Title:  First Flight (4/?)
Author:  Ellie	(windblownellie@yahoo.com)
Rating:  PG-13, for language and graphic images
Category: X, M/S UST, AU (veers off mid-S4)
Summary:  Mulder and Scully meet a woman who may 
provide answers about the origins of Scully's cancer.
Author's Notes: This is a WIP.  Currently, the plan is 
to post one update per week until finished; I'm 
several chapters up now, so this will work for now.
Major beta thanks to XScribe for comments, advice, and 
smoothing over the rough edges.


****
Chapter 4
****

Scully slowly made her way down the basement corridor 
to the office.  She hadn't been sure she would make it 
in, not after the way she'd felt yesterday.  The first 
day of radiation had left her exhausted and dizzy.  If 
Mulder hadn't shown up at her apartment, she probably 
would have slept on through until the next morning.  
But, she reflected, she enjoyed their dinner 
conversation, even if it had a slightly morbid tinge 
to it.  It had also reassured her that he would be 
able to treat her with a solicitous respect as she 
worked through her illness.

That thought didn't quite prepare her for finding 
Mulder looking rather green and staring down at an 
open folder on his desk.  She could see the relief 
wash over him as he watched her enter the room.

"What have you got there, Mulder?"

"The, ah, courier arrived ten minutes ago with the 
report for you."  He slammed the folder shut and held 
it out to her before she was halfway across the room.

She took it, wondering why he looked so put out by 
this information.  He'd certainly looked over gruesome 
human autopsy reports without looking so affected.  
But as she read the description of the mare's tumor 
pressing through the ocular space and into the brain, 
she understood his queasy face.  She had to take a 
deep breath before she could continue reading.

Several moments passed in silence as she sat and read 
the preliminary findings on the mare.  Most of the 
tests she had requested were noted in the file, with a 
Post It thoughtfully scribbled and stuck in to let her 
know the results would be forwarded to her as they 
were completed.

When she had skimmed the report twice, she looked up 
to find Mulder very busy doing nothing at his desk.  
With little effort, she could see him as a child, 
asking if they were there yet.

"There's nothing here that catches my eye as 
particularly unusual, Mulder."  He started at the 
sound of her voice and turned to give her his full 
attention.  "The melanomas on her body and tumor in 
her eye were very aggressive and rapidly 
metastasizing, but there's nothing to indicate there 
was anything unnatural about them beyond that.  The 
only thing to show up on the preliminary blood test 
was a standard pain killer prescribed by the 
veterinarian, and of course the drugs used in the 
euthanization."

He was silent a long moment as she faced him over the 
opened folder.  "So you think this is nothing?"

"I don't think it's nothing.  But I don't necessarily 
think it's something, either."  She sighed.  "But at 
this point, it seems more like a remarkable series of 
coincidences than anything else."  

"But--"

She cut him off, continuing her train of thought.  
"We've got no proof that anything was actually done to 
these animals.  We can account for their whereabouts--
excepting the dog Galahad over several weeks--for 
their entire lives.  It would have been difficult at 
best to have abducted, implanted, and returned them 
with no one the wiser.  That they all have chips that 
may or may not be like the ones we've seen previously.  
Have you found anything else about that?" 

A shake of the head combined with a shrug granted her 
the point.  "Nothing much.  It looks similar, 
structurally, to the one removed from your neck, but 
slightly larger.  There aren't any markings to 
indicate a manufacturer."

"I didn't expect there would be."  She closed the 
folder and sat it on top of the mounting heap from 
this case.

"So you think we should stop pursuing this?"  She 
could hear the panic of a dog being asked to give up 
its favorite bone in his voice.

"Keep the file open, at least until I get all the test 
results back.  Those will be another week coming, at 
least.  But we're lacking any evidence to link your 
leaps of logic together."

"Yeah."  He ran a hand through his hair, further 
tousling it.  "But if I could prove those links, I 
would have put those bastards away a long time ago."  
His gaze met hers and held until she glanced away, 
back to the towering paperwork.

****

Mulder looked up from his paperwork as Scully shuffled 
into the office.  A glance at his watch told him she 
was twenty minutes later than she'd been yesterday.  
From the way she moved across the office, he guessed 
it was related to how she felt rather than how 
congested lunch hour traffic was.  But he knew better 
than to comment.

It was a full minute after she sat down before he 
heard her pull open the bag he'd left for her.  Her 
chair squeaked as she spun to look at him.

"Turkey club, extra tomatoes."

"Oh."  She swiveled back to face the bag, pulling out 
the foil-wrapped sandwich.  "Thanks."  Her voice was 
barely audible over the crinkling of foil.

Several long moments passed with only the shuffling of 
papers and crunching of sandwich.  A thousand 
questions flickered through Mulder's mind, but he sat 
silent.

Finally, it was Scully's voice that broke the silence.  
"When did this package arrive?"

"It was delivered while I was out getting lunch--
sometime between eleven thirty and noon."

"Mm."  There was a rip as she opened the packaging, 
half-eaten sandwich forgotten.

Mulder abandoned any pretense of working as he watched 
her slowly flick through the small file.  As he 
waited, he tried to determine whether the paleness of 
her face was due to the terrible fluorescent lighting 
or to her treatments.  He didn't think she'd looked 
quite so pale a week ago.

He was broken out of this train of thought when she 
rose and reached for a thick reference tome on the 
shelf above the desk.  "What'd you find?"

"I'm not sure yet."  She sat and flicked through the 
text, pausing and rereading the information in the 
file.  "Hmm."

"Scully."

She looked up at him, seemingly started by his 
interruption.  "Oh.  Nitrofurazone."  She turned back 
to the book.

What the hell was she talking about?  He tried to put 
the pieces together, wondering where this one fit.  
"The lab found nitrofurazone in the tests you 
ordered?"

She nodded and turned back to him.  "Yes.  It's not 
that finding it is so terribly unusual--it's commonly 
used as an antibacterial ointment in large animals," 
she explained.  "But the levels that they found in 
this mare don't correspond to what one would 
reasonably expect to find in her system from topical 
use.  Recent studies have shown that while it is an 
effective ointment for wounds, it is also a 
carcinogen.  Many veterinary hospitals are moving away 
from using it when possible and towards compounds with 
fewer potential side-effects."

"But it was used on the mare in larger than average 
quantities?"

Scully hesitated and glanced back to the lab results.  
"Not excessively so, but definitely in larger 
quantities than are usual."  She frowned at the file.

"Was it present in quantities sufficient to cause the 
tumors found in her?"

"I don't know.  It's not a controlled substance, so 
anyone would have access to it.  I'd really like to 
speak with Mrs. Stevens and her regular vet about it.  
There may be a perfectly reasonable explanation."

"Of course there could be," he muttered, reaching for 
the main case folder to find the number for Beatrice 
Stevens.

"What was that, Mulder?"  One eyebrow raised on her 
pale face, but he wasn't sure if it was safe to play 
today.

"I'll just get those numbers for you."

"Sure."  She turned back to stare at her sandwich as 
he flicked open the folder and reached for the phone.

Before his hand touched the receiver, it rang, causing 
both of them to jump slightly.

"Mulder," he barked into the receiver.  His eyes grew 
wide and weary as he listened.  "No.  No, we have the 
copies you sent us right here."

Scully turned to stare at him, an inquisitive look on 
her face.  He shook his head and gestured for the 
paperwork she'd just received.

"Yeah, we've got it here, and we really appreciate 
it...." He paused, listening to the panicked voice on 
the other end of the line before continuing, "No, I 
don't know why it would have been removed, and I'm not 
happy about it.  But I appreciate you letting us 
know."  

The receiver fell back into the cradle with a dull 
thud.  "Fuck.  That was the Virginia Tech labs where 
your tests were being run.  They wanted to make sure 
we still had the paperwork they sent us, because the 
originals are gone," he answered her unasked question.

"Gone."

"Everything--all the samples, all the original 
paperwork.  There this morning, gone after lunch."

"What about the samples that were still being tested?  
There were a couple things I don't have back yet."

"All gone.  No signs of forced entry, and nothing else 
is missing.  It's just like this never existed."  He 
shook his head in disgust.  "Not that I can say I'm 
surprised."

She sighed and looked down at the duplicate files now 
sitting on his desk.  "We have almost everything, 
though.  Why would someone steal the originals after 
copies have been sent to us?"

"To destroy the ability to verify what we have."

They were both quiet, staring and the three inches of 
paper piled between them.

"You said you wanted to talk to Beatrice Stevens 
again.  I think that would be an excellent idea.  Are 
you up for a drive out there tomorrow afternoon?"

There was a half-beat before she nodded where he held 
his breath.  Slowly, her head dipped in assent.  "It's 
not far, there's no reason why we can't."

"If I pick you up on the way, we can get out of here 
earlier.  What time will you be done with treatment?"  

The pause before she answered this time was even 
longer.  He couldn't be sure if she was calculating, 
or trying to avoid answering.

"It would be fastest if you could pick me up right 
from the hospital.  There's no reason I can't get 
ready there.  Noon?"

He nodded, and they turned back to their paperwork.

****

She wasn't quite sure why she'd agreed to leave 
straight from treatment.  It had seemed like a good 
decision at the time, but in retrospect, she'd really 
needed that trip back to her apartment to change and 
collect herself before facing work.  Scully felt 
entirely too vulnerable as Mulder followed the 
twisting road towards Avalon.   She tried to convince 
herself that it was Mulder's driving that left her 
feeling mildly nauseous.  Looking out the window at 
the bright new leaves, she tried to push the queasy 
feelings away and appreciate the sunny spring weather.  
At least she wasn't in the basement.

Watching out the passenger window as they rolled down 
the drive, she noticed the horse and rider before 
Mulder did.  "Out in the field," she said with a 
gesture towards the window.

The car stopped as they both watched the bright bay 
horse and elegant rider fly over a fence erected in 
the field a hundred yards away.  The rider's black 
velvet cap cast a shadow over her face and hid her 
hair, but from the neat green sweater and tailored 
breeches and boots, Scully knew it had to be Beatrice 
Stevens.  The rider nodded slightly in their direction 
before turning the horse to the right and cantering 
over a low, painted wall.

Mulder edged the car forward down the drive, coming to 
a stop by the gate to the field.  Both sat for a 
moment, unmoving, until the horse and rider approached 
the gate and slowed.  Only then did Scully unbuckle 
her seatbelt and slide from the car.

"Good afternoon, Beatrice."

"Agents Scully and Mulder, welcome back."  She patted 
the sweating horse's neck with a gloved hand as she 
nodded in welcome to them.  "I'm sorry, I must have 
lost track of time while working with Prospero."

"He's beautiful."  Scully reached over the fence to 
pat Prospero's velvety nose, watching as his nostrils 
flared with each hard breath.

"His first show is this weekend, so we've been working 
hard to get ready.  Eight months off the race track, 
can you believe?"  There was pride in Beatrice's voice 
as she patted the horse again heartily, walking him 
away from the fence in a large, lazy circle.  "If you 
don't mind, I can talk while we cool out for a few 
moments."

Once the horse moved away, Mulder had moved up to 
stand at her side at the fence.  "No problem at all.  
It looks like he had quite a workout."

"He needs all the schooling he can get.  Too smart, 
this one.  Prospero gets into trouble when he's not in 
work."  She turned him to walk back towards the 
agents.  "What can I help you with today?  You 
mentioned that Agent Scully was interested in 
Ophelia's care?"

"Yes," Scully replied.  "I had several tests run on 
her, and one of them turned up nitrofurazone in her 
system.  Did you ever use it on her?"

"Oh, yes."  Her matter of fact tone startled Scully, 
instantly vanquishing any suspicions that the 
substance was of more than mundane origins.  Feeling 
Mulder deflate slightly beside her, could tell she was 
not the only one.  Beatrice continued, "Last month she 
had a swollen fetlock, for no reason I could find.  I 
sweated it with furazone and DMSO.  Cleared right up."

"You didn't call the vet?"

"I've been at this a long time, Agent Scully, and have 
seen a lot of injuries.  Short of matters requiring 
stitches or tranquilizers, I can take care of most 
things myself."  Her tone was sterner than any than 
she'd previously used.  

For a few minutes, Scully and Mulder simply watched as 
the horse's long strides carried him around in an easy 
circle.  Scully began to wonder what they'd driven 
back for, when Beatrice's voice interrupted, once 
again gentle.

"Would you mind getting the gate for me, Agent 
Mulder?"

"Certainly."  He stepped behind Scully, pulling the 
green pipe gate wide open.

Beatrice and Prospero passed through, heading across 
the drive towards the stable.  Her voice rung back to 
them, echoing off the brick of the house and drowning 
out the hooves in soft gravel.  "You know, he'll be 
the last horse I make.  He's shaping up to be a fancy 
one.  I think he'll outlast me.

Mulder and Scully followed behind her and slightly off 
to one side.  Scully could see one of the horse's ears 
cocked back, listening to their footsteps behind him. 
He might be able to hear her voice, but Beatrice could 
not.  "Mulder, I think we're wasting our time here.  
We really didn't have to come out all this way--"

"No," he whispered back, "we did.  I want to see if 
there's anything different about her particular 
furazone.  And I want to get a few more records from 
her."  

She could only sigh in response as he raised his voice 
to catch Beatrice's attention, as she was now 
chattering on about the possibility of being ready to 
show at Upperville.  

"Beatrice!"  

She quieted and slowed the horse's step without 
appearing to do anything.  

When Mulder caught up to the horse's shoulder, he 
continued.  "I was wondering, though, if we could 
possibly get a bit of the ointment you used?  Just to 
check in case it was a bad batch or something."

"It was an older container, from last year.  It's 
nearly gone now.  You can have the rest of it, if you 
really want it."  They reached the front of the stable 
and she swung off the horse with a spryness that 
belied her years.  "Is that all you came for?"

"I was also hoping you might have some records from 
the shipping company you used when transporting your 
animals to events."

"Oh."  She furrowed her brow under the hunt cap's brim 
as she led the horse into the barn, Mulder and Scully 
following.  "I do most of the hauling myself, unless 
it's to Florida or indoors.  I do keep records of 
that, though, for the insurance."

"Those would be just what I want."

Securing the horse, Beatrice stepped into an open 
doorway, reemerging with a bucket of brushes and a 
small blue jar.  "Your furazone, Agent Scully.  Agent 
Mulder, if you give me a few moments, the records are 
all up in my office, and you're welcome to them.  Are 
you any closer to finding the answer to what happened 
to Galahad and Ophelia?"

Scully looked down at the dusty, slightly battered jar 
before answering.  "We're not sure.  But we're still 
looking."  She saw Mulder give her a look she couldn't 
interpret in the stable's dim light, but he remained 
quiet.

"Good to hear."  Beatrice nodded with conviction as 
she smoothed a brush along the horse's back.

****
End Chapter 4
Continued in Chapter 5
****

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