Mon, 30 Jun 1997
Always Darkness Before the Dawn

Summary: This is a _Hot Zone_ treatment of what happened after
'Darkness Falls'. Lots of medical stuff, military stuff and bug stuff.

Notes: I've always loved 'the bug episode' as my children refer to
'Darkness Falls' but I always thought they left the scene right at the
most interesting moment. Since I loved _The Hot Zone_ and
'Outbreak', I decided to combine them with the X Files, sort of,
and this is what came out. It's an 'after the episode' story.

Spoilers or episode reference: Darkness Falls

Category: S, A, UST

Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, Skinner and the basic story of
'Darkness Falls' all belong to 10-13 Productions, and FOX. JoBeth
Carson, Steve Michels, Carrie Harris, Jimmy Harrison and Andy
Jackson belong to me, except Steve Michels was in the show as
'Clean-suited Man', but I gave him a name and fleshed out his
character.

XA disclaimer applies and please archive this where ever you want
as long as my name stays on it.

Finally, special thanks to Esther Walker and Luvmulder, my two
faithful readers. I love ya, ladies.

Always Darkness Before the Dawn
By Vickie Moseley
vickiemoseley1978@yahoo.com

High Containment Facility
United States Army Medical Research Into
Infectious Diseases (USAMRID) Post
Winthrop, Washington
6:15 PST

The white vans pulled up to the helicopter pad and stopped, turning
off their engines in unison. To the casual eye, the team that
emerged could have come off a drill field, their movements precise
and deliberate. Three people, hidden behind clean suits, waiting for
their next assignments to land on the empty field in a remote section
of the Cascade Mountain range in eastern Washington State.

Josephine Elizabeth Carson, M.D., Captain, United States Army,
wiggled slightly in her suit, wishing she'd not bothered with the
extra tee shirt. There had been a cold rain for the past couple days
and she'd expected more of the same, but that was before she
realized she'd be spending the day 'suited up'.

The call had come in somewhere around 5 in the morning. A
rescue team had been dispatched to collect civilians with probable
infection or exposure to biological vectors. The covering of thick
fog that perpetually plagued the higher forests had hampered the
search teams efforts. After a night spend trying to pinpoint the
victims location, the choppers had spotted the vehicle and the vans
had been dispatched. The victims, three of them, had been
'packaged and delivered' to the waiting helicopters, which in turn,
rushed them to the Fort.

It was a situation which merited the highest level of alert at the
post. A biological agent of unknown origin had infected three
civilians and the USAMRID post had been the closest level four
quarantine facility. That was the 'company line', JoBeth was sure
of it. There was a bit more to the story than that simple fact. In
actuality, all three individuals were employees of the Federal
government, one a Forest Ranger with the Dept. of the Interior and
the other two, Special Agents with the Federal Bureau of
Investigation. What the three of them were doing in the wilds of
the Washington forests, JoBeth could only guess. What they had
stumbled onto and had fallen prey to, it was her job to find out and
correct.

She had seen the medical records that had been faxed. More
synopsis than full records, the rest of the medical histories would be
delivered by noon on the earliest military transport out of Dulles.
The Ranger, Lawrence Moore, had a relatively simple history
including no allergies, no current medications and no conditions
that might impede treatment and recovery. The other two were
another matter.

Special Agent Dana Scully was 30 years of age, in good health
with no allergies. However, she'd recently spent time in quarantine
for an unknown contagion at a geology outpost in the Arctic Circle.
She had tested negative to any infection or infestation and had been
released after the standard 48 hours. Five months later, she'd been
treated and released for dehydration and lacerations that had
resulted from a hostage situation. No complications had resulted.

Special Agent Fox Mulder, 33 years of age, had been injured in the
line of duty in January, a gun shot wound to the upper left femur
that resulted in severe hypovolemia. Previous to that, he had been
quarantined with Agent Scully in the Arctic and had also been
treated for shock and dehydration following an investigation of a
missing Air Force pilot in Idaho. Although he had no allergies, his
medical synopsis did hint at an episode of hysterical catatonia that
had occurred in early adolescence. No physiological cause was
found.

The thrumming of the helicopter blades broke JoBeth out of her
thoughts and she put her hand up to her face mask to shield her
eyes from the spray of the heavy dew off the grass of the meadow.
In seconds, corpsmen were unloading the plastic covered stretchers
and their occupants and reloading them into the vans.

By earlier agreement, JoBeth had pulled Agent Mulder as her
assigned patient. She waited until the stretcher was settled in the
van before opening the vents in the side of the carrier and checking
her patient's vitals. His skin was dry and loose, covered with tiny
angry red bite marks. In some places on his face, she could see
lines of broken capillaries under the skin and faint bruising. His
heart rate was too fast, in the 110 range and his breath was coming
in short, rapid pants. He had slipped into shock and his skin temp
felt cool. He was running a low grade fever, according to the
thermoscan she placed in his ear canal.

The report from the field was that all three patients were
unconscious during transport, so she was a little surprised to see
dark eyes trying to focus on her from under dark brown lashes.

Oxygen had been one of the first treatments administered in the
field, as well as IV fluids containing sucrose and blood constitutes.
Initial triage reported severe dehydration, respiratory distress and
potential renal failure. The oxygen mask that covered the agent's
face was muffling any sounds, but JoBeth could tell he was trying
to speak.

"Shhh," she murmured, stroking his arm with a gloved hand.
"You're going to be all right. We're taking you to a hospital. Just
relax, and enjoy the ride," she grinned, hoping the two layers of
plastic between them would allow him to see it.

". . . m' partner . . ." he rasped, or at least that's how it sounded to
JoBeth. She remembered seeing a bit of his personal data with the
medical history--the other agent, Dana Scully, was his partner. He
was worried about her.

JoBeth was quick to reassure him. "We have her, too. She's going
to be with you in the hospital. We're going to help all three of you
get better. Just rest now, Mr. Mulder. Everything is going to be
fine." She continued to speak in soft, reassuring tones until she saw
the eyes drift closed and the ragged breathing calm a little. He
didn't wake up for the rest of the short ride to the medical facilities
at the post.

The USAMRID facility was one of several across the country, all in
secluded areas, all devoted to identifying, containing, and, if
necessary, eradicating any volatile infection or biological hazard
that might endanger the lives of the citizens of the United States. In
that capacity, it worked hand in glove, so to speak, with the
Centers for Disease Control, under the direction of the US
Department of Public Health and the Surgeon General's Office.
But unlike CDC, USAMRID answered only to the Joint Chiefs of
Staff, not to the American public. To USAMRID, disease was the
enemy, and they were fighting a constant war against it. It was a
distinction that allowed for a certain latitude in it's actions and a
strict adherence to military protocol.

The commander of the post was Lieutenant Colonel Andrew S.
Jackson, MD. He was a decorated veteran of the Vietnam War,
having gone to medical school upon returning to the States and
then joining up again after his graduation. JoBeth had often heard
it said that Andy Jackson pissed and shit olive drab and she had yet
to find evidence to the contrary. So military protocol was not just a
fall back position in the post in the Cascades, it was a way of life.

Usually, that suited JoBeth just fine. She had come into the Army
like many young men and women, as a way of escaping a hopeless
future. A bright student from a poor family, even scholarships had
been hard to come by, were it not for her beneficent Uncle S.A.M.
She didn't really care much about military protocol or national
security, but she liked the orderliness, the discipline.

JoBeth really cared most about medicine and research and how
that could cure diseases. She did the research, the Army paid her to
do it and that arrangement seemed more than amenable to her. She
didn't ask too many questions about policy and didn't have to
answer that many, either. She had no idea that the patient laying
before her was going to change her relationship with her employer
and her beliefs, for all time.

As the corpsmen moved the stretcher out of the van, JoBeth
noticed her patient struggling against the O2 mask. In seconds, she
recognized the signs of respiratory failure, no breath sounds or rises
were coming from the chest and his lips had taken on a bluish tint.
She ordered the corpsmen to hurry the few steps to the containment
room. Once there, she popped open the hatch on the self-contained
stretcher and proceeded to administer CPR with a hand held bag.

Several long minutes passed before Fox Mulder started breathing
raggedly on his own, but it was taking all his strength. JoBeth
quickly grabbed the respirator that was waiting in the Intensive
Care Unit/containment room and gently as possible, inserted the
small tube down his throat and cleared an airway. She set the
machine on one of it's lower settings, more to help each breath than
to take it over completely and went about supervising the taking of
blood samples. She looked up and smiled when she saw that she'd
been lucky enough to pull her favorite corpsman for her assisting
nurse.

"Hey, Pvt. Harrison, howzit going," she drawled casually as she
marked a chart for the test she wanted run on the blood.

Private First Class James Harrison looked up from his job of
divesting the prone agent of his clothing. "Hey back, Cap'n. Now
why aren't I surprised that you cornered the unmarried, good
lookin' FBI guy, leaving Cap'n Harris to deal with the married
Forest Ranger over in bed number three," the tall, dark faced
corpsmen teased.

"It was a flip of the coin, Jimbo. Honest." JoBeth replied, going to
a drawer in the nearby wall of cabinets and withdrawing
catheterization tubing and bag.

"Whose coin? Yours or Harris'?" Jimbo shot back, taking the
tubing from her and applying the Foley catheter to the still person
laying on the stretcher.

"You're no fun at all, Jimbo. And besides, don't let her fool you.
Harris has a two sided coin, too," JoBeth answered over her
shoulder as she pulled an IV pump over to the head of the bed and
attached the bag of solution. She stood there, watching the patient
for a few more minutes. When she looked up, the Private wasn't
keeping up his end of their usual banter. His face, though partially
hidden by the mask, was one of worried concentration.

She had learned to trust this corpsman too much to ignore that
look. "Whacha got, Private?"

The scowl on the young corpsman's face was almost obscured by
the plastic on his mask. "Nothing, Sir. This poor bastard is bone
dry," he said, shaking his head. "And what's all those mosquito
bites coverin' him? Where's he been, a swamp?"

"I don't think those are mosquito bites, Jimmy. I think they're why
the good Agent is lacking any urine at the moment." JoBeth
glanced down on the chart she was holding. "He's been receiving
fluids for the past hour, over two units already. Something should
be coming out pretty soon."

"It's gonna be the consistency of my woman's coffee at this rate,"
Jimmy muttered. "Grounds and all."

There was nothing left to do until the blood test came back, so
JoBeth did a last quick check of vitals. "I'm gonna see if his
medical records have come in. Holler--"

"At the first sign of trouble, no question, Cap," Jimbo finished her
sentence. "Save me a croissant," he added over his shoulder.

JoBeth stopped in the 'clean room' and stripped herself of her
whitesuit. She was grateful that the emergency had been classified
a level three biohazard, even though they were using level four
facilities. A level three required clean white suits, scrubbed
environment and purified air packs, which were worn on each team
members back. But unlike a level four, level three meant that the
infecting agent was not likely airborne or virulently contagious. A
tear in a white suit wasn't a potential death sentence during a level
three.

She pulled on her labcoat over her slim, 5' 4" body and headed for
the stairs to the lounge. The 'lounge' was really a small conference
room, two levels up from the level four containment area. JoBeth
wasn't surprised to see that the rest of the team had already
gathered. She was a little taken back to see that Lt. Col. Jackson
had joined them, and appeared to be ready to lead the meeting.

Everyone seemed a little subdued for a team meeting. JoBeth
glanced at her two teammates. Carolyn Harris was a dark haired
young woman, early thirties, determined and capable. She had
come to USAMRID after graduating top of her class at Harvard
Med School. Ivy League credentials could have earned her a berth
at any of a dozen prestigious hospitals across the country, but
Carrie's first love was public health. She interviewed with CDC
before calling her Army recruiter, who was only too happy to enlist
the young woman in Officer Training School and alert his old
buddy 'Andy' that he had a real 'find'. She'd been with the
Washington post for five years, one year longer than JoBeth.

Steve Michels was an abrasive but dedicated doctor whose
specialty was respiratory infections. Of medium height and build,
he was rather unremarkable in physical attributes, but very well
endowed in intelligence. He'd started out in VA hospitals and
fought his way into USAMRID. Although both of the women on
the team had at various times threatened to take out contracts on
his life, they also respected his opinion and, if either had contracted
any ailment, would have demanded him as their attending physician.
Steve had pulled Dana Scully as his assigned patient.

Lt. Col. Jackson looked up from his notes as JoBeth closed the
door. She sat down and nervously ran her hand through her short
brown curls. It was strange enough to have real life patients to
work on, she should have expected the 'old man' to take part in the
team meeting. Even so, his presence unnerved her. Taking in the
quiet manner of her two co-workers, she realized she wasn't the
only one feeling out of whack. She smiled weakly at them and
Carrie returned the smile, with a slight shrug to her shoulders.
Whatever was up, they'd find out soon enough.

Andy Jackson was tall and didn't look a day over forty, even
though he was pushing 55. His coal black hair and fair skin spoke
of Irish ancestry. His gray green eyes were piercing and had left
more than one subordinate an emotional wreak. He looked at his
three underlings and wondered if there would be a need to use more
than just his eyes to keep this from getting out of hand.

This wasn't the first time the facility had been used as a trauma care
facility, but it wasn't a daily occurrence, either. This was a research
facility, and there wasn't much call for the hospital unit. If there
were patients, there was trouble, the kind of trouble that called for
immediate action and damn the consequences. The kind of
decisions one made in war. Andy was perfectly comfortable with
that arrangement, but these young women and man, and for the
most part, all of the corpsmen in the unit, weren't. They had never
seen combat and still considered a 48 hour shift as a third year
resident the moral equivalent of hell. They weren't tested under fire
and that thought gave the older man a chill. He just hoped they
would react in a manner that would allow him to maintain control.

His steely eyes meet the three sets of eyes before him. He cleared
his throat. "I believe you've had a chance to acquaint yourselves
with the patients who were brought here this morning." Three
heads nodded in unison and three 'Yes, sir's were given. "Good."
He picked up three file folders and glancing at the names fixed on
each label, he distributed them to the officers. "These are the
complete medical records of the patients. Please take a while to
familiarize yourselves with their previous medical histories. Keep in
mind, however, that the contagion is unlike any we have
experienced here to date, and for the most part, you are flying
'blind'. Now, I want some idea of what you've found." He sat
down and looked at Michels.

JoBeth shot Carrie a knowing look. Jackson was nothing if not a
chauvinist of the highest order. But when push came to shove, he
treated each of them alike--disdainfully, but alike. Steve cleared his
throat and looked over the chart before him.

"Agent Dana Scully, age 30. Suffering severe dehydration and
hypovolemia. Heartrate consistent with rapid loss of fluid--she was
120 at site and has stayed in the 100 range since transport. She's
not voided, although cathetarized. I've started intravenous
antibiotics, sucrose, and blood constitutes. Her skin is covered
with insect bites, which I believe is the cause of the loss of fluid,
although I'm hard pressed to explain how that came about. I had a
set of chest x rays taken and found some interesting results." He
pulled a set of black and white films out of the back of the chart and
got up to put them up on the wall display closest to him. Once the
light was flicked on, the screen revealed a picture of ribs and lungs,
but the lungs seemed to glow. He picked up his pencil from the
desk and circled the left lung. "This area, as far as I can determine,
is a phosphorescent substance that has been inhaled."

Jackson frowned. "Is it causing the respiratory distress the patient
is exhibiting?"

Steve shook his head in the negative. "I honestly don't think so. I
believe the cause of the current distress to be the fluid loss in the
lining of the lungs, and nothing to do with this substance. To tell
the truth, sir, this appears to be waste product. Possibly connected
with the insects."

"Do we have any of the insects to study?" JoBeth spoke up.

"Not at this time, aside from the carcasses that were left in the
lungs themselves. Agent Scully has experienced fits of coughing
and expelled some of the substance. I had some slides made." He
turned to another set of films and place them on the screen. "As
you can see, these things are just a touch bigger than microscopic.
For these insects to have done this much damage, before these
people could get to a medical facility, is almost impossible. There
would have to be millions upon millions of them to inflict the
damage we're seeing. I'm sure they're connected, but I don't want
to hazard a guess as to how, or what might also have been
involved."

"Agent Mulder went into respiratory arrest when we got him in the
room. I put him on a respirator. Since Agent Scully's lungs appear
to be congested with this substance, are you administering an
expectorant at this time?"

Again, Michels shook his head. "I'm afraid of the interaction at this
point. If she stabilizes her electrolytes by tonight, I'll order it. At
this point, with the lack of fluid, she could rip her lungs apart trying
to get out something the consistency of honey and just as sticky.
As for your patient, I say hold off on the expectorant for now."
JoBeth nodded and made a note on the chart.

"I'm most concerned with renal failure at this point. Depending on
how long since fluid loss, we could be dealing with some real
complications once normal levels are reestablished," Carrie chipped
in. Both of the others nodded and made further notes.

"We have an interesting situation, here, as always," Jackson said
when it appeared the reports had gone as far as they could. "Oh,
one other matter. These individuals were not in contact with their
families when they became infected. Now, Ranger Moore's wife
has been notified and she's been informed that she'll be able to visit
as soon as risk of contagion has been firmly eliminated. But with
the two FBI agents, the only contact has been with their superior, a
Walter Skinner. I would like to have the two of you give Mr.
Skinner a call as soon as possible. He seemed anxious to deliver
any news of the agents conditions on to their families." He picked
up his remaining file folder and stood. "If that is all, you're all
dismissed." He waited while the three young doctors rose and
snapped off salutes, then he left.

As soon as the door closed, all three heaved a sigh of relief. "That
was weird," JoBeth was the first to admit.

"Yeah, the old man taking part. It's kinda spooky, if you ask me,"
Carrie agreed.

"C'mon you two," Michels chided them. "This is serious shit. I
mean, two Fibbies and a Ranger. Eaten up by killer lightning
bugs--"

"Is that what they are? Lightning bugs?" Carrie demanded.

"Sure as hell looked like it under the 'scope. I sent the crap off to
be analyzed upstairs. We should know more by mid afternoon.
Until then, I think we shouldn't worry about it."

"I've never heard of a 'lightning bug bite'," Carrie muttered as she
picked up her chart and moved to the door.

"That's because you've led a sheltered life," JoBeth teased lightly,
but couldn't stop the shiver that ran down her back.

end of part one

Always Darkness Before the Dawn (2/5)
By vmoseley
disclaimed in part one

Agent Fox Mulder was still sitting in the jeep, watching helplessly
as the tiny mites swarmed into the interior of the vehicle. They
were attacking Scully and Moore and he was trying so hard to
brush them off Scully. He knew the little bugs terrified her and it
was more than he could take that he wasn't able to take out his gun
and shot them away. Scully was screaming and he was feeling the
first of the bites on his neck and face, his hands and starting to
burrow under his skin--

Mulder struggled again, feeling something hard and smooth running
down his throat. It gagged him and he couldn't breath and then,
without any effort, air was surging into his lungs, but not when he
wanted it to. It was frightening and painful and he wanted to
cough, to dislodge the whatever it was and spit it out, but he didn't
have the strength. He tried to open his eyes, but they were glued
together and he could still feel the bugs as they burrowed and bit at
his flesh, he could feel them sucking the life out of him.

"Cap, I think we got problems." A deep bass voice sounded
through his head. It wasn't Scully and it didn't sound like Moore.
He knew it wasn't Humphrey or Spinney, they were both dead. He
wished he could open his eyes and see who was speaking.

"What's the matter?" This came from a woman, a soft alto that he
recognized. He had heard that voice before, telling him that he
would be all right. Do angels have alto voices, he wondered
absently to himself, before another breath caught and he was trying
to cough again, but couldn't with the thing down his throat.

"He's coming around and fighting the tube, sir." It was the 'sir'
part that got JoBeth's attention. It was Jimbo's secret little tic.
When he was nervous, he sir-ed up one side and down the other, as
if laying responsibility for whatever was happening solely at the feet
of his superior officer.

JoBeth was beside the bed in an instant. She placed her latex
gloved hand on the agent's cheek and with the other hand,
restrained his shoulder. "It's all right, Agent Mulder. Relax.
Don't fight the tube, it's helping you breathe right now. You're
too sick to work so hard, let it do some of the work for you."
JoBeth glanced over at the heart monitor that was now in place
next to the IV pump. It was showing in the 150's and rising.
"Agent Mulder, I know Agent Scully would be really pissed if you
did something stupid. Come on, relax. It's all right. You're safe.
Your partner's safe. You're both safe." That did the trick. At the
mention of his partner's name, the struggling slowed and eventually
stopped. By that time, Jimbo was ready with a mild sedative that
he injected into the IV port. Mulder's heart slowed back to the
90's and both doctor and corpsman sighed in relief.

"Good call, using the partner's name," Jimbo said with a smile.

"Yeah, well, I got all A's in gossip in high school," JoBeth returned
with a smile. "Besides, he's already asked about her when he came
up before. I figure they're an item."

"I hear Fibbies are always getting married, but the Bureau high-ups
don't like it that much," Carrie asked, overhearing the conversation
easily in the quiet room where the three patients were laying side by
side.

"Yeah, like in the military," JoBeth snorted. "And I bet they don't
even dignify it with a 'don't ask-don't tell' policy," she added with
a roll of her eyes.

It was getting close to 2 in the afternoon and JoBeth's stomach was
not going to quiet down until she ate something. She had ordered x
rays, finding Agent Mulder's lungs to be congested with the same
glowing substance that was found in Agent Scully. Next, she
reexamined the blood constitutes she was administering, as well as
ordering a broad spectrum antibiotic. Finally, it had taken most of
the late morning and early afternoon reading Fox Mulder's half an
inch thick medical file. With a nod to Jimbo, she headed to the
cafeteria to get a bite to eat.

Few things were considered perks in her line of work, but the
cafeteria was definitely the top of the list. Unlike most military
installations, USAMRID had a very high standard of food quality.
Once, when Michels was being a particular pain in the ass, he had
confided that the reason the food was so good at the post was
because it could, at any time, become the last meal for everyone in
the compound.

It was true that they were sitting on a biological ICBM silo. Ebola,
Marsburg, Hemmoragic Fever, AIDS, several forms of the plague,
all were nestled in tiny glass vials in the safe room in the
sub-basement level. The men and women who worked at the post
were well acquainted with the fact that if someone was brought
here for treatment, it was because they were too great a threat to
keep in a normal hospital. A cough, some spittle, a paper cut, all
could spell an early grave to any of the workers. Good food almost
didn't seem enough of a trade for some of the risks they took, but
on most days, it was close, at least as far as JoBeth was concerned.
She heaped her plate with Beef Tips and green beans almandine and
settled down for a quiet half hour reading the latest gardening
journal. Halfway through her Black Forest Cake, her beeper went
off, paging her back to the containment level.

"It's the color of mud, but we're finally getting some output,"
Jimbo greeted her as she entered the room.

She checked her watch and then frowned at the urine bag attached
to the catheter. It had sure taken it's sweet time. It was so dark,
almost brown in color, but it was a sure sign that Mulder's kidneys
were at least attempting to do their job. Now the trick would be to
make sure they didn't over tax themselves into renal failure. "Keep
an eye on him. And check that for proteins and blood. We still
aren't sure of all we're dealing with," she sighed.

At least his respiration was improved. Now that there was
moisture being delivered to his lungs on a cellular level, he was
breathing better. JoBeth had decided to keep the respirator in place
while he was unconscious, just as a precaution. It seemed
unnecessary now. "Let's get this tube out of his throat, too, Jim.
He might sleep easier without it and he's breathing pretty well on
his own. Just keep him on a cannula."

"Yes, ma'am, sir," Jimbo smiled, all teeth. Things were looking up,
the patient seemed to be responding well to treatment. He could
afford to breath easier himself now.

Mulder awoke again to an unbearable itching. It felt like his skin
was ready to crawl right off his flesh and leave his bones to fend for
themselves. But try as he might, he didn't have the strength needed
to scratch all the places that itched, so he settled for a low moan of
agony.

An ash brown lock of short curly hair behind the clear face plate of
a decon suit swam in to focus and soon after, a pair of pale blue
eyes. The eyes belonged to a face that was smiling at him, but he
couldn't figure out why anyone could be so happy when he was in
the midst of such torture. He closed his eyes and moaned again.

"Agent Mulder? Can you hear me?" It was that voice from his
dream. He kept having this dream where people were torturing
him, sticking probes in him, needles, tubes down his throat and up
his, . . . well everywhere, and through it all, he kept hearing that
voice, telling him it was all going to be all right. But if this
incessant itching was 'all right', he had a few words for this
woman.

"Itch." That was all that his throat would allow him to say.
However, it seemed sufficient. She nodded in understanding.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do. I'll have Pvt. Harrison get some
anti-inflammatory. And I believe you're ready for some cort cream,
if you can stand it." She turned back to the chart in her hands.
"Are you thirsty?" She chuckled as he used what little strength he
had to glare at her. "Dumb question, huh?" He nodded in reply.
"Really, it's a good question. If you _weren't_ thirsty, I'd know
we were in serious trouble. Here, let me get you some water." She
reached over to a table and brought a Styrofoam cup with a straw
to his mouth. She held it as he drank greedily. When he nodded
again, she put the cup back. "Better?"

"Where's Scully?" he asked, figuring the last question was more
rhetorical than anything else and he didn't want to waste his breath
or his throat on it.

"She's right over there, in the next bed. And, although I'm sure it
just slipped your mind to ask, Ranger Moore is in the bed over by
the far wall."

"How're they doing?" he asked anxiously, straining his raspy throat
again. She could tell he was really interested in only one half of the
answer, but was attempting to be polite.

"Both of them are holding their own. Your partner had some
trouble earlier in the day, but then, so did you. Ranger Moore has
been awake a couple of times. If he's feeling up to it, next time
he'll get to eat some lemon ice, which I'll offer you, too. It would
do wonders for that throat," she tempted.

Mulder thought about it and cringed at the thought of anything that
cold on his throat. "Later. After more water," Mulder replied in a
hoarse whisper. "What trouble did Scully have?"

"Respiratory. And, since she's smaller, the loss of fluid is more
dangerous for her. But we're working on it and she's responding
well to treatment. She hasn't been awake yet, but that's to be
expected." She handed him the cup again and this time he held it
with a shaky hand. She waited for him to finish drinking. The vice
grip on his throat was finally getting loose.

"So, I take it you're a doctor. Where are we?" he asked as he
handed her back the cup.

"Yes, I am a doctor. Captain JoBeth Carson, at your service," she
smiled. "And you are at a high containment research facility in the
Cascades. A guest of our mutual Uncle."

"Captain? A USAMRID post?" he noted as he laid back on the
pillows with a tired sigh. He was wilting fast, but still craved
information, JoBeth could tell by the look in his eyes.

"The one and only. But enough double Jeopardy questions for
now. You need to get some more rest. And here's Jim with that
medicine for the itching. You'll sleep better after it takes effect."
She stepped aside and a big man in an identical whitesuit stepped
up with a syringe, which he injected into Mulder's IV, much to the
agent's relief.

"That's gonna make you sleepy, so just close your eyes and don't
fight it, OK?" the deep bass voice said soothingly.

By this time, Mulder was too tired to fight anything, much less
something that promised to make him sleepy and take away his itch.
In fact, he welcomed it.

"This is Captain JoBeth Carson. I'd like to speak to Assistant
Director Walter Skinner, please. Tell him that I'm the attending
physician for Agent Fox Mulder at the quarantine facility in
Washington State." JoBeth waited for the lines to be switched and
connected, absently tapping her pencil on the yellow legal pad in
front of her.

"Dr. Carson, thank you for taking the time to call," the deep voice
came over the phone. It was clipped and professional. "What is
Agent Mulder's condition?"

"At this time, he's in serious condition, but he's improving quickly.
He seems to be making good headway, all things considered.
Given his current progress, I'd say that he'll be able to call you
himself in a day or two," JoBeth assured the AD.

She was positive there was a snort on the other end of the phone.
"I sincerely doubt that he'll want to do that on his own, Dr. Carson.
I understand that you intend to keep both agents for a full two
weeks, to ensure no complications."

"That's correct. If it would be easier on you, I'd be glad to contact
Agent Mulder's family directly. I hate to put you in the position of
'middle man'," JoBeth idly played with the pencil. Agent Mulder's
medical records made it clear that the person to be notified in case
of emergency was first, his partner, and second, the Bureau. No
relatives merited a mention.

"No. Thank you, but I've got that covered," came the terse, but
polite reply. "I appreciate the update."

"Uh, Mr. Skinner, if I could ask, how long have you known Agent
Mulder?"

There was a moment of hesitation on the other end of the phone
line. "I've been his supervisor for just over two months. But I've
known _of_ Agent Mulder for most of the time he's been with the
Bureau, almost ten years. May I ask what relevance this has to do
with his treatment?"

Now, it was JoBeth's turn to hesitate. "Well, I've noticed that
Agent Mulder tends to take everything at a certain speed--too high.
His medical records point to several unnecessary risks, and their
consequences. I was wondering what kind of a patient I can expect
once he's able to do more than just sleep."

Skinner chuckled. "He's a pain in the ass, Dr. Carson. My advice
is to slap on restraints and use plenty of cotton in your ears. Or do
what his partner would undoubtedly like to do but never does."

"And that would be?" JoBeth asked, but secretly regretted the
question.

"Sedate the shit out of his until he's better." The line was
disconnected and JoBeth was left staring at the speaker phone.

*****

"He's a looker," Carrie Harris smiled as JoBeth glanced up and
noticed her colleague eyeing her patient.

"Yeah, well, I seem to remember a diamond that weighs a ton on
your finger, Captain. Or was that found in a Cracker Jack box,
after all," JoBeth growled lightly.

Carrie's smile got that much bigger. "My, my, we are territorial
this evening, aren't we, Captain Carson? And just because I'm
taken doesn't mean I'm dead. You don't have to buy the museum
to appreciate the artwork," she quoted.

JoBeth adjusted the IV line and made a notation on the chart.
"Artwork. Yeah, that sums it up. He's definitely a piece of work."

"I wonder why they were up in the forest anyway," Carrie mused.

"They say D. B. Cooper might be hiding up in the forests. Maybe
they were checking out a lead," JoBeth replied absently as she
listened to Mulder's heart for signs of congestion. His respiration
was still tops on her lists of concerns.

"Hey, maybe they found the loot. Who cares what happened to old
D. B.," Carrie shot back as she did a similar check on Moore. "I
just wonder where they came across these bugs and what the hell
happened up there."

"I think that's what we're all wondering, Carrie. I wish he'd wake
up enough to be able to tell us. It might come in handy."

"Well, I don't know if would come in handy or not, JoBeth, but I
sure as hell am _not_ going camping until we find out more about
this bug and get rid of it!" Carrie exclaimed and went back to
writing on the chart.

JoBeth finally made it up to her bunk somewhere around midnight.
She had an apartment in town, the little town just 30 miles from the
facility, but when there was a level three status or above, all the
team members stayed in the cell-like dorm rooms at the post. It
was easier for them to stay close to their patients, and cut down on
the risk of contaminating the populace. It was never called 'lock
down' but that's usually how everyone thought of it.

The results of the lab culture on Agent Scully's sputum had arrived
around eleven and Steve had been beside himself. The substance
was luciferin--the same substance that allowed lightning bugs to
flash their backsides. Steve had been right, they were dealing with
killer lightning bugs.

The realization that this could actually spread beyond the forest hit
all three team members at the same time. A hasty meeting with
Jackson was called and he was informed of the findings. He gave
no indication what would occur next, but again, Michels was quick
with speculation.

"Total annihilation," Michels grinned. "One 'extinct' species--plain
and simple."

"But we know next to nothing about this thing," JoBeth had
protested. "We don't know how it reproduces, we don't know
during what stage it attacks. We don't even know if it only attacks
humans. Irradication is indicated, but we need to keep a couple of
them around just to study," she reasoned.

Michels simple snorted. "Yeah, right, Carson. Tell you what, I'll
go get a Mason jar and you go pull up some grass. Harris can take
a nail and poke some holes in the lid so the buggies can 'breath'.
Then, if we aren't Egyptian mummies by morning, we can all hold a
biology class and study the life cycle of the fluid . . . sucking . . .
firefly," he hissed slowly right in her face. Even Carrie had to
giggle at the image that description produced.

But JoBeth didn't laugh. She just glared at Michels for a minute
and turned on her heels. It was late and what she wanted more than
anything at that moment was a good night's sleep.

end part two

Always Darkness Before the Dawn (3/5)
by vmoseley@fgi.net
disclaimed in part one

Her alarm sounded at 0600, an ungodly hour as far as she was
concerned, but she wanted to check on how her patient made it
through the night. When JoBeth arrived down at the containment
room, she was pleased to see Mulder sitting up and wincing down a
few spoonfuls of lemon ice.

"An unusual breakfast, but probably a welcome one," she
commented as she looked over his chart that the night corpsman
had updated. Mulder had slept through the night, awaking about
the same time JoBeth was getting out of her shower. He had
complained of the itching again, and this time, the corpsman had
used the hydrocortisone cream to soothe over the irritated skin. It
worked and Mulder had been prodded into trying something on his
stomach.

"This is pretty good, really. It's just that it hurts when I swallow,
even something cold," he admitted.

"Your voice sounds a little better," JoBeth said, encouraging him to
take a few more bites by setting the Styrofoam bowl closer to him
on the tray table.

"I feel a little better. But, Dr. Carson," he said as he lifted his hand
with the IV attached. "I'd be a much happier little inmate if we
could dispense with the tubing. And I'd really rather take care of
nature's call on my own, too." He softened the words with a
charming smile.

JoBeth chuckled under her breath. "Well, Mr. Skinner, you're dead
on the money, so far," she muttered. "Mr. Mulder, 24 hours ago
you weren't 'breathing' on your own. Now you want to use a
bedpan?"

"No," he quickly countered. "I _want_ to use the little agent's
room. I assume you have one, but if not, I'll use the little doctor's
room. I'm flexible," he grinned.

"You want to get out of bed," she said evenly, it was a statement,
not a question.

"Yep."

"And if you fall on that rather tight, muscular ass, I'm liable for the
concussion," she said flatly.

"That was either a come on, or sexual harassment, Dr. Carson, but
again, I'm a nice guy. Just let me go to the bathroom and I'll forget
all about it," Mulder returned.

JoBeth couldn't keep the smile off her face. "You are persistence
walking, aren't you, Mr. Mulder?"

"No. Right now, I'm 'persistence laying in a bed'. But if you
unhook me from all this shit, I'll _be_ persistence walking. Come
on, I know this routine. I've been 'recycling' fluids for almost 20
hours. I'm lucid. I'm not gonna run the Boston Marathon. You
have to let me out of this bed sooner or later, just make us both
happy and make it sooner. Please." He ended that speech with the
most sorrowful expression JoBeth had ever seen. Then it struck
her. She had seen that expression. On her Bassett Hound the day
she left home to go to boot camp. Her smile turned into a full belly
laugh.

When she got herself under control she looked over at the still, red
haired woman lying in the next bed. "No wonder they teamed you
with an Irish woman, Mr. Mulder. I'm sure she's the only person
on the planet who can handle you."

"Now are you making an ethnic slur against my partner, Dr.
Carson? So far you aren't making a very PC impression," Mulder
said, his eyes twinkling.

"Not an ethic slur, Mr. Mulder. A testament to the woman's
fortitude. And her boundless patience, I'm sure. And for your
information, my mother was Irish," she added, crossing her arms in
a gesture of defiance.

"Glad to hear you had a mother, Dr. Carson. I thought all
USAMRID doctors were clones," Mulder shot back. "Now,
pleasantries aside, the bathroom?"

JoBeth pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. He did look strong
enough and the containment room had it's own restroom and
shower just a few steps away from his bed. The shower would
come later, first she'd see if he made it to the latrine without
collapsing. With Pvt. Harrison on one side, and her on the other--

"OK, Mr. Mulder. I'll get the corpsman to remove the Foley and
the IV. Then, in a little while, we'll try the adventure to the
bathroom. But then, you are back in bed and no more arguments
_and_ no more negotiations. Are we clear on this?"

"Never clearer, Dr. Carson," he smiled in triumph.

"Mr. Skinner was right about you," JoBeth muttered as she left to
go find Harrison. "I should have sedated you when I still had a
chance."

Now that her patient was stable and in fair condition, JoBeth could
sneak away for a couple of hours and work on her day to day
duties. She was busy compiling data for the next round of Asian
strained flu and most of the research required some daily
interaction. She left very specific orders that Mr. Mulder could go
to the restroom, _escorted_, but that he was to return to his bed
immediately.

The next time JoBeth got a chance to glance at a clock, four hours
had passed. Since she hadn't received a page, she assumed that
Mulder had made it to the bathroom, or suddenly grown a brain and
opted for the bedpan. Either way, it was time to check up on him.
As she took the stairs down to the containment level, she tried to
remember his supervisor's words--pain in the ass, that was it. Yes,
JoBeth was ready to agree, the man was a pain in the ass.

She found him standing in the middle of the room, next to his
partner's bed, with a lost expression on his face. As she walked up
to him, she realized he was staring after Michels, who was carrying
more samples up to the labs. Upon even closer inspection, she
noticed that her patient was standing by sheer will alone. He was
swaying slightly, and from the paleness of his skin, he wouldn't be
standing much longer.

"OK, Tarzan, back to the treehouse," JoBeth said jovially as she
took his arm and turned him toward his bed. The moment she
touched him, he leaned into her support.

"You can't let them eradicate. We need to study this," he
murmured.

"Let's get you laying down right now. The only thing you need to
worry about is getting enough rest to get out of here, and out of my
hair," JoBeth said gruffly, but gently lowered him to a sitting
position and then helped him raise his legs onto the bed. She pulled
the covers up to his chest and smoothed them. "I told you no
walking around. And where was Pvt. Harrison? He was supposed
to escort you to the bathroom."

"We came to a 'gentlemen's agreement'," Mulder sighed as he
relaxed into the pillows. "We're both gentlemen, and gentlemen
never go to the bathroom in pairs. That's a 'ladies' thing," he
grinned and then took a deep breath, as if he wasn't getting enough
air into his lungs. JoBeth turned to get a stethoscope to check his
respiration, but her patient had other ideas.

"Dr. Carson," Mulder said as he grabbed her arm. "You have to
study this thing. It's old. Hell, it could be eons old. We might run
into it again. If you destroy any trace, we'll never know what we
were dealing with," he pleaded.

A chill ran down her spine as she heard her own words echoed back
to her. But something else caught her attention. Mulder's hand on
her arm was warm--too warm. Warm enough to feel through her
cleansuit. Ignoring his words was easy as she focused on his
medical condition. She placed a hand to his forehead and let it rest
there for a minute, confirming her suspicions. Then she reached
over to the medical cabinets and pulled out a thermoscan. "Turn
your head, Mr. Mulder," she directed.

"Could you possibly drop the 'Mr.' part? I keep thinking you're
talking to my father," Mulder winced as the cold plastic meet the
side of his ear.

"It's a sign of respect. It's supposed to make you feel less like a lab
rat," JoBeth said absently as she waited the five seconds and then
read the scan. A quick look at his chart told her that his fever had
jumped. It had been 99.3 only three hours before and now it was
102.8.

Mulder had his eyes closed, so he couldn't see the worried look on
JoBeth's face. "When you went to the bathroom, did you save a
sample?" she asked anxiously.

"For posterity?" he joked, then opened his eyes and grew serious.
"I left it on the back of the cabinet, just like the sign said."

"Thanks," JoBeth replied and patted his arm. "Be right back.
Don't go anywhere," she warned, then gave him a weak smile in an
attempt to hide her concern.

A simple litmus test gave evidence to her worst fear. Mulder had
an infection, probably a kidney infection. She had hoped to ward it
off with the broad spectrum 'bug killer' that she had prescribed, but
it had either been too late, or not enough. No use speculating, she
decided and went back to her patient.

"I hate to do this, but the IV goes back in and now," she explained
calmly. "And no more little jaunts. I'll let you use the bed pan, but
that's as far as I'll go. You have an infection--my guess is kidney,
but I'll have to send this up for verification. That means stronger
antibiotics and complete bed rest. Your fever is already up there,
so you're not going to feel like walking around anyway. I'll try to
make you as comfortable as possible, but it's still won't be a lot of
fun," she advised.

Mulder wasn't feeling much like arguing with her at that point, and
simply closed his eyes and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
By the time JoBeth had the IV back in place, Jimbo had rushed in,
breathless. "I went to lunch, Captain. Swear to God, I just went to
lunch. I asked him if he wanted to go the latrine before I left and he
said 'not yet' and I told him to have them page me, that I was just
grabbing a burger--ya know, and nobody paged me! Sir, it will
_never_ happen again, I swear, sir," he said, finally running out of
steam and breath at the same time.

"Relax, Private," JoBeth assured him. "Apparently, subterfuge is
the standard operating procedure for this Special Agent. I was
forewarned, I should have passed it along. Right now we have
other things to deal with. His temp is rising and I want him on
ibuprofen, 800 mg. every four hours. He's not completely
recovered from the fluid loss, I want to be alert for any problems
the Keflex might produce. And I better see if Captain Harris or
Captain Michels have been checking Moore and Scully for proteins
and blood. I have a feeling we still don't know the pathology of
this bug or what it's gonna do."

*****

Two hours later, Mulder was still out like a light, but his fever was
over 103 and the ibuprofin was just barely keeping it from jumping
higher. JoBeth was sitting in the small office suite a door down
from the containment room, going though the on-line Physician's
Desk Reference for some other anti-pyretic that might help in the
current situation. Michels entered the room with only a perfunctory
rap on the door.

"Carson, my patient just woke up and she's hell bent on finding out
about her partner. She can just barely whisper and she's demanding
to see his 'attending physician'. Could you come down here for a
minute before I ship her off to dreamland?" he asked.

JoBeth looked up from the computer screen and smothered the
cringe on her face. Poor Agent Scully, to wake up to 'Attila the
Researcher' for a doctor. Michels had been voted 'Most likely to
be murdered by one of his own patients' by his medical school
classmates for his obnoxious behavior and subhuman bedside
manner.

"Sure, Steve. I'll be right there." She hit the icon to print the
screen she was reading and turned off the monitor, then headed off
to the containment room.

Dana Scully was scooping lemon ice into her mouth with a very
shaky hand. She looked up as JoBeth approached her bed. "Are
you Dr. Carson?" she rasped and swallowed more of the sherbet.

"Yes, I am. I understand you have some questions about Agent
Mulder," JoBeth answered and pulled the lone plastic form chair
over so that the height difference was shortened and Agent Scully
didn't have to strain her voice as much.

"Has he regained consciousness?" Scully hissed anxiously. From
her position on the bed next to Mulder, she could see the IVs and
the oxygen tank with the nasal cannula in place beneath her
partner's nose.

"He was awake earlier, for a while. He was progressing fairly well,
and then his fever shot up," JoBeth explained.

"Secondary infection?" Scully asked.

"I think we're dealing with a kidney infection," JoBeth nodded in
agreement. "I've sent cultures up, we should know in an hour or
so. Until then I have him on Keflex and IB."

"What's his temp?" Scully managed around a swallow of ice.

"103 and holding. The IB is keeping it there for now. I hate to
drag out the 'big guns' until I know what I'm dealing with. The
right antibiotic is just as effective as the strongest antipyretic, if
infection is the culprit," JoBeth said with a shrug.

"He usually responds well to IB, at least for the one fever I've seen
him have. There is something more you should know. He's been
injured recently. A gunshot wound to the femoral artery in his left
leg," Scully whispered hoarsely.

"I know, I saw the scar and the medical file. We're up on this
Agent Scully. I'm watching him like a hawk. But you need to rest
a little, or you won't be able to help me keep him in line," JoBeth
said with a wink and a grin.

That got a wry smile out of Scully. "Gotta Sherman tank in a
closet somewhere? It might come in handy," she mouthed, since
her voice had completely worn out.

"Rest, Agent Scully. Let me handle the 'the man of steel' for a
while," JoBeth said with a squeeze of the other woman's arm.

******

The culture results came down and didn't make JoBeth very happy
at all. The white count was high, but it wasn't the usual pathology
in the urine. This 'bug' wasn't the normal bacteria found in a
kidney infection. The lab results had little asteriks all over the
levels, denoting that the software was unable to find a connection
to known cultures. JoBeth sighed and ran fingers through her hair,
catching on a tangle. This wasn't what she was hoping for.

Carrie Harris walked in loaded with a set of lab reports. "Jo, did
you get the results back on Mulder?"

"Right here. Why?" JoBeth asked, looking up at her colleague.

"Were they, uh, kinda weird?" Carrie asked, and JoBeth's stomach
dropped out from under her.

"Let me see those, Carrie," she said, grabbing the lab results out of
the other woman's hand and holding them next to the ones she'd
just been studying. "Oh, shit."

"What?" Carrie demanded.

"Damn it all, this is the same bug. Carrie, these men aren't
suffering from simple kidney infections. There is something else
going on here, something the software hasn't encountered before,"
JoBeth said breathlessly.

"Jo," Carrie said with a frown and a shake of her head. "That's
crazy. That software has the most extensive list of possible bacteria
and viruses that are known to the human race. It has the black
plague in those data banks, for god's sakes!"

"Well, maybe this ain't the black plague," JoBeth replied. "Carrie,
look at this. The white count is a little off, Mulder's is higher than
Moore's, but aside from that . . ."

Carrie leaned over her friend's shoulder and whistled softly in her
ear. "All the levels are the same and the asterisks all fall in the same
places," she concluded. "Have you shown these to Steve?"

"I just got them," JoBeth said, chewing on her bottom lip and
staring at the pages in front of her. "You think it's affecting all
three of them?"

"It's what I would expect," Carrie said, shrugging again. "They
were all exposed to the same bug," she added.

"Let's call the 'Lab Rat'," JoBeth said, folding the papers together
and getting up from her chair.

The nickname 'Lab Rat' had a double meaning. Steve Michels
spent almost all of his time at the facility staring into an electron
microscope or a computer terminal. One of the other doctors,
angered because he couldn't get on the 'scope for hours because
Michels wouldn't get off, had dubbed him 'Lab Rat'. The women
at the facility thought it fit perfectly, given his abrasive nature.
JoBeth and Carrie found him straight away, perched on a stool,
staring intently into the lens of a microscope.

"Steve, have you run blood work on Scully in the last hour or so?"
JoBeth asked as she tapped him on the shoulder.

Michels glared up at her, squinting against the change in light. "No.
Her urine is fine, her blood's fine. What did you two do, screw
up?" he accused.

Carrie bristled. "We didn't screw up, Steve," she growled. "Both
our patients are experiencing some unusual results and we figured it
went with the bug they encountered. Take a look."

JoBeth handed over the pages with the results. Michels looked at
them for a few minutes and started shaking his head. "This can't be
right," he said, his tone still accusing them of the wrong doing.
"Look at all the asterisks. Somebody set the parameters wrong."
He studied the pages again then got off the stool and pulled on his
lab coat. "Here, I'll go run them myself. This is just garbage," he
muttered.

"Steve," JoBeth called after him. "What treatment should we be
following in the meantime? I have Mulder on Keflex, but it's not
working."

"Try voodoo," came the terse reply as the door slammed shut and
the two women were left alone in the lab.

end of part three

Always Darkness Before the Dawn (4/5)
by vmoseley@fgi.net
disclaimed in part one

She heard the voices coming from the containment room through
two sealed doors. "Dr. Scully, I'd feel a lot better if you'd just go
lay back on your own bed." It was Pvt. Harrison and he didn't
sound pleased.

"Look, Harrison, I'm fine. He's my partner, I'm not leaving him."
Scully had her voice back, JoBeth noted. A little raspy and not real
strong, but what she lacked in force, she more than made up for in
sheer determination. JoBeth pushed open the last door and
frowned at the sight before her.

"Agent Scully, who told you that you could get out of bed?"
JoBeth scolded.

"I'm doing much better than either of these two, and you know it,
Dr. Carson. Even Dr. Michels, who is not going to be vying for
Mr. Congeniality any time soon, said I was fit to walk around if I so
desired," Scully growled. She had taken over the plastic chair and
had it up next to her partner's bed. She was gently rubbing her
fingers over the top of his hand. All the time she had spoken to
JoBeth, she never took her eyes off the figure lying next to her.

"I'm sure Dr. Michels was referring to going to the restroom and
not setting up housekeeping out of your bed," JoBeth said
pointedly. She didn't have the time to argue, so she just worked
around the woman.

"His fever is still up. And he's been having dreams. He's talking a
little, but I can't make out what he's saying," Scully said, then
reached over to take a sip of water. "The IB isn't working this
time, is it?"

"Dr. Scully, I appreciate the fact that you've got medical
experience, but you are in no condition--"

"He's my partner, damn it, and you have no idea what went on
back in that forest. I do. I can help, if you let me," Scully said
evenly.

JoBeth chewed on that thought for a moment. She'd wanted to ask
Mulder about the bug, Scully would have the same information.
"OK, for a little while. But the minute you tire on me, you're back
in that bed," JoBeth said in a low, menacing voice. "Now, what the
hell was it that you ran into in the forest?"

"Bugs," Scully said, her voice just above a whisper, her eyes, still
looking in the direction of her partner, but now unfocused, seeing
something that wasn't there. "Tiny mites. They came from an old
tree. They hatched out of the wood. Mulder thinks they might be
prehistoric, something from a volcanic eruption. They found
something in Spirit Lake after Mt. St. Helen's."

"Like the brain sucking amoebae in Spirit Lake?" JoBeth asked
with a scowl. "Agent Scully, that's a tabloid headline. A friend of
mine did the research and it's just a very heavy infestation of
swimmer's ear. Nothing from 'the beginnings of time' about it."

"Dr. Carson, believe me, I wouldn't believe this either if I hadn't
seen it, hell, if I hadn't lived through it. They were tiny bugs. And
they glowed." Scully stared at her with an intensity that left JoBeth
chilled to the bone. "They were dormant during the day, or if there
was light from an incandescent bulb. But when we were trying to
get off the mountain, and it was dark, they swarmed. We found a
man, a mummy, really. He was encased in a silken cocoon,
suspended in a tree. The bugs were everywhere, all the time, you
just couldn't see them unless it was dark. When we tried to get off
the mountain, away from the cabin and the light bulb, they attacked.
You saw what happened, Dr. Carson. We didn't get this way from
mosquitoes! They bit at our skin. I tried to brush them away, but
there were so many of them. Mulder," she stopped and swallowed
down a low sob. "Mulder," she started again, "tried to keep them
off me. He knew I was afraid of them. He tried so hard to keep
them off me, but they were biting him, too. It hurt so much, we
were all screaming and then I just blacked out--" Scully stopped
and just sat there a moment, holding back sobs with a force of will
that JoBeth had never seen before.

"Agent Scully," JoBeth said softly, placing a hand on the other
woman's shoulder. "I'm sorry you went through that. All three of
you. But I really don't see--"

"What ever is making them this sick is in that bug!" Scully hissed
with what little voice she know had left. "We have to study the bug
to find out how to help them. Don't you see that?"

Before JoBeth could answer, Mulder let out an anguished moan
and curled up in pain. Scully was out of the chair like a rocket,
standing, hovering over him. "Mulder. It's me. It's OK," she
murmured but he couldn't hear her. He cried out again and curled
into a tight ball, clutching his stomach. Frantically, Scully looked
up at JoBeth and then Harrison. "Help him, please!"

JoBeth glanced up in time to see Harrison with a syringe headed
over from the cabinet. "Muscle relaxant, Captain. It worked on
the Ranger an hour ago." She smiled at the Private and nodded.
And reminded herself that she needed to talk to him again about
entering medical school when his hitch was up.

The muscle relaxer took a few minutes, but gradually, the pain lines
faded. Mulder uncoiled from the fetal position he had curled into
and his breathing and heartrate steadied.

Scully held his hand firmly, murmuring words that JoBeth couldn't
hear even though she was standing right beside the woman. Finally,
when his partner was satisfied that he was stable and asleep, she let
go of his hand with a reluctant last squeeze and turned to the
doctor beside her.

"We need to look at their blood work," Scully said with authority.

"WE need to get you back in bed and then _I_ can go back to
looking at the blood work," JoBeth returned with equal authority.

"You don't know what you're dealing with," Scully fumed.

"And you DO?" JoBeth seethed back. "Face it, you're a
pathologist. Wait till they're dead and I'll let you play with them,"
she growled and immediately cringed at the look on the other
woman's face. She was now white as a sheet and if she'd been
armed, JoBeth had no doubt that there'd be a bullet in her heart
right now.

"I'd rather not wait till that happens," Scully said through clenched
teeth, in a quiet voice that gave JoBeth chills. "Look, let me help.
I've dealt with some pretty unusual things in my time. I might just
be able to help you." Scully was pleading, JoBeth could tell that it
wasn't something she was used to doing, nor did she do it lightly.
This was costing her, but not as much as seeing the man laying on
the bed in pain. "Please." It was said quietly, but JoBeth was sure
she'd not heard it with such sincerity in a long time.

JoBeth chewed on her lip a minute. She needed to think. "Jimbo,
who ordered the muscle relaxant for Moore?" It couldn't have
been either Carrie or Michels. She remembered she'd been with
them both an hour ago.

The Private got a very embarrassed look on his face, that most
people would have missed behind the Plexiglas shield of the
facemask. "Well, ah, Captain, sir, _she_--" he stammered and
pointed a gloved finger at Scully, who stood with her arms crossing
her chest and looking too superior for words.

"You let a _patient_--"JoBeth shouted angrily and Scully touched
JoBeth's hazmat suit sleeve.

"I'm a medical doctor. There was no time. I ordered paravon. It
was indicated. Sue me later," she said with a twinkle in her eye.

"If there are complications," JoBeth said through gritted, "a lawsuit
will be the _least_ of your problems. You're partner may be dead!"

"Look," said Scully, after a cleansing breath. "I'm sorry. But it
was a crisis situation and I'm under oath to react. The Private was
having trouble just keeping Moore on the bed, much less calling
you, the three of you were in some little conference or something."
She stopped, and JoBeth could tell she was trying to stay in control
of her emotions. "I may have stepped out of line. But I recognize
muscle cramps. I think it's caused by something in the bug's
venom. All the victims were curled up like that."

JoBeth walked over to the cabinet and picked up the papers that
held the results of the blood work. She looked at her reflection in
the glass doors of the cabinet. Jackson would have her hide on a
pike if he ever found out what she was about to do. But this
woman obviously knew something about this condition, if nothing
more than the fact that she'd seen it up close and personal. JoBeth
swallowed hard and carried the results back to where Scully was
still standing. "Take a look at these," she said quietly.

Scully took the papers and sat down. Her face slowly dissolved
from detached interest to confused frown. "Nothing's showing up,
it's not being recognized," she said flatly.

"Well, not that we can see," JoBeth corrected. "We're running the
tests again."

Scully stood up and gingerly walked to the end of her own bed.
Her chart rested there and she picked it up and flipped to a page.
"My results are almost normal compared to the guys," she said,
more to herself than to JoBeth.

"But will it remain that way?" JoBeth asked. "I mean, their blood
work didn't show any of this yesterday when you all came in. This
just happened recently. Whatever it is, the thing seems to be--"

"Mutating," Scully finished. JoBeth cringed at the word. It
sounded like a line out of an old grade B horror movie. Scully now
chewed on her lip for a while. "You have the normal hemostat
software?"

JoBeth took exception to that. "Dr. Scully, our software is more
advanced than the World Health Organization! It's the best in the
world," she stated flatly.

That kind of typical 'military pride' brought a slight smile to the
agent's lips. "I'm sure of it. What I meant was, it's a hemostat
software. It would pick up organisms that have been associated
with blood, right?"

JoBeth gave her a disgusted look. "Of course. It's to identify
factors in _blood_, you know that."

"I do. That's the problem. What if you're dealing with factors that
haven't been found in blood before?" Scully asked, but it was more
of a statement. Worse yet, it was exactly what JoBeth had already
concluded. "Dr. Carson, I believe those bugs don't just stop at
sucking the life out of a person. I think they might actually use the
blood as," she stopped and gave her partner a pained look. "As
incubating material. Or something to help with their life cycle. And
whatever that is, it's killing Moore and my partner."

"Why not you?" JoBeth asked, defensive now.

"I don't know. Could be any number of reasons. But my best
guess, and believe me, you have no idea how hard this is for
me--my best guess is because I'm a woman." For some reason, the
agent flashed her partner a faint smile and a shake of her head.

"That's nuts," JoBeth said dryly.

"You have a better idea? Hell, I don't know. Could be estrogen
that they don't like. Could be testosterone that they need. What
ever the reason, it's obvious that they like the male of the species
for their work better than the female. And in the past cases, it was
always men that disappeared. I should have seen it before, but
there were no women exposed, I didn't have enough data to make
the hypothesis."

The whole concept struck JoBeth pretty funny. "I guess we could
proscribe some birth control pills and see what happens."

Scully couldn't resist reaching over and tousling her partner's hair.
"Mulder would kill me if he had to start shaving his legs."

*****

JoBeth ran some more cultures, but it was still almost impossible to
determine the correct procedure. It was becoming painfully
obvious that without a working knowledge of the insect they were
dealing with, they would hit nothing but brick walls. For the time
being, both men were stable, but their conditions were not
improving, and with high fevers, it wouldn't be long before their
conditions started to deteriorate. The team was used to running
against the clock, but JoBeth felt the pressure more than ever with
the now silent vigil Dr. Scully had taken up beside her partner's
bed. Scully never spoke to the doctors, except to answer direct
questions, but her eyes never stopped accusing each of them.

"I feel kind of guilty, taking any more blood," Carrie commented as
she put another slide under the microscope. The three doctors had
now taken up the lab and were running many of the tests
themselves.

"I know. We just spent 48 hours putting fluids into these two and
now were extracting most of it," JoBeth said with a sad smile.
"The synthetic estrogen just isn't cutting it," she sighed, pushing
the scope away.

"Maybe the dosage isn't right," Carrie suggested.

"No, there'd be some change if it was having any effect," Michels
chimed in. "This isn't working."

JoBeth stared at the slide in her hands, not moving, but her mind
was going 90 miles a minute. She knew exactly what they
needed--they needed some of those bugs. They needed to study
them, determine their life cycle, figure out exactly what they
excreted and how they reproduced.

But the damned things have probably been nuked to kingdom
come, she chided herself. Michels little joke about the Mason jar
now took on a chilling ring. They had eliminated the possibility of
further contamination--and possibly contributed to the deaths of
two men in the process.

"We need some of those bugs," she finally said out loud. At first,
Carrie pretended not to hear her.

"What if we increase the estrogen dosage and try dialysis, since the
kidneys seem to be affected the most severely?" Carrie asked of
Michels.

"Might work. Damned if I have any better ideas," Michels said and
started to get off his stool to order the treatment. JoBeth caught
his sleeve and tugged hard.

"We NEED some of those bugs," she said, this time in a menacing
voice.

"Well, they might make a great 7th grade science project by now,
but nothing we could study, Carson. I heard one of the corpsmen
say they used everything short of ICBM's on that forest. If any of
them are left, they're mutated beyond their parents recognition and
would be of little use to us." He took her hand and removed it
from his sleeve. "I'm going to get them started on the dialysis--"

At that moment, a shrill alarm sounded over the PA--Code Blue.

They almost ran over each other in an effort to get down the stairs
and to the containment room. They suited up in seconds, JoBeth
was still attaching O2 lines as she hit the double doors. A heart
monitor was squealing from the far side of the room--Ranger
Moore's bed. She frowned slightly when she noticed that Agent
Scully was ready to man the paddles of the defib machine, whether
invited or not.

"Go watch your partner, Agent Scully," JoBeth growled. She was
really not in the mood to play nice and definitely not in the mood to
allow a patient to have the same privileges she had. Or
responsibilities.

Scully nodded, all too happy not to be necessary at the moment.

"Epi, Harrison!" Carrie called out and administered the drug into
the heart muscle while Michels charged up the paddles.

"Clear!" Michels called out and every one held their breaths while
the body on the table jumped and fell back to the bed.

"Nothing," JoBeth said quickly.

Again, the paddles were charged and Michels shouted "Clear!"
again, almost as if saying it with more force would help.

Fifteen seconds of screaming monitor showed that it didn't.

"Call it," Carrie said tiredly.

"One more time," JoBeth insisted. "C'mon, Carrie. Give the guy a
chance. One. More. Time."

Michels shrugged and charged the paddles. This time he didn't
shout, it was more of a whisper. "Clear."

All three of the doctors held their breath. And waited. But nothing
happened.

Michels looked up at the clock on the wall. "Time of death, Oh six
forty three," he said calmly. However, the normally meticulous
doctor unceremoniously dropped the paddles in a heap on the table
and left the room, but not before slamming his fist in the Plexiglas
window on the way out.

Carrie ran a hand through her hair and refused to meet JoBeth's
gaze. "I'm gonna run those tests again," she said to no one in
particular and followed Michels out of the room.

That left JoBeth to face Agent Scully. The FBI agent sat in the
chair next to her partner, her hand twined in his, staring forward
with a blank expression on her face. JoBeth chewed on the inside
of her mouth and slowly walked over to Scully. She crouched
down, so that she was lower than the chair. "Agent Scully," she
started.

"You have no idea how to beat this. It's just a matter of time,"
Scully said, shifting her gaze so that it now rested on her partner.

"We're trying everything. We're doing everything in our power.
We think dialysis might--"

"Prolong it?" Scully bit out. "Give you more time? Time for what?
There is no way to study this. You killed the carrier. You
destroyed your only chance of finding a cure." Finally she looked
into JoBeth's eyes and the younger doctor wished that she hadn't.
"He's dying and there isn't a goddam thing you can do about it."
The look she was giving JoBeth was the same look she probably
gave to convicted mass murderers.

"I won't let that happen," JoBeth promised.

"There's nothing you can do about it," Scully fired back, her words
angry, but the look in her eyes was sheer grief and nothing more.

"Never underestimate the United States Army, Agent Scully,"
JoBeth said with a mocking smile.

"I think you overestimate your abilities, Captain," was all Scully
would allow herself to say on the matter.

*****

JoBeth knocked once and stood at attention. The door was open,
as it always was, but the invisible barrier still existed--protocol
demanded that she be 'invited' into her commanding officer's
office. Even in an emergency, some things never changed. It was
one of the most irritating parts of military service--and sometimes
one of the most comforting.

Finally, after reaching the end of the page he was reading, Andy
Jackson's head popped up. "Come in, Captain Carson. You have
something to report?"

JoBeth swallowed. She knew Jackson had already been advised of
Larry Moore's death. More than likely, he'd been the unlucky devil
who got to call Moore's wife and inform her of her husband's
death. She knew that couldn't have been easy. What she wanted
wasn't that easy, either.

"Sir, if I may speak off the record," she requested, still at attention.

Jackson regarded her coolly for a moment. "Permission granted,
Captain. At ease. Now pull up that chair and tell me what's on
your mind."

JoBeth sat down stiffly, on the edge of the seat, her hands folded in
her lap to keep from fiddling with anything. She wiped her palms
on the hem of her skirt before beginning. "Sir, I think I have a
solution to our problem with this condition."

"You're referring to Agent Mulder's condition, I assume?" Andy
asked, encouraging.

"Yes sir. I think we need to get samples of the organisms. Live
samples. Some of those bugs."

Jackson pursed his lips and picked up a sheet of paper. "That's
impossible, Captain. Those bugs have been irradicated. There
aren't any left to study. Besides, the area is under complete
quarantine--nothing in, nothing out. I'm sorry." From the look in
his eyes, he really was.

JoBeth drew a deep breath. "I see," she said. It was her fear that
she would be too late. Agent Scully's words haunted her. 'You
over estimate your abilities.' No, she wouldn't sit back and watch
that man die. They had lost one man to this disease, she'd be
damned if they lost another! Now, she was mad. But she couldn't
let that show to her commander. "Thank you, sir. It was just a
thought."

"I understand how hard this is, Carson. Believe me, I'm not happy
with it, either. But the risk to the general population was just too
great. We had no choice but to act with extreme prejudice toward
this invader. You understand." From the look on his face, that
wasn't an order, but a plea.

JoBeth swallowed her anger. "Yes sir. I understand." She got up
with a salute and left the room.

She wandered the corridors for a while, thinking. It was so stupid,
really. Sure, they had effectively stopped any spread of the bugs,
but at what cost? What had Agent Mulder said to her, before he
got so sick? 'We may run into this again.' And when they did,
what then? A death sentence to everyone affected. Or at least all
the men. Not exactly how she envisioned shattering 'the glass
ceiling' in her life time.

She wondered again at why these three people were in the forest.
It almost seemed that they were 'looking' for this bug. That was
ridiculous. Why in the universe would a couple of FBI agents be
out looking for a biological hazard? It made no sense. She thought
again about Agent Scully's story. How the bugs had seem to hatch
out of the wood. How Agent Mulder had said it was eons old . . .

The idea came to her like a bolt of lightning.

end of part four

Always Darkness Before the Dawn (5/5)
by vmoseley@fgi.net
disclaimed in part one

When JoBeth got to the containment room, Larry Moore's body
had been taken to the small morgue in a subbasement of the facility.
Only Agent Mulder's bed was occupied, Agent Scully's bed was
vacant because she was sitting next to her partner's bed. JoBeth
noted that even Harrison was missing from the room. Scully must
have caught her questioning look around.

"I told the Private to get a cup of coffee. Poor guy was dead on his
feet," she added.

"He's used to it. We run him ragged." JoBeth searched the room,
but couldn't find anything to sit on. She settled for sitting on Agent
Scully's bed. "Agent Scully, you told me you found these bugs
hatching out of the wood in the forest. They had infected the
trees?"

Scully turned to face her, but only reluctantly. "Not exactly. From
what we could tell, it was only one tree. A big one, several
hundred years old. The loggers had illegally cut it. It was 'old
growth' and supposedly protected. There was an unusual ring, and
Moore took a core sample. We took it back to the logging camp
and put it under a hand scope. That's when we found them.
Hatching out of the dead wood."

"Out of _dead_ wood?" JoBeth asked.

Scully nodded. "Yeah, dead wood. Moore told us that most
diseases and insects, all of them, really, affect the live parts of the
tree--the roots, the leaves, the bark or the live cells. These bugs
were infecting the ring in the middle of the tree--dead wood. And I
watched them hatch right out of it."

"So, there are probably more of these bugs, still dormant, in that
tree ring?" JoBeth asked. She'd lowered her voice, and hoped
Scully would do the same.

Scully caught on quickly. She nodded, not saying a word.

"Do you think you could tell me where the tree is located, Agent
Scully?" JoBeth asked, her voice even lower.

"Why? So you can go burn it? They probably already thought of
that," Scully said in a hoarse whisper, not bothering to hide her
anger.

"I don't want to burn that tree, Agent Scully," JoBeth whispered
tersely. "I want to get some of those bugs alive. It's the only
chance we have to save your partner. And I don't know how much
time we have left."

Scully stared at her hard. JoBeth could see the war going on inside
this woman. Something had happened that made it hard for her to
trust. But JoBeth also knew she realized the truth of her
words--without those bugs, her partner would die. It was really a
race against time.

"About a mile's hike, due north from the base camp. There's a
logging road. The first cocoon was just off the road, about 100
yards, up in a tree to the east. The other tree, the one we took the
core sample from, was about 250 yards from the road, due west.
You won't be able to miss the stump--it's huge and the area was
clear cut." Scully stood up and walked over to JoBeth. "You
know, I'm a forensic pathologist."

"Yes, Dr. Scully, I know. We have pathologists on staff, too. But
I don't see what good that's going to do us. We'll know what
killed Moore, but not how to cure Mulder. Besides, are you well
enough to do an autopsy?" JoBeth asked.

"I'm as good as I'm gonna get sitting here holding Mulder's hand.
I can't stand this. I can't sit by and just watch. I want to be here
for him, but not if it means just watching him die when I could be
doing something to save him," she said, her voice holding a tremor.
"Please, Dr. Carson. Look, knowing what Moore went through
might just buy us some time. Time you're going to need if you're
planning a 'picnic in the woods'," Scully said low and with a smirk.
"Besides, you promised me you'd let me do the autopsy before."
She said the words in complete seriousness.

JoBeth bit her lip. "I suppose I did. And you're right, it might buy
us some time. OK. But you are going to have to work fast, and
nobody can know that you're doing it until we're finished."

For the first time in a couple of days, JoBeth saw that Scully did
indeed know how to smile.

JoBeth promised Agent Scully that she wouldn't leave Agent
Mulder's side while she performed the autopsy. It was a good way
to examine her patient and determine what she could do to keep
him from 'going sour' on her. He was again having respiratory
problems, she put him back on the respirator. His fluid output had
decreased sharply and that bothered her. Given what Michels had
said earlier, she ordered dialysis, just to take some of the stress off
the kidneys. His heart was working harder through all of this, but
there was very little she could do. He was a runner, in good shape,
she could only pray that would be enough.

Scully came back about an hour later. "Kidney failure. It was the
beginning of a domino effect that virtually shutdown every system.
If we can take the stress off the endocrine system--"

"Already accomplished. I started him on dialysis right after you
left. If nothing else, his heartrate slowed a little after that. I think it
might be working. But it's a stop gap measure, at best." She
wasn't telling Scully anything the woman didn't already know.

Scully nodded grimly. "How are you going to get the samples?"

JoBeth flashed her a truly evil grin. "Now, Agent Scully, if I told
you that, it would make you a 'co-conspirator', now wouldn't it?"

*****

"Michels, gotta minute?" JoBeth said casually as she sat down on
the empty chair across the table from her teammate.

Steve eyed her suspiciously. It was not in JoBeth's nature to
'butter' someone up, but it sure looked for all the world like that
was what she was attempting. JoBeth's smile was just a little too
bright, her eyes a little too eager. Michels was immediately on the
defensive.

"The answer is 'no'," he said flatly.

"You don't even know what the question is, yet, Rat," she hissed.

"I can tell by looking at you that the answer is still 'no'. And
getting more negative by the minute," he assured her.

"We can get some of those bugs," she whispered.

"They're radioactive by now," he whispered back.

"They didn't use any nuclear devices and you know it. We're in the
Continental United States, dumbshit! That would be an act of war
'on ourselves'!"

"OK, maybe not radioactive, but dead as a doornail and that's just
as bad," he pointed out, using his forkful of salad to make his point.

"Not if they're dormant," she countered. For the first time in the
conversation, she could tell she had him on the hook. Now if she
tugged just a bit, the hook would set . . . "And Scully told me
where the tree is that they hatched out of," she finished.

"They're dormant?" Michels asked.

"And thereby protected by whatever we used to kill off the live
ones, yes," JoBeth answered nodding her head up and down in the
affirmative.

"But it's out in the forest. A hour's chopper ride away," Michels
pointed out.

"Mulder is stable. I have him on dialysis. We probably have 8, 10
hours. After that, I don't know. I just think we owe it to the guy,
to both of them, to try and find some of these little bastards and
figure out a way to CURE this thing. I don't like 'cost of war'
casualties."

Michels chewed on his salad for a moment, thinking. "Neither do I.
If we can study this, figure out a way to contain the
contamination--"

"Hey," JoBeth interrupted, seeing where his train of thought was
heading. "I'm not looking for the next bioweapon, either! I just
want to cure this thing. That's all I care about."

Michels gave her a greasy smile. "Sure, Carson. I can see that.
Not a problem."

*****

"I'm not going to ask how we got this ride, Michels," JoBeth yelled
as they ran toward the chopper warming up on the pad.

"I dated the pilot," he said with a lecherous grin.

"DON'T ASK, DON'T TELL!" JoBeth yelled at him. covering her
ears.

"She's a hot number, Carson. If you're nice, I'll introduce you,"
Michels replied and JoBeth restrained herself from kicking him in
the ass as he hopped into the hold of the craft.

The hour to the forest was silent, only the sounds of the helicopter
filling the air. They weren't technically in trouble, yet. They were
allowed time off, even though this was a crisis situation. JoBeth
had told Carrie that she needed a nap, and after almost 24 straight
hours without sleep, Carrie had been more than sympathetic.
Michels disappeared for hours at a time as a general rule, usually in
one of the more obscure lab rooms at the facility. The less Carrie
knew, the less likely that she could turn them in, or get in trouble
herself when the proverbial shit hit the fan. Only Scully knew
where they were going, and she wasn't about to reveal that
information to anyone.

Once they were in the forest, however, it was a different matter.
The whole area was under a strict quarantine. In fact, they were
violating several federal laws just flying over the area. Only the fact
that they were equipped with a military radio and frequencies kept
them from being met with extreme force. As it was, they would be
doing good to keep out of everyone's sight and get in and out as
quickly as possible.

Scully was right, the area was clear cut. It was relatively easy to
find a landing spot on the logging road. The tree was right where
she said it would be. A core sample was retrieved and they were up
in the air in a matter of minutes.

JoBeth looked around at the still forest before hopping in behind
Michels. It was eerily quiet, no birds chirping, definitely no insects
humming. Too quiet. Dead quiet. But the trees appeared totally
unaffected. Can't hurt the cash crop, JoBeth surmised silently.

"Did you notice something down there?" Michels asked JoBeth
when they were back in the air again.

"What?" she asked, instantly alert to something she might have
missed.

"That's the first time I've been anywhere that green and not bitten
by mosquitoes," he laughed. She answered him with a hard glare
and he was silent the rest of the ride.

As soon as they were back at the facility, Michels took the sample
and headed off to a lab room, JoBeth headed back to check on her
patient.

Scully was wiping his face and arms with a damp cloth. "His fever
shot up again. We might have to try a cooling blanket," she said,
not bothering with pleasantries. "Did you find the tree?"

"You should be a cartographer, Agent Scully. X marked the spot,"
she grinned, then looked at her patient. "What's his temp?"

"One oh five," Scully sighed heavily. His body wasn't regulating
heat. It was just another harbinger of death. If they didn't find
something to counteract the effects of the insect soon, his body
would simply burn itself alive.

"Michels is good, Agent Scully. Let's give him time to work,"
JoBeth said reassuringly and went to a cabinet to retrieve a cooling
blanket to lay over Mulder.

In addition to the cooling blanket, JoBeth administered potent
antipyretics in an attempt to bring the fever down. It worked to an
extent, by the end of an hour, his temp was down to 103--not
perfect, by acceptable under the circumstances.

JoBeth couldn't help but notice the dark circles shadowing the
other woman's eyes. She'd been at this just as long as JoBeth
herself, and she been sick to start with. "Come on, Dr. Scully.
Time to get a little shut eye."

"I'm fine," came the terse reply, and JoBeth found it odd that she
said it to her partner and not to JoBeth herself.

"Yeah, so am I. So I'm using you to get my sleep vicariously,"
JoBeth growled lightly. "You won't do him any good if you pass
out."

Scully thought about that for a moment. "You'll wake me if you
hear anything."

"Oh, when we hear, I'm certain you'll be awake. Michels is
nothing if not a pompous ass. If he figures this out, he'll be dancing
in the halls."

Scully smiled and shook her head, but obediently climbed into her
bed and curled on her side. In a few seconds, she was fast asleep.

JoBeth herself had drifted off not long after Scully. In her dreams,
she envisioned her court martial, her dishonorable discharge, her
inability to get a job at any hospital in the United States. She ran
and ran from giant fireflies and huge wooden gavels that pounded
down, just barely missing her, the impact enough to shake the
ground. She started when a hand tightened around her shoulder
and shook her awake.

"Carson, geez, take something for that, will ya?" Michels growled
as she came to, wide eyed and breathing raggedly. Taking a minute
to wipe sleep from her eyes (or were they tears?) she stood up and
followed him over to the cabinet. Two syringes lay on the
countertop.

"We should do clinical trials," he whispered.

"Yeah, well, I don't have the time to wait for FDA approval,
Steve," she hissed low. "Neither does Agent Mulder."

Michels shrugged. "I didn't think we would. Just thought I'd
mention it."

"Will this work?" she asked, hesitant to go forward, even though
she knew she had no choice.

Again Michels shrugged. "It should. It didn't kill any of the
monkeys. Four hours of infection might not have been enough to
really test it, though. We're really flying blind here, Carson. And
when Jackson finds out--"

"We'll be working the drive through window at McDonald's, I
know," she finished his sentence and his greatest fear. "That may
be the case, even if we succeed," she pointed out.

"Yeah, but I can write it up and get a grant. Then you can come
work for me," he smiled with mischief. He laughed outright at
JoBeth's answering shudder.

JoBeth got serious and turned to her patient. She couldn't make
this decision alone. With a heavy sigh, she walked over and woke
Scully. "We have a serum. We're fairly certain it will work."

"_Fairly_ certain?" Scully repeated with worry.

"That's the best we can do. Dr. Scully, we can't take forever here.
He's weaker now that when you fell asleep. I'm not sure how
much time we have left." She felt the weight of the world on her
shoulders and knew the woman laying in front of her felt it too.

Scully pushed herself up and slid off the bed. Slowly, painfully, she
walked over to her partner and brushed the hair off his forehead.
"Do it," was all she would say.

The results were slow, but amazing. In just 12 hours, his
respiration was greatly improved. At 24 hours, his kidney functions
were close to normal. After 36 hours, his fever broke and he was
starting to come around.

Scully had fallen asleep in the chair again. JoBeth was past caring
whether she slept in the chair, the red head had made her Irish
heritage more than apparent when she'd been told to go to bed.
She'd been sitting there for almost 36 straight hours, since the
serum had been injected and except for a couple of bathroom
breaks, she wasn't going to budge until he woke up and told her to.

JoBeth picked up the chart at the foot of Mulder's bed and double
checked the entries. He was improving, no doubt about it. His
breathing was no longer labored, he wasn't even on oxygen. They
had dispensed with dialysis after the first day. When the fever
broke, Michels treated Carrie and JoBeth to a bottle of German
beer from a case that he kept secreted in one of the lab
refrigerators--one emblazoned with biohazard stickers.

Scully's head jerked at the first movement of his hand. She sat up
quickly and wiped sleep from her eyes. "Mulder? Can you hear
me? Mulder, it's me. Come on. Wake up. They're serving rice
pudding in the cafeteria and if you open your eyes, I'll smuggle
some up for you. It's got raisins, Mulder. And not ones with legs
like in the Bureau cafeteria, either. USAMRID always has had the
best food, you know that. Come on, wake up and we'll eat for a
couple of days before going back to work."

In response, he moved his head. The look on her face was sheer
delight. "Mulder, you faker," she teased. "You're awake in there,
I know it. Come on, the report is done. All you have to do is sign
the damn thing and I'll turn it in. Just wake up, OK? Please?"

Right about then Lt. Col. Andrew Jackson called JoBeth and
Michels into his office.

Mulder was awake and drinking from a straw while Scully held the
glass when JoBeth returned. Scully noticed the look in the other
woman's eyes the minute she walked in, but JoBeth did her best to
hide her emotions behind a cheerful facade. "Well, seems we have
a couple of gold bricks here. We'll let you lay around for a couple
more days, but then Uncle Sam is shipping you back to DC. Let
the nurses at Georgetown empty your bedpan for a while."

"Now, you know better than that, Dr. Carson," Mulder spoke
softly, like his throat hurt, but he wasn't going to let that stop him.
"I'll be up and using the little agent's room by afternoon." His
smile was weak, but a far sight better than his look of pain just a
few days before.

"Not my problem, Agent Mulder," JoBeth replied with a forced
casual tone. "I'm on suspension pending my hearing. I'm just here
to say goodbye."

"Hearing?" Scully asked, not bothering to hide the worry on her
face.

"In preparation for my general court martial. But it's possible that I
might get off. I broke a few rules getting those bugs, but after all,
he _is_ alive. That was the idea, right?" JoBeth said with a shrug.

"If I, . . . if we can help . . .," Scully stammered. Mulder was giving
them both a questioning look, but was starting to get tired and
wouldn't be awake much longer to deal with it.

JoBeth shook her head and gave the other woman a sad smile.
"No, Dr. Scully. Remember, I didn't want you involved. Still
don't. This is between me and my commanding officers. I'll take
my blows, if they come. It's my first reprimand, so they'll take my
record into consideration." She picked up Mulder's chart and then
put it back, never even looking at it. She turned to leave, then
stopped and looked at Mulder again, now asleep. "Besides, . . . it
was worth it," she said and walked out the door.

*****

Addendum to field report on X File 098346-1, Dana Scully
reporting Agent.

Upon application of pesticides and insecticides, the area of the
Washington State Forest in the Cascade Mountains which had been
the last known location of the missing 32 loggers has been declared
free of infestation and the logging company has been allowed to
return to their operations. The deaths of Larry Moore and the
others have been attributed to severe allergic reactions to a
previously unknown species of firefly. This is also the official
explanation for my own illness and that of Agent Mulder.

The tree stump which was the site of the alleged infestation of these
bugs has been pulled and burned. I believe that a core sample of
that tree still exists, but is in the control of the United States Army
Reseach unit for Infectious Disease post in Washington State. It is
my opinion that it should remain there, under every security and
precaution, in case another such outbreak as the one we
experienced occur again. With no further disappearances or deaths,
it is recommended that Case No. 098364-1, be considered closed.

the end five of five
Vickie
Stand up for what you think is right,
Even if you stand alone.
--a poster