Tenebrous (1 of 2) by Vickie Moseley Outside Landers, California June 7, 2006 11:54 pm The Integratron was a massive bubble of a building sitting in the middle of the Californian desert, just outside Landers. Started in 1957 by George Van Tassel, a former aircraft engineer, it took 18 years to complete. Inside, the curved roof and exposed wood beamed ceiling was supposed to slow down the aging process through electrostatic frequencies. The Integratron, for all its attributed value, had fallen into disrepair after the death of its creator. But others interested in its unique design and effects bought it and turned it into a mecca of new age healing. Hundreds of people from spiritualists to aging rock stars were drawn to the white dome to experience the 'acoustically perfect tabernacle and energy machine'. But not everyone drawn to the Integratron was looking for a new lease on life or the perfect rave. Some came to the desert to reach outward and upward. Two lone figures sat on a blanket outside the 38- foot dome-shaped structure. The stars twinkled bright near the waxing gibbous moon in transit, directly overhead. The light from that moon cast the dome behind the couple in stark relief, painting it a shimmering, radiant white. The wind occasionally picked up crumbs of sand and dust, which kept stinging their eyes as they searched the horizon. "Are you sure we'll see them tonight?" the doe-eyed girl asked of her male companion. "I mean, how do you know they'll be out tonight?" "It's a full moon," he countered, feigning knowledge he didn't have. "No, it's not. Not yet," she countered, crossing her arms. "You just brought me out here because you want to get laid," she accused. "I haven't touched you!" he retorted. "Here, want some more wine?" he asked in an artful dodge of her accusation. "Sure." They sat and sipped in silent contemplation of the stars. "What exactly are you hoping we'll see? What the hell are these 'lights' anyway?" "UFOs, man. They come here. They're attracted to this thing." He jerked his thumb back over his shoulder toward the white structure. "It looks like one of those places where they have telescopes," she said skeptically. "Nah, it's cool inside. No telescopes, but lots of cool shit. They have these bowls made out of stone and shit that make these sound waves -- you can take a sound bath." "You're putting me on," she said with a raised eyebrow. "No, seriously. My mom said someone at her office came out here before. She said that shit was better than botox, dude! Really, it makes you look younger." "I don't need to be younger. I need to be warmer," she told him unequivocally. He turned his head toward her and smiled. "Here, we can share my jacket," he offered. He pulled one arm out of the sleeve and motioned for her to move closer. He tugged the denim around her shoulder, his arm holding her in place. "There. Better?" She nodded, drawing in a deep breath. "It really is pretty with the stars and the moon. But how long are we going to sit here -- " She stopped talking suddenly when a bright star grew larger in the northwestern sky. It was low to the horizon and seemed to be moving toward them. "Is that -- " "Shhhhh," he cautioned and fumbled around on the blanket. "Where's my damned camera?" he growled. Finally grasping the digital camera, he let go of the girl to bring it up to his eye. "Oh, wow, this is so cool -- " As he clicked off shot after shot, the star/craft sped closer and closer. Suddenly there was a ferocious wind and a tremendous sound, and the ground around them shook, knocking over the wine bottle and spilling the remaining drops on the blanket. Both teens looked up at the craft, now directly overhead, blocking out the stars and the moon. As they stared at the underside, a brilliant light erupted from the bottom of the craft, encasing them in brightness. In the wink of an eye, the light -- and the teens were gone. Georgetown, District of Columbia June 9, 2006 His first sensation was the smell of burning wood and burning flesh. He'd experienced those smells enough times to know that his next impulse would be paralyzing fear. Fire. Fire in a house on Cape Cod, his arm burning from the embers. Fire killing dozens of people on a bridge over Ruskin Dam, searching through the body bags in anguished terror of finding his one true friend in the world. Fear. But this wasn't the same. He needed to look further. Forcing himself to stand, he looked around. A dense fog hung in the air, but after a moment, he recognized it as smoke. All around him were huts, grass huts with thatched roofs like he'd seen in the English countryside many years before during a break from school. Thatched roofs, now ablaze with flames leaping skyward, orange, red, and yellow the only color in the grey sky. As he looked around he saw them. Dark shadows on the ground that slowly formed into bodies. They were shrouded in black cloth; some were tied at the neck, across the chest, the legs. Others appeared to have just rolled out of bed. None of them moved. Death was as thick as the smoke and hung over everything. The wind shifted and ash blew in his eyes. The flames were closer now, he had to move, but everywhere he looked the burning huts surrounded him, moving closer to him, cutting off all means of escape. Bits of burning thatch were swept up in the maelstrom and landed on his cheek, on the back of his neck. He brushed them off, but others soon followed. One hut was untouched by the flames. He ran toward it, pulling on the wooden door until it came free. He fell into the darkened room, stumbling over something on the floor just in front of the entrance. The light from the open door and one tiny window did little to reveal the contents of the room. He bent down to try and see what he'd stumbled over. He knew it was another cloth-shrouded body. He pulled back the fabric, it stuck to the corpse in places and he grimaced at his efforts. A foul stench arose and he fought the bile in his throat. This person had been dead for days. Slowly, the cloth pulled away and he could just make out the features of the face. At first all he could see were the black spots, the sunken eyes with darkened skin all around them. The swollen tongue, hanging out of the slack jawed mouth, bore the same black spots and the horrid, putrid smell. His revulsion soon turned to recognition as he pulled back slightly and looked at the face as a whole. It wasn't the face of a stranger -- it was his own. He barely had time to recoil in repulsion when he heard a popping sound behind him. He turned toward the door and saw the hut had finally caught fire. The entrance was already engulfed in flame, the dry thatch and sides going up faster than he could have imagined. The flames reached out, catching the cloth of the body laid out before him. Before he could move, as the paralyzing fear took root in his stomach, the flames licked at his hands, his legs, his face -- Mulder and Scully's residence June 9, 2005 4:25 am Mulder awoke in a cold sweat, to find he was crouched at the head of the bed, shaking. It took him many minutes to feel brave enough to look around him. It was their bedroom. Scully was curled sleeping next to him, her back to him as she hugged her pillow. His heart slowed finally, taking its time. He tried to move and found all his muscles protesting as the adrenaline diminished from his system. With some effort, he looked at the clock. 4:25 am. Feeling a bit stronger, he straightened his legs and sluggishly got out of bed. By the time he'd finished in the bathroom, he was moving with more certainty. He grabbed his running clothes, pulling them on as he walked, found his running shoes at the bottom of the stairs, and was out the door without a second thought. In the east, the sky was already starting to turn a velvet blue. 6:45 am Scully hit the alarm button sleepily and then rolled over to touch the sheets next to her. Cold. Just like the last four mornings. Sighing heavily, she tossed the covers aside and headed for the bathroom. Thirty minutes later, she came down the stairs, the smell of coffee and cinnamon toast wafting through the hallway to the dining room and kitchen. She bit her lip in frustration, but forced a smile on her face. He was sitting at the table, coffee in one hand, folded Washington Post in the other. He wore the dark charcoal suit that she'd just retrieved from the cleaners -- the one that brought out the brown and green in his eyes. But she could see the dark circles around those eyes from ten feet away. Squaring her shoulders, she walked over and kissed him on the temple. "You were MIA again," she teased lightly as she ran her hand along his shoulder blades and sauntered into the kitchen. Her mug was sitting next to the coffeemaker; the 12-cup carafe was over half empty. Another indication of how long he'd been up. Sighing again, she poured a cup, added the requisite amount of non-fat creamer and headed back into the dining room. "You have to read Ruth Marcus today," Mulder said casually over the top of the paper. "The woman should be canonized." "I don't think this Pope is out to make saints of political pundits, Mulder," she said, finding the financial pages lying on the table. She scanned the headlines and moved it aside. "Same dream?" she asked, sipping her coffee to keep from staring at him with a worried expression she knew he'd find offensive. "Same," he said, making a great show of refolding the paper. "Doonesbury is good, too." She nodded. For four nights it had been the same dream. He'd told her about it the first morning -- had that only been Tuesday? From what he told her, she'd surmised that the dream, or vision, as he preferred, centered on the Black Death -- the bubonic plague that ravaged Europe in the Middle Ages. He'd given her sketchy details at best, and she was sure there was plenty he wasn't sharing with her. "So -- " He laid the paper on the table and folded his hands atop it. "Scully. Remember our agreement," he warned. "Mulder, I know what I promised. And I'm keeping to that promise. I won't judge and I won't try to fix this. But that doesn't stop me from worrying about the effect it has on you. Frankly, you look exhausted. I'm half tempted to call you in sick and make you stay home and rest." "But Mom, I have an algebra test," he whined sarcastically. He got up and poured himself more coffee before returning to the dining room. "Scully, get real. I'm out on medical leave enough without wasting a perfectly good sick day on a nap!" She drew in as much air as her lungs could hold. "OK, fine." She wanted to say so much more, but knew it would fall on deaf ears. Or at worst, would start the day with an argument. He picked up one of the discarded sections of the Post and handed it to her. "Hey, how about this. Would you care to go to the symphony with me next Friday?" She furrowed her brow, but quickly read the page aloud. "The National Symphony Orchestra at the Kennedy Center. Celebrate the 250th anniversary of Mozart's birth with this fascinating exploration of his life, music, and legacy featuring musical excerpts, commentary, and the complete 'Jupiter' Symphony." She looked up, joy and amazement on her face. "Mulder, I love the Jupiter Symphony." He gave her his patented grin. "I know. You love Mozart, period. I saw that and knew we had to go. I'll call for tickets when we get to the office. And I thought we might have dinner at that Italian place down on Wisconsin afterwards." "Paparazzi? I've wanted to go there forever!" "I know. You're always pointing out their specials on the way to work," he returned with a bigger grin. "Wow, tickets to the symphony, dinner at an upscale restaurant." She looked up suddenly. "Mulder, is this a date?" He seemed taken aback. "Let's see, we live together, have for a couple of years now, sleep together every night. No, Scully, this in no way constitutes 'a date'. I plan to bring a case file so we can call it a business meeting and I can take it off my taxes next April." By his thundercloud expression over his flippant words she could tell he wasn't taking her question well. "No, that's not what I meant at all", she said quickly. "I just meant -- Mulder, we've never had a real 'date' before. We've gone out to dinner and gone to movies, but never planned it out a whole week in advance unless it's Valentines Day or my birthday. This is so . . . unexpected. But I have to say that aside from a deep-seated desire to check your lower back for a removed tail, I am very pleased. I think this is one of the most romantic things you've ever done." She came around to stand next to him and put her arms around his neck, seductively rubbing his chest under his jacket. "Sure you don't want to go back upstairs -- we can both call in with the 'Friday Flu'." He laughed and hugged her arms, tilting his head to kiss her lightly on the lips. "I would, but my partner is a real dragon lady. She chews my ass if I blow off work for sex." "Poor woman. Maybe she should just get laid," Scully replied, nipping his earlobe. He was laughing hard now. "OK, enough of this. We have to get to work," he told her firmly as he stood and his chair effectively pushed her away. "But we have all day tomorrow and Sunday to practice up for our date night." She watched him as he took both cups into the kitchen, her hands on her hips. "Mulder, I should tell you now -- I never sleep with a guy on the first date." FBI Headquarters, 11:45 am "Scully, this is the last ream of printer paper," Mulder informed her as he loaded the paper tray. "What are you doing over there? Printing out _War and Peace_?" she asked. He'd been 'surfing' the net all morning while she put the finishing touches on the expense reports from their last case. She felt the numbers 1372 were permanently etched on the backs of her eyelids. "Just some stuff I found on the internet this morning," he said absently. He looked down at his watch. "Hey, lunch time. Want to hit the Mall, have a hot dog and stare at the tourists?" She rolled her eyes, but couldn't hide her smile. "Sure. Just give me a minute to finish this last report. Then we can drop it off to Skinner on our way to lunch." The Assistant Director was standing in his outer office, consulting with his administrative assistant when the agents arrived. "I was about to call and leave a message for you to come see me after lunch," he said, ushering the pair into the interior room of the suite. "I have a new case for you." He handed a file folder to Mulder and the two agents sat down in their usual chairs in front of Skinner's desk. Scully leaned over as Mulder held the folder between them. "Missing persons?" she asked, as Mulder flipped through the pages. "The girl is the daughter of Los Angeles city council member -- with close ties to the Attorney General," Skinner said tersely. "Oh goodie. So how did we get this little gem?" Mulder asked, handing the rather thin folder over to his partner. "Apparently -- an eye witness, admittedly almost 10 miles away, reported . . . " Skinner flexed his jaw, a sure sign he wasn't comfortable with what he was about to say. "Bright lights in the sky." Mulder closed his eyes and leaned his head back, as if exposing his throat to a guillotine. Scully licked her upper lip and sighed heavily. After a moment, Mulder straightened up and took the folder back. He read a little further and his forehead creased with a frown. "Wait a minute, where was this?" Skinner thought for a moment. "Southern California, out in the desert," he said with a shrug. "No, not just in the desert. In the desert outside Landers. They were near the Integratron," Mulder stated with a knowing smile. "The what?" Scully countered. "What is an Integratron? I never heard of such a thing." "And here I thought I'd corrupted you completely, Scully," Mulder shot her a grin. "The Integratron is the masterpiece of a slightly off balanced aircraft engineer, George Van Tassel. He got the idea -- " "No, don't tell me, from an elf that snuck through his window while he was playing billiards," Scully parried. Mulder's grin broadened and he gave her a brief nod in acknowledgement of her memory. "Not quite. It was a visitor from the planet Venus named Solgonda," he answered. "But I must say, Scully, I'm impressed." Skinner cleared his throat and gave Mulder a disgusted glare. "And this -- Integratron -- is significant to the case?" "Well, just a couple of months ago it was the site for a big UFO watchers convention. They must have picked it for a reason," Mulder observed. "UFO convention?" Skinner queried. "Yeah, the Gunmen went out for it. Frohike took one of the sound baths the place is famous for. C'mon Scully, you have to admit the little man had a 'glow' about him when they came back." "I assumed it was the sun and the tequila," Scully mused. "Be that as it may," Skinner said firmly, "you are to go out to Landers and work with the LA regional office on this one. I expect periodic reports on your progress. We need to find out what happened to those two kids -- ET or otherwise. Kim has your tickets. You leave tonight." "Good thing the symphony is next weekend," Mulder muttered. "I just hope we're back in time," Scully whispered as they departed the office. "Oh, we will be. I promise. Nothing could make me miss our first date," he assured her, letting his hand rest on the small of her back as they walked to the elevators. Act 1 Landers, California June 10, 2006 10:45 am If there was one thing Mulder could say for the desert, there was certainly no need for a flashlight -- if the sun was out. Even his FBI approved Ray Bans were having a hard time reflecting the glare off the white dome of the Integratron. His fuzzy feeling could have been attributed to jet lag, they had left Dulles at a not quite red-eye flight time of 4:30 pm, but they arrived at LAX just seconds shy of midnight (Eastern Daylight Time) and that made it over six hours travel time. At Scully's worried look and gentle coaxing, he'd swallowed a bitter tasting sleeping pill when they finally arrived at their adjoining rooms. He got his revenge when his partner had been forced to spend ten minutes waking him out of his drugged slumber. She was right, he had slept a full 5 and one half hours without a single dream that he could remember. The down side was he felt like a vampire about to crumble to dust in the brilliance of the late morning sunshine. The Supervisory Agent In Charge of the Los Angeles Regional Office had assigned a young agent just out of Quantico to accompany them to Landers. The Junior G-Man was complete with a buzz haircut, grey suit, and his own set of Ray Bans. His name was Jason Clark, and Mulder was certain he'd lied about his age on his application. He also suspected the slight indentations in the young man's earlobes and eyebrows spoke to a few pieces of jewelry gathering dust in a drawer somewhere. Scully was just a few feet away, inspecting a blanket, all but buried in the sand, and an empty wine bottle. She picked it up with latex encased hands, sniffing at the rim. "Not exactly dealing with a high roller here," she quipped and dropped the bottle in an evidence bag. "You didn't send an evidence team out here earlier?" Mulder asked Clark. The young man looked perplexed. "At first, no, but we did late last night. I think it was assumed they'd taken off, maybe to Vegas. The kids weren't reported as missing until the owners of the property found their car abandoned on the side of the road and called the highway patrol. CHP called the boy's parents; their name is on the title and registration. When we figured out it belonged to one of the missing we had our evidence team go over it, but the only prints found were the two kids." Mulder frowned, thinking hard. Something wasn't right but the fog in his mind wouldn't allow him to see the pieces clearly. "Mulder, you need to come here and look at this," Scully called from a few yards away. She was crouching low and poking at something on the ground. He was beside her in a few strides, dropping down next to her. "What is that?" he asked. Carefully, she picked up the object by the edges. "Glass," she said, handing it over to him. It was oddly shaped, about 8 inched long and 4 to 5 inches wide at the widest point. It was irregular and the coloring wasn't even. "Lightning?" Mulder asked of her. "This area sees less than 2 inches of rain a year, Mulder," she replied with a shrug. "And there's more of it, over there. All lying on top of the sand." They exchanged knowing looks, communicating and remembering at one and the same moment. "You think something from above did this?" he asked. She shrugged again. "Collect some of it, let's have it analyzed," he suggested. Clark, in the meantime, had gone into the building and returned. "I just called the office. The families haven't received any ransom calls or notes." "They aren't likely to get any, if it's who I think is responsible," Mulder said rising and dusting the sand off his hands. "Agent Clark, if you could take these items back to the office and send them down to the lab for us we'd appreciate it." Clark nodded, happy to be doing something productive rather than just acting as tour guide. "Sure, no problem." As they started back toward the car, Mulder made a left turn and headed into the Integratron. Scully had to scramble to follow him. She caught his elbow as he reached the door. "Mulder, shouldn't we be going back to LA?" she asked, though to Mulder's ears it sounded a lot like one of her 'commands'. "I just wanted to check this place out a minute, Scully. The guys told me all about it one night over cheese steaks," he mugged back at her. The interior was just as Byers had described it. The dome ceiling was supported by 16 'spines' that made the center look like a double-legged spider suspended 38 feet above. The wood had a light stain and there were windows all along the bottom, giving the interior an airy appearance. The vaulted room was largely empty, save for a sling-like chair that hung from the center of the ceiling. "Tassel built the dome to coordinate with Lakhovsky's principles of a multiple wave oscillator. Lakhovsky believed that cells were living batteries, a positively charged nucleus surrounded by negatively charged cytoplasm. He further theorized that if cells were subjected to a range of oscillations, they would actually regenerate," Mulder extemporized as they circled the room. "We could have used that theory back when we were stuck on the Ardent," Scully interjected with a smirk. "Exactly," Mulder replied with a grin. "And remember, you were the one who suggested the meteor that fell was acting as a giant battery in the ocean, causing our cells to oxidize too quickly." "Even so, Mulder, this is -- well, a little far-fetched, don't you think?" she retorted. Mulder stood in one place, slowly turned around and looking toward the ceiling. "I don't know, Scully. Maybe if we hadn't aged 60 years in a couple of days, I might agree with you." "Would you like to give it a try, Agents?" called a woman from the doorway. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. I'm Barb, one of the owners. I was just talking to Agent Clark and came to see if there was anything else you needed to look at. Sure hope you find those kids." "So do we, thank you for cooperating with the investigation," Scully answered. "But as for trying this out -- " "I'd love to," Mulder interrupted before Scully could give a negative response. "If it's not too much trouble." "No trouble at all, it's what we do. It will take about 30 minutes for a sound bath, if that's all right with you," Barb said amiably, looking from Mulder to Scully. Scully sighed in annoyance, but finally nodded her acquiescence. Mulder nodded happily. "Why don't I go tell Agent Clark we're going to be here a little while longer," Scully offered with a roll of her eyes but went out to find the young agent. Mulder followed Barb to a part of the room that had a table with a number of large white bowls of different shapes and sizes. "These are our sound bowls," Barb explained. "They're made from quartz, and we beat Ivory because we're 99.99 percent pure," she added with a smile. "The sound waves are tuned to the seven chakras and promote relaxation, pain relief -- they cure whatever ails you." "Do you have them on a party mix?" Mulder joked, but sat down in the hanging chair and tried not to get seasick. "I'll get them started, you just try to clear your mind." The notes started and Mulder closed his eyes. The sound seemed to wash over him in waves, gentle waves lapping at the shore. He smiled as he imagined the beaches of his childhood, running barefoot through the surf, chasing Samantha who always seemed to be just ahead of him. He focused on his breathing and found himself losing the fogginess induced by the drugs from the night before. He felt at peace and drifting on the waves of sound. In his mind's eye, he was driving down a street. It was night, quiet, just city noises. Odd place to feel relaxed, he thought momentarily, but soon he was searching and found a single storefront, solitary on a block. The buildings on either side had been torn down at some point, made into parking lots. Just the one storefront remained. The windows and door in the front had bars, roof to sidewalk, to keep out intruders. The glass of the windows had been painted black so that no one could see inside. Mulder saw himself get out of the car and press his face against the glass. Where the paint had chipped off, he could see into the room. He thought he saw a pair of feet, bound -- someone sitting in a chair and tied up. That was all the encouragement he needed to motion to Scully to follow him. Scully got out of the car and walked with him around to the back, where the cinder block structure had a simple unmarked metal door. Scully leaned against the wall, acting as lookout as he produced his lock pick and went to work on the lock. He reached his hand out to grasp and pull the knob and heard a slight popping sound before the building erupted in an explosion. Mulder startled forward and almost fell out of the swing chair, but he was caught in the ropes. The chair, suspended from so far above, began swinging wildly. He could hear someone calling him, but he could still feel the heat of the explosion, the impact of brick and mortar falling on him. His terror for Scully was greater than his terror for himself. Even with his eyes open he could see her body engulfed in flames, hear her screams ringing in his ears. She was gone, dead, he knew it! It took several minutes before he felt her hands on either side of his face, talking to him in tender caresses of words. "Mulder, come back to me," she was repeating and his breath filled his lungs once more where it had long been absent. He opened his eyes and she gave him a nervous smile. "No more sound baths," she told him firmly as she helped him crawl out of the sky chair. "What happened? You are anything but relaxed. Did you have another -- vision?" Her inflection on the word underlined her concern. "Yeah, I think so. It was something," he whispered. "We have to get out of here." "Out of the desert?" she asked, helping him to his feet, only to grab his arm sharply when he swayed and almost went down. "Out of California. Back to DC. I want you back in DC before tonight." "Mulder, that's ridiculous! We're here on a case. I can't just run back to DC now." He knew he was scaring her, but he had to find a way to keep her safe. Placating her would raise her suspicions, but it was all he had. "OK. Sorry. Let's just get back to the office and see if they've heard from the kidnappers." She looked at him crossly. "You don't think it's -- " "Someone very 'terrestrial' snatched those kids, Scully," he hissed in her ear. "And they are in danger, I know that for a fact. But we aren't going to find them out here." Federal Office Building 11000 Wilshire Blvd. Los Angeles, CA 1:45 pm All the way to the office, Scully kept giving Mulder stern looks. He knew she wanted to know about the vision but couldn't ask in front of Agent Clark. Mulder was just as happy to have Clark in the car -- there was no way he could tell Scully about this one. As soon as he overcame his disorientation, he knew what he'd seen. Someone had those kids in that storefront and had it rigged to blow. But he also felt in his heart that if he called out the troops, all they would find would be a pile of rubble. He had to go alone and find that storefront -- without Scully. And at all costs, he had to avoid going in that back door. They had just arrived at the office when one of the administrative assistants walked up to Scully. "Agent Scully, you're a pathologist, right?" asked the woman cautiously. At Scully's affirmative nod, the woman smiled brightly. "Oh, good! Agent Martinez would like a word with you -- in his office." Scully turned so that only Mulder could see and rolled her eyes. "I have a feeling I'm going to be tied up for a while. What are you going to do?" she asked. "I think I'd like to talk to the kids' parents, take a look around. Maybe I can get a fix on who they might have fallen in with, who might want to snatch them." "You're certain this wasn't . . ." she restated as she let her eyes drift toward the ceiling. "As sure as I am of my own name, Scully. Aside from that glass, which could have gotten there in any number of ways, and an eye witness account from 10 miles away, all we have to go on is two missing persons. Missing from a very deserted location, at night. I just want to find them before any harm comes to them." Scully shrugged and patted his arm. "Well, I'm pretty sure I'm about to be 'volunteered' to do a autopsy here, so when I'm finished, I'll catch up with you, OK?" "I'll meet you back at the hotel, if not before," he assured her. Councilwoman Gainer's residence 3:15 pm "She's a good girl. Usually she gives us no trouble whatsoever. But since she's picked up with Mark, well, she did get in rather late a night or two. Still, I can't imagine them running off. Someone took them, Agent Mulder," Mrs. Gainer said firmly, fighting the tears choking her voice. "Mrs. Gainer, is there anyone, anyone at all who might want to harm you or your husband, even an old score, someone you might have dealt with when you were Assistant District Attorney?" Mulder asked gently. Her head shot up and she bit her lip. "Agent Mulder, I understand where you're going with this. But I have wracked my brain and I can't come up with anyone who would do this. Yes, I had my share of cases as ADA, but the criminals I put away are all accounted for. As for my husband, he's a professor of anthropology at UCLA. Jilly has no enemies, only friends. I'm not being immodest; she doesn't have a mean spirited bone in her body. I honestly can't think of anyone who would take her from us." The middle-aged woman brushed a tear from her cheek. "Besides, wouldn't we have received a ransom note or something by now? It's been over 48 hours." Mulder sighed and flipped his notebook closed. "Would you mind if we had a look at Jill's room?" Jill Gainer's room was just like any other 18 year old college co-ed's, filled with certificates and awards from her high school days as well as boxes yet unpacked from her move back home for summer break. Mulder looked over the selection of books on the five shelved bookcase. Nothing unusual, not even anything about UFOs. After thanking the Gainers, Mulder and Clark drove to the home of Mark Henry. The Henry house was a modest home. A decade old minivan sat in the driveway, but the interior of the home was neat and clean. Mrs. Henry sat on the worn sofa, a high school yearbook clutched in her hands, tear stains on her cheeks. "He's been working at McDonald's but he's started applying to colleges, you know," she said with a strained smile. "His grades weren't that good, but he wants to get into UCLA because that's where Jill is going. If he can't get in there, he'll go to community college and get his grades up. He was just so busy in high school, he kept down a job -- " "He didn't run off with that girl," Mr. Henry said adamantly. "I know that's what the big shot politician is saying happened, but it didn't. Mark wasn't like that! He and Jill were friends, maybe a little more than friends, but they didn't run off!" "I'm inclined to agree with you, Mr. Henry. That's why we're here. And if you can think of anyone who might have a grudge or something -- " "I'm not saying he's the sharpest knife in the drawer, Agent Mulder. But Mark is a decent kid. This neighborhood -- well, some of the kids are into drugs, gangs. Not Mark. He went to school, he went to work, he hung out at the mall. Just a normal kid, you know?" The older man seemed annoyed as he brushed moisture from his eye. "We just want him home." "Do you mind if we take a look around Mark's room," Mulder asked, not wanting to bother the family any longer than absolutely necessary. "What are you thinking, Agent Mulder?" Clark asked as he followed the man around the room. Mulder moved some clothes off a chair to discover several issues of 'Blender' magazine. A couple of posters on the wall were of military jets and the space shuttle. Nothing jumped out at him or really drew his attention. "No enemies, no note, I'd have to say I'm leaning toward someone snatching those kids whose sole purpose was foul play, not ransom." "Isn't that pretty rare?" Clark rejoined. "Rare doesn't mean it _can't_ happen, Agent. Just that it doesn't happen very often," Mulder instructed. "But it also means there should be more kidnappings like this one, doesn't it? I mean there should be a pattern or something?" "You would think," Mulder mused, picking up a Dodgers cap that had fallen to the floor. "Or this could be the first one." Clark leaned against the doorway, checking the hall before speaking. "We aren't going to find those kids, are we, Agent Mulder?" he asked. Mulder was quiet for a moment, considering his answer. "I want to find them, Agent. I'll do everything in my power to find them." Clark nodded grimly and led the way out of the room. Act II Travelodge - LAX 8:45 pm Mulder was lying on the bed flipping channels, half a pizza congealing on the dresser when Scully finally made it to the room. "Why is it every time someone finds out I'm a pathologist, suddenly there's an autopsy that just has to be performed immediately?" she whined as she dropped next to him on the bed, face down. He smiled at her and shifted around so that he could massage her shoulders. "Rough day at the office, dear?" he teased lovingly in her ear. "Yes," she said, muffled by the pillow. "I made dinner. It's over there," he encouraged, nodding toward the pizza box. "I don't smell pepperoni," she complained. "You don't smell it because you use that 'stuff' on your nose so you can't smell the dead bodies. If you look closely, there are pepperonis on the remaining half of that pizza," he directed. She pulled herself up with exaggerated slowness and inspected the now cold pizza. Grabbing a particularly large slice, she tore off a hunk and chewed. "Drink?" she mumbled. He disappeared into the alcove outside the bathroom and returned with a diet cola, dripping with melted ice. "Red wine with pizza, right?" "Of course," she agreed and popped the top one handed. "Did you find out anything interesting speaking with the families?" she asked around bites. "That these are the two most adorable and loving children in the world and no one could possibly want to harm them," he recited in monotone. "Even the Councilwoman's kid? I thought she was a DA before -- " "Apparently that angle has been checked out before our arrival. She said all the criminals she prosecuted have been accounted for." "So we have nothing," Scully said glumly. "I'm taking a shower." Mulder resumed his channel surfing but his mind was not on the television. He couldn't shake the images that kept looping in his brain. He knew where the kids were. It wasn't just some 'hunch' on his part this time. Just as surely as he'd know months before when those people had been called to the Milford Bridge in Pennsylvania. If only he could figure out _where_ that storefront was. Deserted storefronts in many areas of LA were a dime a dozen and it wasn't exactly prudent on his part to order the Bureau or the LAPD to go searching them all door to door. His visions had always been unexpected, brought on suddenly by either contact with alien artifacts or the more recent 'sound bath' he'd taken at the Integratron. But he'd never forced them to come. Maybe if he tired he could put himself in a trance . . . The bathroom door opened and Scully came out wearing just a towel. He smiled at her. "Wow, the view in this room just got a whole lot better," he teased. "Yeah? You think?" she asked, crawling up on the bed beside him. Instead of the slow seduction he was expecting -- hoping for -- she flopped face down again. "Mulder, I think I'm too old to travel across the country and then work a full day," she admitted with a tired sigh. He smiled affectionately at her and took up rubbing her shoulders again. "You stay right there," he ordered and got off the bed to rummage in her suitcase for a moment. When he returned he gently helped her into a pair of royal blue silk pajamas. "Are you sure you don't want to . . ." she started to ask, but a large yawn that shook her with its force stopped her in the middle of the question. "Tomorrow, after you've had a good night's sleep," he told her, kissing her nose. He helped her pull back the covers and then helped her cover back up again. "Get some sleep. I love you," he told her. She lay down on the pillows, closing her eyes with a contented smile. Suddenly her eyes flew open and she pinned him with her stare. "Mulder. You aren't staying awake are you?" "I just wanted to go over a few things," he covered, pointing to the files. "Look, you didn't get that much sleep last night and you definitely aren't caught up from this past week, either. Why don't you take another pill -- just so you don't have another . . . you know," she suggested timidly. He wanted to object but saw the longing and concern in her eyes. "Where are they?" he asked tiredly. "Inner pocket of my suitcase," she told him. She watched him warily as he pulled the pill bottle out of the bag and extracted one pill, holding it up for her inspection. At her nod, he walked over to the sink and drew a glass of water. He could see her clearly in the mirror. She'd turned her back and had snuggled down into the covers. It was a simple motion to grab a tissue, stuff the pill into it and toss it in the garbage next to the sink. He drank the water and went back to the bed. She rolled over when he returned and watched as he slid out of his pants and dress shirt, leaving just his boxers and tee. She held out the covers for him. Once he was settled, she put her head on his shoulder and wrapped her arms around his chest. "G'night, Mulder. Love you," she mumbled. He kissed the crown of her head. "I love you, too, Scully. Always and forever." He didn't have long to wait for her to fall deeply asleep. He felt horrible as he crawled out of bed to go sit in the chair by the window. He felt like he was lying to her, palming the pill, letting her think he was actually going to sleep. But it was for her own good -- and those kids. He knew the vision was a warning; he couldn't bring Scully when he went to find those kids. If anything were to ever happen to her -- She was going to be mad when she figured it out, but he'd make it up to her. And maybe, once he had the kids back safely, he'd come back to the motel and apologize in person, not over the phone as he often did. Didn't they always say make-up sex was the best? He'd gone into trances plenty of times in college and when working with Dr. Weber. It didn't take long for him to sink into the nether world. This time as he found himself driving down the street he purposely searched the street signs. He brought himself out of the trance and reached for the phone book in the desk drawer. Taking it into the bathroom, where he turned on the light, he found the map of LA and the surrounding area. He tore the pages out of the book, and headed out -- but not before taking a single sheet of paper from the guest services folder and scribbling a note. It wasn't really ditching if he told her where he was going.