CHAPTER FOUR

Grayhaven Inn
Ithaca, New York
11:15pm

Scully was exhausted when she entered her motel room.  Her
back hurt.  Her feet hurt. And, if asked, she would have to
admit that in general she felt miserable. To top everything
off, she didn't believe she had accomplished anything since
arriving in Ithaca.  She still didn't understand
Doerstling's disappearance.

Scully thought about simply collapsing in bed and going to
sleep but, as tired as she was, she couldn't contemplate
sleep without first finding her toothbrush.

The phone rang.

"Scully," she answered out of habit.

"Agent Scully, this is Mike Stilgoe. I. . .uh. . . I'm
sorry to be calling you like this, but after you left the
pub I came back to Clark Hall."

"Has something happened?"

"No.  Nothing has happened.  This place is pretty dead,
but I was reviewing last Tuesday's CLEO data and I ran
across something I thought you might like to know."  She
could hear him shuffling papers in the background.  "There
was an unscheduled test the night of Doerstling's
disappearance."

"What time?"

"Oh, um. . ." Again Scully heard him shuffling papers.
"Looks like sometime just before nine."

"Do you know who ran the test?"

"No.  There's no official record.  I only noticed that
there were results that didn't fit in with the rest of
the stuff.  It wasn't on my earlier readout so I did some
cross checking.  This was something different."

"Any idea what?"

"No.  But I can check first thing in the morning if you
want."

She glanced at the red digital readout on the clock.
"Would eight be too early?"

"Usually," he admitted. "But with Blackwood scheduling a
test first thing tomorrow that shouldn't be a problem."

Scully thanked him for calling then reached for the remote
control to turn on the TV.  As she stood she noticed the
flickering images on screen. Some cable channel was
replaying the movie "Gattaca."  Not a bad movie, she
thought as she fished her toothbrush out of her suitcase.
Glancing up she saw Ethan Hawke challenge his on-screen
brother to a swimming endurance contest.  Men, she thought
as she rolled her eyes.  How did a suicidal race prove
manhood?

In the bathroom she washed away any traces of make-up left
after a day of tramping through the woods then entered the
bedroom as she patted her face dry.  The movie was now to
the point where Hawke's character achieved his life's
ambition by boarding a rocket bound for Titan.

Scully's brow creased as she considered the story.  She
remembered once telling Mulder that she believed in fate.
Actually what she had said was that a person's character
determined their fate.  However, in Gattaca a person was
not judged by their character but by their genetic
potential.

Hawke played the hero, a man who exceeded expectations and
proved that a man's soul was more than the sum of his
parts. On the other hand Jude Law played a man of unlimited
potential.  Nothing was deemed beyond his grasp. He could
do or become anything. However, without boundaries he was
doomed to failure.  No one could be everything, and faced
with that knowledge, he self destructed.  Law failed to
meet his impossibly high expectations, and when an accident
robbed him of the use of his legs he saw no purpose in
living. As Hawke triumphantly blasted into space, Law
climbed into an incinerator and committed suicide.

Scully gasped.

She dropped her towel and blinked.  She thought about her
line of reasoning, about the parallels between Law's
character and Dr. Doerstling.  It made a horrible kind of
sense.  Grabbing her wind breaker she headed to the door
then down the steps to her rental car.

She had to look at CLEO.  If a test was scheduled for first
thing in the morning she had to investigate the place
before whatever evidence that remained was destroyed.

Traffic was light as she drove to the Alumni Field which
was now deserted and pitch dark.  There were lights in the
distance but not enough to penetrate the inky blackness
here. Grabbing her flashlight, she stepped out of the car
then flipped the switch so that a single beam of white
light cut the darkness.

The flashlight showed her the path to the door of the
Electron Storage Ring.  Too late she realized that she
should have called Stilgoe so that he could let her into
the facility.  It was probably locked. But when she tried
the door she was surprised to find that it was open.

Feeling clumsily along the wall she searched for the light
switch but couldn't find it.  Finally she simply pointed
her flashlight's narrow beam into the darkness and
cautiously made her way down the stairs.  When she reached
the bottom she thought about going to the control room, but
having seen it the other day she decided there was little
evidence to be found there.  Instead she turned to enter
the curving, bunkerlike corridor of the CESR itself.

The ceiling was low, curving down like the walls of a
tunnel.  There were surface mounted lights running along a
track overhead but she had no idea where the switch for
those lights might be.  Next to the lights ran a bundled
black cable, and along the wall was a bulky contraption
made of metal.  This structure didn't reflect the elegant
aesthetics of sci-fi movies but the clumsy, inexact
mechanics of experimental research.

As her flashlight moved along the wall highlighting a red
painted horizontal track with heavy blue supports, she
noticed that fire extinguishers were located every few
yards.  To her right stood another awkward structure but
she couldn't make out what it was and had no idea what it
did.

Then she heard something.

Scully stopped and strained to hear any movement--any
sound--but the silence was oppressive.  Flashing a beam of
light behind her she searched the darkness, but the
curvature of the tunnel made it impossible to see more than
a few yards.  She switched off her flashlight and stood
blind in the darkness as she waited . . . but no
sound.  Nothing. Seconds ticked by before she decided she
must have imagined it and turned on her flashlight.

She walked down the hallway.  The sound of her footsteps
echoed around her.  To her right she noticed a stencil on
the wall announcing, "Synchronotron" then further down the
line she found the words, "West Transfer Line."  Apart from
the stencils, her surroundings remained unchanged.  The red
painted structure still stood to her left as a bulky
mechanical device ran down the wall on her right.  She
stopped when she found a large, stainless steel structure
labeled "CHESS West."

Again she heard something.  Movement. Her light arced in
the darkness as she turned to peer into the tunnel only to
find nothing changed.  She heard it again.  Her wobbly
light darted from side to side as she searched her
surroundings.  Now the sound was constant . . . and it was
close.  It was a small, desperate scratching sound.

Suddenly without warning the overhead lights blinded her as
they flooded the tunnel.  She squinted against the glare
but just as suddenly as they came on, they were gone.  Then
a strobe light flashed causing an eerie, disconnected
effect that made her flashlight useless.  A deafening horn
blasted and echoed down the concrete tunnel  She could no
longer hear the scratching, but she didn't think it had
stopped.

She pushed beyond the CHESS West and came to CLEO. When she
placed her hand on it she could feel a vibration.  The
scratching came from inside CLEO.

Laying her flashlight on the floor she felt for the latch.
There was no longer a scratching sound.  Now she heard
moaning. Someone was trapped inside.

Sirens blared.  Once.  Twice.  Three times.  Then a low hum
began to rise as if some huge electrical device was
charging. Scully felt the hairs on her arm stand on end as
dark foreboding pierced her. She found CLEO's latch next to
an orange fluorescent "Danger" sign.  Ignoring the warning,
she turned the lever.

Somewhere there was a loud click and the electrical hum
changed to an ear splitting whine.

She pulled the lever.  The iron door was so heavy it almost
didn't move.  Using all of her weight she pulled harder.
Slowly the hatch opened and she reached blindly into the
darkness and felt flesh.

Pulling back she retrieved her flashlight and shone it into
the drift chamber just as the sirens stopped.  The strobe
light stopped. It was still and dark and oppressively
quiet.

Her breathing quickened.  Instinctual fear raced down her
spine but she ignored it and looked inside the chamber.
Terrified brown eyes stared back at her.

"Dr. Doerstling!" she cried.

A loud, ominous sound echoed down the corridor and the high
pitched whine returned.  Only now it became steadily
louder until it reached an excruciating pitch.  Sound
vibrated through her.

"We're going to die," Doerstling said in a strangled
voice.

"We aren't going to die," she said calmly as she strained
to pull him from the chamber.

"The hell we aren't. Can't you hear it?"

"I can hear it."

"We're going to die."

"No."  Using her body as leverage she pulled harder. She
was determined dislodge him.

Then she saw it.  At first it was a vague, bluish-purple
light in the distance, but it grew steadily brighter as if
moving ceaselessly forward.  It became an inescapable,
menacing glare.  Then it turned the corner.

It blinded her.

Scully flinched and closed her eyes, but the white hot
light pierced her eyelids and seared her brain. Sound and
light exploded around her.  Her skin sizzled with
effervescent agony.

He's right, she thought numbly. We're going to die.

Light rushed through her.

It was mind blowing. Mind altering. Unimaginable.

Pain and power rolled together in a devastating,
omnipresent wave that crushed her. . .and became her.

She clutched her abdomen and a single thought seeped
through her confusion.  "My baby."

The energy exploded out of her, taking her breath and
strength with it.  She fell to the floor. It was
everywhere. It was everything . . . and she was nothing.

Darkness fell.

                     X     X     X

Something happened.  Something shifted.  Mulder felt it.
He couldn't explain it, but he knew it.  With every fiber
of his being he knew it.

The woman on the beach turned and saw him. He was captured
by a pair of shadowed blue eyes.

"Mulder." She said his name in a low and quiet voice that
was full of emotion and restraint.

"Scully!" The name burst from him. He didn't know what
corner of his consciousness produced the name, he only knew
it was right.

She swayed unsteadily on her feet.

He rushed forward.  "Hang on, Scully."

She blinked in confusion.  "What is this place?"

He stopped a couple of feet in front of her.  "I was hoping
you would tell me."

Sadness filled her eyes as she took an unsteady step toward
him.  He moved closer, and she lifted her hand to cup his
cheek.

"Mulder. . ." On her lips his name was little more than a
breath, a sigh.

He covered her hand with his own and they stood staring at
one another.

"It's okay, Scully."  He had no idea where those words came
from and was not at all sure he believed them, but still he
reassured, "Everything will be okay."

A single tear dampened her lashes but she gave a small,
enigmatic smile.  It transformed her face, and he couldn't
breathe. He reached for her. He had to. His fingertips
gently grazed her temple then followed the line of her
cheek. She felt soft and smooth and her lip trembled as
his thumb traced the curve of her mouth.

Scully moved closer and framed his face between her hands.
She rose to kiss him even as he lowered his mouth toward
hers.  Five inches separated them, then only three, then
two. She was a breath away. . .and then she was gone.  As
quickly as she appeared, she was gone.

"Scully!" he called but his voice was drowned by the sound
of the ocean.

                      X     X     X

Georgetown Memorial Hospital
Georgetown, Virginia
6:50am

She gasped, dragging air into her oxygen deprived lungs.
She reeled with confusion and blinked at the brightness of
the room.

"Doctor, are you alright?"

Scully turned and looked at the nurse then glanced over her
shoulder to find the doctor the nurse spoke to.

Then she saw. . . "Mulder?"

In disbelief she approached him. Shock and confusion
ricocheted through her.  How was this possible?  What was
going on? But every question was second to the fact that
he was here, and he was alive.

She laid her hand across his brow.  A hidden ache eased
inside her as she felt the fevered, moist heat of his skin,
the scrape of stubble against her palm, and saw the even
rise and fall of his breathing.

An astonished smile curved her mouth.

"You're back," she said in a low, choked voice and combed
her fingers through his crisp, dark hair.  "You came back."

"Dana?"

She looked to the doorway in confused disbelief.  "Daniel?
What are you doing here?"

He crossed his arms and looked impatient.  "Since you
haven't answered any of about two dozen messages and
haven't left the M.I.C.U. in two days, I decided it was
time for the mountain to come to Muhammad."

Messages?  M.I.C.U.?  What sort of bizarre dream or
delusion was this?  The last thing she remembered was being
caught in an electron accelerator with Dr. Steven
Doerstling. She frowned.  No, that wasn't true.  She
remembered something else.  She remembered standing on a
beach with Mulder.  He had called her name and returned to
her. For one timeless moment they had stood together, and
he had reassured her that everything would be okay.

Now she looked at Mulder's pale, tortured features and
wondered what was real and what wasn't. Which memory was
true and which was only a dream born of too many sleepless
nights and too much desperation?

"I don't understand," she murmured.

Daniel's face set in angry lines.  "What's there to
understand?  I'm your husband and I want to talk to you."

Her jaw fell.  "Husband?"

"Don't tell me you've already filed for divorce.  You
haven't left the hospital since you walked out."

"Walked out?  What are you talking about?  I walked out ten
years ago."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It doesn't mean--"

He interrupted. "Dana, please, give me a chance." His
voice became soft and cajoling.  "Have you filed for a
divorce?"

"No!"  She looked around her in confusion.  "No...I...why
would I file for a divorce?"

"Dr. Waterston," the nurse said.

Scully waited for Daniel to answer her.

The nurse tugged at Scully's sleeve and repeated,  "Dr.
Waterston."

With a sudden sense of understanding Scully looked down at
her hands and saw a gold wedding ring: SHE was the Dr.
Waterston that the nurse addressed.

The nurse finished, "There's someone wanting to speak with
you about Mr. Mulder."

Scully heard her but couldn't move.  Her mind was spinning.
What the hell was going on?