Fog 
Chapter One 
=========== 
TWA Flight 488 
Somewhere over Missouri 
Friday, August 31, 2001 
11:46 a.m. 
Nicorette just wasn't the same. 
This was not a new revelation for Monica.  She'd tried the gum before, on more 
than one occasion, and each time it turned out to be an inadequate substitute. 
Of course, that might have something to do with the fact that she didn't use it 
the way she was supposed to.  Instead of chewing Nicorette in place of 
cigarettes, she used it as a stopgap, as a way to make do when she couldn't have 
the real thing. 
Like today, for instance.  She'd been very proud of herself, holding out against 
the craving throughout the first leg of their flight, from D.C. to St. Louis, 
thinking all the while that she'd find a place to take a few drags while they 
waited for their connecting flight to Iowa.  Unfortunately, it hadn't worked out 
that way.  There'd been a delay in landing at St. Louis, and she and John had 
had to run to make their connection.  So now here she was, chomping away .... 
"What's the name of this place we're going to?" she asked.  She already knew the 
answer.  They'd both been briefed by Dana this morning, and she'd read the 
casefile while they were over Kentucky.  But at this point, any distraction 
would be welcome. 
"Washington, Iowa," John replied.  He turned his gaze from the window, his 
expression serious and intent, as always.  "A wide place in the road about a 
hundred miles east of Des Moines." 
"Right." 
Monica nodded, deciding not to mention that he'd used the same phrasing Dana had 
in describing the town.  Dana Scully was a sore subject for John, especially 
since the baby'd been born.  Monica didn't think he was stuck on Dana -- not 
really.  But she did believe he'd become a little obsessed with her during the 
long, fruitless months of searching for Mulder -- and then when she'd turned out 
to be pregnant, it had dredged up memories of what had happened to Luke. 
God.  Luke.  It still hurt to think about that.  She'd never known the boy when 
he was alive, but seeing the anguish in John's eyes and having to watch, day by 
day, as he went to pieces -- that had been bad enough.  And then in the end, 
when his wife finally delivered the coup de grace -- 
She pushed the thought away.  Not going to go there.  Not again.  She and John 
had "discussed" this subject exactly once since his divorce -- in the wake of 
the shouting match he'd had with Mulder last spring.  To say that that 
conversation was non-productive was putting it mildly, and Monica had no 
interest at all in revisiting it just now. 
But they were going to have to talk about it someday.  Tip toeing around each 
other like this just wasn't working, and was no basis for a long-term 
partnership.  Monica had been an accomplished investigator with a good record 
down in New Orleans -- she knew it, and she was proud of it.  She'd also been 
with the Bureau longer than John had. 
But the backwash from Luke's death had been making her feel tentative and unsure 
of herself, and his technical status as senior agent within the X-files division 
was contributing to that edginess.  That was going to have to change -- or she 
might as well just pack her bags and go home.  And she was determined not to do 
that. 
She chomped her gum, reopening the casefile.  Not that there was much to see in 
the folder.  Dana had admitted as much when she appeared in the basement office 
early that morning, unannounced.... 
"Knock knock!" 
Monica had looked up from the current issue of 'The Lone Gunman', to see Dana 
standing in the doorway to the basement office, briefcase in hand.  Monica was 
unsurprised to see that Dana was apparently one of those women who showed few 
aftereffects of pregnancy.  She was perhaps a little fuller in the hips and bust 
than she had been when the two of them first met, on that horrible case that 
culminated in Mulder's apparent death, but on the whole, she looked amazingly 
well. 
Monica tried not to be jealous of her for that.  Not that *she'd* ever been 
pregnant, but still ... it was the principle of the thing.  She just knew that 
if she ever *did* have a baby, her own body would balloon out of control.  Some 
people .... 
"Dana," she said, shaking off the thoughts and rising to her feet.  ASAC, she 
reminded herself.  Dana's the X-files ASAC now -- and Monica didn't even want to 
think about the political strings Skinner must have pulled to bring that about.  
"Welcome back.  But I thought your leave --" 
"Doesn't officially end until next Tuesday," Dana said, nodding.  "But Mulder 
was starting to drive me crazy, and this was the best way I could think of to 
escape."  Her expression softened a bit.  "He absolutely dotes on William.  I 
shouldn't complain.  But I've just spent two months cooped up in that apartment 
with him, and, well...." 
"It's okay, Dana; I understand," Monica replied.  "So, what brings you down to 
the basement?"  Dana's new office was up on four.  Monica had glanced at it once 
on a lunch break, and come to the quick conclusion that it had previously seen 
service as a broom closet. 
"Heading Skinner off at the pass," the other woman responded with a wry grin.  
"He was on his way down here with an assignment for the two of you when I bumped 
into him.  Is Agent Doggett here yet?" 
"I'm expecting him any time now," Monica said, glancing at her watch.  A little 
after seven.  "John's not an early riser.  Not a willing one, anyway." 
She fell silent, watching as Dana stepped into the office and moved around, 
looking at things.  And for a moment, Monica tried to see the room through her 
new superior's eyes. 
Was anything different?  It was hard to know for certain.  She and John hadn't 
made any overt changes.  The 'I Want to Believe' poster still dominated the 
room, along with the untidy mess of newspaper clippings and photographs.  Monica 
had started to straighten them one afternoon, in a fit of boredom, but John had 
growled at her and told her to leave them be.  Of course, that was before they'd 
known that Dana wouldn't be coming back in her old capacity, so maybe he'd just 
been trying to keep things the way they'd been on her behalf. 
Ah, hell with it.  Who did she think she was kidding?  She didn't have to be 
psychic to know what was going on in his head. 
Something -- maybe a flicker of motion, maybe just a feeling -- drew her 
attention away from Dana, who had picked up a sealed vile of bright green fluid, 
an introspective look on her face.  Monica turned her gaze to the doorway and 
saw John standing there, also silently watching, his face an expressionless 
mask.  She caught his eye and raised an eyebrow at him.  John cleared his 
throat. 
"Agent Scully," he said, stepping into the room and setting down his briefcase.  
"You're back early."  A hopeful note entered his voice.  Monica wondered if 
anyone else but her would be able to hear it.  She was sure Dana didn't.  In the 
limited time Monica had spent around the two of them, Dana had seemed completely 
oblivious as to depth of John's feelings.  "Or is this just a visit?" 
"Not just a visit, I'm afraid."  Dana set down the vial, moved over to John and 
extended her hand.  After a moment's hesitation he accepted the handshake.  She 
added, "It's good to see you again."  A quick glance at Monica.  "And you, too, 
Agent Reyes.  I understand things have been a little slow around here this 
summer." 
"A little," John agreed solemnly. 
Monica had to concur.  From reading the old casefiles, she had the impression 
that Dana and Mulder had spent a tremendous amount of time in the field back 
when they ran the X-files.  But her own tenure in the office had started with a 
whimper rather than a bang.  Two months spent in the basement doing research, 
seldom venturing outside the immediate D.C. area. 
Four times John had submitted 302s, and once Monica herself had done so.  All of 
them had been denied.  She suspected Kersh was behind that, but she had no 
proof.  There had been two short trips to Pennsylvania, doing follow up on a 
case John had investigated last winter -- something concerning a creature with 
supposed miraculous healing powers -- but that was all. 
"Well, that's about to change," Dana said.  She placed her briefcase on John's 
desk and opened it.  Withdrawing a casefile folder, she turned and handed it to 
John.  "This isn't exactly an X-file, but it is important.  It came all the way 
from Capitol Hill -- Congresswoman White.  You both know who she is?" 
Monica nodded, and so did John.  Jolene White was an up and coming Congresswoman 
from Mississippi.  Young, attractive, wealthy ... people were already talking 
about a presidential run, if not in the next election, then the one after that.  
She was also one of the most conservative people in Washington. 
"Well, her daughter has disappeared," Dana said.  "She was visiting a friend in 
Iowa.  The two of them went out for the evening and never came back.  The locals 
are stumped." 
"Washington, Iowa?" John said, looking up from the file and raising an eyebrow. 
"Yes.  It's a small town in the southeast part of the state.  About the only 
thing I can tell you about it is that twenty years ago there was a seedy little 
bar there called Fritz's Tap.  I have no idea if it's still there." 
"You've been there?" Monica asked. 
Dana nodded.  "The summer between high school and college my sister and I drove 
across country.  We spent a night in Washington."  Another wry smile.  "I 
managed to take a tumble down a ravine, and hit my head, so I don't really 
remember very much about it." 
"Is there any evidence of foul play in this girl's disappearance?" John asked.  
He was once again leafing through the folder, but Monica could see that there 
were only a few sheets of paper there. 
"No," Dana replied.  "But it's been two weeks, and as you might imagine, when 
this happens to a family member of someone like Congresswoman White, the Bureau 
takes a more active role than it otherwise might." 
"Why us?" Monica asked.  "It sounds as if it would be more appropriate for the 
VCU." 
"Good question," Dana acknowledged.  "The answer is that one of the 
congresswoman's aides is an old friend of A.D. Skinner's, and he asked Skinner 
for 'the A Team'.  Skinner said that's the two of you." 
Monica started to object, but the other woman cut her off.  "I know you're new 
down here, Agent Reyes, but Agent Doggett has been here for a year, and he's 
established a good reputation.  Your own record in New Orleans is nothing to 
sneeze at, either.  So the two of you get the job."  She glanced at her watch.  
"Your flight leaves from Reagan in three hours.  You'd better get moving." 
And now here they were.  Monica turned her head, once again looking at John.  He 
was gazing out the window at the ground below, a far away look on his face.  And 
again, she didn't need to be a telepath to know what he was thinking about. 
"I saw you looking at her hands," Monica said, giving in to a sudden impulse.  
She might as well get started at dragging some of this stuff out into the open. 
"Hmm?"  He looked around, his expression suddenly bland.  "What are you talking 
about?" 
"Dana," she persisted.  "I saw you this morning.  Looking at her hands." 
"Meaning?" 
"No ring," she said.  Still, his face remained blank.  She sighed.  "John, you 
know --" 
"I'm sure they've just been busy," he interrupted.  He seemed to be choosing his 
words carefully.  A flicker of hurt passed through his eyes, as he added, 
"Taking care of a newborn is very time consuming."  His voice leveled off at the 
end of his statement.  She could almost hear the unspoken addendum:  Drop it, 
Monica. 
Whatever.  She stared at him for a moment.  This isn't over, John, she thought.  
You don't get off the hook that easily. 
"So," she went on after a moment, gesturing at the thin folder on his lap.  "Do 
you have any theories?" 
"Sure," he said, nodding.  "The kids went out to party, they fell in with the 
wrong people, and that was all she wrote." 
"But no bodies have been found," she pointed out.  "And it's been two weeks." 
"It happens that way sometimes," he said with a shrug.  "And I'm not saying 
they're necessarily dead, nor am I saying we shouldn't bust our butts looking 
for them.  Maybe they're still alive.  Hell, maybe they just ran off with a 
couple of guys and are shacked up somewhere."  Again that flicker of pain.  "Not 
every story has a tragic ending." 
"The locals have already covered that ground," she said.  "What you've described 
is pretty much their working theory." 
"That doesn't mean it isn't true," he replied. 
"I know," she agreed.  "I'm just having trouble ...."  She shrugged.  "I guess 
I'm looking for something paranormal.  Something more X-filesish." 
"This isn't an X-file, Monica," her partner informed her.  "This is a favor to a 
friend of A.D. Skinner.  We're gonna show up, we're gonna go over the paperwork 
with the locals, and then we're gonna go out and look at the evidence.  We're 
gonna tramp around town asking questions and making nuisances of ourselves.  
Solid police work.  Maybe we'll see something the other investigators missed.  
Or maybe we'll just get lucky."  He cocked his head.  "What sort of thing were 
you thinking we'd find?" 
"I don't know," she admitted.  "Something." 
"This doesn't fit any of the classic alien abduction scenarios," he said.  
Monica blinked.  It always startled her to see him shift gears like this.  "No 
lights in the sky, nobody experienced any missing time -- at least, not that's 
been reported.  What does that leave?"  He cracked a smile.  "You think they 
were stolen by fairies?" 
"I don't know what I think," Monica replied.  "I just think we need to keep 
ourselves open."  She leaned towards him a bit.  "Half the cases we've got on 
file started out looking like something normal.  It was only after Mulder and 
Dana started digging that the paranormal aspects emerged." 
"Yeah, but a lot *more* cases never even got to them, because there *was* no 
paranormal angle.  Don't forget that, Monica." 
With that he closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat.  The discussion was 
apparently over. 
#          #          # 
Office of Sheriff Darwin Benson 
Washington, IA 
2:07 p.m. 
"I honestly don't know why they sent you folks all the way from D.C.," the man 
behind the desk was saying.  "We're already doing everything that can be done." 
"I'm sure it's no reflection on your department, Sheriff Benson," John replied, 
his voice smooth and diplomatic.  "It's just that it involves a congresswoman's 
kid, and ... well, you know how it is." 
"Sure, sure."  Benson leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out to one 
side.  He was an older man, in his late 50s, with a bit of a beer belly hanging 
out over his belt.  He had thinning gray hair, and his nose was a bit too large 
for his face, in a way that reminded Monica of Mulder. 
"Well, you're certainly welcome to talk to my people," he went on.  "The state 
CID people have all gone back to Des Moines, but I s'pose you can reach them by 
phone if you need to."  He gestured at the case folder on John's lap.  "I see 
you've already got our notes and reports.  Anything else I can do for you?" 
"Anything not in the reports?" John asked.  "What I mean is, I used to be a cop 
before I joined the Bureau.  Sometimes you have something you think is true, but 
you don't want to put it in writing for one reason or another.  Anything like 
that?" 
"Nope."  The other man shook his head.  "It's all right there.  To be honest, 
we've put more work into it than usual.  Like you said, congresswoman's kid." 
"That's what I thought, but I had to ask."  John rose to his feet, and Monica 
followed suit.  "I want to thank you for your cooperation, Sheriff Benson," he 
said.  "We'll keep you informed of our activities.  I don't imagine we'll be 
here more than a couple of days." 
Benson half-rose, and shook John's hand.  "I appreciate your position," he said. 
 "If there's anything I or my people can do, just give us a holler." 
"Will do."  John started to turn away, but Monica wasn't ready to drop it. 
"Sheriff Benson, is there anything unusual about this case?" she asked. 
Benson looked up at her in surprise.  He'd already resumed his seat and turned 
to the paperwork sitting in front of him.  "I'm sorry?" he asked.  "What do you 
mean?" 
"Agent Doggett and I have a special assignment," she explained.  She could feel 
John stirring next to her, but chose to ignore him.  "Our unit investigates 
unexplained phenomenon.  I was just wondering if there'd been anything like that 
involved in this case." 
"Unexplained phenomenon?  What, you mean like U.F.O.'s?"  The man chuckled at 
his own joke. 
"Actually, yes," she said.  "We look into reports of alien abduction, spirit 
manifestations and the like.  Anything that can't be explained through more 
normal means winds up in our office.  Do you have any loose ends like that in 
this case?" 
"You're kidding." 
Monica shook her head. 
Benson rolled his eyes. 
"Well, there's nothing like that going on around here, Agent ... Reyes?"  She 
nodded.  "This is just a couple of college girls who went out to party and never 
came back.  Nothing unexplained about that, is there?  If you want my honest 
opinion, I'm guessing they're either buried out in those damned woods somewhere 
-- God forbid -- or they've run off looking for trouble.  That Stenley girl 
always was a bit of a wild child.  But there's no ghosts involved, no E.T.  
Nothing like that." 
"Which woods?" she asked. 
"No ... uh, no particular woods," he said, after a brief hesitation.  "I just 
meant that if somebody killed them, he's hidden the bodies somewhere out in the 
boonies." 
"You said 'those damned woods'," she persisted.  "That seems pretty specific." 
"Just a figure of speech," the sheriff answered.  He looked away from her, and 
started shuffling his papers.  "Now if you'll excuse me, I've got work to do." 
Monica wanted to pursue the matter further, but John was pretty clearly at the 
end of his patience.  She could feel the tension radiating from him.  So after a 
few seconds of silence, she allowed herself to be led from the building. 
==========END CHAPTER ONE==========