer...answer...finally the phone was picked up. “Hey Scully, you aren’t going to catch me that easily...” he started but she interrupted. “Mulder, listen to me. I’m serious. You may have been exposed to a very contagious and lethal disease. You have to get to a hospital immediately so that you can be examined and treated...” “C’mon, Scully, I thought you’d be more imaginative than that! You’re probably in your car outside on your way in to get me. Good luck! You’ll see me on Monday, 8 a.m. after you lose the bet!” “Mulder! Mulder listen to me! Mulder? Damn, he’s hung up....” Scully bit her lip and frowned, then looked up to see Skinner’s puzzled face. “What’s going on, Agent Scully? Why did he hang up on you? Is something wrong?” “We have to get to Mulder’s apartment right away. I’ll tell you on the way.” While Skinner drove, Scully explained the details of the bet. “You mean he doesn’t believe you?” he asked incredulously. “He thinks I’m trying to trick him and win the bet,” Scully said miserably. “Damn it! Of all the times for him to ditch me....” “I’d say that you two picked a really bad time to test your investigative skills,” Skinner commented quietly. “If you aren’t as good as you think you are, he may be dead.” ******** (2 of ?) ******** Skinner followed Scully as she ran up to the front door of Mulder’s apartment. Rather than knocking, she pulled out her keys and let herself in, ignoring Skinner’s raised eyebrows. She entered and Skinner followed. A quick search revealed that the apartment was empty. Damn, Scully muttered to herself, he must have left me a note...or something. He wants to lead me along. Ah...the computer. She went to Mulder’s pc and quickly booted it up, entering Mulder’s password (another Skinner raised eyebrow). Yes, there it was. “He’s left me a note. I thought he would. ‘Scully, my logical, deductive mind concluded that the first thing you would do is search my apartment. Go ahead, but the only thing you’ll find is last month’s Playpen Magazine; don’t do anything to page 56, I’m saving that. And I want you to know that I am truly hurt and crushed that you would stoop so low as to attempt such blatant trickery, just to win a bet! I look forward to the very expensive dinner you will buy me. M.’” Skinner, reading over her shoulder commented, “He really didn’t take you seriously.” “No, he didn’t,” Scully mused thoughtfully, then began rummaging among the magazines on the coffee table. Ah, there it was, last month’s Playpen magazine. Wow. Were those silicon, or what? Page 56... Scully flipped through the magazine until she’d found page 56 and laid it flat on the table, Skinner reading as well. “He’s taunting me by leaving me a clue. There are only three things on this page, an ad for a store in D.C. called ‘Hard-On Leather’, an ad for a phone-sex line and part of an article titled...um....’Building Better Relationships Through Mind-Blowing Orgasmic Sex’.” Both Skinner’s eyebrows climbed at that one. “Well, I’d suppose he was referring to the local store unless there’s something you want to tell me?” Not for the first time, Dana Scully cursed her fair complexion. “No sir, I think that the store is a good place to start, and I plan to check with a few of his friends as well.” “Good. I’m going back to the office to get more details on this disease and how it’s communicated. Mulder may not be in danger if it isn’t passed through casual contact. But find him. I’ll be in touch.” Scully nodded absently at Skinner as he left the apartment, then frowned down at the page. Mulder would never do anything obvious, he was too damned devious for that. He’d expect her to follow the logical steps, and the leather store was the most logical place to look. Therefore...what were the other options? She sat down and read through the article and, while it certainly offered some unusual positions that had never occurred to her, there were no obvious clues to Mulder’s whereabouts. Okay, next step--the phone sex line. The ad said to ask for Mandy. Dana sat down and dialed the number from Mulder’s phone and calmly gave her credit card number and asked for Mandy. “I’m Mandy and I’m feeling horny tonight...” a seductive voice came across the wire. “What’s *your* name?” “My name is Dana and I think my friend Fox might have left a message with you today...” “Fox? Are you looking for a fox? I’m pretty foxy? Will I do?” Dana gritted her teeth. “My name is Dana Scully, Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI, I am trying to find the ‘Mandy’ who spoke with Fox Mulder today between 6 and 8 p.m. My badge number is JTT0331613, feel free to confirm.” The sultry voice flattened and took a sudden edge of Brooklyn. “Hey, I don’t want no trouble with the Feds. We’re all Mandy here, it’s in the ad. I’ll check and see if your friend called. Hold on.” Scully waited quietly until ‘Mandy’ was back on the line, a different voice this time. “Hello? I talked to Fox Mulder today. Are you Dana?” “Yes, I am. What is his message?” “Um...he said to tell you that you can hunt but you won’t find him, because he’ll be right where you don’t expect him.” Dana sat down suddenly. “Did he say anything else? Anything that wasn’t part of the message?” “No, I’m sorry. And he tipped me extra to write it down and deliver it to you as written.” “Okay, thanks Mandy.” Dana put the phone down and cradled her head in her hands. What the Hell did that message mean? Or was he just taunting her? Time to go to Plan ‘B’, check out the Lone Gunmen. As Scully waited out front for her cab, a shabby dark-haired figure in a denim jacket and non-descript jeans watched her closely from half a block away. Then grinning, he put his binoculars away and caught a bus for his motel. After he caught his bus, a second man with mousy brown hair got into his car and began to follow the bus. May 12, 2000 9:00 p.m. Offices of Lone Gunman Magazine “You have to tell me where he’s gone!” Scully’s voice had gone from soft and persuasive to irritated and now was verging on desperate. “No way, Jose. Mulder told us you’d try this and we swore we’d keep his location under our hats. We never betray a friend’s confidence.” Frohike looked immobile as a rock, with the rest of the evil trio standing as obdurately behind him. Scully suddenly felt deflated. The Gunmen were the most loyal friends Mulder possessed; she couldn’t let them get him killed. “Please. I know that Mulder made you promise, but this isn’t a trick. I don’t give a damn about the bet, all I want to do is make sure that Mulder’s all right. This new bio-weapon is lethal and he was exposed to it. Now he’s out there, alone, and he doesn’t know that danger he’s in. Please....you have to believe me.” Damn it, her voice was trembling. So much for strong, capable Agent Scully. Scully swiped at one eye and looked up to find Byers studying her closely. “I think she means it. I don’t think this is a trick,” he said thoughtfully. Langly and Frohike exchanged long looks with Byers, before they reluctantly nodded. Frohike got up and scribbled an address down on a piece of paper. “He said he needed a fake i.d. for the weekend, so we got him one under the name of ‘George Hale’. This is the motel he said he’d be at.” Scully’s smile lit the room as she took the paper. “Thanks, guys. And if by any chance you see him before I do, don’t have any physical contact with him. Keep him isolated and call me as soon as possible.” Scully ran out to her car and gunned it. Mulder was staying at the Busy-Bee Motel not far from here. May 12, 2000 Location Unknown “What do you mean you lost him? He was on a goddamned bus! He hardly sped out of your reach.” The blonde man leaned across the table and glared at the mousy-haired man, who shivered slightly. “Hey, it’s not my fault the car ahead of me stopped for a red light. The bus went through ahead of us and I lost it in traffic.” He sank down into his chair. The blonde man drummed his fingers on the table. “You know why this is so important, don’t you Earl? Chuck sold us out. He’d been snooping around the lab for the past two weeks, then yesterday he took a big stack of files out of the lab and left ‘em somewhere for that traitor FBI agent. Unless we get those files back, *soon*, all our secrets are gonna be all over the 6 o’clock evening news! We been watchin’ Mulder since Chuck died and he hasn’t made a move for the documents, so there’s still a chance to get ‘em. You *know* what we gotta do, don’tcha Earl?” “Yeah, Pete. Catch the FBI agent and find out where the documents are, then kill him.” “Catch him, Pete, and kill him *slowly*. He was a traitor in our midst, destroyed the New Spartans. He doesn’t die quick. You got that?” Earl shivered at Pete’s expression. Since the New Spartans had disbanded, Pete had assumed leadership in the new group and was all the more dedicated because of past failures. Earl didn’t want Pete to look at him like that. Ever. “Okay. So what do I do now? And what happened with the lab?” “We removed all the remaining materials and samples but had to leave the bodies. Then we torched the place. No problem. The Feds won’t trace us.” Pete sighed. “The new lab is developing better handling procedures. We won’t have any more contamination or personnel deaths. Not that I’m sorry that Chuck died, but losing Joe and Lisa was a blow to the project.” “Yeah,” Earl bowed his head for a moment in sorrow. Joe and Lisa had spearheaded the biological warfare group. Now their assistants had to take over. “So what do you want me to do about Mulder now?” “His partner is looking for him too. Mark’s been following her. You go relieve him and watch her. Then when she finds Mulder, you get him. Get them both if you have to, but don’t make any mistakes this time.” “No, Pete...I sure won’t.” May 12, 2000 Motel 6 Scully parked her car in front of the beat-up looking Busy-Bee Motel. Two of the lights on the sign were flickering and most of the potted vegetation was dead. “Looks like the kind of place Mulder rents for us all the time,” Scully muttered as she locked the car. She went inside the door marked ‘office’. “Hello there. Looking for a room?” A graying man with a paunch stubbed out his cigarette in an already full ashtray. “No, actually I’m looking for someone who checked in tonight. George Hale.” The man gave her a look from the top of her fiery hair to her leather platform pumps. “You don’t look like you’ve been in the business long, Missy. I get a cut of the profits, if you catch my drift.” Scully almost didn’t get the drift, but when she did she cursed both Mulder and her complexion for the second time that day. She carefully removed her badge from its pocket. “Special Agent Dana Scully. What room is he in?” she asked crisply. She was gratified to watch the man color as brightly as she had, while he fumbled with the registration cards. “I was only joking, ma’am. A little motel humor. He’s...uh..in room 39. Here’s a key if you need one...” He pushed a greasy key across the dented formica. Dana took it without comment and left. While she marched to Mulder’s room she fumed. Damn. Did she *look* like a cheesy, two-bit hooker? Mulder was working very hard to humiliate her, first the phone-sex operator and now this ‘no-tell’ motel. Oh, she’d get hers back out of him when all this was over. She pounded some of her irritation away at the door to room 39. It opened and she was faced with a whiskery faced man with bleary blue eyes and a strong smell of whiskey. “Yeah? C’n I help you?” he wheezed. “Are you..George Hale?” “Yeah, that’s me. What do you want?” Scully peered behind him but only saw the rest of the empty room. She pushed ‘Hale’ back and flashed her badge. “I’m Dana Scully. Where is Fox Mulder?” “Who? I don’t know any Fox Mulder. What kinda name is that?” “The man who rented this room. Where is he?” Scully opened the bathroom door. Empty. She turned on the man. “What’s your real name? And where is the man who got this room? It was him, wasn’t it?” Scully pulled a photograph of Mulder from her pocket and showed it to the man. ‘Hale’ sighed. “I knew this was too good to be true. Yeah, that’s the guy who got this room. I was on the streets, just mindin’ my own business when this guy asked me did I have a place to stay tonight. I allowed as I was in between places and he offered me this room. Said he couldn’t use it but it was paid up. He told me to call myself ‘George Hale’ and threw in $50 bucks. So here I am.” “Did he look sick? How was he?” Scully tried to banish the anxiety from her voice, but wasn’t successful. “What do you mean? Was he carryin’ something?” “We don’t know. He was exposed to an illness, but we don’t know if he’s capable of spreading it. You need to be checked out by a doctor. I’m going to call some paramedics who can look you over. “ “Does that mean I have to give up the 50 bucks?” “No, you can keep that.” Scully pulled her cellphone from her pocket and called Skinner. “Have you found him yet?” Skinner greeted her without preamble. “No, I’m still looking. Have you heard anything? Sir? What’s wrong?” “Agent Scully, the preliminary lab results have come back on the dead body we found. Charles Sorenson died of a modified form of Pneumonic Plague. And we think we located the lab that produced it. Firefighters putting out a house fire uncovered two bodies which didn’t die of smoke inhalation. Their lab tests match Sorenson’s.” “The black death....that killed millions in the middle ages...” Scully said. “Scully....there’s more....” “Sir?” Skinner cleared his throat uncomfortably. “As I’m sure you know already, pneumonic plague is curable with standard antibiotics if treatment begins shortly after symptoms appear. But this variant is resistant to the standard antibiotics.” “Untreated pneumonic plague is 100% fatal,” Scully whispered. “That’s right, Agent Scully. Mulder is a time bomb, capable of killing hundreds of people before he dies himself. You have to get to him; shoot him if you have to, but get him off the streets.” ******** (3 of ?) ******** Note on “Plague”: The Plague, or the Black Death, was a disease which decimated the population of Europe in the Middle Ages. It is caused by a bacterium: Yersinia Pestis and is found in three different forms. The commonest is Bubonic Plague, caused by flea bites and characterized by swellings of the groin and armpits. Without antibiotic treatment it carries a 50% mortality rate. Less common is Septicemic Plague (infection of the bloodstream) and Pneumonic Plague, an infection of the lungs caused by inhaling plague bacteria. Pneumonic Plague, before antibiotics, was 100% lethal. May 12, 2000 Busy Bee Motel Parking Lot Fox Mulder put down his binoculars and chuckled. That ought to show her. He’d thoroughly enjoyed laying the trail that had just pulled Scully up short. Disparaging his detective skill! Ha! He could out-detect her any day of the week. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and hit speed dial #1. “Scully,” came the tired voice on the other end. “Hey, Scully! How’s the search comin’?” Mulder peered around the corner of the building, seeing her silhouetted against the open motel-room door. “Mulder! Thank God you called. Mulder, I was serious before. I don’t care about this bet; you have to come in and get checked. You’ve been exposed to...” “Oh, come on Scully! You tried that before and it didn’t work. Just remember, you aren’t gonna catch me!” Mulder hung up the phone, more than a little irritated at her attitude. He’d had no idea that winning was so important to her. He’d thought about teasing her, exchanging an innuendo or two, but she’d ruined that. Unless she really meant it...? Naah, too far fetched. Scully knew he was a psych graduate and was just trying to play mind games with him. He pocketed the cell phone and hiked toward the Metro station. He heard the sirens of the ambulance as he walked down the concrete steps to the subway and dimly noted that somebody must have had a car accident or something nearby. Scully just stared down at her phone, fuming at Mulder. Damn it, he never listened to her at the best of times but now.... She got ‘George Hale’ into the ambulance and the paramedics briefed, then went to her car. She’d go back to the Hoover Building to do some more work. Saturday, May 13, 2000 7:30 a.m. Motel 6 Mulder woke with a pounding headache. He dimly groped his way out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom for a glass of water. He blearily watched his reflection in the mirror as he sipped. Maybe Chuck had given him that damned headcold of his? Well, he’d buy some vitamin C tablets and eat lots of soup. These things usually blew over quickly. Now, time to get up and leave some more breadcrumbs for Scully. When he’d planned his ‘disappearance’ he had considered the easy way out: drop out of sight and just wait. But where’s the fun in that? No, it was better to dog Scully and pop up where she least expected it, then disappear again. By Monday, 8 a.m. she’d have to concede that her partner was a damned good detective. He quietly anticipated the look of chagrined admiration he’d see on her face when she admitted that she’d lost the bet. And not only would he win the grudging admiration of the ever-skeptical Dana Scully, he’d get a date with her too. His head suddenly felt better and Mulder began whistling as he turned on the shower. Hoover Building 12:30 p.m. Scully looked up from the file she was reading when the office phone rang. She picked it up before it had finished it’s first ring. “Scully.” “Hello, Dana. It’s Mom. I’m at the restaurant; are you running late?” Damn. Scully checked the calendar. She’d completely forgotten the lunch date with her mother. She pulled off her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. “Mom. Oh I’m so sorry, I completely forgot!” “It’s okay, honey. We can do it another time if you’re on a case.” Scully could hear the questioning note in Maggie’s voice. Suddenly she wanted to talk to somebody about all this, someone she could let it all out to. Skinner was no good; she had to keep projecting ‘strong-competent-capable’ vibrations at him. “No, Mom, it’s okay. I need a break and I want to see you. I’ll be there in ten minutes...” With a last glance at the file, Scully grabbed her keys and ran out the door. On her way past the front desk, the security guard stopped her. “Agent Scully! Somebody dropped this off for Agent Mulder. Would you sign for it?” “Okay, sure.” Scully took the pen he handed her and signed the clipboard, then grabbed the large yellow envelope. The envelope she placed in her trunk, then drove to the restaurant. As she left the Hoover Building, a nondescript rental car pulled in behind her, following at a discreet distance. Then a third vehicle, a white pickup truck also began to follow. Eden’s Garden Vegetarian Restaurant 12:45 p.m. “.....And so, that’s why I forgot about the lunch date. Skinner has called out a task force to search for Mulder, but we all have to agree that I’m most likely to find him.” Dana sipped her herb tea. “I know how he thinks. Or at least, I thought I did.” Maggie frowned into her own tea. “Are you in any danger from all this?” “No, not really. I know the precautions; the disease is carried by coughing, sputum. I haven’t been that close to Mulder since he was infected....if he was.” Dana shook her head. “They won’t make any announcements about Mulder, since they’re still not sure he’s a carrier and they want to avoid a panic. But, if he does have it, they’re beginning to consider...” She gulped another sip of tea. “shooting him on site...to avoid a citywide plague. I have to find him.” “And so far he’s been leaving a trail of ‘clues’ for you? X-rated ones?” Maggie hid a smile. It wasn’t often that she got to see her rather stiff daughter thoroughly embarrassed. Dana smiled a little. “He’s always had a fiendish sense of humor and I know he’s enjoying the chase. If I could only get him to see that I’m not joking! Huh?” Dana looked up at the waiter who’d appeared at her elbow “Ma’am, the gentleman at the table over there has asked me to deliver this note and to tell you that he’ll be paying for your lunch today.” The waiter gestured to a table in a far corner. Through the crowd Dana could just see Mulder getting up and waving to her with a smirk. She got up and worked her way through the crowd. “Mulder! Wait! Mulder!” By the time she got to the table, he’d melted away. She opened her fist and uncrumpled the note in her hand just as Maggie arrived. “Dana? What is it?” she asked as Scully read the note. It had only one word: “Gotcha!” She silently handed it to her mother and trudged from the restaurant. 2:00 Motel 6 Mulder grabbed another tissue as the coughing fit continued. Damn this cold. His headache was worse and this cough was starting to annoy him. He thought about buying some of that cold syrup with booze in it, but it would cut his edge. Couldn’t afford to be drugged up with Scully on the trail. He shivered and pushed the heater up another notch. Cheap motel rooms never did have decent heat---it was already set for 85 degrees in here and it was still chilly. He laughed, remembering the look on her face when she’d seen him at the restaurant. It was worth suffering through one of their bean-burgers just to see Scully’s expression. Man, she was taking this thing way too seriously. He chuckled again, then began coughing. When he came up for air, he had to admit that he’d be glad when the game was over and he could sleep in his own bed. He felt tired, probably this cold. He’d like nothing better than to just sleep....no, wait....got to go out and torment Scully some more. He straightened up, popped another couple vitamin C chewables and began plotting his next step. E-MAIL MESSAGE From: fwmulder@fbi.gov To: dscully@fbi.gov Re: Catch me if you can! ----------------------------------- Hey Scully! You aren’t doing very well thus far, so I thought I’d give you a hint. My favorite movie star is having a film festival this evening. See ya there! M E-MAIL MESSAGE From: dscully@fbi.gov To: fwmulder@fbi.gov Re: Catch me if you can ------------------------------------------------------ Mulder, please, please contact me. You win the bet! I’ll buy you dinner anywhere you name. Just please, call me! This stupid bet isn’t worth you risking your life. Chuck Sorenson is dead of a strain of pneumonic plague genetically engineered to be antibiotic resistant. You were exposed and may have the disease. Please..trust me. Saturday, May 13, 2000 Mulder closed his laptop computer and pondered. He’d read Scully’s return message and was beginning to wonder if she’d been playing tricks with him after all. He started coughing again and adjusted the room thermostat, then pulled a blanket from the bed around himself. No, it was just a cold. It had to be. But just in case, he’d go to the Traci Lords film festival anyway and turn himself in to Scully. Of course, he could just call her and tell her where to meet him. No, he couldn’t resist one last poke at Scully’s rigid exterior; she could sit through an X rated film or two. He grabbed his cell phone and put it into his denim jacket, then grabbed the car keys. Whoop...he steadied himself with one hand on the dresser. Dizzy for a moment there. He felt heavy, feverish. Well, all the sooner he meet up with Scully. 3:00 2630 Hegal Place, Apartment 42 Alexandria, VA Which is Mulder’s favorite movie star? Got to be a porn star. She riffled through the magazines in the apartment but didn’t see any themes among the big-bosomed bimbos she saw there. At last, with a sigh, she phoned the Gunmen. She could hear the grin in Frohike’s voice. “You want to know who Mulder’s favorite movie star is? You mean porn star, don’t you? Somebody who’s having a local film festival? Only one choice for that, Agent Scully. There’s a Traci Lords film festival over on T Street. In fact, we were planning on attending ourselves; just in the name of culture, you understand.” “Oh yes, I see,” Dana answered drily. “Can you tell me where this theater is?” “I’ll do better than that. Would you care to accompany us? We’d be happy to pick you up.” Go to an X-rated film festival in a battered VW Bus with the Lone Gunmen. Dana shivered. “No, I think I’ll go alone. Maybe you shouldn’t go. If he sees too many of us there, we might spook him.” “Oh,” said Frohike, disappointed. “Well, here’s how to get to the theater..” 4:00 p.m. Mulder tried for the fourth time but the rental car wouldn’t start. Damn. And the first feature started at 5:00 p.m. No time to call a tow truck and Scully was expecting him. Oh well, he’d ridden the Metro before. He began walking to the station. It sure was cold today. He could feel crushing waves of chill running through his body. He was grateful to make it to the train, and found that he was even dizzier as he got off and made his way up the station steps. Yeah, he was sick with something. Hard to walk, he knew he was weaving, and had to stop periodically to cough. Once he got to Scully it’d be okay. He was so busy trying to keep walking that he didn’t notice the shadows that detached themselves from the doorway he’d just passed. The next thing he knew, he was face first on the ground, then they were dragging him into the alley. There were two of them, so he fought back. But his reactions were slow and he didn’t see the blow to his head when it fell. Dazed, he could feel the man rolling him over and going through his pockets, taking his wallet, his cell phone, his i.d. Damn it, he’d left his weapon at the apartment, couldn’t defend himself. Mugged. He was being mugged. He heard a snort as the man opened the id and discovered that Mulder was a Fed. He didn’t see the kick to the gut, but he sure felt it, then heard the crunching sounds as the man ran away. Mulder tried to get up, but then he started coughing. God, his gut hurt where the guy had kicked him...he held the tissue up to his mouth and fought for air. When he pulled the tissue away he could see little crimson flecks on it. Then the coughing started again. Got to get to Scully. He tried to get up but couldn’t stay on his feet. He couldn’t get any air... He didn’t feel the pavement when collapsed. 8:00 p.m. Scully looked around the theater again. No Mulder. She checked her watch, then looked back up at the screen where a blonde woman was moaning loudly. Scully scrutinized the woman’s breasts, trying to find the plastic surgery scars. She was certain that the boobs were as fake as the orgasms. She sighed. She’d sat through a showing of “Bad Girls 3” and was now, along with the enthralled (and mostly male) audience viewing “Another Roll in the Hay”. If Mulder didn’t show up soon, Scully was pretty sure she’d have to beat the crap out of the next guy who propositioned her. If Mulder *wasn’t* sick, she was going to make him pay for this. And for the phone call to Mandy. And for the Playpen magazine. She rummaged into her container of stale popcorn. Didn’t people at these theaters ever buy popcorn? This stuff tasted like it was made during the Civil War. Her phone chirped and she grabbed it, but not before several audience members glared at her. She took the phone and ran into the lobby. “Scully,” she said hopefully. “Agent Scully, it’s Skinner. I have some news for you.” Her heart fell. “Yes, sir?” “D.C. Police caught a Mugger tonight at the Lincoln Memorial who had, among other stolen items, Mulder’s wallet and cellphone. The mugger isn’t talking, so we don’t know where he encountered him. I have police and agents searching the area he was caught, but I wanted to let you know that it looks like Mulder may be incapacitated.” “Yes sir,” Scully put down the phone. Mulder incapacitated could only mean one thing. “Oh Mulder....” she murmured. She walked outside the theater door, trying to imagine where Mulder could have been when he was attacked. He was on his way to her, she was sure of that. He’d been watching her and taunting her all day. She pulled her maglight from her pocket and began to methodically walk the streets around the movie theater. A few blocks from the Metro station she stopped. There were few people out here, but she had a feeling that somebody was in the alley. She needed to go into the alley. She flashed her light past the dumpster and saw a crumpled form in the dimness. It looked like....Mulder! She ran forward and gently put her hand on his shoulder, turning him over. Even in the artificial light his face was flushed, and she could see spots of crimson on his lips. She held her hand against his forehead. Fever, and it was high. “Mulder? Can you hear me? Mulder?” She spoke to him urgently, shaking him. “Scu...llee?” he wheezed. She could hear the breath whistling as he tried to draw air. “Guess you win the bet..” “Nobody wins, Mulder. The bet’s off. Let’s get you to a hospital,” she pulled off her coat and laid it over him then began to punch numbers on her cellphone. Then she heard a ‘click’ behind her. “Put the phone down, Agent Scully. We’ve been looking for Agent Mulder for a long time.” She looked up and saw a man in the shadows training a gun on her. ******** (4 of ?) ******** Saturday, May 13, 2000 Unknown Location Scully tried to slip her wrist out of the handcuffs again. No good. Her hands were small, but not that tiny. She thought that they were in an old potting shed, it had a smell of earth and chemicals. Her right hand reached out and found Mulder, huddled unconscious on the floor beside her. As she ran her fingers gently through his hair, she grimaced. They’d cuffed him to another pipe. She had no idea who these people were, but knew they weren’t with the consortium. Members of the New Spartans? The thought chilled her. These people had a nasty talent for cooking up lethal bugs. She was worried about Mulder. He’d been in and out of consciousness since their abduction, and his breathing had developed a whistling sound she didn’t like. She sat upright at his low moan. “Scully?.....Scully, you here?” He lifted his head and tried to focus his eyes in the dimness. “I’m right here, Mulder.” She ran a palm across his forehead. He was warmer now than he had been. “How are you feeling?” Mulder inched himself into a sitting position and leaned against Scully’s shoulder. “Great. Feel like a walrus is sitting on my chest, though.” He coughed and tried unsuccessfully to stifle it. Although he turned his head away, Scully could see more crimson spots staining his jacket. After several minutes of wheezing, he caught his breath. “So, you weren’t kidding when you said I’d been exposed to the plague. Why don’t I have...y’know...swellings...buboes?” He leaned his head back against the wooden boards and gasped for breath. “You have the pneumonic form of the disease, passed by droplets in the air. With classic bubonic plague, victims develop swellings in the lymph nodes at the armpits and groin. Your form is an infection of the lungs.” Scully kept her voice clinical, dreading the next question. Mulder nodded, still panting. “So....what’s the survival rate for pneumonic plague?” “Mulder...I...” Scully fell silent. “I thought so,” Mulder said quietly. “How long do I have?” “Not long. A day or two at most. If we could get you to a hospital, with antibiotics...” Scully tried to inject as much optimism as she could into her tone, but Mulder just smiled at her. “Scully, you said this bug is resistant to antibiotics. That means that the normal treatments probably wouldn’t work anyway.....S’okay. I’ve had a good run.” He started coughing again, his face turning dusky colored. Scully pulled him closer and began thumping his back impotently. At last the fit subsided. “Mulder, you aren’t going to die. I won’t let you. We’re getting out of here and you are going to be okay.” Mulder’s eyes drooped. “It would help if we knew who these people are and what they want.” “Yeah. They didn’t say anything before they loaded us into the van. They just said that they’d been looking for you, Mulder.” Mulder nodded, his eyes closed. “Lotsa people lookin’ for me.” He began slipping into unconsciousness, sliding against Scully’s shoulder and onto the floor. She pulled his head onto her lap, cradling it there as he slept. She kept watch over him with anxious eyes, listening to every hitch in his breathing. She roused herself at the sound of the door opening. The mousy haired man was back, armed. “Okay, wake up you two.” He prodded at Mulder with the toe of his boot. Mulder didn’t move. “You, Agent Scully, get up and move over to your left, away from him.” Scully eyed his gun and complied, leaving Mulder huddled alone on the cement floor. “C’mon, wake up you!” The man’s prodding became a kick. Mulder made a stifled moan and slowly rose to his knees, shackled by the cuff on his right wrist. “I specifically asked for room service, so where is my eggs Benedict?” Mulder asked drily, then tried to duck as the man struck his jaw. “Shut up. You only talk when I say so. Where is the stuff Chuck gave you?” Mulder lay flat on his back and blinked up at the man. “What stuff?” He slowly picked himself up to a sitting position. “The files he gave you. Before he died on us, Chuck raided the lab files and took most of our data. We know he gave it to you. Where is it?” Mulder just stared at him. “Is that what this is about? I don’t have anything. Chuck talked to me, that’s all. Oh, and he coughed all over me. You guys really ought to re-think your containment procedures, y’know?” Mulder gasped and started coughing as the man drove his fists into Mulder’s chest and abdomen. Finally Mulder lay hunched on his stomach, gasping for air. Scully could hear the wheeze again, louder this time. “Mulder?” His face was turning blue again. “Stop it! He’s sick, can’t you tell?” “Don’t know....anything...about...paperwork....Don’t... have...it.” Mulder rose unsteadily to his knees, then began coughing again. This time, even their kidnapper could see the blood coming from Mulder’s lips. Earl backed away cautiously. “He’s got it. He’s got that damned bug.” Scully edged over to Mulder and, grabbing his shoulders, held him close. “Yes, he does. It’s killing him. You and I have both been exposed, and unless we’re treated in a hospital we’re both dead in a few days. Do you want that?” The man backed further away. “Paul...Paul never told me this guy was sick....” Scully took a quick look at Mulder, who had stopped coughing now, but was shivering in her arms. “I doubt that Paul cares much about you, or anybody else. That’s why Chuck came to see Mulder in the first place. He thought Paul had gone too far.” Earl faltered. “I...I don’t know...” He stepped forward, looking more closely at Mulder, his gun dropping a bit. Then they all turned as the door behind him opened, admitting a tall blonde man. “Paul. I didn’t expect you so soon,” Earl said hesitantly, quickly raising his gun and training it at Scully and Mulder. “Just thought I’d see how things were going, Earl. Do you have the information yet?” Earl shook his head. “No. Agent Mulder’s sick and says he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Says he only saw Chuck once and didn’t get anything from him.” Paul squatted down in front of Mulder and eyed him with interest. “Yes, I’d say he’s in the final stages, at that. Well, he isn’t much use to us, then.” He pulled his own gun and held it against Mulder’s forehead. “No, wait! You can’t just kill him in cold blood...please wait!” Scully talked fast. “He’s dying anyway, you don’t have to shoot him.” “I’m doing him a favor. Choking to death isn’t my favorite way to go. Unless there’s something you aren’t telling us Agent Scully?” Paul lifted his gun and pointed it away from Mulder. Scully held onto Mulder more tightly. If they knew about the packet in her car trunk , they’d just retrieve it and kill both agents without a thought. She stared coldly into Paul’s blue eyes. But if she didn’t do something, Mulder was dead. Now. “I...I think I might know where the documents are....I can take you to them. But not if you hurt him.” “Really? Well, I think we can make a deal then. You take me to the documents and we let you and Agent Mulder go free.” “All right,” Scully sighed. “Help me get him on his feet and...” She shifted position, trying to help Mulder to stand. “No, that isn’t what I mean. Mulder stays here. If you pull any tricks, he dies. He’ll be waiting here when we’ve gotten the files.” Scully bit her lip, but reluctantly let go her hold on Mulder when Paul waved the gun at her again. She leaned forward to kiss him on the forehead. “I’ll be back, Mulder,” she whispered. “Run like Hell, Scully. Get away if you can,” he murmured back. Mulder looked up at her with dull eyes as they unlocked her handcuffs and took her from the room. It was still dark outside, maybe two in the morning. Scully looked around and saw that they were in an old orchard or nursery area. A single floodlight illuminated a gravel driveway where two vehicles were parked. She was led to a small car and motioned into the passenger seat where she was handcuffed again. Paul closed the car door then, keeping the gun pointed at Scully, motioned Earl over. “As soon as we leave, kill him. I don’t care how you do it, but make it last.” “But you said...” “She’s not coming back either. She’s got the files. And if she doesn’t, I don’t think either of ‘em knows where they are.” Paul met Earl’s eyes. “You got that?” “Yeah. I got it.” Paul walked around the side of the car and got into the driver’s seat. “All right, Agent Scully. Where are we going?” “Back to where I left my car....” The drive was quiet. Scully spent her time memorizing landmarks, the realization growing slowly in her that this man had no intention of letting her return. When she and Mulder had been taken to the nursery, they hadn’t been allowed to see its location. Now Paul didn’t care if she knew. He was going to kill her. God, what were they doing to Mulder? Plan...have to plan. “I..have a question...” “Yeah? Why should I answer?” Paul kept one eye on Scully, the other on the road. “Why weren’t you worried about catching the disease from Mulder? It’s lethal.” “Huh! Do you think we’d develop the perfect bio-weapon and not develop a vaccine? All the group leaders have been vaccinated, just in case of accidents.” “Does that mean you have a treatment too?” Oh, please let them have a treatment....she held her breath, waiting for his answer. ‘Yeah, we do. And that makes it even more important that we get those files back. If the cure gets out, the bug loses all its market value.” Paul parked the car behind Scully’s at the curb in front of the movie theater. His face twisted into a wry grin as he caught the theater marquee. “X rated films, Agent Scully? You *do* have some interesting habits, don’t you. Maybe there’s another reason you’re anxious to save that partner of yours.” He swiveled in his seat. “So where are the papers?” “I have to show you. They’re hidden.” Scully looked at him imploringly. “Look, I’m no threat to you. You have me cuffed and I’m what? A five foot tall, hundred pound woman. You out weigh me by a hundred pounds. And I need to save my partner.” Paul eyed her, then shrugged and got out of the car. As he opened the door on her side, he met with a solid kick in the abdomen from both her platform-clad feet. He went down to the pavement with an “oof!”. When he found his breath again, he was staring up the barrel of his own gun. Sunday, May 14, 2000 Delleray Nursery 3:00 a.m. Skinner, clad in a haz-mat suit walked over to Dana Scully, similarly clad and put a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Dana. He’s just not here.” She never stopped looking, searching the grounds for some clue. “I know, sir. They must have taken him away as soon as Paul and I left.” She folded her arms across her chest and bowed her head. “On the other hand, the documents you had in your trunk look promising. Jameson in the lab says that they have the formulas both for a vaccine and for a treatment....” “If we find him in time,” Scully completed his sentence. “The only clues we’ve found so far are the bloodstains in the room where we were held.” “We don’t know that it’s his blood,” Skinner corrected her. Scully just looked at him until Skinner had to turn his eyes away. Author’s Note: The plot for this story is not new. I first saw it done on “I Spy”, then later on “Starsky & Hutch”. But it’s too good a plot device not to turn against Mulder and Scully! Note on “Plague”: The Plague, or the Black Death, was a disease which decimated the population of Europe in the Middle Ages. It is caused by a bacterium: Yersinia Pestis and is found in three different forms. The commonest is Bubonic Plague, caused by flea bites and characterized by swellings of the groin and armpits. Without antibiotic treatment it carries a 50% mortality rate. Less common is Septicemic Plague (infection of the bloodstream) and Pneumonic Plague, an infection of the lungs caused by inhaling plague bacteria. Pneumonic Plague, before antibiotics, was 100% lethal. May 12, 2000 Busy Bee Motel Parking Lot Fox Mulder put down his binoculars and chuckled. That ought to show her. He’d thoroughly enjoyed laying the trail that had just pulled Scully up short. Disparaging his detective skill! Ha! He could out-detect her any day of the week. He pulled his cellphone out of his pocket and hit speed dial #1. “Scully,” came the tired voice on the other end. “Hey, Scully! How’s the search comin’?” Mulder peered around the corner of the building, seeing her silhouetted against the open motel-room door. “Mulder! Thank God you called. Mulder, I was serious before. I don’t care about this bet; you have to come in and get checked. You’ve been exposed to...” “Oh, come on Scully! You tried that before and it didn’t work. Just remember, you aren’t gonna catch me!” Mulder hung up the phone, more than a little irritated at her attitude. He’d had no idea that winning was so important to her. He’d thought about teasing her, exchanging an innuendo or two, but she’d ruined that. Unless she really meant it...? Naah, too far fetched. Scully knew he was a psych graduate and was just trying to play mind games with him. He pocketed the cell phone and hiked toward the Metro station. He heard the sirens of the ambulance as he walked down the concrete steps to the subway and dimly noted that somebody must have had a car accident or something nearby. Scully just stared down at her phone, fuming at Mulder. Damn it, he never listened to her at the best of times but now.... She got ‘George Hale’ into the ambulance and the paramedics briefed, then went to her car. She’d go back to the Hoover Building to do some more work. Saturday, May 13, 2000 7:30 a.m. Motel 6 Mulder woke with a pounding headache. He dimly groped his way out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom for a glass of water. He blearily watched his reflection in the mirror as he sipped. Maybe Chuck had given him that damned headcold of his? Well, he’d buy some vitamin C tablets and eat lots of soup. These things usually blew over quickly. Now, time to get up and leave some more breadcrumbs for Scully. When he’d planned his ‘disappearance’ he had considered the easy way out: drop out of sight and just wait. But where’s the fun in that? No, it was better to dog Scully and pop up where she least expected it, then disappear again. By Monday, 8 a.m. she’d have to concede that her partner was a damned good detective. He quietly anticipated the look of chagrined admiration he’d see on her face when she admitted that she’d lost the bet. And not only would he win the grudging admiration of the ever-skeptical Dana Scully, he’d get a date with her too. His head suddenly felt better and Mulder began whistling as he turned on the shower. Hoover Building 12:30 p.m. Scully looked up from the file she was reading when the office phone rang. She picked it up before it had finished it’s first ring. “Scully.” “Hello, Dana. It’s Mom. I’m at the restaurant; are you running late?” Damn. Scully checked the calendar. She’d completely forgotten the lunch date with her mother. She pulled off her glasses and rubbed her tired eyes. “Mom. Oh I’m so sorry, I completely forgot!” “It’s okay, honey. We can do it another time if you’re on a case.” Scully could hear the questioning note in Maggie’s voice. Suddenly she wanted to talk to somebody about all this, someone she could let it all out to. Skinner was no good; she had to keep projecting ‘strong-competent-capable’ vibrations at him. “No, Mom, it’s okay. I need a break and I want to see you. I’ll be there in ten minutes...” With a last glance at the file, Scully grabbed her keys and ran out the door. On her way past the front desk, the security guard stopped her. “Agent Scully! Somebody dropped this off for Agent Mulder. Would you sign for it?” “Okay, sure.” Scully took the pen he handed her and signed the clipboard, then grabbed the large yellow envelope. The envelope she placed in her trunk, then drove to the restaurant. As she left the Hoover Building, a nondescript rental car pulled in behind her, following at a discreet distance. Then a third vehicle, a white pickup truck also began to follow. Eden’s Garden Vegetarian Restaurant 12:45 p.m. “.....And so, that’s why I forgot about the lunch date. Skinner has called out a task force to search for Mulder, but we all have to agree that I’m most likely to find him.” Dana sipped her herb tea. “I know how he thinks. Or at least, I thought I did.” Maggie frowned into her own tea. “Are you in any danger from all this?” “No, not really. I know the precautions; the disease is carried by coughing, sputum. I haven’t been that close to Mulder since he was infected....if he was.” Dana shook her head. “They won’t make any announcements about Mulder, since they’re still not sure he’s a carrier and they want to avoid a panic. But, if he does have it, they’re beginning to consider...” She gulped another sip of tea. “shooting him on site...to avoid a citywide plague. I have to find him.” “And so far he’s been leaving a trail of ‘clues’ for you? X-rated ones?” Maggie hid a smile. It wasn’t often that she got to see her rather stiff daughter thoroughly embarrassed. Dana smiled a little. “He’s always had a fiendish sense of humor and I know he’s enjoying the chase. If I could only get him to see that I’m not joking! Huh?” Dana looked up at the waiter who’d appeared at her elbow “Ma’am, the gentleman at the table over there has asked me to deliver this note and to tell you that he’ll be paying for your lunch today.” The waiter gestured to a table in a far corner. Through the crowd Dana could just see Mulder getting up and waving to her with a smirk. She got up and worked her way through the crowd. “Mulder! Wait! Mulder!” By the time she got to the table, he’d melted away. She opened her fist and uncrumpled the note in her hand just as Maggie arrived. “Dana? What is it?” she asked as Scully read the note. It had only one word: “Gotcha!” She silently handed it to her mother and trudged from the restaurant. 2:00 Motel 6 Mulder grabbed another tissue as the coughing fit continued. Damn this cold. His headache was worse and this cough was starting to annoy him. He thought about buying some of that cold syrup with booze in it, but it would cut his edge. Couldn’t afford to be drugged up with Scully on the trail. He shivered and pushed the heater up another notch. Cheap motel rooms never did have decent heat---it was already set for 85 degrees in here and it was still chilly. He laughed, remembering the look on her face when she’d seen him at the restaurant. It was worth suffering through one of their bean-burgers just to see Scully’s expression. Man, she was taking this thing way too seriously. He chuckled again, then began coughing. When he came up for air, he had to admit that he’d be glad when the game was over and he could sleep in his own bed. He felt tired, probably this cold. He’d like nothing better than to just sleep....no, wait....got to go out and torment Scully some more. He straightened up, popped another couple vitamin C chewables and began plotting his next step. E-MAIL MESSAGE From: fwmulder@fbi.gov To: dscully@fbi.gov Re: Catch me if you can! ----------------------------------- Hey Scully! You aren’t doing very well thus far, so I thought I’d give you a hint. My favorite movie star is having a film festival this evening. See ya there! M E-MAIL MESSAGE From: dscully@fbi.gov To: fwmulder@fbi.gov Re: Catch me if you can ------------------------------------------------------ Mulder, please, please contact me. You win the bet! I’ll buy you dinner anywhere you name. Just please, call me! This stupid bet isn’t worth you risking your life. Chuck Sorenson is dead of a strain of pneumonic plague genetically engineered to be antibiotic resistant. You were exposed and may have the disease. Please..trust me. Saturday, May 13, 2000 Mulder closed his laptop computer and pondered. He’d read Scully’s return message and was beginning to wonder if she’d been playing tricks with him after all. He started coughing again and adjusted the room thermostat, then pulled a blanket from the bed around himself. No, it was just a cold. It had to be. But just in case, he’d go to the Traci Lords film festival anyway and turn himself in to Scully. Of course, he could just call her and tell her where to meet him. No, he couldn’t resist one last poke at Scully’s rigid exterior; she could sit through an X rated film or two. He grabbed his cell phone and put it into his denim jacket, then grabbed the car keys. Whoop...he steadied himself with one hand on the dresser. Dizzy for a moment there. He felt heavy, feverish. Well, all the sooner he meet up with Scully. 3:00 2630 Hegal Place, Apartment 42 Alexandria, VA Which is Mulder’s favorite movie star? Got to be a porn star. She riffled through the magazines in the apartment but didn’t see any themes among the big-bosomed bimbos she saw there. At last, with a sigh, she phoned the Gunmen. She could hear the grin in Frohike’s voice. “You want to know who Mulder’s favorite movie star is? You mean porn star, don’t you? Somebody who’s having a local film festival? Only one choice for that, Agent Scully. There’s a Traci Lords film festival over on T Street. In fact, we were planning on attending ourselves; just in the name of culture, you understand.” “Oh yes, I see,” Dana answered drily. “Can you tell me where this theater is?” “I’ll do better than that. Would you care to accompany us? We’d be happy to pick you up.” Go to an X-rated film festival in a battered VW Bus with the Lone Gunmen. Dana shivered. “No, I think I’ll go alone. Maybe you shouldn’t go. If he sees too many of us there, we might spook him.” “Oh,” said Frohike, disappointed. “Well, here’s how to get to the theater..” 4:00 p.m. Mulder tried for the fourth time but the rental car wouldn’t start. Damn. And the first feature started at 5:00 p.m. No time to call a tow truck and Scully was expecting him. Oh well, he’d ridden the Metro before. He began walking to the station. It sure was cold today. He could feel crushing waves of chill running through his body. He was grateful to make it to the train, and found that he was even dizzier as he got off and made his way up the station steps. Yeah, he was sick with something. Hard to walk, he knew he was weaving, and had to stop periodically to cough. Once he got to Scully it’d be okay. He was so busy trying to keep walking that he didn’t notice the shadows that detached themselves from the doorway he’d just passed. The next thing he knew, he was face first on the ground, then they were dragging him into the alley. There were two of them, so he fought back. But his reactions were slow and he didn’t see the blow to his head when it fell. Dazed, he could feel the man rolling him over and going through his pockets, taking his wallet, his cell phone, his i.d. Damn it, he’d left his weapon at the apartment, couldn’t defend himself. Mugged. He was being mugged. He heard a snort as the man opened the id and discovered that Mulder was a Fed. He didn’t see the kick to the gut, but he sure felt it, then heard the crunching sounds as the man ran away. Mulder tried to get up, but then he started coughing. God, his gut hurt where the guy had kicked him...he held the tissue up to his mouth and fought for air. When he pulled the tissue away he could see little crimson flecks on it. Then the coughing started again. Got to get to Scully. He tried to get up but couldn’t stay on his feet. He couldn’t get any air... He didn’t feel the pavement when collapsed. 8:00 p.m. Scully looked around the theater again. No Mulder. She checked her watch, then looked back up at the screen where a blonde woman was moaning loudly. Scully scrutinized the woman’s breasts, trying to find the plastic surgery scars. She was certain that the boobs were as fake as the orgasms. She sighed. She’d sat through a showing of “Bad Girls 3” and was now, along with the enthralled (and mostly male) audience viewing “Another Roll in the Hay”. If Mulder didn’t show up soon, Scully was pretty sure she’d have to beat the crap out of the next guy who propositioned her. If Mulder *wasn’t* sick, she was going to make him pay for this. And for the phone call to Mandy. And for the Playpen magazine. She rummaged into her container of stale popcorn. Didn’t people at these theaters ever buy popcorn? This stuff tasted like it was made during the Civil War. Her phone chirped and she grabbed it, but not before several audience members glared at her. She took the phone and ran into the lobby. “Scully,” she said hopefully. “Agent Scully, it’s Skinner. I have some news for you.” Her heart fell. “Yes, sir?” “D.C. Police caught a Mugger tonight at the Lincoln Memorial who had, among other stolen items, Mulder’s wallet and cellphone. The mugger isn’t talking, so we don’t know where he encountered him. I have police and agents searching the area he was caught, but I wanted to let you know that it looks like Mulder may be incapacitated.” “Yes sir,” Scully put down the phone. Mulder incapacitated could only mean one thing. “Oh Mulder....” she murmured. She walked outside the theater door, trying to imagine where Mulder could have been when he was attacked. He was on his way to her, she was sure of that. He’d been watching her and taunting her all day. She pulled her maglight from her pocket and began to methodically walk the streets around the movie theater. A few blocks from the Metro station she stopped. There were few people out here, but she had a feeling that somebody was in the alley. She needed to go into the alley. She flashed her light past the dumpster and saw a crumpled form in the dimness. It looked like....Mulder! She ran forward and gently put her hand on his shoulder, turning him over. Even in the artificial light his face was flushed, and she could see spots of crimson on his lips. She held her hand against his forehead. Fever, and it was high. “Mulder? Can you hear me? Mulder?” She spoke to him urgently, shaking him. “Scu...llee?” he wheezed. She could hear the breath whistling as he tried to draw air. “Guess you win the bet..” “Nobody wins, Mulder. The bet’s off. Let’s get you to a hospital,” she pulled off her coat and laid it over him then began to punch numbers on her cellphone. Then she heard a ‘click’ behind her. “Put the phone down, Agent Scully. We’ve been looking for Agent Mulder for a long time.” She looked up and saw a man in the shadows training a gun on her. ******** (5 of 5) ******** Sunday, May 14 Early Mulder heard the car doors slam and the sound of engines revving, then the crunch as the car drove away into the distance. He let go the breath he was holding. Good. Scully had a chance to get away, that was all he asked for. The door opened and Earl came in, a set expression on his face. The gun was holstered, but the man carried a tire iron instead. “Hey,” Mulder said uncomfortably. “I don’t plan to make trouble. Thought we could just while away the time playing pinochle or something...” Mulder tried but couldn’t duck the first blow, and felt his outstretched arm and shoulder make a crunching sound as the iron hit him. “Hey! I said I’m not going to make trouble! Honest! Damn it, what are you...” Mulder shied away from a second blow to his face and felt the crump as his nose was hit. He watched the blood spurt out and covered his face with the left hand, struggling to breathe, then coughing. Earl waited until Mulder had quieted, then held the iron up to swing again. “Paul told me to kill you and to make it last. You’re a traitor and a spy. Because of you the New Spartans had to disband; we lost everything.” He swung and it landed on Mulder’s shoulder again. Mulder grabbed his right arm and crumpled against the wall, panting. Earl lifted the club. “Those of us who didn’t go to prison are working our asses off..” Then next blow hit his back. Mulder put his left arm up, vainly trying to shield his head from any more. “....to rebuild what you destroyed...” “Wait! Wait...don’t you... realize...that Paul wants....you to die too?” Mulder had huddled his face and chest against the wall, shivering and breathing harder. At that, Earl stopped in mid-swing. “What do you mean by that?” Mulder gasped for air. “He’s...locked you in here with me!.....We’ve been.....breathing the same air all night, buddy. You’re gonna be feeling sick in a day or two. Do you think he’s going to.....care if you come down with it? Other people.....in your group.... have gotten this thing, haven’t they? Chuck sure did....” Mulder broke off with another spasm of coughing, longer than the last. “How did you know about Joe and Lisa?” Earl rested the end of the club on the floor, while Mulder coughed and choked. “But that was an accident...” Mulder fought to keep his eyes open. “All... I’m saying...is that Paul doesn’t seem to care much about...whose lives he wastes in the cause....Look at me....If you want to survive....you should get the Hell away from your local plague carrier---me.” The door to the shed burst open and a man poked his head inside. “Hey, Earl!” “Yeah, what is it?” Earl backed away from Mulder without taking his eyes off him. “Paul’s been arrested. I just heard from our contact with the D.C. police. They’ll be comin’ here next.” “Shit. Okay, I’ll take care of it.” Earl stood and pondered, then addressed Mulder. “You’re right, I don’t want to get any closer to you than I have to.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small key, then tossed it to Mulder. “Unlock yourself.” While Mulder fumbled with the handcuffs, Earl drew his gun. Mulder very slowly and with much grunting pulled his right arm down to his side and held it there with his left. “Now get up and go ahead of me through the door.” Mulder struggled to his feet, and leaned against the wall for support, then staggered out the door. Earl went to the pickup truck and opened the back of the camper shell. “Get in.” “Where...are we...going? Y’know, you....could just drop me....off somewhere, I’ll get...my own ride home.” Mulder could see the gleam of Earl’s teeth as he grinned. “Oh, I’ll drop you off somewhere, all right.” He stood and watched impassively while Mulder struggled to climb into the truck. “Are you...going to...kill me?” “You’re dead anyway, so I’m dumping the body. I’m not spending another minute in your company.” Earl slammed the tailgate and locked it, then started the truck. Mulder tried to look out the window and note his location but the bumpy ride threw him down, landing on his bad arm and shoulder. For a quarter mile he lay on his back, gripping his arm and trying to breathe. He could feel the fog around him getting thicker. The fever must be rising. Gotta fight that. The truck stopped and the hatch opened. Mulder heard a voice somewhere far away. “Get out.... Damn it, move! Shit...” Earl reached in and hauled out Mulder’s body. “Still breathin’, but not much longer.” He pulled Mulder off the back of the truck and let him fall to the ground. Then, with the toe of his boot, he rolled the body off the dirt roadway and into the empty ditch that ran alongside the road. Then he quickly closed up the tailgate, got into the truck and sped away. Mulder was vaguely aware of pain, all over, but it was faint and far away. He pried open his eyes and saw the night sky, stars. It was quiet here, no sounds. Must be farmland. He could hear his own lungs struggling to pull air inside. He tried to roll over, climb out of the ditch. On the road he could be seen. No good, not enough strength. Nothing to do but wait. Wait for Scully. Sunday, May 14, 2000 3:20 a.m. Skinner turned when he heard a yell from behind him. An agent trotted over. “A.D. Skinner! We just got a call. A guy who says he’s from the Spartan Army of Liberation says he has Agent Mulder and wants to deal. We’re running a trace, stall for time.” Skinner went back to the command center and picked up the hand set. Scully took the other line. “Yes, this is Skinner.” “You authorized to deal? I want Paul Bishop released or your agent dies.” Skinner met Scully’s tormented eyes, then closed his own. “We don’t deal with terrorists.” “If you don’t deal with us, Agent Mulder comes back to you in a box. In pieces.” “Why should I believe you?” “Because your Agent Scully knows we have him and you haven’t found him yet, have you?” “Agent Mulder is dying of a disease modified in your labs. By the time you get him back to us he’ll be dead anyway, if you haven’t already killed him. If you have him, put him on the phone.” “Agent Mulder isn’t feeling too well right now. He can’t talk ‘cause he met up with my tire iron. You can tell Agent Scully that’s because she never came back.” Skinner saw Scully’s eyes fall and her face turn away, but she kept her grip on the phone. “So, is it a deal or not? We want Paul Bishop back or....” The agents heard a loud clatter and the sounds of a struggle on the other end of the line, then heard a woman’s voice. “This is Agent Griffen, sir. We have the suspect. We’re at a phone booth about a mile from your location.” “Get him out here!” Skinner gave Scully a hopeful look. “Any sign of Agent Mulder?” “The suspect is already on his way to you, sir. And no, I’m sorry. No sign.” Skinner and Scully waited tensely until the car arrived with a handcuffed Earl. “Where is he?” Scully stormed over to him and grabbed the front of his shirt. “What did you do with him?” “Hey! Let me go! I haven’t done anything!” Earl protested weakly, but refused to meet Scully’s eyes. “How about kidnapping two Federal Agents for starters? Where is he?” “Hey, mister, get her away from me. This lady doesn’t look like she’s right in the head!” Earl backed away from Scully. “I don’t see anything. You better cooperate before she really gets mad.” Skinner smiled and gently removed Scully’s fist from Earl’s shirt, replacing it with his own. He slowly lifted Earl two feet off the ground. “And when she gets violent, I think I might help her out. Mulder is a friend of mine.” Scully faced him. “I’ll ask you one..more...time. Where did you take him?” Sunday, May 14, 2000 3:40 a.m. Skinner drove while Scully held the gun on their prisoner. The other agents followed at a distance, to keep the dust of their passage down. “There. I dropped him there.” Earl pointed out the window. With a grim smile, Scully handcuffed him to the steering wheel after Skinner pocketed the keys. Both agents got out and looked around them. “Some kind of farm, I think. Damn, it’s dark out here.” Skinner played his flashlight around him, anxiously examining the dirt road. “He never intended to trade Mulder; he just dumped him here to die. I just hope we were led to the right...” Scully’s frantic voice came from the darkness. “Sir? Here! He’s here! Get the paramedics, stat!” He could see Scully’s head just above the level of a drainage ditch fronting the road. As the other agents began converging on the spot, Skinner issued orders. “Mulder? Can you hear me? Mulder!” Scully knelt next to Mulder’s huddled form and, pulling her glove off, felt his cheek. Warm, very warm. He was still alive, but his breathing was raspy and labored. No response. She and Skinner helped the paramedics load Mulder into the gurney. As they took vitals, she pulled Skinner aside. “We need to have that treatment ready at the hospital. I haven’t seen the files, do you know what it’s composed of?” Skinner looked past her where the paramedics were working on Mulder. “Their bug is susceptible to one of the antibiotics not normally used to treat plague: oflaxacin. It seems that’s the only one that works.” Scully watched anxiously as Mulder was loaded into the ambulance, and nodded. “I’ve read about some promising animal tests on the standard plague virus. I hope he isn’t allergic to it. I’ll see you at the hospital. Can you call ahead and make sure that they’re set up to treat him?” “Be happy to. And you should get a dose yourself, since you were exposed.” Skinner closed the ambulance door and backed away as it traveled down the dirt road. “Hey, what about me? I was exposed too.” Earl sat in the driver’s seat, rattling his handcuff against the steering wheel. “You, I’ll take to the hospital personally,” Skinner grimaced and moved his prisoner with minimal gentleness back to the passenger seat and prepared to follow the ambulance. Sunday, May 14, 2000 9:00 p.m. Georgetown Medical Center Isolation Ward Scully sat back in her chair and sighed. Mulder was still unconscious, his breathing still labored and heavy. She rubbed her arm absently. After she’d handed Mulder over to the Emergency Room doctors, she’d been given a shot of antibiotics herself. Mulder hadn’t gained consciousness and now they shared an isolation ward until they were determined to be non-infectious. Oh well, it was a relief to get out of that haz-mat suit. The suite next door housed Earl, judiciously guarded by two agents seated outside his door. She studied Mulder’s face again. When they’d put him in the room, after the nurse had left, she’d examined him herself. Two broken ribs, a cracked collarbone and broken nose, situation normal for Fox Mulder. The black eyes would clear up, and his face would return to its...uh...aquiline profile. It still troubled her that people existed who could take pleasure in the suffering of others, and troubled her even more that she hadn’t been able to protect Mulder’s back on this one. “Dammit Mulder, every time you leave my sight you get hurt. This has to stop. I don’t think I can take any more bedside vigils.” She twined her small fingers between Mulder’s long, slender ones. She heard him draw a deep breath, then he opened his eyes, looking blearily up at her through the oxygen tent. “Scully?” he rasped. “Took your time. Even with your....detective...skills.” “Well Mulder, if you’d only stay where you’re put I wouldn’t have to go looking for you. How are you feeling? The antibiotics kicking in yet?” “Won’t do any good. This bug...” “Can be cured. We have their files and you’ve already gotten your first dose of oflaxacin.” Mulder nodded, then gingerly reached his left hand up toward his face. “I’m sorry, Mulder. They broke your nose. The doctor has fixed it up; it should be as good as new.” “Yeah...they broke it. Maybe get it fixed? Fixed smaller?” Mulder said hopefully. Scully grinned at the Mulder’s wistful look. “Not on your life, G-Man. I like your nose just the way it is.” “So, when are we going to dinner at Fiorello’s? You won the bet, you know.” Scully replied, “Only because you got hurt.” “Only because you were motivated. I’ll tell ya Scully, I’m glad you’re such a good detective. Gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling.” Mulder smiled, then reached out his good hand and took hers, looking deep into her blue eyes. “Yeah? Well, like I said G-Man, you can run but you can’t hide.” Scully curled her fingers around his and smiled back.