Chapter Seven

Scully opened her eyes to a bright white light hovering overhead. It took her a long, shivering moment to realize that the cold surface beneath her wasn't the metal table of her nightmares, it was sand. She was outside, and the light above her was the moon.

Memory flooded back. She had been driving to the dig site with Mulder, in the middle of the day. It was night now. Had they been in an accident? She bolted upright, and immediately grabbed her pounding head with both hands.

"Mulder?" She called out, peering into the darkness. If they'd had an accident, where was the Jeep?

There was no response for a moment, and she struggled to her feet. It was so cold that her teeth were chattering.

"Over here," Mulder's voice drifted out of the darkness.

She spun toward the sound and lost her footing, falling to all fours on the rocky sand. Mulder lay a short distance away, his face turned toward her. She scrambled over to him, heedless of the damage she was doing to her knees.

"Don't try to move. Let me look at you first." She dusted her hands off on her slacks before she touched him. "How do you feel, Mulder?" His skin was icy.

"Funny. I musta been laying on my side. My arm feels numb."

His words slurred together, the syllables lazy and indistinct. She took one of his hands in each of hers. "Mulder, squeeze as hard as you can." He tried to comply, and her heart sank. His grip was noticeably weaker on the right side. "Does your head hurt?"

"Yeah, now that you mention it." His eyes kept slipping shut. When he wrestled them open, the right eyelid lagged behind the left, never reaching more than half-mast.

She felt along his right side, checking the reflexes in his leg. Everything indicated an injury to the left side of his brain. Maybe a concussion, though she could find no external indication of trauma to the head. It was also possible that they had come into contact with whoever had altered their memories before. But why were they hurting him like this? Why just him, and not her?

He had been shivering hard a moment ago, but barely at all now. Hypothermia on top of a brain injury could kill him, if she didn't do something quickly. "I'm going to look for the Jeep, Mulder. We need to get warm." She moved to get up, but he made an uncoordinated grab for her arm.

"Don't go."

She sat down next to him and pushed the hair away from his forehead with gentle fingers. "Mulder, we can't survive out here all night without warmer clothing. The sleeping bags are in the Jeep, and they'll keep us warm until the sun comes up."

His eyes slipped shut and stayed that way. "Just don't forget to come back."

She leaned down and kissed his forehead. "I won't forget."

The moonlight was strong enough to show her the immediate area, but the Jeep was nowhere in sight. Directly in front of her, and stretching into the darkness on the right, was a line of huge boulders. To their left, cliffs rose several stories high. With one last glance at Mulder, she headed for the boulders.

There was an opening large enough to walk through, and what looked like a path, though it would take her out of the moonlight. Feeling her way along the rocks with both hands, she moved forward. It was hard to judge distance over such uneven ground, but it seemed less than twenty yards before the rocks parted and she found herself in another clearing. Not ten feet away was the Jeep.

She felt a twinge of panic, digging through her pants pockets for the keys until she found that the doors were unlocked. Underneath the floor mat, she found the keys. She stuffed them into her pocket and pawed through the supplies in back for canteens and sleeping bags and flashlights. The duffel where she'd put their sweatshirts came next, and she quickly pulled hers on. She grabbed Mulder's and added it to her bundle, then headed back to him loaded down like a pack mule.

It had been less than fifteen minutes since she'd left him, but his condition had gone noticeably downhill. She could barely rouse him. "Mulder, you have to help me." Trying to get his arms into the sweatshirt was like pushing a noodle into a straw. "Can you sit up?"

Getting him into the sleeping bag was easier, but by the time he was tucked in, they were both sweating in spite of the freezing air. She held the canteen to his lips, trying with limited success to get more of it into his mouth than down his chin. The paralysis on the right side of his mouth made it very difficult for him, and he coughed when he tried to swallow.

"Mulder, are you having trouble breathing?" He shouldn't be, but it certainly looked as if he were.

His response was so garbled that she had to lean close and ask him again.

"Head hurts." He squinted up at her. "Can't see you."

She couldn't wait for morning. He might very well be dead before then. "I'm going to find a way to get the Jeep in here so I can get you to a hospital." He murmured something unintelligible. "Mulder, I have to leave you here for a little while, but I'll be back as soon as I can. Do you understand?" She put one of the flashlights in his hands and turned it on. "Keep this lit, okay? It will help me find you."

She cupped his cheek and watched him struggle to focus on her face. "Mulder, can you hear me?"

"Be back soon," he slurred, smiling with one side of his mouth.

"Yes," she whispered around the lump in her throat. "Be back soon." She kissed him softly and stood up, then walked quickly back to the Jeep before she could change her mind.

The Jeep didn't start on the first try, or the second. Her heart was in her throat as she turned the key for the third time, and the engine roared to life. She put her head down on the steering wheel for a moment to wait out the shakes. Then she turned on the headlights and stared at the rocks. There had to be a break in the wall. She just hoped it was soon.

For some reason, she had expected the line of boulders to run straight into the desert. It did anything but. She noted the mileage on the odometer and headed into the darkness. In the first mile, she judged that the wall had angled to the left at least thirty degrees. She was moving farther from Mulder in two directions at once. And her speed had to remain below forty in order to make sure she didn't blow past a narrow opening in the wall that could take her back to him.

It was many minutes before she remembered the weapons in the glove box and slammed on the brakes. Dammit! How could she have left him out there totally defenseless? There were undoubtedly animals out there at night. Snakes. Coyotes. God knew what. And she had both guns.

For a moment, she weighed the odds that he might be attacked by an animal against his pressing need to get to a hospital. If she turned back now, she'd add an hour to the delay. He couldn't afford it.

The wall moved back and forth over the next several miles until she was no longer even sure of her direction. For a few desperate moments, she considered turning around and driving for help, or at least until her cell phone started working again. At least, she could be with him while they waited.

She was about to turn around when the gap she'd been looking for showed up on her right. Please be wide enough. The odometer showed that she was nearly ten miles from where she'd started, but the gap was her way back to Mulder. It was narrow and very rocky, but it was also his only chance. She fastened her seat belt and drove into it.

It was like driving over bowling balls, and she was afraid at several points that the Jeep was going to tip over. Getting back through it would be rough on Mulder, she knew, but there was no choice.

When she reached the flat desert, she breathed a huge sigh of relief and stepped down on the accelerator. She could follow the tire tracks back to the passage. Right now, all she could think of was getting back to Mulder.

She'd expected it to be simple to find him. Just speed across the desert until the rock wall appeared in front of her. Mulder was lying a dozen yards from it. It wasn't easy. The wall of boulders moved in and out just as the one she'd followed to the gap had done, and she was soon worried that she had missed him.

And then she saw the cliffs looming in the distance and knew she was close. She slowed to a crawl, straining for a glimpse of the flashlight, praying that he hadn't turned it off.

There! The light was on the ground, its beam shining toward her like a beacon. She stopped the Jeep ten yards away from him and ran the rest of the way.

She dropped to her knees at his side. "Mulder, I'm back." He had pushed the sleeping bag down, exposing his upper body to the chilly air. His face was so cold... "Mulder?"

For one horrible moment, she thought he was dead. And then he moved. "Mulder, I have to get you into the Jeep. Can you sit up?" He mumbled something and tried to roll away from her. "No, Mulder. You have to help me." But first, she had to get the Jeep over to him. "I'm going to bring the car over. Don't move," she added unnecessarily.

She ran back across the sand and parked the passenger side of the Jeep alongside Mulder's inert form. Reaching over, she threw the door open and got out to run around the other side. "Sit up, Mulder. Try to help me. Please."

His right side was completely useless now, but he did his best to help her. She got him propped against the right rear tire first, then helped him scoot more-or-less upright, braced against the Jeep with his left leg. Getting him to the door and then inside exhausted them both, but they made it.

Mulder was panting for air. "Scu... Scully. I... can't breathe."

"Here, sit up a little more. Can you sit up?" She kept asking him that, she thought hysterically. "Just try to take slow breaths, Mulder. Easy and slow." She stroked his forehead and prayed. It was all she could do. "That's it. Slow and easy. Take it slow." She said it over and over, and he began to relax. "I'm going to strap you in now and go over to my side. Just try to stay calm."

Her hands and her legs were trembling by the time she got in behind the wheel. She put the transmission in gear and headed back toward the gap, praying that she could get back through with Mulder's added weight.

The Jeep was actually steadier with the balanced load. She made it through the rocky pass and back to the road, such as it was, with very little trouble. Mulder's head smacked into the doorpost at one point, but he barely seemed to notice.

Now, all she had to do was find the main highway. The moon had set, so the little light it had provided was gone. Several times, she didn't know she had left the road until a rock or a bush appeared in front of her. Each time, she turned back toward what she thought was the right direction, always wondering if she might be driving further into the desert instead of back toward town.

Next to her in the passenger seat, Mulder was slipping away. His breathing had slowed almost to imperceptibility, broken by occasional gasps. She tried shaking him a few times. He winced as if she were hurting him, but he didn't wake.

The drive gave her plenty of time to think, and to worry. He seemed to remember her, but they had obviously been taken again and their memories altered. They had reached the dig site, and possibly found something. Or maybe, they had been assaulted as soon as they reached the site. There was no way to know. Whatever they had done to Mulder had made him much worse, at least physically. Her own headache was relentless, but she showed none of the symptoms Mulder had.

So why was this happening to him? If they wanted to kill him, why not just do it? Why the slow torture? Had their enemies tired of the cat and mouse games and decided to finish him off? Ineptly?

None of it tracked for her. The ring that Eric Hosteen had found seemed to be the key, but to what? Or was the whole thing a ruse to get them out here?

Her head was pounding with tension and confusion and something worse that she wasn't ready to examine.

And then she spotted headlights in the distance.

It took another twenty minutes to reach the main highway, but her cell phone suddenly showed a signal. She punched in 911 as she finally turned the Jeep onto solid pavement and gunned the accelerator.

She was near Nageezi, New Mexico, the 911 operator informed her. That put her over an hour from Farmington and the nearest medical facility. Did she require an air ambulance? Scully all but shouted in the woman's ear. "Yes! Send it now!"

They told her to look for a gas station, six miles ahead on the left. The life flight would find her there in twenty minutes, and they would transport the patient to San Juan Medical Center in Farmington.

It took her less than four minutes to make it to the glaringly bright gas station parking lot where she spent the longest fifteen minutes of her life watching Mulder breathe.

The helicopter landed with three minutes to spare. The medics loaded Mulder onto the gurney with ease, and trundled him off to the waiting chopper. They allowed her to board when she flashed her badge, but they wouldn't let her near him. All she could do was sit and watch as he was quickly examined and intubated as the chopper lifted off into the night.

He was whisked away from the landing pad at the hospital before she could get out of her seat, but it didn't take long to catch up to him in the ER. Once again, officious staff members seemed intent on keeping her away from him.

"I will not wait in the lobby," she ground out. "The patient is a Special Agent with the FBI, and he's been attacked. I will stay with him until we can secure guards from the Albuquerque bureau to assist. Do I make myself clear?"

Mulder was already on his way to get an MRI and CAT scan. She ran alongside the gurney, holding his hand until they slid him into the machine. Then she stood behind the technicians and watched the results come up on the screens.

Even before the doctors met with her, she knew there was nothing in the scans to explain Mulder's condition. He had some bleeding, but it was minor. Medication could handle it.

"We don't know what we're dealing with, " the taller doctor told her. They were in a small conference room, standing in front of a bank of lighted panels. Mulder's brain scans were mounted in a row at her eye level. "He's on full life support, but I'll be damned if I can see the cause. You say he suffered no head trauma?"

"Dr..." she checked his name tag though he'd introduced himself five minutes earlier, "... Warren, I told you that we woke up in the desert a little over two hours ago. Mulder was coherent for a few minutes, but his condition deteriorated rapidly. He may have been subjected to some drug or procedure intended to alter his memory. I don't know what."

The man shook his head, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I have to admit, I'm having a hard time accepting your story."

"It's not a story, it's what happened."

The other doctor cut in, "Is there anyone at the Bureau who might be able to offer some... insight? I was thinking that if this is some sort of espionage that maybe--"

"No one can help except the people who did this, and we have no idea who that is at the moment. You'll have to treat his symptoms until we know more." She was angry, but not at them. It just sounded that way.

Dr. Warren snapped off the panel lights. "We're doing all we can, but I doubt it's going to be enough unless we can get more information." She had apparently irritated him to the point that he no longer bothered to sugarcoat the news.

Scully sank into the nearest chair. "I'll contact my supervisor and see what help he can offer." Shock and worry and pure exhaustion were taking their toll.

Dr. Warren sat down next to her. "I'll see that you have permission to stay with the patient when we take him to ICU. He should be settled in his room in about thirty minutes. Why don't you make your calls now? There's a phone on the desk over there. You're welcome to use it." He stood up and patted her shoulder kindly.

Feeling slightly ashamed of herself, she nodded. "Thank you. I'm sorry if I sounded..."

"Don't worry about it. I understand." Both doctors left the room, and she sagged back against the wall.

It was six a.m. back in D.C., which meant that Skinner was probably still at home. She moved over to the desk and picked up the phone. He answered on the first ring, fully awake. She summarized as much as possible, finding that she had to backtrack several times to fill in important details that her frazzled brain had skipped over. She ended with Mulder's prognosis, which was grim. "Unless we can determine what's been done to him, the doctors have little hope of treating him successfully."

Skinner had asked no questions during her narrative. "Are you injured?"

"No, sir. I don't think so."

"I'll contact the Albuquerque field office and get you some help. Can you hold out for a few hours?"

"Yes. I'm fine, sir." He would recognize that for the lie that it was.

"Of course. I'll be there later this afternoon."

That surprised her more than it probably should have. "Yes, sir," was all she could manage.

She listened to the dial tone for a long time before she hung up the phone and put her head down on the desk. He hadn't once reminded her of his warning not to bring Mulder out here, but the words hung between them just the same.

There was a coffee machine in the hall and she stopped to buy a cup on her way to ICU. It tasted like the paper cup it came in, but it was hot and might keep her awake for a few hours.

She found Mulder's glass-walled room across from the ICU nurses' station. No one gave her any more flak about going to him, thanks to Dr. Warren. There was even a reclining chair waiting for her next to Mulder's bed, with a blanket folded neatly on the seat.

She pushed the chair as close as the machinery around him permitted and sank into it, pulling the blanket up to her chin. The room was freezing cold, as hospital rooms always were, sending a steady stream of steam from her cup. After a few sips, she put the coffee down on the floor next to her chair and took Mulder's hand.

He looked even worse, now that she could study him in the light. His color was better with the respirator and oxygen, but there was a marked sagging to the right side of his face. She was holding his right hand, and it was utterly lifeless.

"Mulder, it's me." The words caught in her throat, and she tried again. "Mulder, I know you can hear me." But she didn't know. Not really. Not with what may have been done to him. He might never hear her again. "You can beat this."

The words sounded hollow, even to her own ears, so she stopped talking. In spite of her best intentions, she was soon asleep, lulled by the beeps and hisses of the machines keeping Mulder alive.

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Continued in Chapter 8