*XXVIII*



Friday, 12/8/95, 6:28 AM, 1st Virginia Bank, 
Springfield, Virginia

The reflection in the bank's glass front 
door held up its badge, tapped its toe, and 
frowned. The pudgy man on the other side of 
the bullet-resistant barrier smiled 
apologetically as he flipped through his 
keys, fitting one into the lock at the base 
of the door and then one at chest height.

Scully couldn't even manage a counterfeit 
smile when he held the door for her, 
wheezing from his small exertion. She told 
him tersely, "Special Agent Dana Scully. 
Like I said on the phone, I need to check a 
bank box. I'm authorized. This isn't a 
search warrant situation." She showed him 
her key.

"No problem. Just give me a minute." The fat 
man smiled. She stood stiff-still as he 
searched his ring for the vault key, then 
opened a file cabinet full of hanging 
folders. "Which box did you say you wanted?"

Her mouth was dry. "Ten-thirteen."

"Right.' He squinted at the tags until he 
found the right file. Pulled it out and 
looked through it, dimpled fingers pawing 
the approvals Mulder'd signed. "Riiiight. 
Yeah, you've got access privileges."

"Yes. I do. Listen, I'm sorry, but I'm in a 
hurry."

He looked up quickly, mouth shaping an "oh" 
that turned into another wide, empty smile. 
"Of course. Sorry. Just had to be sure." He 
handed a sheet of paper over to her. "Sign 
in, please."

Scully slapped the page down on the desk, 
bent over it, and found an empty line after 
tracing over a half-dozen of Mulder's 
signatures scrawled in a spiky distinctive 
slant, finding that his last visit had been 
just before he'd e-mailed CompuServe two 
months ago. She frowned and penned her name, 
pushed the paper back into the doughy hands 
of the banker. He smiled again and turned to 
let her into the vault.

It was a tiny space with cool air blowing 
dry and sterile through a vent in the 
ceiling. The manager's belt squeezed into 
his sides, his shirt tight over his stomach 
bulge as he crouched to pull a box out of 
its slot near the floor. It clanged when he 
set it down on the table in the middle of 
the little room. "Here you are. Just let me 
know when you're done."

She nodded, ignored his leaving, and stared 
at the narrow metal shape in front of her. 
Scully's fingers felt numb, pinching the 
little key. It clicked when she fit it into 
the lock at the end of the box and turned 
it. The lid had the tiniest sharp edge. 
Scully stood still, fingernail tracing that 
thin potential razor. The fluorescent lights 
were a blue gleam in the enamel of her nail 
and on the metal of the polished key.

She'd never wanted it. He'd insisted, 
though--dragging her out of the summer's 
white-sky oppression into air conditioning, 
onto institutional carpet, up to fake wood 
and fake smiles. She remembered the whine in 
her voice. "Do we really need to do this?"

"Of course we need to do this. How else will 
you know where I hid all the good stuff?" 
Mulder's smile crinkled the corners of his 
eyes. "Look, Scully, I need somebody who can 
get hold of my stuff in an emergency."

"Knowing you, I'll find twenty-five years of 
'Celebrity Skin' and an autographed copy of 
the Warren Commission report."

"You think? Maybe one day you'll find out."

"I guess today's the day," she whispered to 
his memory, wishing his tall dark-suited 
warmth had substance. Missing him. She could 
feel the walls pressing in cold all around 
her. It wasn't summer any more.

Scully flipped the lid up and pulled the 
open box toward her.

Computer disks. Papers. Copies of his Will 
and insurance documents. She wouldn't read 
those because Mulder wasn't dead...What's 
this? A wedding band in a red velvet box. 
She turned it in the light, watched the gold 
flash, then looked for an inscription. 
Nothing. Probably his mother's. Maybe she 
didn't want it anymore after the divorce. 
Scully snapped the case shut again and set 
it on the table. There was an envelope in 
the dull metal box, too--long and thick, 
dated almost a year earlier, addressed to 
her. Scully's lifted it then shoved it to 
the side with the rest of Mulder's papers.

Then she saw the little shape. It was small, 
perhaps an inch square, and pale. Scully 
knew what it was: a tissue sample block, 
old-fashioned and clunky, like the ones 
she'd seen in medical school. Like the ones 
she'd found in a West Virginia mine. Saw 
that tiny person again with big head and 
spindly limbs, standing backlit in the 
tunnel. There, then gone.

Scully reached slowly to take the sample 
block between her fingers. She stared at it 
with all the cold objectivity she could 
muster while her other hand scrabbled 
through the papers, looking for what must go 
with it. Yes, there it was--clear and with 
patterns of bands. He'd had the sample 
tested. The bands of his own DNA on one side 
and the testee's on the other. Brother and 
sister.

"Samantha," she said softly. "Oh God damn 
it."


***


Scully blinked in the winter sunlight. It 
was bright but too cold and her neck tingled 
where the small scar marred the skin. She 
ran her fingers through her hair and down 
her vertebrae to scrub at the little spot. 
Her hands trembled as she punched the auto 
unlock of Escort, yanked the door open, and 
dropped into the driver's seat. She wanted 
to slam the door shut, but her arm didn't. 
Instead, it closed the door quietly. She 
rested her forehead on the wheel and cried.

"Oh God, Mulder. Why can't you leave it 
alone?" She finally leaned back, hiccuping. 
She rubbed at her nose and reached into her 
pocket for a tissue. Sniffled and fished her 
phone out. Tina's cell phone number wasn't 
programmed for speed dial. Her fingers 
fumbled and she had to dial the number 
twice.

There were three rings, then Tina's voice. 
"This is Hill."

"It's me...I mean, it's Dana."

"I know who it is, Mutt." Tina sounded soft 
and worried. "What's wrong?"

"I'm okay."

"Where are you?"

"I'm just...I'm outside Mulder's bank."

"What happened?"

What happened...? What happened? Who the 
hell knew the answer to that? "Uhm, I'm not 
sure. I'll tell you later."

"No." Tina's worry was still there, but the 
softness was gone. "No. Unless you need a 
secure line, you tell me now. I'm sick of 
you ducking questions, Dana."

"Nothing 'happened,' Jeff. It was just 
rougher than I expected. I really will tell 
you." She leaned forward and slipped the key 
into the ignition. "Where are you? I'll meet 
you there "

"I'm with Garth." She heard Langly's 
indignant harrumph and it let her smile just 
a touch. "We're DOOMing and we've gotten to 
the third level, if you know what I mean. 
Wink, wink, nudge, nudge," Tina's Eric Idle 
accent was terrible. "Treasure maps and 
other important documents."

Huh? Then illumination. "Oh...Oh! Yeah, I 
know. Are they telling you how to get to the 
next level?"

"Yeah," Tina said. "I think they do. It may 
take us awhile yet, but I think we'll find 
the treasure."

"Good." She sighed and wiped at her eyes 
again. "Okay. I'm on my way."

"Hey, pick up some coffee and Ding-Dongs or 
something, okay?"

"Jeffie, for you I'll make it Double Ding-
Dongs with angel cream topping."

"Cewwwwll."


***


8:02 A.M., 21st and K Streets, Washington, 
D.C.

"Hi, Andy."

"Where are you, baby?"

"Umm...." Tina worked the stiff muscles of 
her neck with her free hand, looking around 
the dim basement hovel. The few pools of 
light only made the dark seem...well, more 
dark. Langly hunched over his keyboard, the 
unnatural brilliance of his CRT backlighting 
his narrow shoulders and garish bottle- 
blond hair. Tina pinched the bridge of her 
nose between her thumb and forefinger. "I 
can't tell you where I am, Andy."

"You okay? Dana okay?" Andy's voice pitched 
low.

"Yeah. I think so," she said quietly. "But I 
gotta tell you, this is some freaky shit. 
You get to where anything sounds sensible. 
I'm feeling a little spooked here, pardon 
the pun, or reference, or...whatever."

"Baby, there ain't nobody gonna tell you you 
shouldn't be spooked," assured the gentle 
Southern voice on the other end of the line. 
"Not after the crap you told me last night."

"Yeah. Well...It wasn't pretty out there, 
was it?" Tina sat on the lumpy sofa and 
switched the cell phone from her left ear to 
her right, lifting her shoulder to hold it 
in place. Let her hands go limp on her 
stomach and sighed with exhaustion. "So, 
what's the scoop? Did you check Handford 
out?"

In the background, Hill heard someone 
coughing and the shuffling of paper. "Uh-
huh. I sent Gonzaga over to Forensic 
Accounting on a pretext. He says Handford's 
in the office today."

"And the description I gave you fits?" She 
wiggled, sinking deeper into cushioning 
supported by shot springs.

"Hell, yeah, honey. I told you so last 
night. I said I know the guy from ASACs' 
retreats and seminars on all that touchy-
feely TQM stuff Freeh's been trying to lay 
on us."

She heard more distant coughing. "Hey, I 
hear Hollis horking back there. Her asthma 
acting up again? What's she found on our 
bean counter?"

The ASAC's voice sounded hollowed out. "Hey, 
Emma--you got anything new?" An 
incomprehensible reply. Shuffling, static 
noises, then Andy's voice clear in her ear 
again, "Handford's divorced. It just went 
final about six months ago. His ex-wife's 
got custody of their kid...Divorce initiated 
by her...Irreconcilable differences--no 
mention of screwing around on her or 
anything...He didn't contest. Pretty hefty 
alimony payments...um...Pays his taxes on 
time. Couple of parking tickets. That's 
about all we can get from the public 
record."

"Okay. Somebody gone to check out the former 
Mrs. Handford? The neighbors?"

"Her cat-sitter says she's in the Middle 
East and won't be back for a month."

"Just great," Tina huffed. Turned her head 
as Langly's fingers suddenly tapped rapid-
fire on his keyboard. Saw him sitting stiff-
backed, face close to the screen.

Andy's words drew her attention back. "But 
Handford's neighbors--some of them recall 
him being hospitalized for a long spell. 
After he came home the Handfords stopped 
doing the civic association Christmas 
dinners and all that good-neighbor crap. 
Started keeping to themselves."

"Okay, so we know he was in the hospital 
once and he lost his taste for the suburban 
dream. BFD. Hang on a sec, Andy." Tina 
groaned as she sat forward. "Hey, Langly--
did you do it?"

"Wait for it, Xena. Just keep talking to 
your buddy and telling yourself all this 
shit is a big coincidence." The scrawny man 
tapped on keys.

"Screw you, Dilbert...Okay, Andy." Hill fell 
back against the lumpy padding and drummed 
her fingers on the soft of her belly. "Did 
you check on the deal with the dog?"

"Yeah and we can't find any report of it. 
Doesn't look like he called it in, if it 
happened."

Hill was silent for a moment, dreading to 
ask, but needing to. "So, Andy, what do you 
think of what Handford said?"

A loud snort in her ear. "It makes me want 
to keep my nose clean and do what the white 
man tells me."

"No, for real, Anderson. I'm having a hard 
time telling up from down. You tell me--do 
you believe it?" She spotted Langley looking 
over his shoulder and lowered her voice. 
"You think this is The Big One that Amnesty 
International would crap and die over?"

"I think that weird shit happens, baby girl. 
I think you need to be ready for whatever 
kind of weird shit it is."

"Oh, that helps!" She moved her hand to 
cover her eyes. "What the fuck does that 
mean?"

"It means that either this is all true or 
this is all crap, and until you know it's 
crap, I want you to watch yourself. I don't 
wanna lose you. We need you to help us catch 
the mutherfuckers we know are real."

Suddenly there were tears smarting behind 
closed lids. "Oh hell, Andy...I promise I'll 
never complain again about stinging the 
mayor or tailing John Giottti's nephew. I 
just can't believe this shit--I--I don't 
want to believe it. I don't want to know 
about it. I just wanna go home...I 
mean...goddamnit! Andy, I'm about to fuckin' 
bawl here..."

"It's just the stress, baby. Just take a 
deep breath and relax," he crooned. "It 
ain't Orwell's '1984' yet."

Hill sniffed and whispered, pressing the 
phone against her mouth, "No...I mean...it's 
Dana. She called just before...I'm so 
scared. I can't believe how much she's 
changed."

"C'mon, girl, now you be calm. Dana's gonna 
be okay and so are you. And so are Mulder's 
fish, by the way. I went over and put in a 
ten day feeder so they ain't gonna start 
playing Lord of the Flies or anything."

"Bonus Karma points for you." Hill grinned a 
little and took a breath of air. Held it and 
then blew it out. "Okay. I'm okay. All 
right." Tina sat up, heard her ears ring. 
"How about Props and company or Mulder's 
other friends?"

"No one's on parole or escaped that we can 
find. I've got Gonzaga on it now. As for 
Spooky's chums, Dana wasn't shittin' when 
she said he doesn't have anybody in his 
Friends and Family Calling Circle. At least 
no one with a real name. We'll keep trying."

"Great. Thanks. But don't bother his mother, 
remember."

"Uh-huh. Now, you sure you're okay, baby?"

Hill smiled a little. "Yeah. Thanks."

"You call me later."

"I will, Andy. Bye." The phone's tone 
changed to a dead, vacant hum, but Hill held 
it there another moment, warm plastic 
comforting against her cheek. Andy was just 
seven numbers away. So was Tom and the rest 
of the world. She sighed and held the little 
phone in front of her, pushing the antenna 
down with exaggerated gentleness.

Okay. Time to play smart ass. "Hey, Garth, 
where do you stooges get your furniture? You 
getting kickbacks from local chiropractors?"

"Not all of us can parasitize the public and 
have our offices furnished by Uncle Sam. 
Some of us have to take what's available."

"Tell that to my tax-paying buttcheeks...So, 
what's the word?"

"The word is 'wait.'"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Langly's chair squeaked as turned it, leaned 
back and pushed his legs out in front of 
him. "You know, Agent Hill, if you'd cut out 
the caffeine and refined sugar you'd feel a 
lot calmer." 

"I'll be calmer when Dana Scully's partner 
is all snuggly-wuggly in their own little 
office. Now, you got anything yet?"

"Do I look like Annie Sullivan to you?" He 
shoved the heavy black frames back up his 
nose.

"Langly," she stood up and stretched, "if I 
thought you were a miracle worker, I'd ask 
you to pull a Fox out of a hat. Do you have 
anything or are you just gonna bait me some 
more?"

The skinny blond grinned. "Say something in 
Sioux."

"Say something in Old Anglo-Saxon. Wait--let 
me. How about 'fuck a horse'? That's all 
Anglo-Saxon if I was paying attention to 
'The Story of English.'"

Langly snorted his laugh. "We've got time to 
kill. I've got the algorithms set up to 
shake hands with the security program. It'll 
keep hitting on it until it gets the chaos 
frequency of the randomizer. After that, 
it's just hit or miss and sooner or later 
we'll hit."

She heaved herself up onto aching feet and 
picked her way through amputated electronic 
components. "Any way to tell when?"

"It'll probably be a while. Amex has better 
security than the Pentagon. After all, 
Pentagon's only got a lot of secret shit, 
but Amex has money." His grin faded. "Do you 
really think this shit'll help?"

"What? The travel records?" Hill settled her 
ass against the edge of a steel school desk. 
"Not really, but Dana figures that if we 
compare travel records against Handford's 
little fun and games we can narrow it down a 
little. We're just lucky all these assholes 
booked through Amex travel." 

Langley shrugged. "Good call. Easy enough 
once we cracked their bank's records. What 
about Handford's medical records?" He nodded 
towards a machine that quietly played with 
the insurer's computer, trying to find a 
chink in its armor.

"She wants to see his records. I dunno. I 
think she wants to know what to expect if 
she finds Mulder."

Langley swung his chair back and forth, 
sucking in his cheeks. "Maybe. If we're 
lucky, there's some kind of note in there 
that'll tell us why they didn't call the 
cops in. Something they figured would be 
covered by confidentiality."

"I hope so. Why are you on this alone, by 
the way? I was expecting the whole 
freakshow."

"They're undercover."

"Oh? We've got a while. You might as well 
tell me."

"Your insurers are from the stone age." The 
geek rocked his chair forward and picked 
through the crumpled remains of a burger 
wrapper, fishing out a stale French fry. 
"They've got all their records archived in 
hardcopy or microfiche where we can't get in 
to them."

"So?"

"So Byers gets to be a statistician and 
Frohike is an adjuster. They go in and tell 
whoever looks gullible that they're 
reviewing records to reevaluate those 
admission check-off lists all the managed 
care bozos use now. They want to see some 
records to judge how effective they are and 
all that shit. Some clerk trots them back 
and they start running copies and voila! 
We've got Handford's files. Like Hitler 
said, as long as the lie is big enough 
they'll believe it."

"You're too young to be so cynical."

"Riiiight. Tell me about Santa Claus, Auntie 
Tina. Who were you talking to on the phone a 
minute ago?"

"The call you kept snooping?"

"The one after Scully." Langly's face was 
ridiculously intense.

"Don't sweat it. I didn't tell him where the 
batcave is. Not that Andy'd care. He's cool. 
He's my boss. He's handling what's left of 
the FBI search for Mulder." She wiggled, 
trying to scratch in the middle of her back.

"What's left of it?" Behind his ugly, 
plastic glasses, the young man arched one 
colorless eyebrow.

Tina stopped. "Do that again." He grinned 
and did. "I've never seen anybody do that so 
well. How long did you practice that?"

"A kid's gotta do something in between 
reruns of Star Trek. So what's the scoop 
with 'Andy?' Scully said the fibbies stopped 
the search, all but her...and you," he 
amended at her look.

"They tried to call it off once." She 
sighed. "Dana called 'em on it, but after 
they started drawing blanks again, they cut 
it back to me and her. Andy's handling his 
part with leftover time from everything 
else." She chewed slowly, lost in thought. 
"Couldn't spare the resources..."

Langley was nodding. "And you think that's 
coincidence, too? Come on, Hill. Doesn't 
that sound fishy to you?"

"You want the truth? Yeah, it does. Mulder 
may be a flake, but he's still a cop and you 
don't give up when somebody fucks with a 
cop. But your conspiracy?" She shook her 
head. "He's made some enemies on the Hill--
maybe they're pulling Skinner's string."

"Oh hell! How many excuses are you going to-
-" The clatter and spit of the printer cut 
him off. He looked back up at the tall 
agent. "Paydirt. But Hill, you're gonna get 
him back him a lot faster if you quit trying 
to find reasonable explanations and begin 
considering extreme possibilities." His face 
was grim. "And if what you guys said about 
Handford is true, I figure Mulder needs you 
to go all out."


***


10:10 AM

"Hell, this makes comparing fingerprint 
whorls look good." Hill rubbed her eyes and 
glanced up at Langley. "How long 'til Frick 
and Frack get back to help us with this 
shit."

"Ohhh, God, I dunno." Langley let his head 
loll back, long hair swinging behind his 
head. "If they're smart they'll be gone 
until after five. If they do that I'm gonna 
kill 'em. How much more of this do we have 
to do?"

"All of it." She slouched forward over the 
pages of payment records and started digging 
out ticket purchases again, skimming past 
the names she didn't recognize to circle the 
ones off the list of Ophelia and Lingenor's 
corporate officers. "We may be in worse 
shape than Mulder if we have to do much more 
of this shit."

"At least you get paid for it." Three 
deliberate knocks at the door, then two 
more, brought him around and onto his feet. 
"It's Scully." The four door locks rattled 
as he clicked through the releases. A beep 
signaled the suppression of the security 
system.

"Great," sighed Tina. "I can't decide if I 
want her to sleep or to do these for me."

"Do what, Tina?" Scully entered with full 
hands. "I brought you some trash-food."

"Bless you, my child." Hill grabbed the 
garish box from her hands, while Scully 
cleared a spot for the coffee-scented paper 
sack.

"My mom taught me to ask first, Tina."

"Your mom probably never had her favorite 
donuts waylaid by her thieving, sneaky-
bastard coyote brothers," Tina replied, 
grabbing for a chocolate-coconut horror.

Scully leaned past Tina to stare at the 
financial reports. "What do you have? Are 
the medical records up yet?"

"Unh-uh." Hill's black hair flew as she 
shook her head. The springs of her old 
rolling chair squeaked as she leaned back to 
an unlikely angle and took a large bite. 
"And don't try to pull that on me, Dana. You 
first. What did you find at the bank?"

Scully's eyes were hollow and red-rimmed 
when she looked back at Tina but the 
expression in them was cold. "I found a lot 
of paperwork. I didn't find anything that 
told me who took my partner or where he 
might be. You said you had the reports, 
Tina. Quit yanking me around and--"

"Hold it, wait a minute!" Tina rocked 
forward. "Yeah, I found a pile of Amex bills 
and the Hickey and the Nutty Professor are 
out turning over rocks. If Langly's done his 
techno-weenie stuff right I'll have a lot of 
Carl's records for you when the computers 
quit French-kissing. All that can wait. Talk 
to me, Dana. What'd you find at the bank?"

Scully's fingers tightened dangerously on 
her cup, denting the paper, then loosening. 
She breathed drew a few loud breaths through 
her nose, jaw working. Tina watched her 
consciously relax, finally running her 
fingers through her hair, leaving it 
ruffled. "All right, Tina. I found Mulder's 
papers, his Will and all...and this." She 
fished in her pocket and tossed the sealed 
envelope onto the desk. Hill picked it up 
and turned it to the light, studying the 
angled writing on one side.

"Gonna open it?" Her voice was soft. For a 
long moment the only sounds were the sounds 
of Langley rooting around in the thicket of 
wiring and components across the room. Hill 
held the thick paper bundle out.

Scully looked at it then took it back. 
Turned it over and over for a few minutes 
before dropping it into her briefcase. Her 
face was tight. "No. I won't. Not--not 
unless he--not unless..." her voice trailed 
off.

Hill's face twitched and she opened her 
mouth then shut it and nodded. "I suppose a 
map with a big 'X' on it was too much to 
hope for, huh?" She turned back, watching 
Langley work. "What else did you find?" 
Scully said nothing. "Talk to me," Hill 
ordered, keeping her eyes focused the 
computer screen. "You called me up less than 
an hour ago in fucking tears, Dana. Your 
eyes are red, you look like hell, and you're 
not sleeping worth shit. Any AIC worth his 
pay would have pulled you off this one 
because you're too fucking close. Skinner 
ought to be canned and I don't know what the 
hell he's playing at with this shit but I'm 
going to recommend to him that he put you on 
leave."

"No!" Scully cried. Hill finally turned to 
face her. Scully's throat worked and her 
blue eyes were wide and dark. "Please, Tina. 
Don't do that. You do that and Mulder's 
dead. Oh, God. Please don't do that to us."

"Okay, Dana. Then talk to me. Perps don't 
kidnap feds and torture them, they just 
whack us. They don't play the games Carl 
told us about. What did you find and what is 
this all about?"

"If I had a year, I couldn't tell you about 
it. And you wouldn't believe me if I did. We 
don't have time for this, Tina." Her voice 
was pleading. "Can't you just trust me on 
this?"

Hill sat back, crossing her arms, and stared 
at a woman who had once been her closest 
friend. Shook her head in slow deliberate 
sweeps. "No. I let it slide in Richmond, but 
I've about had enough. Dana Scully, three 
years ago you dropped me and walked off with 
the King of Attitude. I've watched you put 
up with his shit for three years and snub me 
every time you walked past me. Mulder goes 
AWOL and all of a sudden it's 'Tina, I'm 
sorry, Tina, I've grown up, Tina, I need 
your help.'"

Scully's face was white. "That's right. I do 
need you and I meant what I told you. I'm 
sorry and I was wrong. But I need help, 
Tina. Help to find Mulder. I don't need 
grandstanding and pop-psychology and jealous 
little snits because you think the only 
screw I want is Mulder."

Tina ran her tongue over her lips and opened 
her mouth, hesitating as she tried to find 
the words. "You're damned fucking lucky I 
don't walk away from a case when I know 
there's someone in trouble. I don't like 
what I've seen Mulder do but I'm going to 
help you find him because you're right. He's 
in trouble. But I'm also going to recommend 
that Skinner pull you off this one, because 
you're not in any shape to handle it."

Scully's voice was leached of emotion. She 
sighed and sagged back in her chair. "You 
really don't understand what kind of game 
this is. They pull me off this and Mulder's 
dead, because nobody else knows how to 
follow up on this case."

"Look, I'm going a pretty good job of--"

"Of course you are." Scully stared at her 
with expressionless eyes. "Get my briefcase 
for me. I'll show you what you want to see. 
What I found in Mulder's box."

Hill stiffened, then nodded, saw the flicker 
of Langly's eyes as she leaned past the desk 
for it. Scully took the leather satchel in 
both hands, flipping the clasp on the bag 
and reaching into the side pocket. She held 
a small cube out to Tina.

Hill stared at the cube, puzzled. She 
plucked it up and held it to the light, 
studying the sharp edges and the blurred 
side. "So, what is it?"

Scully delicately extricated the block of 
plastic from Tina's grasp. "It's a tissue 
sample. Samantha Mulder's." Tina stared at 
the thing as Scully tipped her head toward 
Langly. "How much longer is that going to 
take him?"

"Until it's done. How do you know it's 
Samantha's?" 

"Mulder had a DNA graph run." Scully pulled 
rolled sheet out of the case and handed it 
to Hill. The big woman stared, baffled, at 
the banded lines.

"But how do you know it's really hers? What 
did he have, one of these from her childhood 
or something?"

Scully smelled like day-old perfume and 
coffee when she finally leaned over to trace 
the report's lines. "Look here. These. They 
show the gene patterns. Mulder didn't need 
Sam's genetic material for comparison. He 
had them run it against his own. See this?" 
She pointed to a set of figures at the 
bottom. "It's a statistical correlation. 
There are enough sets of genes in common 
that these two are almost certainly related, 
but they're not parent and child. Mulder's 
only got one sibling and no first cousins. 
That really doesn't leave a lot of choices, 
Tina."

"So this little widget thing is a chunk off 
his sister? Why the hell would anyone make 
something like...I mean, what does it do? 
Why have such a thing made? Is this the 
upscale version of cutting off an ear or a 
finger?" She frowned, shaking her head in 
consternation.

"No. Nothing that innocent. And this one's 
pretty old-fashioned. No, this is proof that 
the people who contacted Mulder could hold 
up their end of the deal."

"Pretty old?"

"Yes. It mean that whoever had this made at 
some point had access to Samantha. This is 
proof of it. Real proof. There was that tape 
of that woman but it could have been faked. 
Mulder knows that too. It would take more 
than that tape to get him to deal. 
Particularly if he knew what he was walking 
into and I think he did."

Tina nodded. "Okay. For the sake of 
argument, I'll assume Carl told us the truth 
and Mulder is where we think he is. So I 
gather this is proof he was set up and your 
conspiracy is real?"

"It's the best kind of proof."

"The DNA couldn't be faked?" She ignored 
Scully's rolled eyes. "But why would they 
have this?"

"Because Samantha's an abductee. And they 
have these on abductees." Scully's voice was 
toneless and soft.

"Abducted--Like Mulder?" Hill frowned, 
leaning forward to rest her elbows on her 
knees.

"No. Like Whitley Strieber and Close 
Encounters." Scully drummed impatiently on 
her thighs, eyes fixed on the back of 
Langly's head. "Whoever really took her, 
wherever she is now, this is proof that 
someone connected with Mulder's abduction 
had Sam at some point. It's the kind of 
thing he couldn't ignore."

"And this is what upset you?"

"Yes. No...Yes." She sighed and dropped the 
plastic cube into her case. Glanced 
apologetically up at Hill. "I thought I had 
better control than that. Yeah. This is what 
upset me."

Hill considered then shook her head. "I 
still don't get it. You're upset about 
Mulder, yeah, but that's not what this was 
about. You're the one who keeps saying 'I 
don't have time.' Quit playing the hide and 
seek and just spit it out."

Scully's tongue made a lump in her cheek as 
she ran it over her teeth. "Just spit it all 
out...God." She drummed her hands on her 
thighs again, then froze, balled fists 
knuckling thigh muscles. "I told you last 
night. I disappeared for three fucking 
months, Tina. God only knows what they did 
to me because I don't. All I know is that 
somewhere, someone has one of those on me. 
I...that's all. Isn't that enough?"

Scully wasn't looking at her. Hill crossed 
her arms and looked at her toes. "Yeah. 
That's enough."

"So what's Langley pretending to look up for 
you?"

"Dilbert?" Hill tugged her chair to his 
other side and leered at him. "He's 
snooping. And he's hacking."

"Yeah. Tina and I spent the morning cracking 
Amex." Langly smiled up at Scully. "Used 
some pretty cool stuff to break their 
encryption code and got lucky. Chief Sitting 
Hill said she wanted the medical records for 
a Special Agent Carl Handford, too, and I've 
got the Packard-Hell working on that." He 
pointed to the corner of the room. "Byers 
and Frohike are out palming the paper 
records, in case this fails."

"Uh huh." Scully crossed her arms. "So 
what'd you get so far?"

"After a ton of invasion of privacy, we got 
those," he pointed to the stacks of print-
outs on the desk. "We've been picking out 
the travel records you said you wanted. And 
I've kind of been looking for any weird 
purchases."

"Such as?"

"Hard to say." He shrugged. "I found a batch 
of medical supplies but it turned out they 
were through a vet and the guy raises 
horses. Another one had all these funky 
things he bought through DT. Whips and party 
favors like that. I figure once we get 
Handford's medical records we can cross-
reference them. That kind of thing."

"Right. So, is that all you've got?" She 
frowned, tapping her toe.

"Yeah." Hill nodded, riffling through a 
stack of expenses. "Dilbert says it's a 
waiting game for the computer and the boys 
to get done."

"Can't rush the gods of electrons, ladies."

Scully shut her eyes. Tina touched her 
shoulder lightly, pulled her hand back when 
Dana shook her off. "I'm okay."

"Like hell. Look, you've been running 
nonstop for days. You _have_ been running 
nonstop for days. The couch bites but if you 
treat it nice you might get a couple hours 
sleep."

"No. What were you working on? I'll help."

"What you see." Hill shoved a stack of paper 
over to Scully. "Accountant shit. C'mon, 
Dana. Take a damned nap."

"No."

Tina frowned. "Fine. Here's a fucking red 
pencil."


***