From: susanf34@comcast.net   
      
   *NO ARCHIVE*   
      
      
      
   **Headers, disclaimer, etc. can all be found in   
   chapter one.    susanf34@comcast.net   
      
      
   Chronology   
   by Susan   
   ~~~~   
      
   chapter four   
      
      
   The last time she'd been in the woods with Mulder   
   was in Oregon.   
      
   Something had lifted her up in the air and shaken   
   her with such force she'd nearly passed out. At   
   the time, both she and Mulder thought that *she*   
   was the one who was in danger of being abducted,   
   but by the time she'd figured out that he was   
   actually the one in danger, it was too late.   
      
   But would she be too late now?   
      
   Would she search and search for Mulder, only to   
   find out that he was already dead?   
      
   No, she couldn't think like that. For years, he   
   never gave up hope that Samantha was alive, and   
   she wouldn't give up on him no matter how much   
   time had passed.   
      
   She didn't want to go too far out among the trees,   
   not when it was beginning to get dark, but she   
   also knew that most of the abductees that had   
   been returned were found deeper in the woods,   
   not on the outskirts.   
      
   And so she went deeper, turning on the flashlight   
   and slowly making her way down the leaf-covered   
   path.   
      
   But what was it she was looking for exactly?   
      
   The same powdered gray sand she'd found out in   
   the woods when they were investigating the Billy   
   Miles case? Unusual tracks in the dirt?  Burn   
   marks on the bushes?   
      
   Or was she out here dragging herself through the   
   woods because she didn't know what else to do?   
      
   She'd told Skinner that he'd know what it was   
   they were looking for when he found it, but to   
   be honest, there really wasn't any evidence to   
   support them even being in this town, let alone   
   to warrant them searching the woods or the lake.   
   So, what had really brought her here tonight?   
      
   The truth was it was nothing more than a feeling.   
      
   A feeling that started gnawing at her all the way   
   back in D.C. and wouldn't let go.   
      
   A feeling that there was something here that might   
   lead her to Mulder.   
      
   A feeling that wasn't backed by scientific proof,   
   but ruled by what was in her heart.   
      
   There was something here, she could feel it.   
      
   And then out of the corner of her eye, she could   
   see it.   
      
   The last of the sun's light pushing its way down   
   through the trees, she saw a red splash of color   
   on top of what appeared to be a pile of leaves   
   about fifty feet in front of her, and though she   
   immediately felt apprehensive about what it might   
   be, she slowly made her way forward, her heart   
   beating faster with each step she took.   
      
   Was the red she saw part of a discarded candy bar   
   wrapper mixed among the leaves? An old mitten?   
   A balloon that had popped when it got caught on   
   the tree branches?   
      
   Or was it...no, it couldn't be that. Anything   
   but that.   
      
   She moved closer, her heart wildly thumping in   
   her chest now, her hand trembling as she pointed   
      
   the flashlight straight ahead, then down at the   
   shallow pile of leaves.   
      
   Please God, don't let it be...   
      
   And closer until she could see exactly what the   
   red was.   
      
   Oh God, don't let it be him.   
      
   The bottom of a sock with a foot still in it and   
   the body of a man, lying face-down in the faded   
   green leaves.   
      
   Please don't let it be Mulder.   
      
   Her legs wobbly, her arms numb, she made herself   
   move forward.   
      
   Please God, please.   
      
   Her eyes filling with tears, she bent down next   
   to his long crumpled body, pushed away the leaves   
   stuck to the shirt on his back, and took a deep   
   breath.   
      
   Please don't let it be him. Please...   
      
   And then she turned him over so she could see his   
   face.   
      
   Please...   
      
   She looked closely at the dark stubble on his chin,   
   the cut on his cheek, the bruise around his left   
   eye, then turned away and did the only thing she   
   could do.   
      
   She threw up.   
      
   ~~~~   
      
   It was like she was there, but she wasn't.   
      
   Watching his long limp body being covered up and   
   loaded into the coroner's truck, she felt like   
   she was watching from outside herself.   
      
   And she was numb.   
      
   "I'm so sorry, Agent Scully," said Skinner as he   
   put his arm around her. Not one to easily accept   
   comfort, especially when she was out in public,   
   she gratefully leaned into his shoulder. "I'm   
   sorry I wasn't here with you when you found him."   
      
   "You didn't know...and neither did I," she said,   
   taking a step towards the truck and staring at   
   the lifeless body inside of it. "You know, I   
   never expected this. I never..." she whispered,   
   her voice trailing off, her thoughts everywhere   
   but where she was.   
      
   "They think his name is Benjamin Meade. His wife   
   reported him missing a week ago after he didn't   
   return from a hunting trip."   
      
   So, the body she'd found belonged to a man named   
   Benjamin. A tall man with chestnut hair and long   
   legs. A man who'd gone to the woods one day and   
   was missing the next.   
      
   A man just like Mulder.   
      
   The thought that it could've been his dead body   
   being hauled away right now, his long lean   
   beautiful body instead of another man's was too   
   much to let herself contemplate, and suddenly   
   her throat felt clogged with the familiar taste   
   of half-digested food.   
      
   "It's not him, Dana," said Skinner, his voice   
   kind and compassionate as he gently touched her   
   arm. "It's not Mulder."   
      
   She closed her eyes, made herself swallow. "I   
   know, but it's somebody," she replied, remembering   
   when Mulder had said almost the exact same thing   
   to her the day they'd discovered a girl's body   
   they thought might be Samantha's.   
      
   She turned away from him then and started walking,   
   to where she didn't know.   
      
   She just knew she had to get away.   
      
   "Agent Scully, where are you going?" he called out   
   after her. "It's getting dark."   
      
   "I need to get out of here," she replied, picking   
   up her pace.   
      
   Not willing to accept that for an answer, he   
   hurried down the path after her. "And I need to   
   know that you're okay."   
      
   "I'm fine," she said abruptly.   
      
   And with those words, she turned away from him   
   again and kept walking, the sharp crackle of   
   the leaves beneath her feet echoing in her ears.   
      
   ~~~~   
      
   9:03 pm   
      
      
   She didn't remember going back to her motel room.   
      
   She didn't remember taking out one of Mulder's   
   journals from her luggage and clutching it to   
   her chest.   
      
   And she definitely didn't remember crawling into   
   bed with her shoes still on.   
      
   All she remembers is the dead body she saw in the   
   woods.   
      
   The dead body of a man who could've been Mulder,   
   but wasn't.   
      
   He wasn't...   
      
   According to what Skinner had told her hours ago,   
   his name was Benjamin Meade, a 35 year old husband   
   and father to a two-year old girl who worked for   
   an accounting firm in the town of Whitney and had   
   been missing for a week after going out duck hunting   
   with his buddies.   
      
   And according to Benjamin's friends, they reported   
   him missing after they woke up the next morning at   
   their campsite and couldn't find him anywhere.   
      
   But what happened to him?   
      
   Was he abducted and tortured, then left for dead   
   in the woods, or did what happened to him have   
   absolutely nothing to do with extraterrestrials   
   or government conspiracies?   
      
   Without seeing a complete autopsy report, she   
   couldn't tell, but she could tell that his death   
   was a brutal one.   
      
   Would this be the way that she'd find Mulder too?   
      
   Cruelly dumped into a pile of leaves like a piece   
      
   [continued in next message]   
      
   --- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05   
    * Origin: you cannot sedate... all the things you hate (1:229/2)