Rockies(1/2)

Sat Apr 12 21:39:17 1997
The Rockies 1/2

--------
This here is a little story (well, it turned into something not so little)
that I, Esther, started quite a while ago. Fortunately, I had the first
couple of chapters and not much more. I say fortunately because,
in this case, having writer's block and a severe shortage of time
proved to be a good thing. I sent out what I had to some of my
very talented e-pals and this is the result.

We had one rule, and that was that whoever had the current chapter
could go back and edit the previous chapters to their heart's content.
Most definitely a group undertaking!

We hope you enjoy our combined efforts. And if you do (and
even if you don't) let us know.

Dsiclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner and the
X-Files are the property of 20th Century Fox, Fox Broadcasting
and 1013 Productions. No infringement is intended.

Summary: Our favorite FBI agents take an unexpected trip to the
Colorado Rockies in search of an elusive group Mulder, among
others, can't wait to track down. Lots of Muldertorture.

The Rockies

By Esther Walker (Cenergy@earthlink.com), Kay Reindl
(Ruefrex@aol.com), Vickie Moseley (Vmoseley@fgi.com),
Westshore (Westshor1aol.com) and LuvMulder
(LuvMulder@aol.com)

Chapter One
by Esther Walker

cenergy@earthlink.net

The sky was beautiful. They gazed in awe at the stars that glittered
in the firmament, wondering not for the first time if their destiny
could truly be found in the heavens. He looked at them severely.

"We haven't much time."

And indeed they hadn't. The women were physically exhausted.
They gazed at him with fearful eyes. He shouldered his pack and
tried to assume his position of authority. Inwardly, he wondered
if this was the Right Thing. His stony gaze sought out her calm eyes.
Her knowing eyes. She knew, somehow. They all knew. And the
men had decided to trust the women. This time it would be different,
they said. This time they would be coming, and it was up to the small
group of nomadic men and women to seek out what they had left.
What they would be returning for.

***************************************************

"Mulder, it's Sunday, can't this wait until tomorrow?"

<It's not as if I have anything better to do>, Dana Scully grumbled
to herself.

But questioning her partner had become second nature. Certainly at
seven in the morning on a Sunday, he should expect no less. Just
like she expected him to be relentless in his pursuit of the truth. No
matter how painful and ill-gotten that truth might be.

"No, Scully, it can't wait. The Lone Gunmen, and God knows who
else," Mulder added under his breath, "have been tracking this
group for years. They're extremely transient. They've never been
spotted in one place for more than a couple of days. But for some
reason, they've remained in this spot for eight days."

"And what 'spot' might this be?" Scully didn't bother suppressing
her yawn as she slowly sat up in bed.

"They're somewhere in the Colorado Rockies."

"The Rockies?!" Scully no longer sounded sleepy. Annoyed was
more like it. "Do you know how cold it is there right now? No
doubt -- below zero. Snowing, too!"

"Come on, Scully. It was 37 degrees at 6:15 this morning You
won't even have to wear your mittens by midday...just pack them."
She could picture him rolling his eyes. "There might be a little snow
but only at the higher elevations."

"Of course there's snow, Mulder. It's late September." Her
exasperation was evident. Not only had he woken her up from a
sound sleep to tell her about some *group* the Lone Gunmen, of all
people, were tracking, but she could tell there was more. Probably
a trip in her near future. Very near future if the urgency in his voice
was any indication.

"Scully, listen to me." Mulder's irritation was beginning to match
his partner's. "This group has claimed a number of alien abductions,
relationships even, for the last 18 years. On a number of separate
occasions -- too many to even mention -- their whereabouts have
been linked to UFO sightings. During this past week there have
been over twenty UFO sightings in the Rockies, at or about the
same location where the group was last spotted. Something's going
on there, Scully, I know it."

His voice was rising, making it impossible for him to hide his
excitement. Like a kid anticipating Christmas morning, Scully
thought glumly.

"Eight days is a long time for this group to be in a specific area," he
continued. "Something's not right and whatever it is, we need to
find out, before it's too late."

His voice was almost pleading as it trailed off.

"Too late for what?"

"Too late to find out what's going on. To make some sort of contact
with other life forms."

"Mulder..." What could she say to him that she hadn't already? A
million times, a million different ways. He was hell bent on proving
that life existed on other planets, that this life frequented Earth, and
she was beyond thinking she could convince him otherwise. If only
she could convince him that it could wait.

"Scully, I know you don't share all my beliefs, but I do know that
you trust my judgment. I promise you this is not a wild goose
chase. I have been tracking this group myself for quite a while.
Even if we don't find a spaceship full of little green men when we
get there, if we only find the group, it will be a coup. The members
have been wanted for questioning by the authorities for years."

"Oh God, Mulder, they're criminals? You want us to hop on a
plane, land in the Rockies where weather patterns can change in the
blink of an eye and chase a renegade band of delinquents?"
Exasperation no longer described what she was feeling. Anger was
more like it. And yet, she found herself out of bed, searching the
back of her closet for that dreaded parka, while objecting to her
partner's every word.

"No, not criminals, really. They just ran into some bad luck, had a
difficult time being believed by anyone and became resentful.
There's more of course, but we don't have time to discuss it now. I
promise I will fill you in on all the details on the way there. If you're
not satisfied by the time we arrive I'll ask the pilot to turn around."

"Pilot? I take it this is a done deal. Skinner okayed the 302?" The
gray parka was on her bed, now if she could only find those hiking
boots and gaiters.

"Skinner's blessing. I've chartered a plane, and it'll be waiting,
ready to fly us to the area by 11:30. That gives you plenty of time to
get your gear together and meet me at the airport."

"Gear?"

"From what I can gather," his voice was low, almost a whisper,
"the group is in a pretty secluded spot. The pilot will have to drop us
off and we'll hike in. There's an alpine meadow he's familiar with
that should work fine. I've arranged for him to pick us up Tuesday
afternoon. You'll need to prepare for pretty primitive conditions..."
At this point Mulder had enough common sense to sound apologetic.

"I've got the food taken care of," he offered hastily, taking the phone
away from his ear in anticipation of Scully's shrill rebuttal.
Fortunately, or unfortunately, he would later think, there was no
shrill rebuttal. Only a weary reply.

"Mulder?" She wanted to ask him what he would do if she refused,
but changed her mind. "Oh, never mind." She knew what his
answer would be. He would go alone, in search of this elusive
group and the little green men they had made their acquaintance
with. No matter how dangerous, no matter how banal. His voice
told her he was already dressed, packed and ready to go. Probably
had been for quite a while. Pacing the length of his apartment
until he could no longer contain himself, and she wouldn't think the
hour too ungodly.

For a brief instant she was tempted to refuse. To say she wouldn't
or couldn't go, and let him handle it by himself. But then she
remembered New Mexico and Alaska, two times when he had been
by himself, and a chill ran down her spine. No, she couldn't let him
handle this one alone. Any more than he would let her. She was his
partner, originally assigned to keep track of his cases, of his
obsession, and now an intricate part of his life. A life she had come
to value far too much.

"Where should I meet you?" she sighed, pulling her boots out of
their box.

***************************************************

By the time she left her apartment Scully was no longer angry.
Irritated maybe, but not angry.

It was a beautiful day and much to her dismay, she found herself
looking forward to hiking in the Rockies. She had done quite a bit
of hiking in college with her roommate and was consequently well
prepared. Hiking in Colorado was something she had wanted to do
for a long time. And although she knew this wasn't exactly the way
she would have planned it--nor the time of year she'd have picked--
she couldn't help feeling excited at the prospect.

Scully felt for her gun before getting in her car and smiled. Taking
a gun on the hike of her dreams hadn't been on her list either, but
never mind. With any luck they wouldn't run into any little green
men or Mulder's mysterious 'group', until they had had some time to
enjoy the beauty and peacefulness the Rockies were bound to offer.

When she arrived at the small airport just outside the city it was 8:35;
Mulder was pacing in front of the small airplane he had chartered.
Scully's stomach did a flip when she saw the paltry piece of metal
they were passing for airplanes these days but said nothing.

"Sorry I'm late," she said, handing Mulder her backpack while
uneasily staring at the tiny aircraft before her.

"It's okay, Scully," Mulder said, instantly reading her. "The pilot's
been flying for over 30 years, the plane is just two years old and the
weather conditions from here to Colorado couldn't be better." He
put a hand on her shoulder and guided her to the back of the plane.

"You couldn't find a smaller plane, Mulder?" Her backpack was
taking up most of the spare room in the back.

"Two days, Scully. We're only going for two days," Mulder teased.
"What the hell did you pack anyway?"

"You *said* primitive conditions, Mulder!" she answered patiently.
"I brought some extras that we might find useful."

"Such as?"

"You know, ropes, pulleys... An oversized First Aid Kit especially
designed and approved by the National Foundation For Prevention
of Mulder Disasters -- which, by the way, is underwritten by our
own Government Employees Medical Insurance Group. The
Rockies can be pretty treacherous, Mulder."

"You're such a card, Scully. That's why I bring you along on these
little jaunts." He smiled pointedly at her. "Better than AM radio...
May I tie you into your seat, Madam?" He indicated a small
passenger's seat to his left.

She pretended to ignore his offer as she settled into the seat and
pulled the buckle over her lap. "I don't have a good feeling about
this planned 'hike' of yours, Mulder," she said.

"How difficult can hiking be, Scully? Besides, hiking isn't what
worries me, weather does and the pilot assures me the NWS report
shows clear skies for at least four days--two days longer than we
need. We're set."

"Hiking itself isn't very difficult, Mulder, as long as you're in pretty
good shape, which we both are. But it *does* depend on where you're
hiking..." she let her voice trail off as the pilot entered the tiny cockpit.

"You two okay back there?" The pilot turned and smiled briefly at
them before starting the engine, not bothering to wait for a reply. He
was a big man, in his mid to late 50's with scraggly gray hair that
rested on his shoulders. From the hacking cough and the stench he
brought with him Scully pegged him as a lifetime, four-pack-a-day
smoker.

"You two sit back and relax," the pilot yelled over the din of the
engine. "We've got a long flight ahead of us."

"I hope it's long enough for you to explain exactly what's going on
in your little mountain hideaway, Mulder." Scully was staring at
him, waiting for a response.

"Where do you want me to start?" he shot back, making himself as
comfortable as his long legs and the limited space would let him.

"From the beginning. I want to know everything there is to know
about this *group* you're so eager to find.

"The group, the Obi-Wans as they've been nicknamed..."

Scully raised her eyebrows. "Obi-Wans?"

"Uh-huh." Mulder couldn't bring himself to match her gaze.

"As in Obi-wans, like Obi-Wan Kenobi? From 'Star Wars'?"

"Yeah, something like that. But, Scully..."

"Mulder, you got me out of bed, you chartered a plane, we're on the
damn thing...so that we could find a group that's been named after a
character from 'Star Wars'?" Scully's cheeks matched the intense red
color of her hair.

"Scully..." What could he say? That was their name. "Someone
tagged them with that name, and unfortunately, it stuck."

"Okay, Mulder," Scully was rubbing her eyes with her thumb and
index finger, hoping the action would keep the headache she felt
coming on at bay. "I'm going to pretend that they were named after
the God of Truth from an ancient civilization, only so I can keep
myself from asking the pilot to turn around right now. But please,
continue, quickly, and tell me what you know about these people."

Mulder took a deep breath. He should have just kept calling them
The Group. "Okay, the first contact was in 1973. The Group -- I'm
just going to call them The Group -- if that's okay with you?"

Scully nodded, resisting the urge to scream.

"The Group consisted of about 14 people, all adults, seven men and
seven women. They had formed their own commune, and pretty
much were self-sufficient. They owned a small farm in Iowa and
lived off the land. What they couldn't eat they sold, etc. They were
believed to be a part of a strange religious sect that didn't believe in
human contact of any kind."

"What do you mean?"

"Physical contact among them -- or between them and outsiders --
was strictly taboo."

"What about... sex?" Scully was, at this point, mildly interested.

Mulder shook his head. "Sex was out of the question, of course,
which is, in an odd way, what brought them into the spotlight
when the first reports of their 'close encounter' with aliens came
out."

Scully implored him with her eyes, not so subtly asking him to
continue.

"The original reports are sketchy," Mulder continued. "Because no
one in authority believed them, their account of the events was never
recorded properly. My information comes from documents MUFON
has been able to gather throughout the years."

"Uh huh." Scully was getting impatient. She wanted to know
everything, and she wanted to know it now.

Mulder ignored her restlessness and continued. "According to The
Group, they were visited by 'other beings', if you will, sometime in
March of 1975. They claimed they saw all the weird lights, heard
the strange sounds and even saw an unidentified flying object. They
also claim to have lost anywhere from three to five hours that they
couldn't account for."

"All of them?"

"Every single one of them had the exact same story to tell. But no
one believed them. After all, no one really knew this group of
people even existed, and those who did thought they were strange,
to say the least. The people that bought food from their farm told
stories of how they would have to put the money on the ground.
They wouldn't exchange currency from one hand to another for fear
they would touch each other."

"What happened after their 'encounter'?"

"Nothing much, except that about three to four months later, they
realized that all the women were pregnant." Mulder sat back and
looked at Scully for an expression, any expression, that might better
guide him on how to continue the story. He had promised her they
could return if she thought the trip wasn't worthwhile, and he would
keep his promise. But before they got to that point, he would do
anything in his power to convince her this search was worth their while.

"And they had no idea until the women started showing?" She was
incredulous. "The women themselves *must* have suspected after a
month or two!"

Mulder shrugged. "I can envision a scenario where the women
would not have discussed it, Scully. They knew -- or *thought*
they knew -- that they had not had sex; it was forbidden, after all.
So, I expect that, at first, they didn't know what to do. Seeing a
doctor was out of the question, since a doctor couldn't examine
them without touching them."

"So they assumed the women had been impregnated the night the
funny lights showed up?"

"Of course they did. These women had never left the farm. To touch
one another was a sin. Sex was out of the question. Three of the
seven, it is said, joined the group when they were virgins."

"Mulder, you can't possibly believe..."

Of course he did. They wouldn't be on this plane if he didn't.

"Scully, wait...there's more. In December of that year, right before
the women were due to give birth, the lights showed up again. The
Group lost a few more hours this time, more like eight or nine, and
when the lights were gone, the women were no longer pregnant.
One of them, a 22 year-old, died. Which is what really brought them
into the spotlight. The local police chief demanded an autopsy. The
Group vehemently opposed it and lost."

"And what were the autopsy results?"

"That she died of an internal hemorrhage. After giving birth."

"I take it they didn't find the missing baby?" Scully thought she
could predict the conclusion of the story at this point, but chose to
let Mulder finish it anyway.

"No, no baby. The farm and the surrounding area were searched for
days. The Group stood by their story, claiming that the rest of the
women had been pregnant as well, but refused to let them be
examined."

"Were any charges ever brought?"

"No. Everything was speculative. There wasn't a dead baby, only
the body of the young woman and her death appeared to be the
result of natural childbirth. Certainly something that's not illegal."

"It should be," Scully mumbled, recalling the 12 hours she spent in
the delivery room with her sister-in-law.

"Well, anyway, they were no longer headline news. Until about a
year later. The lights came back, same thing happened - lights,
sounds, loss of time."

"And the women?"

"Story is, the remaining six women were pregnant again. But in the
meantime, The Group had been trying to sell the farm since the
second incident, the one that left the young woman dead. They sold
it and were out of Iowa within two months of the third incident."

"Then what?" Scully was mulling over the facts. Debating whether
to tell the pilot to turn back now or wait and give Mulder the benefit
of the doubt. Let him finish his story before jumping ship, so to
speak.

"Well, it gets sketchy here. Really sketchy, but, from what MUFON
records I've seen, there were several sightings roughly nine months
after the third incident near the area where The Group had been last
seen. The body of one of the women was found about a year later,
badly decomposed, but dental records proved identified her as one
of The Group."

"You mean she'd been to a dentist? A psychic one that fills cavities
through osmosis?"

"Very funny, Scully. Most of the people in The Group didn't join
until early adulthood, so, believe it or not, many had led relatively
normal lives until then."

"How normal a life can someone lead that would drive them to join
such a cult, Mulder? The women were all probably abused as
children, for one."

"Probably," Mulder mused, his mind going over all the facts. "In
any case, they've been wanted for questioning in the second
woman's death, among other things, for the last 15 years."

"What other things?"

"Throughout the years they seem to have gotten militant. Robbed a
few places, hurt a few people..."

Scully's eyebrows were raised again.

"They'd been persecuted for years, Scully, by unknown life forms.
And the authority they knew and trusted to protect them ridiculed
and questioned them! Didn't believe a word they said. It's amazing
what people will do when they're scared."

"Mulder, you really think those women were impregnated by
aliens?" Scully couldn't keep the disbelief from her voice. "Wasn't
there a movie like this once?"

"Village of the Damned," Mulder replied quietly. "Not quite the
same, but similar. And yes, I believe it. Or impregnated with male
sperm, human type, with intervention from aliens. Maybe they
wanted human babies to conduct experiments with. The thing is,
Scully, this group of people kept to themselves. They were afraid
of the outside world. They would never have brought all this
attention onto themselves unless they had no choice."

"If someone hadn't died and forced the issue out in the open,
you mean?"

"No." Mulder was shaking his head again. "They went to the
authorities, the police, immediately after experiencing the first
phenomena. They were ridiculed and sent home. They went for
help. No one gave it to them."

"And now what, Mulder?" Scully asked, changing the subject
slightly. "Why are we heading into the Rockies in a mad rush?"

"Because that's where they are. And they've been there for longer
than they've been anywhere else in years. Coincidentally or not, the
UFO activity in the area is at an unprecedented high right now.
From what I've been able to gather, they have had 14 encounters
over the last 18 years, presumably resulting in seven
impregnations."

"Mulder..."

The headache just wouldn't go away, and Scully closed her eyes.
What was there to say to him? He really believed there was another
life form at work in this case. In most of their cases.

"Scully, I know you don't believe the women were impregnated by
aliens, but humor me anyway, and help me find the truth. Whatever
that truth might be." He was done, he gave her all the facts and
hoped some of them made her curious enough to pursue the case
with him.

"Let me think about it, Mulder," Scully said without opening her
eyes. "Right now, I have the beginning of a major headache
starting, and I'd like to try and sleep it off."

"Okay. I'll be here when you've decided." Mulder realized sleep
might not be such a bad idea. He had been up most of the night
going over the facts of this case with the Lone Gunmen, and he had
a feeling they had a long couple of days ahead of them.

To her surprise, Scully found the steady drone of the small airplane
soothing rather than disturbing, and when she finally opened her
eyes, she was shocked to find a full three hours had passed. Mulder
looked like he was sound asleep next to her, and the sight of him
fidgeting in his seat made her smile. He couldn't stretch his legs
and she could tell that, even asleep, he was uncomfortable.

One look out the window and she realized they were close. They
were flying pretty low, and she could see snow capped mountains
all around them.

"Pretty nice, huh?" Mulder's soft voice startled her.

"I thought you were asleep."

"Who can sleep?" he answered, arching his back. "I've got the
worst cramp in my leg. I couldn't even walk it out when we made
our fuel stop near Denver."

"I slept through the fuel stop?"

"Uh-huh." Mulder tried to stretch his left leg, but the space to move
in front of him fell short by a few inches. Shaking it only made it feel
worse. "I've got to stand up," he finally said. "Otherwise, I may
never walk again."

"How you two doing back there?" the pilot shouted when he saw
Mulder trying to find a comfortable position in spite of the tiny
plane.

"Okay," Mulder lied. "Just had to try and stretch my legs." He had
to hunch over in order to stand. The large pilot smiled and nodded
in shared understanding. "How much longer?" Mulder asked,
plaintively.

"Almost to the coordinates you gave me, we'll be touching down in
about 15-20 minutes."

Mulder smiled and turned to Scully. "Well, Scully, I guess this is it.
I..."

Suddenly, the small plane lurched to the side, throwing Scully to her
right as far as her seatbelt would allow. Mulder was hurtled across
the cabin before he could find a secure handhold, ramming his shoulder
and head into the fuselage at full force.

The pilot cursed and fought to correct the little plane's angle. Nearly
breathless with terror, Scully struggled to reach out to her partner,
who looked dazed as he tried to steady himself against the violent
rocking of the plane.

Before either one had a chance to recover, the plane plunged into a
steep nose dive. Scully watched in helpless horror as Mulder was
pitched forward into the tiny cockpit, his right hand smashing
into the control panel, cracking the glass protecting the air speed
indicator.

***********

End of chapter one.

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From xangst@frii.com Sun Apr 13 19:30:43 1997
Subject: NF> Rockies 2/10
From: Myth Patrol <xangst@frii.com>
--------
The Rockies
Chapter Two

by Esther Walker
cenergy@earthlink.net

Disclaimer in chapter one.

It was a terrifying eternity --what seemed like hours and in reality
was only seconds -- before the pilot had righted the plane and was
back in control. "Oh shit," he mumbled under his breath at the sight
of a groggy Mulder trying to regain his balance. "Sorry folks."

"Mulder?" Scully had her seatbelt off and was by his side the instant
she realized they weren't going to crash. Rivulets of blood were
running down his right hand. He was shaking his head to clear his
thoughts, wincing at the pain the movement brought.

"Let's get you back to your seat," Scully was saying, helping him
up. For the pilot, she reserved her Agent in Charge voice. "What the
hell was that?" she shouted.

"I have no idea. Mountains can cause some pretty mean updrafts,
but this area is usually calm..." the pilot answered, more shaken up
than he was willing to admit. "The controls just went haywire. I've
never experienced anything like that! And that's why it's not a good
idea to take your seatbelt off," he added.

"Well, you should have said something!" Scully was furious. With
one look at Mulder, she realized all was not well.

"Sorry, I was about to but the whole thing took me by surprise." the
pilot countered. "He was only out of his seat for an instant and," he
finished under his breath, "I've *never* had anything like this happen
before," he repeated as if he were having a hard time believing the last
few moments himself.

"You should've..." Scully felt Mulder's hand on her shoulder.

"Scully, it's okay. I'm fine. Just let me sit down for a minute." The
pain in his head was brutal, but nothing compared to the fire in his
shoulder. Whatever the damage, he would be damned if he was
going to let Scully know. Damned if he'd give her a reason to make
them turn around.

Scully helped him back to his seat and snapped on his seatbelt
before sitting down next to him and doing the same. She turned his
head slowly and forced him to look at her.

"How's your head?" she asked, looking at his pupils for any tell-tale
signs of a concussion.

"Fine. It just hurts a little," he lied, but forced himself to continue.
"I'm fine, Scully, really." It was a strain to talk, and he closed his
eyes and put his head back. "I need to catch my breath, that's
all."

"We need to go back."

Mulder opened his eyes and the sudden light made him wince.
Luckily, Scully didn't notice. "Scully, don't be ridiculous. We can't
go back now, we're almost there."

"Mulder, you're hurt! You may have a concussion. Your shoulder's
probably killing you, and you're decorating the carpet with your
blood. Who knows what you've done to yourself?!" Scully
was holding his hand, turning it over and poking it gently to see if
any major damage had been done. He had a long gash along the
side, where apparently he had caught a piece of the cracked glass.

Mulder bit his lip and took a deep breath before answering her.
"Scully, listen to me. This case means a lot to me. We're almost
there. And considering what just happened to this plane, I'm more
convinced than ever that something is going on. Something I don't
want to miss. I don't -- I repeat -- I DO NOT have a concussion,
my shoulder is only slightly sore and the hand just needs some
clean up and a bandage. You insisted on bringing the Mulder
Disaster Kit with you, didn't you? A stroke of genius, I'd say."

Scully smiled in spite of the situation. "I was traveling with you,
wasn't I?"

"Exactly," Mulder said, forcing a smile. "As soon as we land, I'll let
you fix the hand, and I'll take some aspirin for the bump on the
head. Okay?"

"No, Mulder. Even if you don't have a concussion, you shouldn't
go traipsing through the Rockies after what you just went through. I
can't let you do it. Not as your friend and certainly not as a doctor."

They had been so preoccupied with each other, they didn't realize
they had arrived at the much anticipated coordinates until the first
jolt and shudder of plane's wheels making contact with the makeshift
meadow runway shook them.

Mulder was temporarily stunned by the fresh sting of pain shooting
through his shoulder as his long body was jarred within the
confines of the small seat. He was not prepared for the misery
movement produced and fought to stay focused for several moments.

"Hang on, you two," the pilot was shouting, minutes after such a
warning might have been useful. "The ground's uneven."

Scully thought it was a good thing she was gripping her chair so
tightly; she'd rather be strangling the pilot right now. As the plane
rocked and rolled to a halt, she ventured a glance at her partner.

He didn't look well. Pinned in his seat, his head was arched back,
and his eyes were closed. He was biting his lower lip, and his face
was pale and sweaty.

"Mulder?"

Her voice animated him. He sat up quickly, even though she knew
it had to have been a super-human effort. An instant later, he flashed
her a weak smile and was out of his seat--without a word--ready
to unload their equipment.

As she stepped off the little plane with the intention of chasing after
her partner, Scully couldn't help notice what a beautiful part of the
country they were in. It was much warmer than she had anticipated,
and in the back of her mind, she wished they could stay.

"Mulder..." He was ten feet from the plane before Scully caught up
with him. "Mulder, we can't...we have to leave." Mulder looked
at her blankly, as if her didn't understand what she was driving at.
"You're hurt..."

"Scully, for the tenth time, I'm fine. I'm staying. You go back if
you want to."

"You said if I wanted to go back when we got here, we would."

"Yes, I did," Mulder challenged. "But for different reasons. And
those reasons didn't materialize. You were perfectly willing to stay
until we had that little mishap up there."

"Little? You left permanent dents in the plane!" Scully could tell
by the way he was holding himself that he was in pain.

"Scully, please. Enough. I'm not going back until Tuesday
afternoon, when old Waldo Pepper over there comes back for us."
He motioned to the pilot, who was too busy trying to get the blood
off his control panel to notice the heated discussion.

Scully looked at her partner carefully, noting every movement,
every nuance, and although she knew, deep down, that he was hurt
more than he was letting on, she also knew they would have to
physically drag him and strap him onto the plane before he would
go back.

"Mulder..."

"Scully..."

Stalemate.

After a long pause, Scully relented, against her better judgment.
"Let me get our stuff out of the plane," she finally said, turning
her back to him before he could reply. He was so damned
infuriating. She was sure if he didn't already have a concussion,
she could easily have given him one right then and there.

Mulder turned his back to Scully and closed his eyes. His shoulder
was burning, and he was starting to feel dizzy. Unable to move
without pain, he stood, motionless, until Scully came up from
behind and ordered him to sit on a large boulder just a few feet
away.

Scully was in no mood to be nice. She was furious, and the way she
took care of his injured hand only confirmed it.

"Ow!" Mulder finally shouted. "It hurt less when it cracked the
glass!"

"You're free to go to a hospital where they have doctors and nurses
that are used to dealing with *live* patients," she snapped, not
bothering to look up at him. Mulder instinctively flinched again, and
she softened a little. "Sorry," she said, "that's probably the deepest
of the cuts. Stitches would be preferable, but it should heal fine if
you are careful with the hand."

"Scouts' honor." His response was sarcastic, and she ignored it,
choosing instead to wrap the hand tightly in gauze and look him
straight in the eye.

"I will have to check it again in a few hours to make sure infection
isn't setting in. Please don't give me a hard time when the time
comes for that. Now, let me take a look at your shoulder."

"No." His response was a little too quick for both of them. "It's
fine," he added hastily, not sure what kind of damage had been
inflicted, only that whatever it was--if it was serious--he planned
to keep that from Scully as long as he could. At least until the plane
had left.

"You two okay out here?"

Mulder was grateful for the pilot's interruption. "Fine," he answered
for both of them. "You know when to pick us back up ?"

"Yep. Got it all written down back at the office. Tuesday afternoon,
about two o'clock, same location."

Mulder nodded.

"You *sure* you're okay?" the pilot asked. "You want
to be checked out by a doctor?"

"I have a doctor," Mulder answered, pointing to Scully. "I'm in
good hands."

Scully didn't respond to Mulder's comment, instead she thanked
the pilot and wished him a safe trip home, keeping her eyes on the
plane until it was barely visible. When she turned to Mulder,
she realized he was still sitting on the rock, eyes closed, left hand
protectively clutching his right shoulder.

Oh, God," she mumbled under her breath. "What have I done?"

***************************************************

Mulder was beginning to wish he hadn't inherited his father's
stubborn streak when he realized it was too late. Too late to be
honest with Scully and tell her he hurt like hell. Hurt enough to
want to get back on the plane and go home.

"Mulder!" The voice seemed to come from nowhere, but the tone
told him it wasn't the first time she had called out his name.

"What?" he shouted, a little meaner than he meant to.

"I've been talking to you! Calling your name. You didn't answer
me." Scully was leaning over him, casually feeling his forehead,
then slowly feeling around his head with her hands until she found
what she was looking for.

"Ow!"

"Sorry," Scully mumbled, distracted. "You've got a healthy bump
there. Anything else you'd like to share with me before we head
out?" At 5'2" she was barely taller than her partner as he sat on the
boulder, but with her hands on her hips and her eyes throwing
daggers, she was as intimidating as anyone Mulder had encountered.

"I...um..." <Better not,> Mulder thought, deciding to keep his
concerns to himself.

Scully knew his shoulder was probably killing him, but she refused
to give him the satisfaction of hovering, of probing, until he decided
to be honest with her. In the meantime, he wanted to hike through
the Rockies? He wanted to go in search of Little Green Men with a
penchant for pregnant women?

Then, by God, that's exactly what they would do.

"We'd better get going then," she said, turning her back to Mulder
and
gathering her bulging backpack.

Mulder was slow in getting off the rock; his steps to gather his
own backpack were even slower, but the look on his face was
determined. Scully had seen this determination in him often. And in
spite of herself, in spite of how angry she was with him, she
couldn't help but admire his doggedness. It was a stubbornness
she was fairly certain would someday kill him.

<Unless>, she thought, a wicked smile forming on her lips,
<I kill him first.>

The attempt to put on his backpack was more than Mulder's
battered shoulder could handle. It throbbed mercilessly in an
angry protest of self-preservation. "Uh...Scully?" It was all
he could say before sucking in his breath.

"You okay?" Scully's eyebrows were arched. <Admit it, dammit!>,
she wanted to shout. <Admit that you're hurt, and that we should
have gone back!>

Instead he simply nodded, beads of sweat forming on his forehead,
"Could you give me a hand with the backpack? I'm a
little sore."

"Just a little?" Scully asked innocently as she slid one end of the
backpack through his arm and onto his injured shoulder.

"Uh-huh." It was all he could manage and still maintain any
semblance of dignity. Still, in true Mulder form, he ignored the
persistent ache and pulled a wrinkled map out of his coat pocket.
"We need to head north," he finally muttered, wrinkling his nose as
he looked around. "It looks like we'll have a little bit of climbing to
do."

"Yep," Scully agreed. "Sure looks like it," she paused. "I'm ready if
you're ready."

Mulder didn't bother to reply and started off without her, forcing
Scully into a quick jog before she could catch up with him.

The mountain they had both seen and anticipated climbing was
further in the distance than it looked. After four hours of walking
in silence, it still appeared beyond their reach.

It was obvious to Scully that Mulder was in pain, and she vacillated
the entire time they were walking between anger and sympathy. In
the end, it was the sympathy that took over, right about the time she
thought she could see his eyes glass over.

"Hey, Mulder, why don't we stop for a while?" She was going to
add that she was hungry, give him an easy out to saying yes, but her
sympathy didn't stretch that far. She was still angry.

"Right here?" He sounded so tired. They had managed to maintain a
good pace, but nothing extraordinary and yet, his stamina was shot.

"Yes, right here," Scully answered, taking her backpack off and
setting it down beside her. She turned to Mulder and helped him
with his, noticing silently that he didn't shrug her off. "Okay, now
off with the coat."

"What?" The fact that he didn't make a crude remark only fueled
her concern.

"Take your coat off, Mulder. I want to take a look at your
shoulder." She couldn't wait for him to do it and had one side of
his coat slipped off before Mulder realized it.

"Hey..." There was a distant voice telling him to make her stop.
That she wasn't going to like what she saw. But the rest of him
didn't have the energy to make her stop. Didn't have the energy for
anything more than a meek protest.

***********

End of chapter two.

From xangst@frii.com Mon Apr 14 22:48:13 1997
Subject: NF> Rockies 3/10
From: Myth Patrol <xangst@frii.com>
--------
The Rockies
Chapter Three

By Vickie Moseley
vmoseley@fgi.net

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

The Colorado Rockies
Sunday, 4:00 pm

"I want to look at your shoulder, Mulder," Scully repeated, and
her tone of voice indicated there would be no room for argument.

Mulder sighed and lowered his head as he nodded. The slight
movement caused searing pain.

He noticed that now, with the sturdy brace of the backpack
removed, every move he made was sending splinters of pain
through his neck and down his arm to his fingers. Even
turning his head just a little hurt like hell.

All was not well.

But at least the pain in his shoulder was helping him forget the
agony of his hand. This was quickly becoming a remake of one of
his more unpleasant nightmares-- hurt, stranded and his partner
mad as hell at him.

"Take off your shirt," Scully commanded. Her no-nonsense tone
caused him to shoot her a look.

"*Don't * even think it," she added. He quickly bit off the
lecherous remark he had been about to make and started fumbling
with the buttons on his denim. It was then that Scully noticed
his hand.

"Ohmigod, Mulder!" she cried, grabbing his hand, which forced a
hiss of pain from his clenched teeth. She quickly started to unwrap
the bandage she had placed on the hand mere hours before.

Mulder stopped trying to open his shirt and looked down at his
hand. His stomach rose up to his throat at the sight. His fingers
were the size of sausages, swollen and bluish purple in color. The
back of his hand was mottled with purple and dark splotches. As
he watched, the whole hand, no longer tightly bound, started to swell
to match the fingers.

"Shit!" was his only response.

"Damn straight 'shit'!" Scully shot back. Gently, she poked at the
base of the fingers, moving slowly toward the large bone at his
wrist.

In a couple of places, Mulder groaned and at one point in particular,
went sheet white, his eyes threatening to roll back into his
head. Scully stopped her examination and sighed heavily. "It's
broken, Mulder. In about three places. Maybe three different bones.
You need a hospital."

"What for?!" he shot back. "Scully, just splint it. That's all they'd
do in the hospital anyway," he tried to reason.

"Oh, I forgot. Somewhere in your travels you picked up a medical
degree," she purred sarcastically. "Fox Mulder, world famous
criminal profiler *and* orthopedic surgeon! Well, for your
information, Mulder, that is your RIGHT hand. And if you don't
*set* those bones properly, you run the risk of reducing mobility.
In your RIGHT hand, Mulder. The one you use to fire your
weapon. And don't even ask me to set them, Mulder, because you
have no idea how small those bones are. I'd need extensive x rays
to even attempt it. The bones in your hands are among the smallest
in your body!" She wouldn't have been so angry if she wasn't so
worried about him. She clenched her fists and stomped a few yards
away, an attempt to prevent her anger and fear from getting the best
of her.

God, he infuriated her! Why couldn't he just once listen to reason?
Did he have an ounce of common sense in his body? He was in
pain back at the drop sight; why couldn't he just admit it? <<Why?
Because you're the big macho man?>> the words said in anger back
in Comity made her wince now. He was hurt. It really didn't
matter how it had happened.

They were in the mountains, without a radio of any kind, and
Mulder was in need of more than simple first aid. She thought for a
moment. It was a fairly typical case, all things considered.

Slowly, she walked back. He looked up at her, contrition and pain
shifting across his handsome profile. The look made her heart melt.
"Let me see your hand again," she said softly.

He offered her the swollen mass of flesh and bone. She bit her lip
and furrowed her brow. "I'll do what I can, OK? But you'll have
to do your best to keep it elevated so that the swelling will reduce.
But before I start treating that, let me check out your shoulder."

"Scully, I'm tired. And I'm not up to it. If you're going to be mad,
I'd rather not bother with it," he said, somewhat apprehensively.

She shook her head slowly, a sad smile forming on her lips. "No,
Mulder. I won't get mad. I promise. The only reason I'm mad in
the first place is that you never seem to consider the consequences
of your actions. I know you want to find this group, but what
good is it going to do if you are too banged up to ask any questions?
At this rate, they'd take one look at you and run screaming," she teased
with a gentle smile.

By this time, she had helped him with the buttons of his shirt and
was slowly pulling at the sleeve on the right side, being careful to
slide it over his injured hand. When she looked up at his face, she
could tell by his deathly pallor that the shoulder hadn't fared any
better than the hand.

"I'm going to rotate this a little, Mulder and I'm pretty sure it's
gonna hurt like hell. If you want to scream, cuss, spit, that's fine
by me, OK?" she assured him. He said nothing, but appeared to
brace his feet, expecting the worst. Even so, he wasn't quite
prepared for the rush of renewed pain when she placed her hand on
his collarbone and slowly moved his shoulder.

"FUCKING SHIT! SCULLY, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU
DOING?" he yelled. When she stopped and stepped back again, he
leaned forward, gasping for breath.

"You've fractured your collarbone, Mulder. It appears clean, but
it's a definite break. It's probably a compression fracture, like the
football players when they fall on astroturf." She looked at him
somberly and caressed his cheek. "I'll get my kit. Don't suppose
you brought an extra shirt you aren't emotionally attached to, did
you?"

"I have a plaid one, hunter green. Mom sent it to me for Christmas
but it makes me itch. I was only going to wear it if it got really
cold," he said, still a little demurred.

"No, if it's woolen, we may need it. You aren't going to be feeling
that great later this evening. You're ripe for a good case of shock
and I want you to keep warm. A campfire might not be enough.
How about an extra tee shirt? Cotton will do for what I have in
mind." He nodded, giving his tacit permission for her to rifle
through his backpack. Upon finding a white cotton tee shirt,
she pulled out a small buck knife and proceeded to slice the
garment into strips.

It didn't take long to wrap his hand and shoulder. The backpack
would come in handy, keeping his shoulders pulled back when
they walked, keeping the bone straight, but it wouldn't work for
sleeping. And sleeping on the ground, which was bound to be cold,
was not going to help him, either. Scully looked up at the sky,
noting the sun's position still pretty high above the western mountain
range.

"We should probably make camp here. I don't want you stumbling
off the side of a mountain or anything," she said with a grin. He
gave her a look that let her know how little he appreciated her sense
of humor at the moment and started to untie his pack.

"So, Mulder, I hope you managed to remember 'food' for this little
adventure. I'm afraid I didn't have much more than mac and cheese
dinners to throw in my pack," Scully said, gathering some dry limbs
for a fire.

"All set," he responded, throwing her two gray plastic bubble
packs. "The Gunmen got me a bunch of these. I pull one out when
I don't feel like ordering pizza. They're pretty good, really."

Scully examined the packages closely. "Mulder, these are MRE's.
Where did the Gunmen get 'Meals Ready to Eat'? I thought only
the military used them." Clearly stamped on the side were the
letters USAR: United States Army Reserves.

"Got me. I don't ask questions like that of the guys, Scully. I
really don't want to have to arrest them if they answer me
truthfully," he said with a smirk.

"Good point," she replied and went back to building the fire.

They ate in companionable silence, but as soon as the meal was
over, Mulder started watching the horizon.

"You don't expect to see anything out there, do you?" Scully asked.
She had spread out the sleeping bags between the fire and a large
boulder and was gathering some more wood for the fire later.

"Maybe. There have been reports to MUFON every night. And
something must be keeping the group here in these mountains. I
assume it's the 'lights' in the sky," he said, making sure she saw
that he was purposefully not mentioning 'unidentified aircraft' in his
description.

She smiled ruefully and shook her head. "OK, Mulder, so if we see
these 'lights', what then? I mean, do we follow them, photograph
them, what?"

"I'm not sure, Scully. I guess I'm hoping that if we see the lights,
the rest will just follow naturally." He shifted and grimaced a little.

"Well, until we get the light show, I think you should settle down
for the night. You're pushing it, Mulder." He tried to protest, but
she silenced him with a stern look. "Lie down. Now."

"Are you trying to seduce me, Agent Scully?" he smirked.

"Yeah, Mulder, every time I watch 'The Night of the Mummy' I get
a rush," she shot back. "I just can't resist a guy in bandages."

Even after a couple of extra strength Tylenol, Mulder started to
realize that what Scully had said was true. He was feeling rotten.
Sore, cold, and very tired. But when he tried to lay down, the cold
from the ground seeping through his sleeping bag only made his
shoulder ache. And with his shoulder injured, he couldn't sleep on
his side, one of the few ways he could actually fall asleep without
the aid of electronic 'babysitters' like his television. Not to mention
that Scully wanted him to keep his feet elevated, to avoid shock.
After about 30 minutes of unsuccessfully trying to settle in for the
night, he gave up.

"Scully, this isn't going to work. I can't fall asleep like this.
Nothing is comfortable and it's still too early to sleep. Let me
sit up and watch for the lights. At least it would give me
something to keep my mind off my aches and pains."

Scully was exhausted and simply wanted to sleep, but knew her
partner was having a difficult time. "OK," she said with a tired
sigh. "Let's watch for the lights." She positioned her sleeping bag
next to his near a rock and they both leaned back to watch the sky.
By leaning back, Mulder could rest his head against the boulder and
with his partner supporting him on his 'good' side, he settled into
silence.

Scully had drifted off to sleep almost immediately. "Don't suppose
you brought any graham crackers," he asked after a half an hour,
jolting his partner awake. She winced, embarrassed that she had
fallen asleep leaning on him.

"No. Why? Don't tell me you took up space for chocolate bars and
marshmallows?" she replied with a yawn and a stretch.

"Scully," he chided, "the makings for 's'mores' are never a waste of
space. But my stash of graham crackers went by the way side the
last time Frohike visited." He was speaking to her, but his eyes
were scanning a spot on the horizon, just north of their campsite and
about 45 degrees up.

He struggled to a standing position, still staring at the sky. "Scully,
what's that?" he asked, pointing with his left hand to the spot in the
sky which had captivated him so.

"Venus?" she replied, crossing her fingers behind her back in a vain
attempt to make this particular wish come true.

"Nah, Venus is over there," he said waving toward the bright star.
"And last time I looked, Venus doesn't move that fast."

As Scully squinted in the direction he was pointing, the point of
green tinted light flashed and then split, the two lights then chasing
each other across the sky in a late night aerial 'dog fight' or like two
squirrels chasing each other around a tree. Then, they were joined
by two more lights, more pinkish in color, who formed a diamond
formation before hovering over a stand of trees.

"Never saw Venus put on an airshow like that before, either,"
Mulder said and started walking toward the trees.

Scully grabbed his good arm. "Hold up there, Mulder! We can't
go running off after them. This is the mountains. You keep looking
up and you'll walk off a cliff. Let me get my flashlight." He nodded,
impatiently, tapping his foot as he waited. With her flashlight firmly
in her grasp, the two started out.

"Mulder, it's quite a distance to those trees. I think there's a valley
between us. Maybe we should do this in the morning," Scully
suggested. Mulder was about to agree when he saw something
glinting in the light of her flashlight.

"Oh god," he muttered and started into a trot, oblivious for a while
to the cries of protest coming from his shoulder and hand. "Oh god.
Oh no. Oh god."

"Mulder, what is it?" Scully demanded, struggling to keep the light
in front of him so that he didn't stumble in the darkness.

"Oh, Scully," he sighed and took the light from her, shining it down
into the valley. The light beam illuminated a pile of twisted metal.
It didn't take long for both agents to identify the remains of the
aircraft that had left them at the drop off site. "It's a safe bet we
aren't going home in that," he sighed and kicked a small rock in
disgust.

Making their way down the sloping side of the valley toward the
wreckage took longer than expected. Scully held her pace back
deliberately to keep an eye on her injured partner. But Mulder,
caught up in a singular purpose, moved quickly, oblivious to
the pain. Even as the encountered shorn tree limbs and debris, they
moved steadily toward the bent and torn remains of the little plane
that had brought them here, safely, just hours before.

"Something's not right..." Mulder muttered a bit breathlessly. He
stopped short of stepping into the clearing that had been artificially
carved into the trees by a metal corpse dropping from the skies.

Mulder directed the powerful beam of the flashlight back along the
trail left behind by the plane's final deadly course. He studied the
line of damaged trees.

The gradually steepening angle of damage seemed to indicate the
plane had drifted down at a long controlled angle. Which, he realized,
meant the pilot had been alive and aware, trying to guide his disabled
plane as it made its way toward the ground.

"We have to see if the pilot is alive," Scully said insistently. She
took the flashlight from her partner and headed over the debris
toward the plane. Mulder nodded solemnly and followed her,
regarding the wreckage with trepidation.

"It's hard to imagine anyone surviving that," he added softly.

The fuselage was twisted and the windshield was gone. One wing
hung at an odd angle, half torn from the body of the plane. His
partner maneuvered her way around the wreckage and into what
remained of the small craft as he followed and waited outside of the
broken cabin door. A moment later she stepped back out with a look
of despair on her face.

"He didn't. He's dead," she said sorrowfully. "I
couldn't tell but it must have been a head injury... Damn it all!" she
cursed, and closed her eyes tightly to hold in the tears.

"How about the cabin--did you get a look at the control panel?"
Mulder asked, knowing that she needed something, anything to
keep her mind working. She looked up, realizing what he was
doing for her, and smiled.

Scully swung the beam of light back into the cabin of the plane.
"There's a lot of debris. I'll have to move the body out of the way
before I can answer that. One good thing... there was no fire."

She swung the beam of light back onto her partner. He was clearly
shivering, even as his eyes glittered with interest in this newest
tragic twist to their little Rocky Mountain adventure.

"Mulder, you need to..."

"I wonder what caused the crash?" he said quickly. He spoke
hastily, struggling to keep his voice steady. He wouldn't give her
a chance to re-focus on him; they had a mystery to solve, and he
had a creepy feeling this "accident" was no accident. "The
weather's clear right now. If he had problems, why didn't he
turn back to the meadow?"

"He *did* have that problem with instruments --or something--
on our way here," Scully interjected. "It's hard to say. For all
we know he had some kind of medical emergency. The man
was a walking heart-attack."

Mulder moved toward one bent wing as if attempting to climb
through the hatch. "Here, Scully, give me a hand." Then, sensing
her disapproval at his actions, he added, "...or two. Let's move
the body."

"Mulder, you shouldn't be standing, much less tugging on a dead
body. Get out of the way, and let me at it." She had that 'don't
mess with me, Mulder' tone of voice, and he decided that discretion
was the better part of valor. And survival.

He stepped aside and watched her struggle a moment with the
pilot's body, before finally stepping in to help, careful to protect
his shoulder to the extent possible. After several minutes, the
body was free from the wreckage and covered with a tarp they
had found under one of the seats of the plane.

Once they cleared the cabin of tree limbs they were surprised to
find that the cockpit looked battered but fairly normal. The gas
gauge registered empty and the ignition switch was still in the
"on" position. Mulder furrowed his brow. This was odd. The
plane had been piloted into a long, slow descent and the engine
had probably remained engaged until it had run out of fuel.
How long would that have taken, he wondered?

"OK, Mulder, what now?" his partner asked, taking in the assembly
of gauges before her.

"Let me think... There's something else...Wait a minute! The ETL!"

"ETL?"

"An emergency transponder locator. If a plane goes down, the
locator is supposed to go off on impact." He didn't go on to
tell her it should already by making a god-awful noise and
that not hearing it was anything but a good sign. "He should
have one on board."

"So what am I looking for?"

"A small bright yellow box...like a transistor radio. Somewhere
near the rear cargo compartment."

"Okay...give me a minute." Mulder could hear soft curses coming
from inside the plane, then a squeal of delight. "I've got it!" She
emerged triumphantly with the prize in her hand, handing it over to
Mulder.

Mulder took the transponder and began examining it carefully. He
said nothing...just looked up at Scully with an expression she knew
all too well.

"Why do I think I don't want to hear this?"

"I'd been hoping.... Some pilots are careless--they let the batteries
die." He didn't have to say anymore.

"What about the radio? You've always been handy with those."

"Well, I know something about them. I'll take a look." He tried
several switches, all of which proved fruitless. Next Mulder began
pulling at exposed wiring, checking dials, twisting leads together.
Calmly at first, then obviously frustrated. "It's no use. There must
have been too much damage...I can't restore any kind of power to
send a signal."

Mulder froze. Whose voice was that?! He looked over his shoulder
to his partner who was still studying the control panel. She gave no
indication she had heard anything.

<Please. Leave now. You are in danger. They will come for you.>

Mulder felt the crawl of gooseflesh over his skin. The voice was
soft. Feminine. Pleading with him. And Scully did not seem to be
aware of it. He turned to scan the darkness outside the tiny plane
cabin. Nothing.

When she realized her partner had gone quiet, Scully looked up at
him and noticed the odd look on his face.

"Mulder? What's wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost!
Are you feeling okay?"

"I... uh, thought I heard something. Did you?"

Scully shrugged and instinctively turned to look out into the
darkness. She looked back at her partner quizzically. "No. Nothing.
What did you hear?"

He seemed reluctant to tell her. "A voice. A woman telling us to
leave. That we are in danger here."

She rolled her eyes to the ceiling of the plane and fought to keep
from screaming. "*That* doesn't take a Rhodes Scholar -- or a
ghost voice -- to figure out, Mulder. We are sitting in the ruined
remains of our only ticket out of here with no way to communicate
with the outside world!!" She was tired and exasperated. "You're
probably half out of your head with fever by now..."

Mulder pursed his lips angrily, biting back an angry retort. He
leaned his head back and was instantly reminded of why that was a
bad idea. The pain from his shoulder was burning hotly now, and
he was feeling more than a little sick to his stomach.

"This was *not* the best idea I've had lately," he mumbled to
himself, closing his eyes.

A vision burst into his mind. A young woman. Sad-looking. Deep
dark eyes, too large for her small, pale face. Platinum hair streamed
away from her face as if she were standing in a windstorm. She was
shrouded in white, diaphanous clouds of brilliant white. And she
was reaching for Mulder as if imploring him to take her hand and
follow...

The federal agent pulled away from the vision in surprise. It seemed
so real. He gasped and opened his eyes, feeling as if he had had his
breath stolen away.

Scully didn't miss any of this. A quick flash of her light showed
how pale he was and the sheen of sweat covering his face. "You
can't make it back to the camp, can you?" she asked.

He wanted to disagree with her, assure her that he could and would
make it back up the hill to the little camp and his sleeping bag. But
he had never lied to her. He'd often neglected to tell her the 'whole'
truth, when he thought she might try and stop him from pursuing
something he wanted to pursue, but he had never lied. "No, I don't
think so," he admitted weakly. He closed his eyes so she couldn't
see how much that statement had cost him.

"I'll only be gone a little while. You get comfortable here, OK?"
she said, trying very hard to disguise her concern.

He'd put up a great show while they had been walking. Now,
sitting down, the price that had cost him seemed too high. But
he was safer here than on the mountaintop where they had been.
At least the plane provided shelter from the wind that had kicked
up the last hour or so. He and Scully could make a fire when
she returned.

Scully searched through the rubble in the back of the plane and found
a couple of blankets. She draped these around his now shivering
body. "Stay still, hear me?" she ordered. He started to nod and
then winced when it caused the bones to grind.

"Yeah," he gasped. "...not goin' anywhere without you," he
added, and tried to smile at her.

<They are watching. They know you are here. There is danger.>
The voice again. More insistent. Mulder shuddered and shook off
the feeling of dread that began flooding through him.

He tried to scan the darkness beyond the wreck. This was ridiculous.
Maybe Scully was right. Maybe he was feverish. "Just be careful,"
he told his partner seriously as she prepared to leave him.

"It's not me that's wrapped up like a Virginia Ham, Mulder," she
teased and started out into the night.

***************************************************

"His partner is leaving him behind."

Commander Katarina "Kat" Bischoff lowered her binoculars
slowly, a satisfied smirk playing across her face. She snapped her
fingers at one of the men crouched beside her, a silent order for him
to turn over his pair of night vision goggles to her. Now that Fox
Mulder's partner had taken the bright beam of light with her it would
be safe to observe the scene with the special glasses again.

In the eerie greenish glow, she could make out the figure of Fox
Mulder shifting uncomfortably inside the confines of the plane
wreckage. She smiled again. There was a reason his partner left him
behind, she realized.

"He's hurt," she whispered aloud. "The FBI's 'spookiest' agent is
not 100 per cent, gentlemen," she purred in her low, throaty voice
to the five soldiers assembled nearby.

"Shall we go in for him?" It was Ledo, the newest, and
consequently most eager, addition to Bischoff's squadron of covert
operatives.

"No. Not yet," she snapped. "I shouldn't be surprised that he's here
-- he and his partner, 'Strawberry Shortcake'..."

There was a muffled rumble of laughter from her men. Kat Bischoff
returned the night vision goggles to the soldier beside her. "I'm sure
she's just gone to get their gear. Foxy doesn't look as if he's going
much farther tonight. Ledo, you and McQuire set up watch on this
site for tonight. Reddick, follow the redhead. Make sure they don't
have a radio or anything -- jam signals if you have to, but don't let
her see you. I'm sure they've come looking for the same people we
are... If we were able to bring that plane down, gentlemen, we can
certainly baby-sit two FBI agents for the night without incident,
clear?"

She stood up and crossed her arms, thinking quietly as she watched
the plane wreckage from an opposite hill. "So we meet again, dear
Fox...," she muttered to herself. She waved a hand dismissively to
her men. "Remember to stay out of their sight. If I know Fox
Mulder, he probably has maps and specific directions to our targets.
We'll let him and Little Red lead us right to them... unless they do
something stupid and we have to get the info from them by force
sooner."

***********

End of chapter three.

From xangst@frii.com Tue Apr 15 19:41:48 1997
Subject: NF> Rockies 4/10
From: Myth Patrol <xangst@frii.com>
--------
The Rockies
Chapter Four

By Kay Reindl
Ruefrex@aol.com

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

Sunday, 7:30 PM

Mulder was dreaming about clowns, and they were scaring the piss
out of him. Tall clowns, short clowns, loud clowns, sad clowns.
They were circling around him, taunting him, saying horribly nasty
things that should never come out of a clown's mouth. And he was
screaming. They picked him up and put him in the little fire truck
and then shotput him towards the burning building. The clowns
roared as he screamed.

Mulder came to rather suddenly, drenched in sweat and gasping for
breath. Scully stared at him, wide-eyed, and her face melted in
relief. She helped him sit up.

"Thank God, Mulder. I thought you were dead," she said. Mulder
tried to stop shaking. He actually made a conscious effort to stop,
something he'd rarely attempted before. His teeth were chattering;
Scully began piling a sleeping bag around him.

"Don't have much faith in my survival skills, do you, Scully?" he
said through gritted teeth. Scully smiled perfunctorily at him, trying
to hide her concern as she examined him.

"What were you dreaming about?" Scully asked, almost afraid to
hear the answer.

Mulder looked off into the distance. It wasn't the dream he recalled.
It was the vision of the young woman again. Reaching for him.
Beckoning him. Warning him.

He glanced back at his partner. He decided he had better not
mention the mystery woman. Scully already thought he was a
candidate for intensive care. He wasn't about to add the psyche
ward to her list. But the haunting vision persisted in his mind's eye.

"Clowns," he said shortly, suddenly not looking her in the eye.

Scully decided not to go there. Clowns scared the hell out of her,
but given his predilection for some of the most nasty-ass nightmares
to ever come down the pike, clowns were probably child's play to
Mulder. Scully urged him to swallow two Tylenol and a lot of water.
He resisted.

"This is all the water we have left," he said. Scully sighed and
reminded herself that he was hurt and in shock. Even the brilliant
Gigantic Brain couldn't work through all of that.

"We're in the Rockies, Mulder," she said gently. "Lots of water
around."

"Oh."

Mulder hissed as Scully probed his shoulder.

"I really broke it, didn't I?" he asked. Scully nodded.

"Sure did, Mulder. That's some talent you have for completely
destroying yourself while in a plane so small you barely fit. Look,
it might be best if I just went for help."

Mulder stared at her, unbelieving. She stared back steadily.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Mulder, you are in shock. You've got more broken bones than I
care to count, and the pain is only going to get worse. You need
antibiotics. You need to get these bones set. I'm going for help.
You stay near the plane, I'll light a fire, I'll be back soon."

Mulder couldn't believe this. Was she insane?

"Are you insane?" he asked rather harshly. "Scully, we are in
the middle of *nowhere*! The plane that dropped us here crashed,
Scully! The only hope we have is to get to the Group."

Scully was clearly getting pissed.

"Besides," Mulder said, adding insult to injury, "we don't have any
way of finding our way out of here. The only maps we've got lead
us to the Group."

Scully opened her mouth, then closed it. She glared at Mulder.

"Mulder, if I didn't know that you weren't a masochist, I'd swear
that you hurt yourself on purpose, just so we could follow The
Truth."

Mulder looked offended, but Scully rode right over the top of that.

"Nothing is ever enough for you, is it? No truth is too small.
Jesus, Mulder, what difference does it make if we find these
people? Who cares whether or not they were abducted? How
can this possibly have any bearing on your life?" she said,
growing angrier by the minute. Mulder shifted and looked
away from her, eyes cold.

"It all relates, Scully," he said softly. "All of it. It has to. The truth
is too big for one man to simply be able to stumble over it."

"And you're too single-minded," Scully snapped. Mulder flinched,
kept looking across the meadow. Scully sighed. Attacking Mulder
for being Mulder wasn't going to get them out of here. It was
getting colder, and Mulder was still shivering. Scully watched him
watch the horizon. She sat down next to him and took her maps out
of her pocket. Spreading them across her knees, she studied them
closely. Mulder didn't look at her. Scully leaned over and touched
his arm. He'd fallen asleep again.

"Good," Scully muttered. "Now I can get some work done."

***************************************************

Monday, 5:00 AM

Scully warmed her hands over the miserably small campfire.
Mulder groaned, and she turned to look at him, dreading this. His
skin was as cold as ice, and his breathing throughout the night had
taken a turn for the worse. Scully had draped her own sleeping bag
over him and practically did aerobics in front of the frequently
stoked fire in order to keep warm. She poured Mulder a cup of
strong, grainy coffee and handed it to him. He blinked sleepily and
accepted it.

"How are you doing?" she asked quietly. Mulder stopped in mid-
sip and quirked an eyebrow at her.

"Uh...by the tone of your voice I'd say that you have more of an idea
on that subject than I do."

Scully smiled grimly and ripped open what could have, at one time,
been an Egg McMuffin. She handed it to Mulder. He regarded it
doubtfully, then shook his head.

"Mulder, you have to eat. I insist that you eat, even if it's
cardboard."

Mulder bit into the thing and made a face, but he managed to
swallow it all and wash it down with the coffee.

"Does this mean that we're pressing on?" he asked, knowing damn
well that it did.

"Yes, Mulder," Scully said patiently, "as usual you were right.
There's no fucking way out of here."

"Language, Scully," Mulder chided gently. Scully took in the
ghostly pallor of his skin, the unnatural angle at which he held his
head, indicating that his muscles had completely seized, and the dull
look in his eyes. All because of the possibility of alien abduction.

"Fuck language," she snapped. Once more, she pulled out the maps
and showed Mulder the route, certain that he would just tell her to
go on ahead and come get him when she was done.

"This is Longs Peak. We have to go over that."

Mulder just nodded. Scully frowned.

"See, we're in the national park now, and in order to get out of the
park and find the Group, we have to get up, put on our hiking gear,
and hike over the top of a 14,000 foot mountain."

He still wasn't getting it.

"Mulder, it's a very hard hike up to the top, and..." Scully bit her
lip. Did he really need to hear this now? "And it's a pretty sheer
drop down the other side."

That got his attention. Mulder blinked at her.

"Drop?" he asked, incredulous.

"A granite drop. Which is why I brought rappelling equipment."

Mulder's eyes narrowed.

"You're doing this on purpose," he said, low and deadly.

"Mulder, don't be ridiculous. I am not doing anything on purpose.
See, the thing is, we could hike about fifty miles out of our way to
Longs Peak trailhead and get help. But I've decided that it's easier
to get to your Group, which is a five-mile hike up the mountain and
the...drop...down the other side. The way I see it, the Group
should be within two miles of the base of the mountain."

If it was possible, Mulder was even paler.

"Okay, wait a minute. Hang on. FIVE miles to climb 14,000 feet?"

Did he know nothing?

"No, Mulder. We're at about 10,000 now. You do the math. Now
the drop, on the other hand..." Scully had a pretty good idea that
the drop wouldn't be too bad, and she'd done some rappelling
before, but the Catholic in her wanted to punish Mulder for scaring
the hell out of her.

"So...the only reason you're doing this is because it would be more
difficult to get help?"

Scully wanted to kill him, but he was doing a pretty good job of that himself.

"Yeah, Mulder," she said sarcastically. "I never compromise.
Don't even think of it. It's five, we'd better get a move on."

***************************************************

Monday, 10:30 AM

Scully was keeping such a close eye on Mulder that she almost
took a header over a rock. Naturally, he noticed.

"Be careful," he advised pleasantly. She shot him a black look.
The chipper attitude was not a front, she'd discovered in the past
few hours. Mulder was going after the truth once again, and it made
him happy. Scully swigged water and stepped over to Mulder,
examining him critically. She stopped suddenly and dumped her pack.

"Time out," she ordered. He rolled his eyes but acquiesced. Scully
helped him off with his pack and tried to ignore the gray flush that
came over his face as his collarbone shifted. He sat down on a
boulder, turning slightly to take a look at how far they'd traveled.

"We've done pretty well, haven't we?" he asked. Scully regarded
him coolly, forcing him to down some water and two Tylenol.

"Oh, sure. A mile in about five hours. We're impressive."

"Ah, come on, Scully. It's more than a mile. You act as if I've
never hiked before," he said.

"You don't say," Scully mused. She felt fresh and rested and dearly
wished that she could give some of that to her partner. He was
going above and beyond the call of duty here; to tell the truth, Scully
was surprised that they'd made it this far. He was tired, of that there
was no doubt, but his injuries didn't seem to be bothering him as
much as they should be. <Good one, Dana,> she told herself.
<You're disappointed because he's not in more pain.>

Scully stood and shaded her eyes, looking up the scraggly trail.
The top of the mountain was close. It was still late morning, which
meant that they'd probably be able to get to the top later on this
afternoon. And then they'd have to rappel down.

Scully bit her lip, hoping that Mulder would slow down somewhat
so they could make camp before tackling the mountain. But she
wavered between that and between worrying about Mulder if they
had to spend another night in freezing temperatures. She heard him
stand. She turned and helped him on with his pack, looking at the
grim set of his jaw.

"You sure you're okay?" she asked doubtfully.

He nodded shortly.

"Let's go," he said, and he strode off in front of her.

She shook her head. At that pace, they'd be stopping again real
soon.

***************************************************

Monday, 2:00 P.M.

Mulder stared doubtfully at the handful of crackers Scully handed
him.

"I don't think I'm this hungry, Scully," he said. Scully rolled her
eyes.

"They're good. Snack Wells."

Mulder examined a cracker close up and shook his head.

"Girl food," he said caustically. Scully shrugged, popped a cracker
into her mouth.

"Two grams of fat for every thirty crackers," she said. "There is a God."

"Hey, Scully, elk!" Mulder said excitedly. Sure enough, a small
herd of elk grazed in the meadow.

"Think we should have elk tonight?" Mulder asked, a wicked gleam
in his eye. Scully stood and put on her pack.

"Sure, Mulder. Why don't you kill one with the little spoon on your
Swiss Army knife." Mulder looked hurt. "Or better yet, you hold
the elk down, and I'll burn it to death with your tiny magnifying
glass."

Mulder scrambled to his feet, and Scully helped him on with his
pack.

"One day you will appreciate such a finely-tuned tool, Scully." She
opened her mouth, and Mulder frowned at her.

"Don't even go there."

As they set off, Mulder delighted himself by attempting to identify
animals.

"Hey, Scully, a duck!"

"It's a coot, Mulder."

Silence.

"Hey, Scully, a...one of those birds with the long necks!"

"Snowy egret. And there's a blue heron, female, a white-faced ibis
and look, a wood duck. Male. If you look up, you'll see a green-
winged teal...those are good birds to eat...cinnamon teal right next
to him...your common mallard...canvasback...pretty good
eating...the incredibly ugly hooded merganser..."

Even Mulder shuddered when he got a look at that duck. It was
definitely butt-ugly.

"Ruddy duck! I love those..."

"Hawk," Mulder said helpfully. Scully snorted at him.

"Please. Any philistine can recognize a hawk. What kind is it?"

Silence.

"Red-tail, Mulder. Christ."

Scully continued on her way, thrilled that Mulder was still keeping
up. He was in pain, of course, but he had a way of
compartmentalizing the pain. She hated him for that.

"Bear."

"Not funny, Mulder."

"No shit. *Bear*, Scully"

That stopped Scully in her tracks. She turned slowly. Mulder was
standing about ten feet behind her, frozen, making eye contact with
a black bear.

"Don't move, Mulder," she said softly.

"Not moving."

Scully watched the bear, which seemed far too curious about
Mulder. The bear rose on its hind feet and seemed to glare at him.
It moved towards him, still on its hind feet. Scully looked around
frantically and saw the cause of the bear's distress. A small bear
cub splashed in the stream behind Mulder, who was, unfortunately
for him, between mother and cub. Without really thinking, Scully
dropped her pack and darted in front of Mulder, confusing the hell
out of the bear.

"Scully, get the hell out of here!"

She ignored him. The bear roared and Scully shoved Mulder aside.
He stumbled and fell, then jerked out of his pack and got back to
his feet, gun in his injured right hand. If it hadn't been such a
serious situation, Scully might have laughed.

"You got about twenty bullets in there, or are you just planning to
arrest her?" Scully asked, her voice a low hiss. The bear advanced
and Mulder fired, completely off to one side. The bear paused.
Mulder fired again and jerked his head at Scully. She took the hint
and eased away as the bear worked through its brain and then
looked at them, beady eyes apparently angry. Don't
anthropomorphize, Dana, she told herself. The bear was torn but
when it realized that it could see its cub, it ignored Mulder and
Scully and ambled towards the stream.

Mulder's breaths were coming in painful gasps again. Scully
picked up both packs and slowly, slowly walked away from
the bear. Mulder stumbled after her. Scully stopped down
the next rise, far away from the bear, and made Mulder sit down.
He didn't resist.

"What were you thinking?" she asked in amazement.

"I was thinking I was probably right in identifying that one as a
bear," he countered weakly, trying to smile. "Point for me?"

"Bonus points for staying alive," she sighed, reaching for his hand.
"But you lose points for injuring yourself again!" Scully shook her
head as she carefully examined his hand. It was bleeding again.
She re-wrapped it and started for his shoulder, but he stopped her.

"Shoulder's okay," he said in between labored breaths. "The hand
is killing me... Just... let me... rest... a minute."

Scully nodded and sat down, handing Mulder a bottle of water and
two Tylenol. He looked at the Tylenol in dismay.

"I don't...suppose... you have anything... stronger?" he wheezed.
Scully shook her head.

"No, but I will next time."

"Who says ...there's going to be a... next time?" he said quietly.
Mercifully, Scully didn't answer.

***************************************************

Monday 3:30 PM

"Just watch your step, Mulder, it's no problem," Scully said
anxiously.

Mulder nodded, his eyes on the rocks in front of him.

Their simple climb to the top of Longs Peak had turned into a
nightmare. Unbalanced by the pack, his arm completely engulfed in
pain and his chest burning, Mulder would rather have sat down and
never moved again rather climb the gigantic boulders in front of him.

Scully had told him that the treacherous Boulderfield, off the Longs
Trail, was one of the most hated stretches of the Park climb, but
she'd never expected to see the damned things here. The boulders
constituted a steep drop that could only be negotiated by clambering
over the slippery rocks. They'd searched for another route down,
but there was none.

Scully stood at the bottom, watching Mulder wipe his face with his
sleeve and hesitate for the nine-thousandth time. They had also
discussed Mulder leaving his pack, but he'd vetoed that. There was
no way he could climb without the pack anchoring his arm.

Mulder took a deep breath, muttered a prayer to his video collection,
and stepped out onto the first boulder. Almost immediately, his
foot slipped.

Mulder flailed for balance, but gravity caught him and pulled him
down. He was unable to get any sort of purchase with the pack on
as he slid down the boulder. He managed to shimmy out of it and
threw his hands up, miraculously grabbing a hand-hold. With his
right arm.

The pain was exponential and sparks exploded behind his eyes.
Dimly, he could hear Scully yelling, but all he could think about
was the fact that his arm was going to crack off. He scrambled
for a foot-hold, shifted his grasp to his left hand, and managed
to drop down onto the rather flat surface of the next boulder.

Mulder's breaths were coming in small gasps now. The burning
sensation in his chest was stronger, and somewhere in his mind, he
knew he was hyperventilating. He cradled his right arm as he
crouched on the boulder and glanced down.

Scully was attempting to scramble up the rocks towards him. He
raised his left arm and weakly waved her off. She paused but kept
coming. Mulder shut his eyes, hoping that he'd die before she got
there. It took Scully an amazingly short period of time to get to him,
and he jerked as she touched him.

"Oh my God, Mulder, oh my God, say something please..."

But he couldn't. Every breath was an effort now.

***********

End of chapter four.

From xangst@frii.com Wed Apr 16 13:09:09 1997
Subject: NF> Rockies 5/10
From: Myth Patrol <xangst@frii.com>
--------
The Rockies
Chapter Five

By Kay Reindl
Ruefrex@aol.com

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

Scully felt completely helpless. Mulder could not move. His
breathing was ragged and his eyes were glazing over. She looked
down. Mulder had actually slid down two boulders and it was a
fairly short drop to the bottom.

Scully debated, then anchored her foot and hauled Mulder up. He
didn't even seem to notice. She could feel his muscles clench as she
slung his left arm around her neck. Being careful of his injuries,
she very, very slowly made her way down the boulders, slipping
as she caught sight of the bottom.

Once again, Mulder's feet went out from under him, and Scully
grabbed desperately for him. She managed to snag him by
the collar, but his dead weight pulled her down too.

Scully hit the ground hard, gasping for breath, but immediately
forced herself to her feet. Mulder lay in a tangled heap nearby,
unmoving. Scully turned him over.

He blinked at her. An enormous wave of relief washed over her.
He was trying to talk. Scully felt the pang in her chest, too, and
suddenly realized what it was.

"Mulder, it's okay," she said firmly. "It's the altitude. You need to
try to take longer, deeper breaths. It's getting colder and the air is
thinner. Do you understand me?"

He hesitated, then nodded, wincing at the movement.

"Let me help you get your shoulder stabilized again," Scully offered.
"This is going to hurt like a son of a bitch," she warned.

He cringed as she pulled on his arm yet again. To Mulder's credit,
all he did was gasp. Scully gently lay his arm across his chest and
stood, rummaging through her pack and begrudging the fact that
Mulder's pack, with his sleeping bag and his heavy coat, was
dashed on the rocks somewhere below.

Mulder's breath was still coming in little pants and Scully leaned
over him, getting his attention.

"Mulder, you have got to breathe more slowly. Do you
understand?"

Tears streamed down Mulder's face as he nodded. He actually
made an effort, too. But suddenly, he turned his head and began
vomiting.

Scully stared at him bleakly. He dry-heaved for a few moments
and then tried to sit up. Scully helped prop him up against a rock,
leaning gently onto his chest to steady him. His breathing was
beginning to calm.

When she felt the wind suddenly pick up and a sprinkle of cold
drizzle begin, Scully looked fearfully to the Colorado skies.
She'd been so focused on her partner, she'd never noticed the
change in weather. "Dammit!" Scully raged at the leaden gray
sky overhead. "God damn! Son of a bitch! Fucking hell shit!"

That got Mulder's attention. Eyes wide, he stared at her as she
ranted, blinking away the mist of drizzle. He knew why she was
upset. Getting wet now would mean exposure for both of them
and he knew he wasn't up to coping with that. He groaned. It
was as if Mother Nature herself was waging a private war with them.

Mulder's teeth began chattering. And Mulder's heavy coat was in
his pack. Scully stared at him, then turned and looked over the side
of the mountain. His pack had come to rest on an outcropping
about twenty feet down. Piece of cake. Scully bent down next to
him.

"Your pack is on a ledge. I'm going down to get it."

Mulder stared at her.

"Are you nuts?" he said hoarsely.

"Mulder, we have to go down that cliff anyway so I can put anchors
in on my way down, and you need your coat. There's no way
you're going to...you need your coat."

Mulder wilted. Scully knelt down next to him and put a concerned
hand on his good arm, the only bit of him still functioning.

"I can't, Scully," he whispered. Great.

"Look, I know you're in a lot of pain. I know you've never done
this before. But I have, and I won't let anything happen to you.
You'll be anchored, I'll belay you down, you won't have to do
anything. I've done this before, not just once but many times.
You can do this, Mulder. I promise I won't let anything happen
to you. Besides," she added, cracking a smile, "the truth is
down there."

Mulder met her eyes, then he looked away.

"Okay," he said softly. Scully grinned.

"Back in a minute."

It was actually more like half an hour before a tired Scully returned
in triumph with Mulder's coat. She had decided to leave Mulder's
pack on the ledge to await their arrival. As he watched her pull
herself up over the ledge, Mulder looked a little surprised that she'd
survived.

"Trust me now, Nature Boy?" she taunted with a smile as she helped
him into the protective warmth of the coat.

"I'll always trust you," he said seriously. Scully did a quick check
of his vitals.

"Don't get maudlin on me, Mulder," she said. She frowned. His
pulse was quickening and his skin, so cold before, was flushed.

"Mulder, how is it that you're the only person in the world who can
go from freezing to feverish in the space of thirty minutes?"

He didn't have an answer to that. Scully made him drink some
more water and gave him four Tylenol.

"This could be the basis for a malpractice suit," he observed. Scully
made a face at him.

"Okay, look. I want you to be honest with me."

He half-nodded, wondering what she was up to.

"You've got to stand up. I'm going to help you get into the
climbing harness, and then you're going down the mountain to
the first ledge, which is about twenty feet down. I need to know
if this is going to be impossible. You have got to concentrate,
Mulder. Do whatever I do, okay?"

He jerked his head again. She nodded, satisfied, and helped
him up. Every bone and muscle in his body cursed his name.
He gasped. Scully let him lean on her.

"Oh shit..." he muttered weakly.

"Give it a minute, Mulder. Come on, walk with me. Let your
muscles warm up."

"They're warm already...Jesus..."

Scully ignored him and helped him walk. After a few minutes he
was able to walk on his own. She helped him on with the harness
and he looked at her, embarrassed.

"I look like a circus performer," he grumbled.

"At least you don't look like a clown," she retorted. He grinned a
lopsided grin at her as she hooked the carabiners to the harness and
made certain that the anchors were rock-steady. The nylon climbing
rope had quite a bit of give in it so even if Mulder did fall, he wouldn't
kill himself. She pointed out the brake.

"This will stop your descent, should anything untoward happen.
Now this is important. In order to stop, let go of the brake. Repeat
that."

Mulder sighed. Scully glared at him.

"In order to stop, I let go."

"Of what?"

Pause. Long, nasty pause.

"The brake," he said coldly. Scully nodded, then felt his forehead.
Even hotter.

"I'm fine, Scully," he said. Scully locked eyes with him. Even
with the fever, he did indeed seem better. He wasn't as out of it as
he'd been after his tumble down the rocks. Maybe he could do
this...maybe they both could.

Mulder stood at the edge of the cliff, staring blankly out into space.
Thank God he wasn't afraid of heights. That was one phobia he'd
been spared.

Scully seemed nervous, and Mulder suddenly wondered if she was
afraid of heights. She fumbled through her check, biting her lip and
tightening, screwing and unscrewing various carabiners. She
obsessively checked her pouch to make sure that she had all the
spares. She pulled on her gloves and flexed her fingers, then she
looked at Mulder.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly. Scully looked surprised.

"Sure. Why?"

"You seem nervous," he said. She looked away.

"These are not exactly optimum conditions. Why don't you worry
about staying conscious?"

With that, Scully turned her back, kicked at the anchor, and then
looked at Mulder.

"Ready."

Mulder took a deep breath, remembering to look at the ropes and
make certain that they were properly placed. Since he had only one
usable hand, he had to use it as both guide and anchor. Scully was
talking.

"Now remember, do NOT kick out from the cliff. Absolutely,
under no circumstances, are you to kick out. The wind is furious
down there and you've only got one good hand. Try and use your
feet as anchors as much as possible. You are going to crawl down
there, Mulder. No heroics. Got me?"

Whenever Scully said "Got me", Mulder knew she was serious. He
jerked his head, which was the closest thing to a nod that he could
muster. She nodded, satisfied, then gripped the ropes and anchored
herself. Mulder stepped over the cliff.

The wind whistled around him, shoving him gently from side to
side. Mulder swallowed the lump in his throat and followed
Scully's lead. She fed rope slowly to him and he scrambled for
small footholds. It was impossible to not use his right arm at all but
his hand was so useless that it was only a vain attempt at security.
His left arm quivered with the strain. Mulder kept an eye on his
ropes and on the ledge below him. If he hadn't been in so much
pain, he might have enjoyed this. Man versus nature, all that guff.
Mulder's feet hit the ledge and he shouted upwards.

" I'm here!"

A few seconds later, Scully peered over the cliff. Mulder waved at
her and he thought he could see her grinning at him. He was feeling
pretty smug. No problem. This stuff's easy.

***************************************************

Monday, 4:45 P.M.

It was slow going. The descent was taking longer than Scully had
expected. Mulder had been letter perfect so far, but she could see
him weakening. They were very close to the base of the mountain,
and Scully alternated between knowing that they were going to make
it and being terrified that they weren't. Scully let out a little more
rope, trying to rein Mulder in. He was captivated with climbing,
but like a guy, he wanted to do too much too soon. Hell, Mulder,
she thought, most people with injuries aren't out climbing mountains.

Scully let out a little more line and suddenly, the line jerked.

Still braced against the cliff-face, Scully managed to catch sight of
Mulder, flailing wildly as he dropped.

"The brake!" Scully yelled, "Let go of the brake!!"

Scully was screaming, the wind whipping the words out of her
mouth and tears obscuring her vision. This was it. This was it.
Oh God, Mulder --

And then the rope caught. Scully quickly anchored it and threw
herself down on the ledge. Mulder dangled, many feet below,
unconscious, at the end of the rope. And Scully had no way to get
down to him.

Scully's brain refused to work. She stared blankly down at Mulder,
who was most definitely unconscious. Okay, Dana, now you've
done it. Scully looked at the ropes, which swayed with Mulder's
dead weight. Two ropes, one anchor, no way for her to get down
unless she sacrificed the spare rope and the last anchor. Scully
debated for a moment and looked at the packs, which still had to be
lowered. She sighed, frustrated. Even if she used the spare rope
she would still be rappelling on only one line, and there was no
way, short of throwing them, to get the packs down. Scully bit her
lip and looked at Mulder again. Nothing. Maybe shouting would
work. Scully cupped her hands around her mouth and drew a deep
breath.

"MULDER!!" she screamed, coughing with the effort. "MULDER,
WAKE UP!! MULDER!! WAKE UP, GODDAMN IT!" Scully
could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She refused to let her
mind wander, refused to let herself think that --

"Fuck!" Scully said viciously. She had to get to him. Screw the
packs. She wrenched the packs open and pulled out the sleeping
bags, her medical bag, the water and the food. Many knots later,
Scully had tied it all together into a tight bundle. She fumbled in
her sack for the spare anchor. And stopped. There was only one
anchor in the bag, the one they'd need for the last descent.

"Oh God," she whispered. "Oh no, oh shit..." It wasn't there.
Scully sat down hard on the ground, staring at the sack. She ripped
through it, turning it inside out. No anchor. She cast her mind
back. Had she brought that many? She glanced up at the rock-face
above her. How many had she used? She was getting tired, she
knew that. Had she miscounted? Scully looked at the line. Even
if she could climb up, there was no way she could use this line as
a belay line. It simply wasn't long enough.

The wind began to pick up again. Scully looked at her watch. 5:00.
Soon it would be nightfall. Hypothermia was her biggest concern.
The frustrating thing was, they were fairly close to the bottom.
Scully could see it in the dimness. Mulder still swung, motionless,
the ground tantalizingly close. She would have to pull him up.
She had no idea how, but she would have to do it. It might kill
him...but swinging from a rock face was going to kill him faster.
Scully's muscles protested as she slowly untied the belay line.
Her muscles trembled as she hauled back, foot braced against an
outcropping. Gasping, she secured the line and looked down.
Mulder had moved about three feet. This was going to take
forever, and there was a particularly nasty outcropping to avoid.
She'd probably bash his head against it.

Scully blinked back tears of frustration. He was stranded; she was
stranded; there was no way out of here. She could probably survive
the night, but Mulder couldn't. Scully looked at the anchor already
imbedded in the rock. Mulder's anchor. Would it hold? It was
strong and the carabiners were the best on the market. Scully was
one of those people who bought 100 lb. picture hangers for 2 lb.
pictures, just to be on the safe side. She'd bought carabiners that
would have held an elephant. The rock...Scully chose not to think
about that. It was granite. Granite was strong. Very strong.
Infinitely strong.

The worse thing was, Scully was going to have to tie the spare rope
off. It wasn't long enough to reach Mulder, who had dropped past
the original point of contact. Scully would really be roughing it.
Scully would die. Stop it, she told herself viciously. You've done
this a million times. This is no big deal.

Sure, her scared-to-death self said caustically, you've often
descended with a short line, down a cliff you can hardly see,
towards a seriously injured, unconscious climber. Mentally,
Scully gave that voice the finger.

She secured the rope to the anchor, tying knots in knots. This
sucker had to hold. The rope holding Mulder scraped the edge of
the cliff and Scully caught at it, steadying it. Don't need the sharp
cliff sawing through the rope. The rope kept swaying, though, and
much to Scully's amazement, it jerked.

"Mulder?" she called as she carefully looked down. Then the best
thing in the world happened. He raised his head and weakly lifted
his left hand. Scully glowed and waved furiously at him.

"Can you hear me?" she shouted. A barely perceptible nod.

"Can you keep going?"

Hesitation, but another slight nod.

"Wait one minute!"

Scully hurriedly undid the rope and shoved it into her sack, then
stuffed the packs full again and got them ready. She braced herself,
undid Mulder's line, and began the belay, very, very slowly. Mulder
had grabbed the brake again and Scully prayed that he could stay
coherent long enough to know that he had to go down further. A
jerk on the rope. Scully secured the line and looked down. He was
scrambling for a foothold and he'd released the brake. He looked
up and grasped it again. Scully belayed.

It was an incredibly long, arduous twenty feet and Scully prayed
that she'd measured the rope correctly. She'd made it longer, due to
Mulder's inexperience, and it had saved his life. Undoubtedly. The
line went loose, and then Mulder jerked on it. Before pulling it up
Scully glanced down at him again. He was crouched on the
outcropping and even from this height Scully could see him shiver.
She quickly brought the lines up and attached the packs. She was relieved
when Mulder untied them and jerked the lines. Scully was down in about
ten seconds.

He looked awful. Blood ran down his face in rivulets and he
shivered, left arm wrapped around his body. Scully got him
situated against the cliff, made him sit down, and took inventory,
talking to him the whole time.

"Can you hear me, Mulder?" she asked sharply. She heard a sharp
intake of breath as she probed the shoulder. It had to be killing him.
Thankfully, her handiwork had not been undone. "Mulder? You'd
better say something."

"I forgot to let go," came the weak reply. Scully stopped her
examination and looked at him, then squeezed his good hand.

"Mulder --"

"I know," he said, still shivering. "But we still have another jump."

Scully didn't want to think about that. She examined the head
wound, wincing. She reached into her pack and took out her
flashlight, shining it into Mulder' pupils. Sure enough, his left eye
didn't respond. Scully waved a hand in front of his face. He was
starting to zone out.

"Mulder? You've got a concussion, okay? Are you hearing me?"

It took a moment, but he focused on her.

"Scully, I..." his voice trailed off and he began to look decidedly
green. Shit, Scully thought as he vomited. Too much of this.
Scully reached out, trying to help him but not knowing where to
touch him. Everything seemed to be bumped or bruised. And now
he was doing nothing but vomiting because of the head trauma, and
there was no way she could give him Tylenol for his fever, and he
was sluggish and hardly coherent. Scully waited. Mulder looked at
her, exhausted.

"I've never felt this way before," he observed, almost as if from a
distance. More shock. Scully managed to get the head wound
cleaned up and was tempted to just push Mulder over. He would
probably be hurt less than if she made him rappel again. Mulder
looked at her, accepted the offer of water. He drank slowly, thirstily.
Scully knew that he was dehydrated and also knew that he wouldn't
keep it long.

"Look, we have to go," she said gently. "Can you, Mulder? Can
you get up?"

Mulder jerked his head and tried to stand. Scully caught him as he
began to topple over. Soon, he was standing, swaying really, on
his own. He took a step forward and hissed. Scully groaned. Shit.

"Sit down," she ordered. He looked perplexed. She shoved him
back down, unzipped his jacket, and he jerked away from her as she
put a hand to his ribs. She looked at him grimly.

"Good news, Mulder. You've bruised ribs."

"How's that good news?"

"They're not broken, and you haven't punctured a lung. Yet. It's
your most minor injury so far."

"I'm so proud," he said caustically. She helped him stand again.
His face went white but he managed to stay on his feet. He drew a
deep, painful breath and Scully got out of the way as he vomited
again. There is no way, she thought bleakly, no possible way this
is going to work. But Mulder slowly hooked the harness to the
carabiner and waited for Scully as she hammered in the anchor.
There's no way, she thought as she worked, but there's no other
way.

The belay was a nightmare. Scully's left shoulder was on fire from
the constant starting and stopping. Mulder could only go a few feet
before he would have to stop, put his head down, and wait for the
nausea to pass. Forty feet of hell. Scully held her breath the whole
way. Mulder dropped once but immediately let go of the brake,
probably more out of oncoming frostbite than anything else. Scully
had to wait an eternity for him to gather himself. She could feel
Mulder through the line. She could feel the pain emanate up to her,
through the haphazard, jerky motions of the rope. Every
movement was agony to him but he grimly kept at it, probably
moving faster than he should. But that was Mulder. He was
always moving faster and he usually paid the price. Scully was
determined that he wouldn't, not this time. He'd survive and they'd
hunt down his little truth. They were going to solve this if Scully
had to do it all herself. Mulder will not have done this for nothing,
she resolved.

And then she realized that the line was still. Fuck. Scully secured
it and felt the welcoming jerk. She looked down over the edge.
Mulder was on the ground. Scully had never seen a prettier sight
than Mulder's two feet planted on terra firma. Completely
exhausted and numb from the cold, Scully dropped twice on her
way down but managed to make it. She and Mulder looked at each
other and even through everything that had happened, felt a sense of
satisfaction. They shouldered their packs.

"We're going to make camp now, right?" Mulder asked in a voice
barely above a whisper. Scully nodded and wondered how
wonderful that nasty coffee would taste now.

"I want to see if there's a cave in those rocks. There are a lot of
cairns in these mountains and that would be ideal." Scully started
walking, Mulder stumbling beside her. Scully actually felt pretty
good. She'd managed to keep Mulder alive, although she had little
idea how.

They would make camp; she'd make him get some sleep,
and at least she'd be able to hike the rest of the way to the Group
and get some help.

Scully reached the cairn. They had shelter. She turned, happy at
another small success--then her face dropped. Mulder had followed
her, pushing himself to his physical limit. He was slowly sinking to
his knees. Scully dropped her pack and raced over to him. He was
staring dazedly into space, hardly breathing.

"Mulder?" she asked. "Mulder! Answer me!"

He didn't even acknowledge her. Dammit. Scully snapped her
fingers in front of his face and the only thing that happened was
that he closed his eyes and passed out cold.

***********

End of chapte five.