Dreamcatcher 16
Ally

Eeazy sleep motel, Cleveland Ohio. May 4th 1999 8:01p.m.

Mulder stared at the empty space that until a few minutes ago his injured, frightened partner had occupied. Uncomprehending, for a second he found himself literally rooted to the spot. The covers on the bed were still in the same position as when he had left her. Pulled up and folded over, about three- quarters of the way up. Chest height.

"Scully?......"

His voice rang out clearly in the small area, but not surprisingly, there was no response forthcoming. Nonetheless, he tossed the medical bag on to the nearest surface and headed for the only other place she might be.

The door to the bathroom creaked softly as he pushed it open, and he blinked against the harsh glare from the fluorescent strip light when it eventually flickered on.

One corner of the room was taken up with Scully's earlier discarded clothes. Her suit and shirt lay in a crumpled heap, left there when he had sought to alleviate the chill from her with a warm, comforting bath. The rest of the room was quiet. Still. Empty.

Mulder felt the beginnings of panic edging towards him, but he forced himself to remain calm. She had to be somewhere within these rooms. He had been facing the doors to both as he had rummaged in the rental's trunk. He would have noticed if she had left.

{She didn't leave.}

He clamped down on the thought and rapidly conducted a search of his own adjoining room, knowing already that he wouldn't find her.

Eventually, he just sank down on to Scully's bed and dropped his head in his hands trying to ignore the phone that perched atop the night table. There was procedure to be followed now. Because despite the fact that logical thought was telling him that she *couldn't* just be gone he knew that she was.

Like the children at Brackenhurst, his partner had disappeared. No evidence, no motive, no explanation. Just gone.

{Blood, bone and tissue}

Mulder shook his head numbly at the memory and reached for the phone.

**********

FBI Field Office. Ohio May 5th 1999 2:07 a.m.

Skinner was royally pissed. He had been both shocked and displeased to receive the call from Mulder, more so when he immediately recognised that the younger Agent wasn't telling him everything.

Mulder had been vague and uneasy regarding the circumstances tied in with Scully's mysterious disappearance, refusing to divulge anything more than the scantest details. Eventually, Skinner had lost patience altogether and informed the younger Agent that he would be on the next available plane.

Expecting problems with the airlines over double bookings he had barrelled in to the airport expecting a fight. Surprisingly enough though, Delta had appeared to have no trouble finding him a spot on the Ten thirty flight out and he had boarded the plane still fuming with pent up aggression.

The plane had landed, safely on time, a car waiting to take him to the field office. The lateness of the hour meant that there was very little traffic on the roads, and they reached the office in record time. A text book trip, that under normal circumstances, would be a God send, but one which now, just succeeded in making him feel even twitchier.

The field office was literally teeming with Agents, all wearing worried expressions as they scurried about. More worried still when they saw the set of Skinner's face as he waved his badge at them.

His reputation it seemed, had already preceded him. Exacerbated by the fact that he had declared his intentions of coming down here and helping to head up the investigation. The word going through the building was that Special Agent Dana Scully, whoever she was, must be something very special to elicit this kind of response from her superior Agent. The fact that he had made it here whilst they were still busy trying to get their butts in gear spoke volumes.

In actuality, Skinner didn't give a damn what they might be thinking. He had far more pressing matters to attend to.

Catching the arm of a passing male Agent who was trying unsuccessfully to avoid the stern, unforgiving gaze of the man before him, Skinner flipped his badge in the man's face.

"I'm looking for Fox Mulder. Where is he?"

So overwhelmed was the younger man by Skinner's demeanor, he managed little more than a strangled stammer. "He's in interview room three.....sir........um, third door on the right."

Skinner nodded curtly, ignoring the curious stares that followed him as he continued along the corridor.

On reaching the hardwood door, he negated the niceties, and without bothering to knock, thrust it open and stepped inside.

"What the hell is going on here?"

Mulder jerked his head upright in response to Skinner's terse attack and just for a second, the older man was shocked in to silence by what he saw.

Mulder looked about as tired and used up as he had ever seen. His strong jaw was darkened by stubble, his eyes red rimmed as though he had been crying. More shocking though, was the guilt that radiated from him. It was so palpable that Skinner could almost reach out and touch it. Mulder rubbed his face wearily with the palms of both hands, attempting, Skinner guessed, to bring some life back in to it.

"Morning to you too." he mumbled in answer to his superior's opening tirade.

Skinner sighed and took the unoccupied seat opposite Mulder. The two men stared at each other for a couple of seconds without speaking, until finally Skinner tossed the manila file he was holding, on to the desk in front of them.

"Care to explain this to me Agent Mulder?"

Mulder shrugged, before reaching forwards and flicking the front cover of the file open. Containing only a couple of sheets of neatly typed transcript, he recognised it immediately as being the official documentation of his initial report to the Cleveland PD. He leaned backwards and folded his arms across his chest.

"Seems pretty self-explanatory to me."

With a supreme effort, Skinner managed to keep his voice level.

"Cut the crap Mulder. This tells me *nothing* as to what has happened to Agent Scully. I've seen kids high on crack come up with better explanations than this."

His voice rose marginally as Mulder's expression remained deceptively neutral.

"I want answers Agent Mulder. I want them *now*. I'll ask you again, what the hell is going on here? What's happened to Scully?" Mulder regarded his boss through narrowed eyes.

"With respect sir, if I told you what I think, you'd probably book me in for a course of electric shock treatments...."

Skinner shook his head incredulously. He'd spent the better part of five years listening to this man's outlandish theories. Did Mulder *really* think that he could surprise him now?

"Try me." he ordered.

Mulder got to his feet suddenly, allowing his glance to wander around the spartan room before heading for the door. "Agent Mulder! Where the hell......."

He trailed off abruptly as Mulder turned to face him once again, seeing the intensity that one more burned in his eyes.

"Not here."

**********

Creature Comforts Motel. Cleveland Ohio May 5th 1999 5:14 a.m.

Skinner winced as he tipped the last dregs of the motels' crappy instant coffee down his throat. It tasted, in his opinion, just one step above complete shit, but he needed the caffeine to keep him alert. Despite this though he was having a great deal of trouble keeping up with Mulder's train of thought. He'd been witness to the man's extraordinary leaps of logic before, but this? This was just too incredible even for Mulder.

"Let me get this straight......you believe that Scully has somehow managed to lock in to her dreams? That she has actually *become* a part of those dreams?"

Mulder nodded carefully. Fully aware of how crazy it sounded.

"Kind of. She was having nightmares.....since we got here. Nightmares that seemed real to her. She was waking up screaming, trying to get away from something....."

"So what are we talking about here Mulder? Nightmare on Elm Street with an FBI twist? Should I put out an APB on Freddie Kruger?"

He regretted the words immediately he saw Mulder's expression darken and softened his tone as he sought the one answer he needed.

"Do you *really* believe this? That it's possible?"

The question had the desired effect, and Mulder's expression cleared somewhat.

"I believe that *Scully* believed it. I'm not sure she understood it exactly. She was going to tell me something before....before she was gone. I believe she saw things that she couldn't reconcile. I witnessed it at the hospital. I just didn't take the time to really *look*."

He turned helpless eyes on Skinner.

"How in the hell could I have been so stupid?"

Skinner shook his head as he heard the defeat in the younger man's tone.

*Guilt*

Mulder was an expert.

"If what you're saying is true Agent Mulder, then you can't blame yourself for this. Recriminations aren't going to get us anywhere. The question is, where do we go from here? You're aware I can't go through official channels on this?"

Mulder almost laughed out loud.

Official channels? Since when had official channels ever done anything for them? Aside from constantly thwarting their efforts to get at the truth. He had learned a log time ago to avoid the chain of command as much as he was able. Spooky Mulder, brilliant crack pot. Sequestered in the basement. Out of sight but never out of mind.

"Mulder? Are you hearing me?"

He snapped out of his daze.

"Sorry what?"

"I *said*, how do we get her back?"

Mulder's response literally jarred Skinner to the core. Whatever else he had been expecting, it wasn't this. Not from the man who always seemed to have a solution to every problem that came his way. And never more so when Scully was involved.

"I'm not sure that we can."

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