*~*~*~*~*~* Connected by Lovesfox *~*~*~*~*~* lovesfox@rogers.com Headers in Part 1 *** Part 12 of 12 Epilogue Lynchburg General Hospital Lynchburg, VA Tuesday 4:30 PM His mouth was as dry as the Sahara, and tasted worse than anything he'd ever had the displeasure of experiencing. With a grimace of distaste, Mulder shifted uncomfortably, and pried open eyes that felt glued shut. He did not recognize his surroundings. As panic rushed in at full force and speed, he suddenly remembered everything -- meeting Dr. Kushov, the abandoned warehouse, mind-reading with Scully... Lunging upwards from his supine position, he cried out hoarsely. "Scully?" A face he recognized filled his vision as an equally familiar voice spoke. "Mulder, relax, you're okay." Byers. The dapper, bespectacled man patted Mulder's arm, the gesture somewhat awkward. Heart pounding like a racehorse, and eyes no doubt wild and unfocused, Mulder searched the countenances of the three friends ringed around the bed he lay upon. Belatedly he identified his location as a hospital, even as frantic fear had him demanding, "Where the hell is Scully?" "Easy, big fella," Frohike stepped closer and held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "She's here, Mulder. In a room just down the hall. Skinner's with her." Slightly mollified, though still unsettled, Mulder heaved out a huge breath, and fell back against the rough pillows. He was feeling somewhat light-headed and nauseous, but refrained from telling that to his companions. "She's okay?" he asked, staring intently at Frohike, demanding utter honesty. "You're both okay, Mulder," the little man replied, gaze straight and unwavering. "Little worse for wear, but as far as the docs can tell, there's no lasting damage." His face scrunched up suddenly, eyes shifting away and back nervously. "Can you still read our minds, Mulder?" he asked, curiosity and wariness both evident. Mulder hadn't given their mind-reading ability a single thought, and shrugged his shoulders, strangely unconcerned -- he was anxious to see his partner. "It's doubtful, Fro." Taking a slow, deep breath, he eased upright once more, pushing at the bedding that covered him to his waist. "I need to find Scully," he stated, and swung his now-bare legs over the side of the bed. "Whoa there, Mulder," Frohike exclaimed, backing away and shooting a look at the other two Gunmen. "You should let us get the doctor before you try anything." Mulder shook his head, already sliding his feet to the ground. "I can manage." The cold sweat that had broken over him was not evidence to the contrary, he tried to convince himself. Nor was the weakness of his limbs. Byers looked worried, and somewhat inclined to bolt. "Mulder, I have to concur with Frohike. Let me go get your doctor." "Byers." Mulder clipped the word out. The dapper man swallowed audibly. "A wheelchair, at least?" Byers turned his head, found Langly standing silently a foot away. "Find a wheelchair, Langly. Fast." Mulder had to admit he'd never seen Langly amble that quickly before. He would not admit that the wheelchair was a damn fine idea. Plastering an accepting look on his face, he leaned his butt on the edge of the mattress -- a move he hoped did not concede any weakness on his part, but more a sign of impatience. "Do I have any clothes?" "Um, you were brought in wearing hospital scrubs," Byers replied. "I think Assistant Director Skinner had them taken as evidence." He paused and then said, "I can go get you some after we take you to Agent Scully." Mulder nodded absently, his mind preoccupied with sudden memories of the testing procedure he and Scully had gone through. Langly returned then, entering the room backwards and towing a wheelchair with him. Clearing the door, he spun the chair around with a deadpan, "Somebody call for a taxi?" It took a few minutes, but at last Mulder was settled into the wheelchair with a blanket wrapped around his lower half for a modicum of dignity. Langly held the door while Byers had the honor of pushing the chair, and Frohike played look-out, peering both ways down the hall before signaling the all-clear. As they wheeled down the hallway, Mulder asked the question that had just occurred to him. "Where are we?" Byers answered. "Lynchburg General Hospital." Virginia again, Mulder mused. Before his subconscious could delve into the merits of Their operations in that state, Byers slowed the chair and then stopped at Room 122, where Frohike stood off to one side. Langly darted in front and without ceremony pushed the oversized wooden door open. The action revealed a suit-clad Skinner standing beside the hospital bed that contained an awake and apparently unharmed and alert Scully. Who was staring towards the door, staring at him, expectantly. Mulder got an uncanny feeling she had known he was there. Perhaps vestiges of their mind-reading were still lingering, he mused. Though as of yet, he himself had not caught a stray thought from a single soul. He wasn't sure yet if he was disappointed or not. Relief immediately washed over Scully's features -- relief that he knew had to be mirrored on his own face. "Mulder," she said, and there was a wealth of meanings behind that one word. Solace, empathy, comfort. "Hey, Scully," he replied nonchalantly, though that was the complete opposite of how he truly felt. Which was something he was uncomfortable expressing to her with the presence of their audience. He followed up with, "Fancy meeting you in a place like this," and a flashy grin. A moment later her lips quirked up in an answering and understanding smile, albeit a small one. Skinner snorted, shifting to stand with his hands on his hips. "Then I suppose you'll be happy to know that you two hold the record for most losses of cell phones and weapons," their boss shared sarcastically. Mulder aimed a mocking smile at Skinner before wheeling himself over to Scully's bed. Her right hand lay palm- down at her side, and he immediately covered it with his, secure with that kind of contact in front of Skinner and the Gunmen. He gave her fingers a gentle squeeze, meeting her gaze to murmur, "You okay?" She nodded once and quietly responded, "Just a little off, probably from whatever we were knocked out with. Skinner told me they haven't got the analysis of our blood work back yet." "Same," he told her, and they shared a moment of commiseration and togetherness. He then turned his head to take in the four men. "So how did we end up here?" Skinner's jaw muscles had started to tic, and he indicated the Gunmen with a jut of his chin and a somewhat disdainful wave of his arm. "I'll let these three...start." The deliberate pause had Frohike bristling, but the little man kept silent, while Byers turned pink-cheeked. Mulder wondered at the story behind their reactions and said, "Spill it, Frohike." Instead Langly began. "We happened to catch the grab on our cameras," he explained, his voice raising slightly as he warmed to his tale, his features animated. "We got ourselves together and followed you in the van for hours-" "Without immediately calling the police or myself," Skinner interjected, his tic more pronounced. This revelation did not surprise or bother Mulder. With the Gunmen's distrust of any government faction, it was SOP for them, and actually expected. Langly gulped, but did not reply. Stepping back to lean against the wall by the door, he crossed his arms over his chest and looked away, chastised. Byers took over from the lanky Gunman. "We were concerned about losing the panel van you two had been thrown into," he explained slowly, his voice apologetic, "and following it was our primary focus." Mulder nodded, the gesture slightly impatient. He was eager for the Gunmen or Skinner to get to the details of how he and Scully had gotten from the unknown facility to their current location in the hospital. Glancing quickly at his partner showed she wore an expression of similar sentiment. Thankfully Byers sped up his narration. "However, after we had been following the van for about two and a half hours, a decision was reached to contact Assistant Director Skinner." Mulder was able to decipher that Byers had wanted to call Skinner from the beginning, but his two cohorts had been against doing so. "The switchboard had difficulty reaching me," Skinner interjected then, and it was his turn to look embarrassed, and a little angry. "Contacting and marshalling the efforts and resources of the Richmond field office proved more difficult than expected. It seems they had several covert operations in progress." Mulder intuited that there was going to be some serious backlash from these occurrences. Byers spoke again. "The van finally reached its destination approximately four hours after you had been grabbed, a non-descript, unnamed building on the outskirts of Lynchburg. They entered through an underground garage, and we deemed it prudent to establish our post a block away. We kept the place under surveillance for some time before deciding to attempt a breach as there was no sign of the FBI." Here Byers paused, looking at Frohike, who was studiously staring at his feet. "We managed to get Frohike inside, and he was able to tap into Their surveillance system, enabling us to determine that you were both alive and apparently unharmed. But he was nearly caught and had to retreat." "Not long after that, we detected movement inside," Frohike stepped forward. "Serious movement. As in the rats were deserting the ship." Chin lifting pugnaciously, his stance became both defensive and indignantly proud. "With still no sign of the FBI, we decided we had to make a move." Langly left his place by the door to join Frohike, a bounce to his step. "In short, the cavalry arrived too late," the Gunmen said gleefully. He sobered though when he said, "We found you and Scully lying unconscious in an empty room, and called 9-1-1." Mulder experienced a sinking sensation in his stomach at Langly's last words, and his voice was tight when he asked, "The building?" "Completely empty, Mulder," Skinner replied. "Evidence Recovery teams are still sweeping, but it seems unlikely they'll find anything. It looks like your kidnappers cleaned house." Scully's voice was wry as she asked, "And I suppose They got clean away?" "Did you expect any less, Scully?" Mulder snapped in his frustration and anger, and was immediately remorseful for taking it out on her. He sent an apology with his eyes, which she accepted with an infinitesimal nod. Turning to Skinner, he asked, "When can we get out of here?" "I'll go get the Doctor," Byers said, before Skinner could reply. *** Two Days Later JEH Building Washington, D.C. Thursday 9:45 AM Scully could literally feel the tension radiating from Mulder's body as they rode the elevator down to the basement. They had both been silent since leaving Skinner's office, though she would categorize her silence as being contemplative, while Mulder's was more explosive in nature. Her assessment was correct -- after he politely gestured her into the office, his anger erupted. Despite her expectation of such an action, the slam of the door still made her flinch. Without comment, she took her seat, placing the file folder she had been carrying down on the blotter before her, and watched as Mulder proceeded to stalk to his desk and stand there with his hands on his hips, breathing heavily. A moment later one of his feet lashed out and kicked the garbage can across the room, sending crumpled wads of paper skittering and spinning over the tiled floor. "Goddammit!" he roared, and cleared the surface of the desk with one sweep of his arm. Some sense of restraint had kept him from including his computer and keyboard with the remainder of the items that had graced his blotter and now lay scattered at his feet, and she was thankful. Having to explain the destruction of a PC would not have been the highlight of her day. She really wasn't sure if the day was going to have a highlight, to be honest. Tired, despite an enforced twenty-four hours of rest after being released from the hospital, she also was not quite fully recovered from their ordeal. It was tempting to just get up and go, to grab Mulder's hand and drag him out of the office. Mulder's burst of angry energy ended -- with a heavy sigh, he dropped into his seat and met her gaze. "Sorry," he muttered, waving his hand in the air to indicate the results of his explosion. But a second later he was bouncing up out of his chair to start pacing. "Nothing, Scully," he gritted out on the first return pass. "Again we're left with nothing." He kicked at the balled up papers in his path, hands raking repeatedly through his now spiked hair. "Not one damn shred of evidence." His anger and frustration were starting to stir hers anew -- she had tamped her feelings down before they could do much damage back in Skinner's office, after reviewing the report from the Evidence Retrieval team in Lynchburg. The team that had found zero evidence at the location where she and Mulder had been found. She had to bite back the words he had flung at her in her hospital room. His sarcastic, "Did you expect any less, Scully?" still grated, even though she knew he hadn't meant to direct them at her. Taking a deep breath, she held it for several seconds and then exhaled slowly, trying to calm herself. Despite that effort, there was just the slightest snap in her voice when she paraphrased, "Mulder, it's happened before, and as you so eloquently put it the other day, we shouldn't expect any less." Her words stopped him in his tracks. Or perhaps more accurately, they deflated him like a popped balloon. And the look on his face was priceless -- a combination of startlement, confusion and annoyance. Making his way to the desk, he sank into his chair with a heavy sigh. This time his apology was genuine, the tone colored with his embarrassment at his behavior. "I didn't mean to take my frustration out on you, Scully." "I know, Mulder," she told him. "And believe me, I understand and share in that frustration." She put a slight emphasis on the word 'share', to remind him that they had both been affected. The wry quirk of his lips told her he'd caught the intentional rebuke. She smiled back, and that particular matter was over. But Mulder wasn't ready to let the whole thing go just yet. Leaning forward, he snatched up the file folder that lay in front of her. The one they had gone through in Skinner's office, that contained their hospital reports, including the results of their blood work. Paging through it, his index finger stabbed down on one particular report. "Unidentifiable substances," he read out loud, and then shoved the file towards her. Understanding that he needed to talk everything through, she acquiesced to his silent request, and picked up both of their blood reports. Perused them again, despite the fact she had gone over them, and the reports from their blood work taken at the FBI lab, several times each. "Hemoglobin, hematocrit, platelet counts all normal," she murmured, scanning the test names. "Both our leukocyte counts -- the number of white blood cells -- were slightly elevated, but not alarmingly." Scully paused to glance at Mulder, who had a questioning look on his face, and explained, "Leukocytes aid in the neutralization or destruction of invading microorganisms. It's possible the leukocytes were trying to fight off whatever we were injected with -- the unidentified substances found in our blood." Looking at her partner again, she tacked on, "Which were quite minimal." "Proof of a sort," he mumbled, swiveling his chair to one side and staring off into space. "Proof that in the end means nothing." Scully nodded, though he could not see the gesture, and returned the reports to the file, closing the folder. Mirroring his pose somewhat, she leaned back in her own chair and contemplated the ceiling. Getting the hell out of the office right then was sounding like a better and better idea. No destination in mind, just out. "Scully," Mulder said suddenly, and rather loudly in the quiet office. "Let's get the hell out of here. Go somewhere...anywhere, I don't care. Just away from the office." Her chair snapped forward, the sound like a firecracker, and she was sure she had paled to the color of parchment. "What?" he said semi-defensively. Blinking rapidly, Scully continued to stare at him, mouth agape. Faint worry lines creased his face, and she tried to explain. "I was just...I..." "What, Scully, what?" He rose to his feet, clearly uncertain and a little shaken. "I was just...thinking the exact same thing." Mulder sat down again and they studied each other intently for several tension-filled seconds before shaking their heads and laughing nervously. "Just a coincidence," they muttered together a moment later, and they both blinked in surprise before shrugging it off, physically and mentally. At least a minute passed before Mulder spoke, his voice musing. "Scully, despite what happened, you and I have always had a rather intense partnership, wouldn't you say?" She didn't respond, knowing it was more a rhetorical question, and he continued. "We've somehow attuned ourselves to know what the other is thinking, to be able to predict each other's moves and responses, to anticipate each other's needs." His smile to her was a little crooked, his gaze warm. "It's pretty amazing when you think about it, really. Almost like we were somehow linked, that we're..." Scully finished the sentence with him. "Connected." *** THE END Feedback appreciated at lovesfox@rogers.com