Title:  The Y Folders 1 of 2
Author:  Vickie Moseley (story concept with Susan 
Proto)vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com
Summary:  A television producer disappears under 
mysterious circumstances.  Must be a Y Folder.
Written for Virtual Season 11
Category:  MSR, H
Rating:  PG
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended.  
Any characters who resemble real people are purely 
coincidental (I saw that on Comedy Central).
Archive:  Two weeks exclusive on VS 11, then 
anywhere.
Dedicated to my ET, who helped me come up with 
this crazed idea.  If it didn't work out, it sure wasn't 
from the concept.
Additional note:  This is a work of fiction and an 
attempt at humor.  It is not a social commentary on 
any events or situations that have taken place in the 
last few years.  Please take this episode of the 
Virtual Season in the spirit in which it is offered:  
with love and affection.  And if I haven't scared you 
off by now, on with the show . . .  

Teaser
Emerald Bay State Park
California
April 2, 2004

The location was perfect, none better could be 
found.  Pine trees, soaring to the clouds sixty to 
seventy feet in the sky looked like the spires of 
some green and black cathedral.  The lake, so blue it 
looked artificially colored, reflected the sky and the 
snow peaked mountains on all sides.  When the 
sunset behind those mountains, it was glorious.  Of 
all the places he'd been to in the last three days, this 
was perfection.  It was exactly what he wanted.  His 
boyish good looks, dark flowing hair, dimpled chin 
and deep chocolate eyes took on a radiance of 
someone who had found his heart's desire, all in one 
little plot of mountaintop.

Bill Burger prided himself on knowing what he 
wanted and getting it, at least most of the time.  He 
had gone from rags to riches, a real god honest 
Horatio Alger story, or at least that's what that 
bullshit artist at Entertainment Weekly had dubbed 
him.  Bill had meant to ask what the asshole had 
meant by that statement, but he never got the time.  
It seemed his time just wasn't his own anymore.  
Hell, even this, a location search, was a cover for 
what he really intended -- a few hours on the slopes 
at nearby Tahoe, hot-dogging for all the babes in 
their fur and down jackets.  Skiing, that had been 
his life until he found fame and fortune in LaLa 
Land.  He'd go back to that passion in a heartbeat, if 
he could pull down 2 million bucks a year, as he 
was currently doing.  Too bad skiing just didn't 
make the big money that television provided.

It was as big a surprise to him as it was to the 
network jerks when the first pilot he pitched 
captured a consistent top twenty spot in the Nielsens 
after two short years on the air.  It had become the 
networks anchor for the weekend schedule and had 
managed to add several dozen independent stations 
as affiliates just to get the feed.  All that from the 
simple retelling of old Native American ghost 
stories and UFO conspiracy tidbits he'd copped 
from the Fortean Times website.  Not for the first 
time he smiled to himself over the utter gullibility 
of the American viewing public.  Was this a great 
country or what?

It was a good show, but in the middle of it's seventh 
year it was starting to show some strain.  The lead 
actor started making noises about his 'on hold' 
movie career and the leading lady was whining 
about money all the time.  Then the competition for 
their nearly uncontested prime Saturday night time 
slot heated up with some rip off of an old radio 
game show.  It had been a lousy year and the show 
needed a shot in the arm desperately.  Hell, he had 
to be honest with himself, he needed the show to 
have a shot in the arm.  All the other pilots he'd 
pitched to the network's new programming honcho 
had ended up in the circular file.  When this show's 
run was over, he was back to slopes, but not in a 
good way--he'd be penniless.  

Burger sighed and walked off a piece of land right 
near the base of the pine trees. There was even 
enough room for the flood lights, the camera 
dolleys, the trailers --  well, the two actors trailers, 
everyone else would have to make due at the inn ten 
miles down the road.  He could set up the camera 
dolleys there, near the trees.  The lights, if they shot 
at night . . . what was he thinking, they always shot 
at night!  Maybe it should be raining.  Was there 
enough room for the hoses for a light mist?  

He chuckled as he thought about the fuss the female 
lead would put up when she found out they'd be 
shooting another episode in the rain.  Screw her, 
hell, screw both of them.  They were getting paid 
enough.  Too much, if the money guys from the 
network were to be believed.  Neither one of the 
leads had been more than beer and toilet paper 
commercial actors before they'd started this series.  
If the series went under, Bill was pretty sure that 
was where they'd both end up, too.  "Star power, my 
ass," he muttered to the trees as he mentally did the 
calculations to place the hoses and the water trucks.  
All that equipment was going to tear the hell out of 
this little campsite, but who really gave a rat's ass?  
The production company was paying the state of 
California prime rent for this property.  More than 
enough to replant a few trees and toss some grass 
seed on the ground.  Good thing the network and 
Governor 'Arnold' were on such good terms.

He stood near the trees and watched as the sun sank 
below the ridge of the mountain.  Picturesque, that 
was it.  Just like a postcard.  The powder on those 
mountains would only be good for another couple 
of weeks before the run off ruined the runs.  Damn 
spring and summer.  Who needed 'em?

He was so deep in thought he didn't hear the hum in 
the air.  It wasn't until the brilliant white light hit 
him that he looked up.  What the hell?  Where the 
hell was that light coming from?  It was huge!  He 
blinked his eyes shut to keep his retinas from being 
burned to a crisp.  The hum was louder now and the 
wind picked up.  The sun was below the horizon but 
it was bright as day around him, no --  much 
brighter than day.  The ground seemed to be 
vibrating.  Holy shit, what was that sound?

Something hit him in the back of his neck and he 
swatted at it.  Suddenly, the ground was no longer 
just vibrating, it was moving.  No, he was moving.  
He was sinking to the ground, falling.  He tried to 
move his arms, but they hung lifeless at his sides.  
He tried to pry his eyes open, but the blinding light 
kept them sealed shut.  He tried to open his mouth 
but it was as if his lips were stuck, he couldn't even 
scream.

His last thought, as darkness overtook him, was to 
reflect on what a friggin' wonderful visual this all 
would have made for the season finale.

The Y Folders
by Vickie Moseley and Susan Proto

Act I

"You're kidding, right?"

"Scully, would I kid about this?  It's almost too 
good to be true!  But I heard it from Henderson in 
Handwriting.  It all came down late yesterday."

Scully blew a breath that lifted her bangs from her 
forehead and neatly placed them to the side of her 
face, a trick that never failed to make Mulder 
immediately five degrees warmer.  "I just . . . I 
mean after all the grief he caused . . ."

"I know.  Who would have thought that Alvin 
Kersh, Pain the In Ass Extraordinaire, has been 
playing footsie with the mob!" Mulder crowed, and 
tossed a sunflower seed into the air to catch it on his 
tongue.  

"This all came out in Michelin's trial?" Scully 
asked, as she closed the file drawer and moved over 
to perch on the edge of Mulder's desk.  She patently 
ignored her partner's keenly leering gaze and his 
hand on her knee.  He did it just to see her reaction 
and she'd discovered that reacting only made him 
do it more, something she didn't find acceptable in 
the workplace.

"Best part is the end, Scully.  Alvin is officially 
'terminated'.  Out on his ass, no chance of 
reinstatement."  He looked wistfully at her.  "And 
here I thought they came up with that punishment 
just for the likes of little old me."

"Mulder, this is like . . . it's like winning the Pick 
Four on the lottery!"

"My thoughts exactly.  Which is why I thought we'd 
sneak out a little early tonight, change into some 
glad rags and hit that really nice place up Rockville 
Pike.  The one that serves fresh lobster," he said 
with a grin.

She looked at him, letting him think she was about 
to shoot him down.  But the twinkle in her eyes 
gave her away.  "You're on," she said in a rush.  
"And what is this 'glad rags'?  You've been 
watching 'I love the 80s' behind my back again?"

"Hey, you're the one who had to go shopping with 
your mom.  Don't blame me if I got bored and had 
to entertain myself," he grinned.  She rewarded his 
boyish enthusiasm by ruffling his hair and then 
combing it straight with her fingers.  Before he 
could take their playfulness too far, she hopped off 
the desk and wandered over to her own.  She had to 
suppress a smile when she heard Mulder start 
humming 'Ding Dong the Witch is Dead.'  The 
phone interrupted his one-man performance.

"Mulder.  Yes ma'am."  He winced and glanced 
down at his watch.  He scowled and wrinkled his 
nose.  "Ten minutes, your office.  Yes ma'am, we'll 
be there."   He hung up the phone with exaggerated 
care, obviously trying to control some deep-seated 
rage within.  "Scully, when is Skinner due back 
from medical leave?" he asked quietly.

"I talked with him yesterday afternoon, after his 
doctor's appointment.  He was rather disgruntled 
because his doctor is insisting he stay home and rest 
for at least four more weeks.  Why?"

"Because I'm pretty sure that strangling an Assistant 
Director of the FBI with her own phone cord is a 
capital offense, and the threat of lethal injection is 
the only thing stopping me from going upstairs and 
offing that bitch!" he seethed.  At her confused 
look, he elaborated.  "The bitch in question is Janna 
Cassidy.  Ring any bells?"

Scully couldn't help but wince, too.  She 
remembered all too well sitting in front of Janna 
Cassidy and her Spanish Inquisition into the X Files 
some 6 years before.  "So, I guess that was 
Assistant Director Cassidy on the phone."

"With Skinner out on medical leave and Kersh out 
the door, I guess that leaves us without a 'master'."

"Hey, does that make us 'ronin'?" Scully teased.

"It's not funny," he shot back.  "Ever since she was 
instrumental on the panel investigating the events of 
the Dallas bombing back years ago, that bitch has 
had it out for us.  Now, apparently, we're to report 
to her until Skinner is back from leave."

Scully's eyes widened in shock.  "Mulder, she 
wouldn't try  to shut us down . . ."

"I'm pretty sure we're on firm ground again, Scully, 
but I would not put anything past that dragon lady.  
Geez, we get rid of one pain in the ass and another 
pops up!  So much for cutting out early," he said 
with a sigh.  

"Did she say what it's about?"

"Maybe the Bureau is throwing a 'we got rid of 
Kersh' party and we're in charge of refreshments," 
he offered sarcastically.

"Or, maybe she has a case," she countered.  "We've 
been doing paperwork since we found Skinner.  
Maybe something has come up for us."

"If it's coming from Cassidy, I'm not too sure we 
want it," Mulder said, no happier at the thought of a 
new case than at the thought of a chewing out.  
"Knowing her, it will be a real winner.  And it's for 
damn sure we won't be going Hawaii, again," he 
snorted as he rolled down his shirtsleeves and 
pulled on his jacket.

"As long as it's not Texas during tornado season, 
I'm fine with it," she told him as she followed him 
out the door.   

"Admit it, Scully.  You thought that deputy was 
hot," he teased as they waited for the elevator.

"I think Dexter might have caused some brain 
damage, Mulder.  Maybe we should stop by the 
hospital on the way home and run a CT scan on 
you," she deadpanned back.  As the doors opened 
and they stepped inside the car she stared straight 
ahead but added, "besides, I wasn't the one to go 3 
rounds with Chicken of the Sea."

"Ouch, Scully.  That hurt," he replied in mock 
petulance.

Cassidy's office was just across the hall from 
Skinner's.  Mulder and Scully were surprised to see 
Kim, Skinner's administrative assistant at the desk 
outside her office.  "It's just till AD Skinner is back 
to work," she assured the two agents.  "I'm filling in 
while Marilyn's on maternity leave.   AD Cassidy is 
waiting for you.  Go right in," she said with a wink.

"Is this a good or a bad thing?" Mulder asked as 
they walked past her desk.

"If I knew that, Agent Mulder, I'd start playing the 
lottery numbers.  I did put through a call from the 
Director's office about 20 minutes ago, if that helps"

"Is this floor too high up to jump out the window 
and make an escape?" Mulder whispered to Scully 
as she reached for the knob on Skinner's office 
door.

"If it's that bad, we can resign and work at the 
Starbucks down on 20th and M," Scully whispered 
back.

"Think she'll give us a good recommendation?" was 
Mulder's quick reply.

"I doubt that entirely," Scully shot back.

Cassidy's office was set up almost exactly like 
Skinner's, even down to the desk blotter.  Mulder 
nodded to the two chairs in front of the desk and 
Scully took one seat, he took the other.  

"Agents.  Thank you for coming up on such short 
notice," Janna Cassidy said, looking exactly as she 
had at their last encounter, six years ago.  

The memory of their argument that day, over 
whether Scully had torpedoed Mulder's explanation 
of events in Antarctica was something neither 
partner wanted to revisit.  Scully shot Mulder a 
glance and he gave her the ghost of a smile before 
turning on his 'professional G-Man' persona and 
giving his full attention to the Assistant Director.

"Is that a case, AD Cassidy?" Mulder asked, noting 
that she had a file folder open on her desk and kept 
sweeping her gaze over it.

"This isn't just a case, Agent Mulder.  This is an 
opportunity," Cassidy intoned as she pushed a file 
folder across the desk in Mulder's general direction.  
Mulder picked it up and skimmed the contents.

"This is a missing person's case.  And not even an 
old one.  This man disappeared only," he glanced 
quickly at his watch, "a little over 36 hours ago, 
according to this report."

"Time is of the essence, Agent Mulder.  Did you see 
who the missing person is?"

"William Andrew Burger, 426 Pacific Coast 
Highway, Malibu, California," Mulder read from 
the file.

"That name doesn't ring any bells?" Cassidy asked, 
looking first at Mulder and then hopefully at Scully.  
"You don't watch television on Saturday nights?"

Scully had the good grace to blush, but Mulder 
stormed a little at the inference.  "Ma'am, if you 
check the records, most Saturday nights we're either 
on a case or writing up a report for a case."

"Or at the hospital recovering from a case," Scully 
muttered and Mulder shot her a glare for her efforts.

"We don't get a lot of time to watch network 
television."

"If it ain't the Knicks, the Yankees, or the Redskins, 
we don't see it," Scully mumbled.  

Mulder glared at her again, and turned back to 
Cassidy.  "Sorry, ma'am, the name doesn't mean 
anything to us.  Should it?"

Cassidy frowned slightly and shook her head.  
"Well, it should.  But it doesn't really matter.  He's 
the creator and executive producer of the hit show 
'The Y Folders' on the SPAN network."

Scully looked up.  "SPAN is the newest challenger 
to the four major networks, isn't it, ma'am?"

"Yes, Scully, glad to see one of you is up to date," 
Cassidy smiled broadly at her.  Mulder raised an 
eyebrow in a 'so what' expression.  "SPAN is hot on 
the heels of CBS, NBC, ABC and FOX and is 
picking up new affiliates every day.  Mr. Burger's 
show is largely responsible for their success."

"So why are we getting this case, ma'am?" Mulder 
interrupted.  "This is obviously a missing person's 
case."  A horrible thought suddenly cross his mind.  
"It isn't because of that awful zombie movie, is it?" 
he blurted out.

Cassidy looked confused at his outburst but shook 
her head.  "No, Agent Mulder.  The reason I 
decided to give this file to your division is because 
of the nature of the disappearance.  Read the file.  
This is not your simple missing person's case.  I 
expect you to treat this just as seriously as you 
would any other X file.  A representative of the 
studio is flying out to speak with you this evening.  
He'll be coming here, to the office.  Tomorrow you 
can fly back with him to California and look at the 
scene.  Be sure to follow the new procedures for air 
travel.  Kim can help you make your arrangements.  
I want daily reports on this case, Agent Mulder.  
Give it your full attention until this man is found 
and returned to his studio safe and sound."

"Ma'am, you said this isn't a case, it's an 
opportunity?" Scully interjected, partly to save her 
partner a further ass chewing.

"Yes, Agent Scully, that is exactly what it is.  This 
is an opportunity to foster good will between the 
Bureau and a major television network.  Believe 
me, with the recent high profile court case 
connecting a senior special agent and an assistant 
director in cahoots with organized crime, the FBI 
can use all the friends in the media we can get.  
SPAN not only is rivaling the major four, but its 
spin off, SPANews, is giving CNN and FOXnews a 
run for their money.  Free positive press is priceless.  
Now, I suggest you get started on this case."

Scully stood, Mulder started to say something but 
thought better of it and instead rose to join her at the 
door.  Without another word, they departed the 
assistant director's office.  

At the elevator again, Mulder turned to Scully, 
rubbing his forehead.  "When did you say Skinner 
was coming back from medical leave and can I get a 
strange, exotic illness that will last exactly the same 
length of time?"

"Look at it this way, Mulder.  She gave us this case.  
We didn't dream it up and send it through on a 302.  
It's a win-win.  If we find this Burger guy, the 
Bureau gets the good press and maybe we earn 
some much needed brownie points."

"And what if he really was abducted, Scully?  What 
kind of points will we be getting then?" he shot 
back.  "I'll tell you -- not the good kind!"

"It's a case, Mulder.  A famous man has disappeared 
under mysterious circumstances."

"And that makes this a federal case?" Mulder 
squeaked.

"Well, we do handle missing persons," Scully 
reasoned.

"Scully, this bozo hasn't been missing for two 
whole days yet!  Chances are good he's just tied one 
on and is holed up with some mammary enhanced 
young starlet going over 'production notes'," Mulder 
huffed.

"Cassidy is taking this seriously, Mulder.  I assume 
the front office is, too.   I think we should, as well."

"Fine, we take it seriously.  But what was that crap 
about new procedures for air travel?  Don't we just 
make our reservations on the internet, like always?"

They had finally reached their office and Mulder 
plopped down in his chair, propping his feet on the 
desk, waiting for Scully to answer.

"It's a good thing I read those email memos that 
come to you from the Budget Department, Mulder," 
she said with a sigh.  She dug through the pile of 
papers on his desk, found the one she was looking 
for and handed it to him.  "No more turn arounds, 
they're costing the Bureau too much money.  We 
have to have all travel arrangements approved 
through Budget.  Effective April 1."

"I thought it was an April Fools joke," he said, 
taking the paper and shoving it back in the pile.  
"This is full of crap, Scully.  Our 'Kersh is gone' 
par-tay is on indefinite hold, we're stuck here 
waiting for some Max Federman --"

"His name was Wayne," Scully interjected 
patiently.

"OK, 'Wayne' Federman type to get in the way of 
our investigation and tomorrow we're stuck flying 
to California . . ."

Scully had a decidedly 'shit eating grin' on her face 
which made him think back on what he'd just said.  
Suddenly, he was smiling, too, but for the life of 
him, he didn't know why.

"Let me explain this to you, Mulder, just in case 
you got lost in your tirade.  We are being told to go 
on an all expense paid trip to California to find out 
that this Bill Burger has been shacked up and 
banging some production assistant.  And, with the 
new travel procedures in place, we have to stay at 
least three days before we can return home."

His eyes grew as wide as teacups.  He grabbed the 
sheet of paper out of the pile and scanned it quickly.  
"Hot damn.  You're absolutely right!"

"I think we can probably manage to find a decent 
hotel somewhere near LA with a pool, don't you?"

"First Hawaii, now LA, before too long they're 
bound to catch on, Scully."

"What?  That we're only investigating cases in 
locations that include beach attire?" she asked 
coyly.

"Shhh, the ceiling has ears," he said in a hushed 
whisper.  He was about to pull her into a kiss when 
there was a sharp rap on the door.

"Shit," he muttered while Scully walked over and 
opened the door.  A thin man, under six feet with 
faded green cargo pants and a Jethro Tull tee-shirt 
stood staring at her.

"Can I help you?" she asked, glancing to make sure 
he was wearing a visitor's badge.  She couldn't help 
but notice it was on upside down.

"Bob Denver, no relation," the man said, stretching 
out his hand in a friendly gesture.  "I'm here about 
the Bill Burger abduction."  Scully shook his hand 
and then stepped aside to allow him to enter the 
office.  Mulder stood and shook Mr. Denver's hand, 
then motioned for him to take a seat at the only 
other chair in the room.  Scully chose to lean on the 
edge of her desk.

"So, this is the office of an FBI agent, huh?" Denver 
asked, looking askance at the bulletin boards 
covered with photos from cases and newspaper 
articles.  His eyes landed on Mulder's 'I want to 
believe' poster and he stood up and moved closer to 
take a better look.

"Two agents, actually," Scully corrected him.

"Think I could borrow this for a couple of days, just 
to let my art people -- "

"Mr. Denver, if I'm not mistaken, you've come a 
long way to tell us a story," Mulder lightly scolded 
the man.  "Could we please stick to the topic?"

Bob look a tad perplexed, but sat down in Scully's 
desk chair again and propped his elbows on his 
knees.  "I think we all know why I'm here," he said 
cryptically.

Scully raised an eyebrow and cocked her head.  
Mulder just frowned.  "No, I'm afraid we don't all 
know.  Why don't you enlighten us?"

"Well, according to the Fender-man, you two are 
the best at this, uh, alien shit."

Mulder bit his lip and Scully shot him a quick 
glance as if to say 'don't go there'.  Mulder ignored 
her.  "Fender-man?"

"Yeah, Wayne Fender-man, er, Federman.  And 
well, I saw 'The Lazarus Bowl'.  Not the whole 
movie, of course.  I saw the outtakes, but I must say 
the lighting on that set was primo!  Great shadows, 
the way the beams shot off the Pope-like guy's 
jewels, and the Zombies, I mean they were -- "

"Mr. Denver, I thought we were talking about Mr. 
Burger's disappearance!" Mulder broke in.

"You guys are supposed to find people snatched by 
aliens, or am I wrong?" Denver shouted back 
defensively.

Scully licked her upper lip and gave Mulder a tight-
lipped expression.  He sat up and pulled the file 
folder closer to him.  "Mr. Denver -- "

"Call me Bob.  Hey, I know what you're thinking.  
You're thinking this is just some stunt, but it's not.  
Bill went up to that park to find a shooting location 
and when he didn't show up at the lodge, er, I mean 
the studio that night, a couple of us went up there to 
look for him.  What we saw made our hair turn 
gray!  Figuratively speaking, of course."

"Why don't you tell us what you found?" Scully 
asked in a calming voice.  "Please?"

Denver glared at Mulder for a moment, then looked 
over at Scully and visibly relaxed.  "Sure.  Why 
not?"  He settled into the chair and took a deep 
breath.  "It was just freaky, ya know?"

Mulder nodded in an encouraging manner, earning 
him a slight smile from Scully.  The exchange went 
unnoticed by Denver.

"Bill decided to go check out locations for the 
season finale.  The script is done, but the last few 
pages are being kept secret -- he wanted to avoid 
any possible leaks to the press."

"That sounds pretty paranoid," Mulder muttered and 
Scully stifled a snort in his direction.

"You have no idea.  I mean, we've been on the air 
seven seasons and there are 4 knock offs already, 
including a cartoon.  If we didn't safeguard our big 
shows, they'd be on some Japanese Anime a week 
before we had a chance to air it here!"

"Back to the disappearance," Mulder prompted.

"Yeah, well, anyway, like I was saying, he was 
supposed to check out this park, we have a really 
good relationship with the California State Parks 
system.  The location was near Tahoe, so I expected 
to get a call from him telling me he had car trouble.  
That's his 'little code' for going skiing on company 
time," Denver explained to Scully.

"But you didn't get the call," Mulder prodded again.  
He rolled his eyes to Scully. 

"When it got to be afternoon, and I hadn't gotten a 
call, I called his cell.  It rang, but no answer.  So I 
called the ski resort that he always sneaks off to.  
They hadn't seen him.  That's when I got worried.  
So I called Steve -- "

"Steve?" Scully interrupted.

"Yeah, one of the other production staff.  Steve 
Marker.  Anyway, I called Steve and we decided to 
take a look.  By that time it was already close to 
two.  We had to jump the commuter flight to get to 
Sacramento and the drive took a couple of hours to 
the park, so it was dark when we got there.  I have 
one of those really big flashlights in my trunk, for 
when you have a flat.  We found Bill's rental parked 
near a trailhead, so we took the flashlight and went 
down the trail.  It opened up into a meadow and 
that's when we found his cell phone.  But when I 
flashed the light around, well, it scared the shit out 
of me!"

"What exactly did you see?" Scully asked, saving 
Mulder the trouble.

"It was just like 'The Starting Point'!" Denver 
exclaimed.

Mulder raised his hand.  "Starting point?  I'm afraid 
you're losing us here, Mr. Denver."

Denver gave him a disgusted look and then turned 
hopefully to Scully.  When she obviously didn't 
understand the reference, he threw up his hands.  
"What, do you people live in caves?  The Starting 
Point, it's the first episode of the series!  It's been on 
reruns about a hundred times.  Surely you've seen 
it!"

Scully shook her head.  Mulder gave his head a 
quick shake and a shrug.  "Why don't you just tell 
us what you saw?"

He rolled his eyes, but Denver nodded.  "OK, the 
trees were scorched, near the tops.  There was a big 
scorch mark on the ground, the size of an above 
ground pool, without the deck," he added quickly.  
"And there was this fine, gray ash all over the place.  
Bill's cell phone was near the pile of ash.  We called 
and called and no one answered.  That's when we 
decided to go get help.  It took us a while to find a 
park ranger and then he wanted us to go through the 
county Sheriff's department, but that would have 
turned out the press and there was no way we could 
let that happen!  Finally, I remembered Fender-man 
bragging that he had all these connections with the 
FBI and I called him.  It took a while to get the ball 
rolling, but here I am."

Mulder was biting his lip, to keep from laughing or 
screaming, he wasn't sure.  "So, based on your 
somewhat limited observations, in the dark, with a 
flashlight, you think -- "

"Bill was abducted by aliens," Denver said in 
hushed tones.  "The man who created it has lived 
it," he added solemnly.

Both agents shared a look.  Scully finally broke the 
uneasy silence.  "And you want us to . . ."

"Get him back.  Call them, we'll negotiate.  
Whatever they want, residuals, marketing.  Hell, 
we'll give them shares in the production company."

"The aliens?" Mulder asked quietly.

"Sure!  I mean, they had to know his net worth to 
pick him off when there were all those bodacious 
babes just a few miles away in Tahoe," Denver 
reasoned.  "But that's OK.  We just want him back."

"I can understand that you're worried about your 
boss," Scully started.

"Who said we're worried?  Bill can be a real a-hole.  
No, we need him back because he's the only one 
who knows where the last four pages of the final 
script are stashed.  And we have to start rehearsals 
in a week."

Act II

Scully's apartment
Georgetown
7:15 pm

Mulder picked up the last container of rice from 
dinner, peering in it to determine if there was 
enough to save. 

"Toss it, Mulder.  We won't be home for at least 
three days," Scully told him as she put the last plate 
in the cupboard.

"Three days and it's just getting good," he replied, 
but tossed the container into the trash in a fairly 
good mock 'lay up' shot.  

"Take that out, please," she reminded him.

He nodded and grabbed the liner, tying it off and 
lifting it up.  "You going to take a bath?" he asked 
hopefully.

She grinned at him and shook her head.  "No, not 
enough time.  We have to pack for tomorrow.  
Remember, our flight leaves at 6 am.  We have to 
meet Denver at BWI at 4:30."

"This is the Bureau's big cost saving initiative?  
Make us get up in the middle of the night to drive 
forty-five minutes so we leave from Baltimore 
rather than spend the $25 to fly out of Reagan or 
Dulles at a sane hour in the morning?"

"Hey, quit your complaining.  Our return flight has 
us getting into BWI at 5 pm.  We can swing past 
Mom's and she can feed us."

She heard him mumble something unintelligible as 
he left to take out the trash.  

She was in the bedroom when he came back up.  
"Do you want to take your charcoal suit or your 
blue one?" she asked, holding them both out for his 
inspection.

"The blue one, it's lighter.  Where did you put my 
travel kit?"

"Under the sink, behind the extra towels."  She 
stopped to admire the view -- his behind -- as he 
went to retrieve the kit.

"So, do you think Bill Burger is really an 
abductee?" she asked as Mulder returned and helped 
pack his suitcase.

"No.  I think it's all a set up, a big publicity stunt.  
I'm going to email the guys once we know more, 
ask them to check into this Y Folders.  My money 
says they're in the seventh season, probably starving 
for ratings and this kind of tabloid headline is just 
what they need to bring in the viewers."

"But involving the FBI?  Mulder, if it is a stunt and 
they're found out, they could be in serious trouble!"

"I'm guessing that's why they didn't want the 
Sheriff's Department in on it.  They probably figure 
they can lie their way out of any trouble with us.  
Honest mistake and all that," Mulder mused, 
zipping the case shut.  "Want me to take these to the 
car so we don't have to bother with them 
tomorrow?"

She smiled at him and handed him her suitcase.  
"There are definite advantages to having you here, 
Mulder.  I keep finding that out every day."

"Yeah, when I get back, I'll show you a few new 
ones," he said with a wiggle of his eyebrows.  She 
slapped his backside as he made his way out the 
door.

United Flight 3091
landing at Los Angeles International
10:42 am

Scully nudged Mulder from where he'd fallen asleep 
on her shoulder.  Slowly, his eyes blinked open.  
"We're here already?" he asked around a yawn.

"You slept the whole way," she said dryly.

"Sorry, Scully.  You know how I get on long 
flights," he said with a half-hearted apologetic 
shrug.  "I'll get the briefcases from the overhead.  
See if you can catch Mr. Hollywood out at the gate, 
before the paparazzi get to him," he sneered.

"Mulder, his ticket was paid for by the production 
company.  He can't help it if he got to fly first 
class," Scully chided.

"I can use any excuse I want to hate the man, 
Scully.  He dragged us out of warm bed, made us 
endure hours in dry, sinus infection inducing air and 
now we have to face another three hour flight plus 
an hour drive just to see their set up.  So help me, 
when we uncover this as the media stunt it is, I'll 
personally spend the rest of my life working with 
the nearest US District Attorney to put them all 
behind bars!"

"Well, as long as you have goals," Scully said 
smugly.

"And why couldn't we have flown into San 
Francisco or even a direct flight to Tahoe?  Why 
add five hours to this trip from hell?"

"You're the one who wanted to see his apartment 
and his office, Mulder," she pointed out.

"Next time I come up with such good ideas, kick me 
to shut me up," Mulder shot back, but at least he 
was grinning again. 

Offices of Hot Dog Productions
Hollywood, CA
11:30 am

A harried receptionist looked up at them over the 
counter, and jumped up when she saw Denver.  
"Bob!  Have you found it?"

"Him, Stacy," Denver said uncomfortably with a 
glance over to the two agents.  "No, we haven't had 
any word from him."

She seemed confused and disappointed at the same 
time.  "Oh, shoot."

"Can you give Agents Mulder and Scully here 
visitors badges?  They need to go to Bill's office at 
the back of the studio."  Denver pulled out a cell 
phone and started talking quietly into it.

Stacy smiled up at Mulder.  "Sure.  Agents, huh?  
What kind?"

"FBI," Mulder said and leaned forward to allow 
Stacy to clip the badge onto his lapel.

"Been to LA before?" Stacy asked seductively.  
Scully raised her eyebrow, but was basically being 
ignored by Stacy and her partner.

"Once, for a premiere," Scully butted in and took 
the badge intended for her out of Stacy's hand.  
"The Lazarus Bowl."

Stacy's eyes grew wide.  "Ohmigod!!  You're him!  
You're Gary Shandling's character!"

Mulder cringed.  "Actually, that character was an 
amalgamation of several different . . . what I mean 
is, it was never meant to be . . ."

"Ready to go, folks?  We have a cart to take us back 
to Bill's office," Denver interrupted.

"Yes, more than ready, I'd say," Scully said with a 
smirk to her partner.

"You're an evil woman, Agent Scully," Mulder 
whispered close to her ear as they left Stacy 
admiring his back view.

"You just remember that, mister," she whispered 
back.

It was a short ride in a luxury golf cart to the small 
bungalow looking buildings where Bill Burger had 
his office.  Denver produced a key and opened the 
office door.  The place was not that large, 
considering the occupant was an Executive 
Producer on a highly successful television series.  
Mulder pulled on some latex gloves and started to 
look around.  

"Does any one else have access to this office, 
besides you?" Scully asked as she joined Mulder in 
examining the contents of the bookshelves and 
bulletin boards.

"All the production staff has access.  This is where 
we come for story meetings.  But there isn't 
anything out of place.  Bill was fine when he left 
here."

"Has anyone looked at his computer?" Mulder 
nodded toward the shining new Dell computer 
sitting on the walnut desk that took up a large part 
of the room.

Denver shrugged.  "We didn't think about it.  
Besides, he keeps it locked with a password."

"Aren't you networked in any way?  Shared files?" 
Scully asked.

"Oh, sure.  But Bill kept most of his notes entirely 
on his PC."

Mulder exchanged a look with Scully.  "What time 
does the commuter flight take off?"

Denver checked his watch.  "About an hour and a 
half from now.  We should be getting to the 
airport."  He headed out the door.  

Mulder leaned over to Scully as they made one last 
look around the office.  "I'll call the guys, maybe 
they can hack his PC."

Scully just nodded and followed him out the door.

Emerald Bay State Park
6:30 pm

Mulder slowly unfolded himself from the front seat 
of the Suzuki Sidekick.  "So, this is where you 
found the car?" he asked, standing up and wincing 
as every vertebra in back cracked and popped from 
the strain of his stretch.

"Right there, by that tree," Denver said, moving 
over to the side of the road.  He pointed at a spot on 
the ground totally undistinguishable from the rest of 
the needle-covered surface.  "We followed that 
trail," he said, pointing off a few yards.

"Up for a nice walk in the woods, Scully?" Mulder 
asked with a grin.

"My gun is loaded, Mulder.  I'd watch my step if I 
were you," Scully returned.

The trail wasn't at all taxing and after a few dozen 
yards they found themselves on the edge of a rather 
large clearing.  Denver ran into the grassy area, 
gesturing up at the trees.  Sure enough, the tops, or 
at least very near the tops, of several of the pine 
trees looked scorched.  He then ran over and 
pointed to the burnt circle on the ground near the 
center of the clearing.  Finally, he reached down 
and grabbed a handful of ash from the ground and 
let rubbed it between his fingers.   "See, it's just like 
I told you.  Just like the show!"

Mulder looked over at Scully, who shrugged her 
shoulders.  "I have to admit, it does look like . . ."   
His voice trailed off as he walked over to the trees 
with the charred tops.  Before his partner could 
shout out in protest, he was scrambling up the 
nearest tree.

"Mulder, so help me, I am not calling for a rescue 
helicopter!" Scully yelled up to him.

"What the hell are you doing?" Denver asked, 
chewing his lip.

After a few tense moments, Mulder climbed down, 
jumping the last six feet and landing perfectly.  
"Scully, what do you make of this?"  He handed her 
a few pine needles sticky with a substance.  

She took the needles and examined them closely.  
She brought them up to her nose and sniffed.  
"That's not pine sap," she said with a shake of her 
head.

"No, that's kerosene," Mulder supplied.  "It's all 
over up there."

"Wow, you mean the aliens sprayed this place with 
kerosene?" Denver demanded.  "That's incredible!"

Both agents just stared at the man, then Mulder 
walked over to the pile of ash.  Stooping, he picked 
up a good pinch of ash and deposited it in a plastic 
evidence bag.  "I'm betting this is a lot more 
common than we think," Mulder said, handing the 
bag to Scully.

"What about the burned spot on the ground?" Scully 
asked.  She stepped over to the circle and knelt 
down.  "Mulder, doesn't this look like the kind of 
burn you'd find with a blow torch?"

"The aliens have blow torches?" Denver cried out.  
"Wait till I tell the guys!"

Mulder stood up from where he'd crouched next to 
Scully.  "Mr. Denver, there are no aliens at work 
here.  This whole area is nothing more than an 
elaborate hoax."

Denver's eyes went wide.  "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that someone, maybe someone in your 
organization, has set this up to make it appear that 
Bill Burger was abducted by aliens," Mulder said 
through gritted teeth.

"That's insane!  Why would we do that?" Denver 
blurted out.

"That's exactly what I hope to find out," Mulder told 
him and headed back down the path with Scully hot 
on his heels.

"Mulder?"

"We can't go back home yet, Scully, so we're stuck 
here.  Let's just get find a motel room and figure 
this out."

"Mulder, there's just one little problem," she said, 
pulling his sleeve to get him to stop.  At his 
questioning look, she tilted her head.  "Where's Bill 
Burger?"

"I think he's hiding out somewhere, Scully," Mulder 
growled.  "And when I find him, I'm going to take 
him apart!"

end of part 1