TITLE: Blood Ties III: A Nice Trip to the Forest
(Blood Ties Series)
AUTHOR: Dawn
E-MAIL: sunrise@avenew.com
ARCHIVE: MTA, Xemplary, Gossamer - others are fine, just let me know
SPOILERS: Mild through season 6
RATING: PG
CLASSIFICATION: X, A 
KEYWORDS: AU, MulderTorture, MSR, M/S/Sk friendship
SUMMARY: Something is causing an epidemic of missing persons in the 
Smoky Mountains. When his good friend attempts to investigate and 
subsequently disappears, Grey enlists Mulder and Scully's help to 
search for him. What they find is an X-File.
DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Scully, and Skinner belong to Chris Carter and 
1013 productions and though I'd love to own them, I'm content to 
borrow them now and then. Grey McKenzie is from my own fertile 
imagination.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thanks to all of you out there who have adopted Grey 
into the "X-Files Family." This is dedicated to Laurie, who said, 
"Next I want you to try an X-File," and Donna, who never lets me get 
away with less than my best. You guys are terrific. 
FEEDBACK: It's what keeps me going. I'd love to hear from you!


Blood Ties III: A Nice Trip to the Forest (1 of 8)
By Dawn


Nantahala National Forest
North Carolina
10:45 p.m.


The man sighed contentedly and shifted his back against the log, 
settling into a more comfortable position. He gazed into the 
flickering gold of the flames for several moments, feeling their 
warmth bathe his face even as the chill air nipped at the back of his 
neck. He turned up the collar on his jacket and resumed shaping the 
piece of wood in his fingers with a sharp knife, content to allow all 
thoughts to slip away in deference to the task at hand.

He was a complex man -- an individual of many talents and interests. 
The soul of an artist dwelt easily alongside the mind of a scientist 
and the heart of a naturalist. Elements of all three had drawn him 
into the forest tonight, but for now he chose to indulge the first and 
the wood transformed willingly under his attention.

The sharp crack of a stick somewhere deep in the darkness broke the 
silence, startling him so that the knife skittered across the 
carving's surface to sink deeply into his palm. Cursing under his 
breath at both the pain and the sudden gush of blood, the man crossed 
to where his pack lay at the edge of the small clearing and rummaged 
through it. By the time he'd located the small first aid kit both his 
shirt and the ground beneath him were liberally soaked with crimson.

He crouched beside his pack, carefully wrapping gauze around the gash, 
when he heard more rustling and snapping of twigs, this time very 
close. Frozen, he listened closely to the sound of stealthy movements 
that originated just beyond the ring of firelight. The low growl that 
followed caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. With a 
mixture of chagrin and fear he realized that his rifle remained 
propped against the old log with the knife on the ground beside it, 
dropped in his haste to staunch the blood flow from his injured hand.

The man stood slowly, intending to inch his way back toward the 
discarded weapons, but the low growl abruptly switched to a loud snarl 
and two red eyes appeared, floating in the blackness. The orbs boldly 
met his own with sharp intelligence, and the man felt oddly compelled 
to take a few tentative steps into the darkness rather than the 
direction planned. A sense of peace eliminated his apprehension and he 
was mesmerized, sinking into those eyes like pools of soothing water. 
The snarl changed once more, becoming a low crooning that urged him 
closer and assured him he had nothing to fear.

The sharp sting of the needle-like claws that punctured his skin felt 
far away, as if it were happening to someone else, and he could only 
smile drowsily at the incredible sense of euphoria that washed over 
him. When a set of razor sharp teeth fastened to his neck, he made no 
attempt to resist.



Apartment 42
Hegal Place
9:47 p.m.


Bruce Willis exploded in a flash of brilliant white light and Scully 
snorted, rolling her eyes. Mulder lifted one brow and looked at her 
from the corner of his eye.

"Yeah, Scully? You've got something to share with the class?"

"This is so completely ridiculous, Mulder! Talk about a contrived 
plot! It is virtually impossible for so many things to go wrong all at 
once."

His shoulder already touching hers as they sat on his couch, Mulder 
leaned in even closer so that his lips nearly brushed her ear. 
"Scully, it's a movie not one of my theories. You don't have to point 
out all the inconsistencies," he said sotto voice.

Scully barely masked an involuntary shiver by reaching up to tuck a 
strand of hair behind the ear that still tingled from her partner's 
warm breath. "Well I can certainly see why they call it science 
*fiction*. Next time *I* pick the movie, Mulder."

The ringing of the phone aborted any reply he might have mustered. 
Shifting the nearly empty bowl of popcorn to Scully's lap, Mulder 
hauled himself to his feet and moved over to plop down on the desk 
chair as he scooped up the receiver.

"Mulder."

Scully watched as his face lit up with pleasure. "Hey! I was going to 
call you this weekend. How 'bout that game last night? You owe me ten 
bucks."

Scully stood and motioned to her partner as she carried the bowl into 
the kitchen, a smile spreading over her own face. There was no doubt 
as to whom was on the other end of the conversation. Mulder didn't 
respond like that to just anyone. As she rinsed the bowl and slipped 
it into the dishwasher Scully thought about Grey, and the subtle but 
profound changes she'd observed in Mulder over the past several 
months.

In the six years she'd known him, an aura of loneliness had always 
encompassed Fox Mulder. Much as it saddened her, Scully had come to 
accept it as an inseparable part of the man. She knew her mother 
sensed it. Margaret Scully had done everything to include Mulder in 
the family short of adopting him. He'd accepted her mothering with 
gratitude and good humor, but the void remained -- until Grey.

>From a rocky and uncertain beginning had sprung a steadily deepening 
bond, strengthened by Mulder's brush with death at the hands of Sara 
Ross and cemented during Grey's weekend visit nearly a month later. 
She'd turned to Grey for help when Mulder's nightmares had spiraled 
out of control, never expecting the results. Not only had her 
partner's dreams receded to a more manageable level, he'd bared his 
soul to her one night not long after, confirming for the first time 
what she'd secretly suspected -- a history of childhood abuse that 
still haunted him.

Now, Mulder's loneliness was replaced by a kind of peaceful 
contentment. He was still a man with more than his share of demons and 
a penchant for guilt, but both were tempered by his newfound 
happiness. Grey might not fill the hole Samantha had left in his life, 
but he considerably reduced its size.

"I'd pay at least a dollar for those thoughts."

Scully jumped, startled from her reverie by Mulder's amused voice. He 
was leaning in the kitchen doorway, lips slightly curved and eyes 
soft. She flushed, aware that she'd been woolgathering and he'd caught 
her red handed.

"I was thinking about Grey, actually," she admitted, drying her hands 
on a towel before turning to face him. She was momentarily surprised 
to see that his eyes had narrowed with irritation and his arms were 
folded defensively across his chest. Realizing how her words had 
sounded, she grinned. "I mean about your relationship with him," she 
amended. "I'm just so happy for you, Mulder."

The annoyance left his features and he strolled over to where she 
stood before sliding up on the counter. She couldn't help smiling. He 
looked like a little boy with his long legs dangling like that, yet 
they still nearly touched the floor. He took in her smirk and patted 
the space beside him.

"Hop on up, Shorty -- if those little legs can propel you this far."

Scully resisted the undignified impulse to stick her tongue out, 
settling for The Look instead. She could see from his face that Grey's 
call had been more than just the routine hello he'd anticipated, so 
she scooted up beside him and waited expectantly.

"Grey says hello," he began, swinging his legs slightly so that the 
heels of his bare feet drummed softly on the cabinets. "He always asks 
about you when he calls, you know. I still think it's remotely 
plausible he finds you hot, Scully." He gazed at her from beneath dark 
lashes and Scully's lips quirked in a small smile.

"How is he doing?"

"He's good -- well, that's not completely true. His call wasn't just a 
chance for us to shoot the breeze, Scully." Mulder paused and chewed 
on his lip for a moment before proceeding. "He's worried. I could tell 
that much even though he's trying to hide it. He called to ask for our 
help."

A line appeared between Scully's blue eyes. It was her "get to the 
point, Mulder" expression. "With what? Another serial murder?"

His face betrayed nothing, but she felt his slight flinch at her 
words. "No, God no," he said hastily. "Something more in line with our 
unique expertise, much as I know it was killing him to suggest it. 
He's gotten himself involved in what could actually be an X-File."

Scully's eyebrows climbed up her forehead until they disappeared 
beneath her auburn hair and she dipped her head in surprise. "You're 
kidding."

Mulder smirked and raised his right hand in a parody of the Boy Scout 
salute. "Honest. He's faxing the case information to our office so I 
can submit a 302 to Skinner tomorrow morning." He sobered. "But even 
if Skinner won't approve this I'm going, Scully. I'll take vacation 
time if I have to."

Scully studied his face. "Sounds serious."

"It is to Grey. It seems that there has been an increase in the number 
of disappearances in the Nantahala National Forest. That's..."

"Part of the Great Smoky Mountains," Scully finished. "I'm familiar 
with the area. I've even been hiking there once or twice."

"Then you probably know that a certain number of disappearances each 
year is not unusual. People decide they're going to try roughing it 
and get in over their heads. They lose their way, succumb to the 
elements -- even black bear attacks are not unheard of. But according 
to Grey, that number has risen sharply over the last six months."

"How sharply?"

"Over two hundred percent."

Scully was silent for a moment, then frowned. "Okay, I can see there 
might be a problem. But what makes you think it's an X-File? And how 
did Grey become involved at all? Nantahala is a far cry from a Raleigh 
homicide cop's jurisdiction."

Mulder sighed and ran one hand through his hair. "The X-File is that 
they recently found someone who'd been missing for over a week. A man 
by the name of Nilesh Patel, discovered unconscious on one of the 
small back roads that wind through the mountains in that area. He 
exhibited signs of exposure, which was to be expected since the nights 
had been routinely dipping down into the thirties, but his other 
symptoms were...unusual."

"Such as?"

"Such as the fact that that his blood contained a substance not unlike 
a mixture of alcohol and any of several morphine-based narcotics -- 
what they were able to test, that is. His blood volume had been 
reduced by over forty percent and he'd gone into hypovolemic shock by 
the time he was found."

She could see there was more. He was like a little kid telling his 
first joke, eagerly awaiting her response so he could deliver the 
punchline. She sighed in resignation. "Go on, Mulder. Don't keep me in 
suspense."

He grinned, and it was more than worth her irritation at being strung 
along. "There were no large wounds, Scully. No major trauma of any 
kind. Just a set of four small puncture wounds over his jugular."

Scully pursed her lips, conscious of her partner's nearly gleeful gaze 
as she digested the information.  "Maybe those punctures were the 
source of the blood loss. We could be talking about just another 
serial killer, Mulder."

"I considered that possibility, and so did Grey. But, and correct me 
if I'm wrong, that kind of procedure would require some sophisticated 
equipment under sanitary conditions." At Scully's nod he plunged on. 
"From Patel's appearance, he never left the forest. His clothes were 
nothing but tattered rags and he'd obviously been exposed to the 
elements since several of his toes were frostbitten."

"Has he been able to tell the police anything about what happened to 
him?"

Mulder shook his head. "According to Grey, he remembers nothing about 
where he spent those missing days, and what he does remember is 
largely hallucinogenic in nature. Not surprising when you consider the 
chemicals in his bloodstream."

"Maybe those chemicals were self-ingested," Scully ventured, gazing at 
the wall while her mind worked furiously at an explanation. "Maybe he 
was out there getting stoned and..."

"He's a Muslim, Scully, and a devout one -- no alcohol and no drugs. 
And he was out there camping with his wife. She hasn't been found."

Scully massaged her right temple in a vain effort to short circuit the 
headache she could feel building there. "So what are you trying to 
say, Mulder? You obviously have begun formulating a theory for all of 
this. What is it? Vampires? Werewolves?"

To her surprise he reached out to place his hands on her shoulders, 
turning her slightly until her back was to him. When he had her 
positioned to his satisfaction he began running his thumbs in gentle 
but firm circles over her shoulders and neck. She'd tensed momentarily 
at his touch but quickly gave herself over to his ministrations as the 
tight muscles relaxed.

"Vampires don't drug their victims, Scully," he chided gently as if 
she'd disregarded common knowledge. "And werewolves only operate under 
a full moon. I'm not sure what's taken up residence in the Nantahala 
Forest, but I can almost guarantee it isn't a serial killer."

Scully had dropped her head to allow Mulder better access to a 
particularly strained muscle in her neck when she remembered 
something. "That explains why you think this may be an X-File, Mulder. 
But you haven't accounted for Grey's involvement. Why is he so 
interested in this case?" 

She heard her partner sigh heavily, and turned back to examine his 
face. He was chewing on his lip again, expression troubled.

"He has a good friend by the name of Steve Northrop who's a ranger for 
the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Evidently Steve heard about 
the disappearances and after talking to Patel decided to make his own 
little expedition into the area."

Scully closed her eyes and slowly shook her head. "And he hasn't been 
heard from since."

"That was two weeks ago," Mulder said gravely. "Steve's family called 
Grey nearly frantic with worry and begged him to look into it. Grey's 
pretty torn up about the whole thing. He and Steve grew up together."

"Which explains why you're willing to take vacation time, if 
necessary," Scully concluded.

Mulder's eyes were the muted gray she'd grown to associate with his 
empathy for another's pain. "I owe him that much, Scully. He was there 
for me when I needed him."

"*WE* owe him, Mulder. I haven't forgotten, believe me."

Mulder's smile at her determination turned into an impish grin as he 
slid off the counter to stand in front of her. "So what do you say, 
partner? How about a nice trip to the forest?"

The images that phrase conjured up caused Scully to groan as she too 
slipped down from her perch. "You pack the bug spray, Mulder," she 
said dryly. "I'll bring my Three Dog Night repertoire."


Continued in part 2
Blood Ties III: A Nice Trip to the Forest (2 of 8)
By Dawn


Hoover Building
Office of A.D. Skinner
Saturday
8:30 a.m.


Mulder shifted slightly in his chair, determined not to fidget. To his 
left, Scully was the picture of professionalism -- calm, composed, and 
infinitely patient as Skinner read through each page of Grey's fax 
with maddening attention to detail. Mulder caught his fingers just as 
they began to drum on the arm of the chair and quickly folded his 
hands in his lap. A feather-light touch on his arm brought his eyes up 
to meet Scully's.

*Relax*. Her gaze said clearly.

Finally Skinner set the last page aside and sighed, removing his 
glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose, then replacing them. His eyes 
skimmed briefly over Scully, but came to rest on Mulder.

"Frankly, Agent Mulder, I think you're reaching with this one. Other 
than the garbled testimony of one man and some odd medical data, 
there's nothing here that tells me this is an X-File. As you pointed 
out, disappearances in this area are not unusual."

"But the increase in missing persons..."

"I agree the increase warrants attention, I'm just not convinced the 
bureau should be involved. At this point I find the matter would be 
better relegated to the park service."

"What exactly are you saying, sir? What's the bottom line?" Mulder 
said, an edge of insolence to his voice.

Skinner's irritation was betrayed only by the clench of his jaw and 
the slight twitch of a facial muscle -- his voice remained low and 
even. "The bottom line is that I'll need more before I can sign off on 
the 302. I don't know who your source is, but he'll have to do a 
better job of proving a paranormal slant."

Mulder bit his lip, staring at a point just above Skinner's right 
shoulder. "Then I'd like to officially put in for a vacation, 
beginning today," he said tersely. "I'll pursue this on my own time."

Skinner frowned, studying his agent's stony face before giving a small 
shake of his head. "Mulder, I..."

"The last time I checked, vacation time was my own business, sir. Do 
you have a problem with that?"

Scully's hand was back on his arm, this time giving it a gentle 
squeeze. "Mulder. Take it easy."

Skinner's brown eyes moved from Mulder to his partner and back again. 
He rose from his chair and moved deliberately around to lean against 
the front of his desk, never breaking contact with Mulder's defiant 
gaze.

"I'm not speaking as A.D. on this side of the desk, Mulder. I'm 
speaking as a friend." His voice was surprisingly gentle and patient, 
all traces of his former annoyance gone. "I promise to shelve the 
bureaucratic red tape if you'll drop that problem child attitude and 
tell me what's really going on here. What's so damn urgent about this 
case that you hauled me in on a Saturday morning and are willing to 
use your own time if necessary?"

Mulder's reticence was broken by the recollection of Skinner's 
unflagging support after the death of his mother -- breaking the news 
with sensitivity and compassion, flying up for the memorial service, 
and even pitching in to help sort through her things. Skinner had more 
than proved his friendship, and he deserved to know the whole truth.

"Consider it dropped," he said aloud, his voice soft with contrition. 
"You're right, there is more to this case. That information came from 
Grey, and one of his friends is among the missing. He's already 
promised the family he'll investigate the disappearance, and he's 
asked for our help."

Despite the sympathy in his expression, Skinner once again shook his 
head. "It's a bad idea, Mulder. Grey's link to a possible victim could 
compromise his judgement and objectivity. There's a reason why doctors 
don't operate on family members, and a cop is no different."

Mulder dry washed his face with his hands before clasping them 
together beneath his chin. "I told him as much last night, sir. He 
wouldn't listen. He can be completely pigheaded once he's decided on a 
course of action."

"A family trait," Scully muttered under her breath.

Mulder flashed her a glare of vexation but Skinner's mouth quirked in 
amusement. "So I've gathered."

He stood and moved back around the large desk to sink into his chair. 
Without further comment he picked up his pen and signed the bottom of 
the form that lay on the blotter, shifting it to the stack of faxed 
sheets. Mulder's face, rather than smug, appeared relieved.

"Thank you, sir."

"Don't thank me, Mulder. I signed off because you're a good agent and 
I'm willing to trust your judgement on this one. Don't disappoint me. 
And don't let that brother of yours lose perspective."

He waited until both his agents had left the office before slumping 
back in his chair, rubbing his brow in a vain effort to quell the 
Mulder-headache he could already feel building. The irony of the 
situation hadn't escaped him, and he chuckled ruefully.

*I've just sent one Mulder to rein in another* he thought. *God help 
us all.*


Raleigh-Durham International Airport
Saturday
1:10 p.m.


It was obvious that Grey was on edge. He shared perfunctory hugs when 
they stepped off the plane, but to Scully it was clear he was 
struggling to maintain a faade of normalcy. The restless, unsettled 
demeanor contrasted sharply with his normally calm and easygoing 
temperament, and only increased his resemblance to Mulder. She watched 
him pacing nervously while they waited for their luggage, hands shoved 
into jacket pockets in an effort to control them. From the corner of 
her eye Scully saw Mulder watching, his forehead creased with 
undisguised concern. She wasn't the only one to observe the change.

She nearly missed their bags, snatching them from the carousel at the 
last moment. Grey seemed to relax a bit once they were in the car and 
headed for his home in Eagle Rock. Scully had willingly relinquished 
the front seat to Mulder, both in deference to his long legs and his 
gift for lending a sympathetic ear. Grey certainly appeared to be a 
man who needed to talk.

"Tell me more about Steve," her partner said quietly after they had 
driven in silence for several minutes. "You grew up together?"

Grey's hands tightened on the steering wheel but his voice remained 
even. "Yeah. We were neighbors when I was in elementary school, and 
our families stayed in touch even after the Northrops moved to another 
town about an hour away. He was..." Grey faltered, then continued, 
"*is* an unusual guy, I've never met anyone else quite like him. He 
just seems to be good at whatever he does -- and he's done a lot. He's 
an incredibly gifted artist, a brilliant scientist, and women were 
always falling all over themselves to be with him. To top it off, he's 
such a nice person, you can't even hate him for being so perfect."

"You said his family called you. He's married?"

Grey nodded sharply. "A wife and two little girls, ages one and 
three," he said gruffly.

Scully watched Mulder stare out the window for several minutes. When 
his eyes sought out his brother once more he licked his lips 
nervously. "Does he have a good marriage?"

Grey's eyes narrowed and his knuckles turned white. "What the hell 
kind of question is that? Yes, he has a good marriage, but I don't see 
how..."

He trailed off, pulling abruptly to the side of the road and slamming 
on the breaks. He shifted in his seat to face Mulder, wearing an 
expression of barely contained fury. "What are you saying -- that he 
ran out on his wife and kids? That telling Jackie he was going to 
check out the situation in Nantahala was just a cover story? Were you 
listening to anything I just said? Steve would never do something like 
that -- *never*! How dare you even suggest it! If this is the kind of 
help I can expect from you, Fox, maybe you'd better just turn around 
and go back to D.C. right now."

Grey flung open the door and stalked into the field that bordered the 
road. He stopped after about a hundred feet and stood staring into the 
distance, his back deliberately to the car and its occupants. Mulder 
sighed and shut his eyes, sliding down until his head barely cleared 
the seatback.

"So much for my ability to provide brotherly support," he muttered.

Scully leaned between the two seats to squeeze his shoulder. "It's not 
your fault, Mulder."

He cracked one eye open and squinted at her. "How do you figure? He 
was already a distressed over his friend's disappearance and I just 
questioned Steve's moral character. I waved the proverbial red flag in 
front of the bull, Scully."

"You asked a question that needed to be asked. One that no 
self-respecting investigator would have missed," Scully replied 
firmly. "If Grey wasn't so personally invested in this case he would 
have recognized that. Skinner was right, Mulder. He's too close to 
this and we'd better watch him carefully or there could be a major 
screw-up."

Mulder moaned and buried his face in his hands. "I hate it when 
Skinner's right."

Scully couldn't suppress her smile at that. "Go on, Mulder. Go talk to 
him. You know what it's like to fly off the handle and say something 
you don't mean. You've certainly done it often enough."

Mulder gave her a reproachful pout, but he straightened in his seat 
and got out of the car. He walked slowly to where Grey stood, 
deliberately insuring that his brother would hear his approach.

"Don't say anything," Grey said, still gazing at the horizon. "I'm 
sorry I blew up like that. I know you were only doing your job -- the 
job *I* asked you to do."

"Yeah, well I've never been known for my tact," Mulder admitted, 
keeping his own gaze on the rolling field.

Grey's mouth twitched and he finally turned his head. "Naaaah! 
Really?"

They stood in companionable silence for a while before Grey spoke 
again. "I know you had to ask, Fox. But you also have to believe me 
when I say that I *know* this man. If he didn't come back to his 
family, it's because he couldn't. And I can't tell you how much that 
scares me."

Mulder gave his brother's shoulder a gentle squeeze, unconsciously 
mimicking Scully's gesture in the car. "I can't promise everything 
will be all right, Grey. But I'll do everything in my power to help 
you find him."

Grey scrubbed at his eyes with his sleeve and rallied a small smile. 
"I couldn't ask for more than that, Fox. Thanks."


Continued in part 3
Blood Ties III: A Nice Trip to the Forest (3 of 8)
By Dawn



St. Alexius Hospital
Sunday
10:37 a.m.


"I've told this story over and over again. Why does everyone keep 
asking the same questions?"

Nilesh Patel's skin was sallow, his voice thin and listless. His black 
eyes wandered to the window, as though neither Mulder nor Grey 
inspired sufficient interest to hold them.

"We understand you must be tired of this, Mr. Patel," Mulder said, 
trying to placate the man. "But reading someone else's report just 
isn't the same as hearing it from your lips. We may be able to pick up 
on something the others have missed."

A flash of pain crossed Patel's face and he closed his eyes. "We hiked 
in about seven miles and made camp. I remember sitting around the 
campfire with Jayshree. The next thing I know I'm in a hospital and 
they tell me that Jay cannot be found. End of story."

Mulder ground his teeth in frustration at the man's flippancy. "With 
all due respect, sir, the chances of finding your wife are slim if you 
won't at least try to help us."

Passivity vanishing, Patel fixed Mulder with a sharp stare. "What's 
your interest in this anyway, Agent Mulder? Why are an FBI agent from 
Washington and a Raleigh cop concerning themselves with the 
disappearance of my wife?"

"Because I've lost someone too," Grey said quietly before his brother 
could reply.

"Your wife?"

Mulder saw the slight flinch, but Grey met the man's eyes and shook 
his head. "A very good friend. We grew up together. He went to 
Nantahala hoping to learn the cause of the disappearances."

Patel's harsh expression softened, his brow smoothing. "I'm sorry." He 
sighed deeply. "Go ahead. Ask your questions."

Grey and Mulder darted questioning looks at each other before Mulder 
finally spoke up. "What do you last remember about that campfire? 
Think about the sounds, the smells, any of your sensory perceptions."

Patel seemed to sink more deeply into the pillows that propped him up 
and let his eyes slip shut. "I remember the smoky smell from the fire, 
the chill of the air and the warmth of Jay's body at my side. I 
remember the ache in my leg. I fell on some rocks earlier and gave 
myself a pretty nasty gash."

"What about sounds? Do you remember anything out of the ordinary?"

"No, just your normal woodland sounds -- an owl, some rustling in the 
undergrowth-"

His voice trailed off and his forehead wrinkled. He opened his eyes 
but they were unfocused as he searched his memories carefully. "I do 
remember something. A...a low growling. But it wasn't like the growl 
of any wild animal I'd ever heard. It was..."

"It was what?" Grey prodded, his fingers tightening on the bedrail.

"It wasn't threatening. It was a kind of keening that was 
more...soothing than frightening." Patel's voice had taken on a 
dreamy, singsong quality and Grey glanced at Mulder, raising his 
eyebrows.

"Did you look for the source of the sound?" Mulder asked, his voice 
very quiet and unobtrusive. "Could you have seen anything?"

"Eyes," the man said, still in that oddly disconnected voice. "Red 
eyes. They were beautiful. So warm and deep."

When Patel didn't continue, Mulder pressed, "And what happened then?"

Like a switch had been thrown, Patel's eyes snapped into focus and he 
stiffened. "I already told you. I don't remember anything after that 
until I woke up here. Now are you about finished? I'm tired."

Grey took in Mulder's slight nod before replying. "Yes, we're 
finished, Mr. Patel. Thank you for answering our questions. You've 
been very helpful."

Patel's face showed his doubt but he didn't refute Grey's words. "Find 
them, Detective McKenzie -- Jay and your friend. No one deserves to 
just disappear and be forgotten."

Grey's lips tightened but his voice was steady. "We'll do our best, 
sir."

Out in the hallway Grey paused, stopping Mulder with a hand pressed to 
his chest. "How did you do that? That guy has been questioned at least 
five times and no one has ever managed to get that bit of information 
from him."

Mulder shrugged and ducked his head, embarrassed by the awe in his 
brother's voice. "It's no big deal. I've just found that having a 
person concentrate on sensory perceptions, rather than a narrative of 
events can uncover subliminal memories."

Grey would not be put off. "Scully said you were very good at this. 
She was right."

Mulder shuffled his feet. "I think I saw a drinking fountain in the 
lounge. I'll be right back," he said, abruptly heading down the 
hallway.

Grey watched him go, baffled. He was still staring down the corridor 
when the sharp click of heels on linoleum alerted him to Scully's 
return from the lab where she'd been reviewing Patel's blood work-up.

"Where's Mulder?" she asked, her brow scrunching.

"He said he needed a drink of water," Grey answered. He studied 
Scully's face. "He's not very good at accepting a compliment, is he?"

Her puzzlement was immediately replaced by understanding. "No," she 
agreed thoughtfully. "No, he isn't. I don't think he had much 
experience with them when he was growing up."

There was no need to verbalize the implications of her statement. Grey 
pursed his lips in annoyance, then smiled at her. "Then I guess it's 
up to us to see that he does now."

Scully laid her hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze, flooded 
with both gratitude and a sense of relief. It was nice to know she was 
no longer alone in the role of supporting her partner. She thought 
again how lucky Mulder was to have this man for his brother.

Mulder reappeared at that moment, eyes narrowing and the corners of 
his mouth dipping a little at the sight of Scully with her hand on 
Grey's arm and a warm smile on her lips. Scully removed her hand 
rather hastily and stepped back. Grey just smirked a little at 
Mulder's raised hackles.

*My, my, little brother,* he thought in amusement. *You're awfully 
possessive over someone who's just your best friend. We definitely 
need to work on this.*

"What did you find, Scully?" Mulder asked, deliberately insinuating 
himself between his brother and his partner.

"Something I didn't expect. Come on, let's go to the lounge where we 
can talk."

Curiosity piqued, they followed her to the empty waiting area where 
she began spreading out photocopies of lab data. Mulder and Grey 
peered over her shoulder at the documents until finally Grey stole a 
quick look at his brother and shrugged.

"Sorry, Dana. That might as well be Russian for all I can understand 
it."

Scully pointed to the first sheet of paper that held a variety of 
chemical symbols and numbers. "This is the analysis of the blood 
sample. Nothing new here, just the presence of the unidentified 
compound. The composition is such that it would roughly mimic the 
effects of someone under the influence of alcohol and a heavy 
narcotic. Wherever Mr. Patel was during those eight days, he was 
feeling no pain."

"I think something more was going on, Scully," Mulder mused, still 
staring at the columns of numbers. "Whatever is causing the 
disappearances must use a combination of chemical and psychological 
factors to subdue its victims. Mr. Patel showed all the signs of 
someone who's been hypnotized."

Scully cocked an eyebrow at that, but Grey vehemently shook his head. 
"He's right. You should have seen the man -- he zoned out right in 
front of us." He briefly recounted their conversation with Nilesh 
Patel and his odd behavior.

Mulder watched his partner's face while Grey talked, observing the 
variety of emotions that flitted rapidly across her features. 
Skepticism melded into surprise and then a carefully repressed 
excitement.

"What is it, Scully?" he asked when Grey had finished. "You look like 
you know something we don't."

By way of answering, Scully pointed to another of the data sheets 
spread over the table. "This is an analysis of the area of skin 
surrounding the puncture marks on Patel's throat. It reveals necrosis 
-- that's death of the tissue, as well as some microbial 
contamination. I thought some of the bacteria present were a little 
odd so I ran a few of my own tests on the sample. It revealed some 
small organic molecules, electrolytes, and a high concentration of 
proteins -- Amylase, Lipase, and Cystatins just to name a few."

"English, Scully," Mulder prodded gently, relishing her enthusiasm.

"Put them all together and they point to one thing, Mulder. Saliva." 
She watched their faces, enjoying the contrast. Grey simply gaped at 
her while Mulder's eyes sparkled with glee. 

"Scully, are you saying those punctures could be BITES?"

Scully's lips twitched a little at his poorly concealed delight. A 
Mulder hot on the trail of an X-File was a happy Mulder. She only 
hoped he'd remember that one of them had a very personal connection to 
this particular case. As if sensing her thoughts, Mulder's gaze 
shifted to Grey and he sobered.

"From examining the photos taken I would have to say they certainly 
exhibit the characteristics of bite marks. The flesh is slightly 
jagged and torn around the edges, rather than smooth as you might 
expect with a puncture from an object."

"Human?"

Scully sucked her lower lip into her mouth, hesitating. "I'm not an 
expert," she finally said. "But I don't think so. My guess is that 
it's from some sort of animal."

"If it's an animal, it's nothing anyone's ever seen before," Mulder 
mused.

Grey's gaze darted back and forth between them as they spoke, his eyes 
still wide with shock and his mouth open. "This is getting way too 
weird. You're telling me there's some kind of animal roaming the 
Nantahala forest that drugs and hypnotizes people before drinking 
their blood?"

"Actually, I think that the hypnosis occurs first. That way it can get 
close enough to deliver the bite or scratch that delivers the 
sedative," Mulder replied, barely acknowledging his brother's stunned 
expression.

"How can you two just calmly sit here and discuss this like you're 
discussing the weather?" Grey demanded indignantly.

Mulder looked at him a little blankly, but Scully understood. "It's 
what we do, Grey -- what we've been doing for over six years now. I 
guess it's inevitable that we just don't get as shocked by the bizarre 
anymore. I'm sorry if that bothers you."

"I know, I know -- flukemen," Grey muttered, then sighed. "Okay, I can 
deal with this. Let's just get moving before it gets too late and we 
have to wait another night."

The little frown line that signaled Scully's disapproval appeared 
between her blue eyes. "I'm still not so sure this is a good idea. 
Grey's friend went looking for this thing and now we're looking for 
him. Maybe we should see if we can get some of the local cops to come 
with us."

"We have more information than Steve did, and more training," Mulder 
argued. "Take too many people in there and this thing will only keep 
its distance."

"He's right," Grey said. "The fact that it appears to be an animal 
means it is likely to operate like one. A predator attacks the weak, 
not the strong."

Scully slumped back in her seat and moaned. "I give up. It was bad 
enough when just Mulder was trying to convince me of some hare-brained 
scheme. Now I'm getting it from both of you!"

"Hare-brained? Scully, you wound me," Mulder said reproachfully.

"You? What about me? She's just put me in the same category as a guy 
who chases aliens for a living!" Grey observed indignantly.

"And your point would be...?"

Scully clapped her hands over her ears. "Enough! I give up. Just let 
me run these copies back to medical records and we can go."

She scooped the papers off the table and stalked off down the hallway 
muttering something under her breath about heredity in general and 
Mulder males specifically. Mulder and Grey exchanged a long look 
before Mulder held up his hand for a high five.

"Where were you when I needed you the last six years?" he asked, 
grinning. "I might have won a lot more arguments like that one."

"What did you do in the past when she didn't back down?" Grey asked, 
frowning a little.

Mulder shrugged, looking sheepish. "I used to ditch her and go anyway. 
I've been trying to reform."

Grey raised both eyebrows. "You *ditched* her? You're either a lot 
braver or a lot stupider than I thought, little brother. From what 
I've seen of that redhead you were taking your life in your hands."

Mulder smiled, his expression softening into what Grey had come to 
recognize as his "Scully face." "You've got that right. And I've got 
the scars to prove it. Remind me and I'll tell you all about it 
sometime."


Continued in part 4

Blood Ties III: A Nice Trip to the Forest (4 of 8)
By Dawn


Nantahala National Forest
Sunday
5:00 p.m.


"How's the hand?"

Mulder shifted his pack slightly and looked at her ruefully. "It just 
throbs a little. It's not a big deal, Scully."

She knew he was embarrassed, but didn't back down. "Mulder if we'd 
been anywhere else I would have made you go in for a couple of 
stitches. Once we've made camp for the night I want to examine the 
wound again and rewrap it. I don't want it to get infected."

"Yes, Mom," he muttered, picking a little at the white gauze that ran 
between his thumb and fingers to encircle his palm.

"And don't mess with my bandage, you'll get dirt in there," Scully 
couldn't refrain from adding.

Grey, who had been hiking about ten feet in front of them, paused and 
turned back with a smirk on his face. "Don't feel bad, Fox. All manly 
men get injured now and then. It's a hazard of the job. That jack 
could be a deadly weapon, after all."

"In Mulder's hands, anyway," Scully said, her lips twitching in 
amusement.

"Ha, ha, ha. I'm glad you two are getting such a big kick out of 
this," Mulder grumbled. "It's not my fault that lug nut was jammed 
like that. Next time, Scully can help change the tire. She's a 
liberated woman."

"I just hope the car will be all right where we left it," Grey said, 
frowning a little. "I didn't like leaving it beside the road."

"It was either that or wait until tomorrow to start hiking," Scully 
pointed out, ever the voice of reason.

"She's right. By the time we'd have gotten that fixed it would have 
been too close to nightfall," Mulder agreed. "And I know you didn't 
want to wait another day."

Scully allowed her eyes to roam their surroundings as she walked, 
drinking in the colors, sounds, and smells. The late spring air was 
warm enough to prohibit the need for a jacket, yet still cool enough 
for comfort. Dense green foliage was broken only by splashes of 
yellow, purple, red and blue from spring wildflowers. And here and 
there, she caught glimpses of the dense, low-lying mist that helped 
give the Smoky Mountains their name.

Grey pulled off his baseball cap and ran his fingers through hair made 
wavier than normal from the humidity. He cursed softly and replaced 
the cap, backwards. "Stupid hair. Weather like this just makes it 
curl."

Mulder looked at the dark wisps of hair at the nape of his brother's 
neck, his expression turning soft. "You have her hair," he said 
quietly.

Grey looked at him intently, hearing something very important beneath 
the words. "What?"

"Samantha. She had hair like yours. In the summer when we'd be out 
playing and would get hot and sweaty the little pieces around her face 
would get really curly. She hated that."

Hearing the underlying sadness in his brother's voice, Grey hesitated 
a moment before pressing onward. "What was she like?"

A smile, both wistful and affectionate graced Mulder's face. "Tough. 
Stubborn. A real tomboy. She was determined to do anything I did, and 
do it better if possible. Since I was four years older that left her 
frustrated a good deal of the time. She could be a royal pain in the 
ass." He chuckled softly. "But she was always there for me. When Dad 
used to..." He caught himself, his eyes skittering away from their 
twin looks of sympathy. "Dad was always harder on me. Samantha used to 
stick up for me, defend me when he got angry. It usually worked. She 
could wrap anyone around her little finger."

"She was a buffer against his temper," Grey murmured. "No wonder 
things got so bad after she was taken."

Mulder stiffened and his expression turned from open to guarded. "I've 
told you, Grey. He only hit me twice, and both times he was really 
drunk. Don't start with that abused child crap."

Grey seemed about to argue, but only shrugged and quickened his pace 
until he was once again in the lead. A touch on his palm startled him, 
and Mulder looked down to see Scully's small hand slip into his. When 
he raised his eyes to hers he saw none of the pity he feared, only 
compassion and acceptance.

"You don't need to admit it to anyone else, Mulder," she said, her 
voice pitched for his ears only. "But you should admit it to yourself. 
You've spent too many years making excuses for your father's actions. 
You deserve so much better."

Tears pricked his eyes and forced him to look away from her steady 
gaze, but he tightened his fingers around hers. A hundred different 
responses danced on the tip of his tongue, longing to be heard, but in 
the end he just kept walking. The one concession he made was to keep 
her hand engulfed by his own.

"There's one thing that I don't understand about this," Grey said 
after they'd been hiking in silence for a while, casting a quick 
glance over his shoulder at them. If he noticed the linked hands, he 
refrained from comment.

"Just one?" Scully replied, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "You're 
doing pretty well for a novice, Grey. On my first X-File I was baffled 
by just about everything."

Mulder grinned down at her, finally dropping her hand as they 
scrambled over a large tree that had fallen across the trail. 
"Baffled, Scully? The way *I* remember it, you had all the answers."

She flashed him the Scully Death Stare, but remained silent as Grey 
continued.

"Well, one major thing anyway," he qualified, grinning a little at 
their banter. "Where did this thing come from? I've done a pretty 
thorough search and this is the only area to exhibit a dramatic 
increase in missing persons. I didn't see any evidence that would 
indicate it migrated here from somewhere else. And if it's been here 
all along, why did the rise in disappearances just begin?"

"What you're talking about is a mystery that's surrounded all the 
creatures from folklore -- Bigfoot, Nessie, and the yeti just to name 
a few, creatures that would have had to endure and elude man for 
centuries just to have survived," Mulder said, sliding into what 
Scully labeled his "lecture mode." "That might seem logical enough, 
but it would mean there would have to be more than one so that 
reproduction would allow for the species to continue for so long. The 
problem is, all those creatures have only been seen one at a time 
rather than in groups -- at least as most stories go. And where's a 
nest or cave dwelling? With all the researchers tracking such 
creatures you'd think we'd have more evidence by now. There's a theory 
about that, though."

Mulder pulled himself from his musings to see that Grey had dropped 
back to join them and was listening with rapt attention. Scully, of 
course, was wearing the face she always put on when he postulated the 
existence of such creatures. It was her "Come on, Mulder, there's a 
scientific explanation for that nonsense" face. It provoked a strange 
dichotomy within him. Part of him cherished it, recognizing that it 
was responsible for grounding him, keeping him focused. And then there 
was the part that wearied of her unflagging skepticism even when the 
truth was practically jumping up and down in front of her. That part 
just felt pissed off. You could measure the status of their 
partnership by which held sway over the other. Today he just 
acknowledged her disbelief with a small smile.

"Go on," Grey urged impatiently. "I'm all ears. What's the theory?"

"That they are somehow stepping, swimming, or being pulled through a 
dimensional rift --a gateway through time."

Grey stopped dead in his tracks and stared incredulously at his 
brother, hands on hips and panting slightly from the exertion of their 
climb. "Say that again?"

"You heard me," Mulder replied calmly. "And don't roll your eyes, 
Scully. Such a thing has been correlated to incidents where people, 
actual human beings, suddenly appeared in the middle of cities unsure 
of how they'd gotten there, completely out of their time and out of 
their element."

"So what you're saying, Mulder, is that you think this creature may 
have traveled here from another time?" Scully asked. When he nodded, 
she slowly shook her head. "And just how did this doorway between 
times open?"

Mulder shrugged. "I'm not saying I have all the answers, Scully. Some 
people have theorized that it could be an untapped power of the mind 
-- found even in lower animals -- that allows it to happen. Whatever 
the cause, it would certainly explain the sudden onset of the 
disappearances."

"So the creature would have traveled through time only to find it 
could no longer access its natural food source," Grey reflected. At 
Mulder's look of sheer delight, he groaned and clapped both hands to 
the sides of his head. "What am I saying? Next thing you know I'll be 
looking for little green men!"

"Gray," Scully and Mulder corrected simultaneously.

He raised his hands and looked skyward in a "why me?" gesture before 
spinning and continuing down the trail. "We need to make camp soon. 
Better get a move on if you don't want to be wandering around after 
dark with a time-traveling, blood-sucking whatever-it-is on the 
prowl."

Mulder shifted his pack again and fell back into step behind his 
brother. "Smart ass," he muttered under his breath. Scully hid the 
smirk on her face and followed.



Nantahala National Forest
Sunday
10: 15 p.m.


"Tell me about your family, Grey," Scully said as she carefully 
unwound the gauze from Mulder's injured hand. "I know you have two 
sisters but not much else. What are their names?"

Grey leaned back on his elbows and contemplated the fire for a moment 
before answering. "Shannon and Kira. Shannon is barely a year younger 
than I am, and Kira is Fox's age."

"What do they do? Do they have families of their own? Sorry, Mulder, 
I'm trying to be as gentle as I can," she interjected when her partner 
hissed in pain.

The gash in Mulder's palm had continued to bleed enough that the gauze 
was now sticking stubbornly to it. She finally managed to ease it 
free, unfortunately causing it to bleed again in the process. Mulder, 
reclining against his pack, deliberately refrained from looking at the 
hand cradled in her lap.

"Shannon is a microbiologist for a pharmaceutical company. Kira's a 
teacher -- second graders."

"Ow! Scully what are you doing? Feels like you're peeling another 
layer of skin off!" Mulder whined, jerking his hand out of his 
partner's grasp.

"Stop being such a big baby and give me back that hand, Mulder, or I 
really *will* hurt you," Scully said threateningly.

Mulder pouted, putting on his kicked puppy face, but hastily extended 
his palm to her. "I'm only putting up with this because you're armed," 
he grumbled.

"And dangerous. But you already know that." Scully returned her gaze 
to the wound, but not before Mulder caught the twinkle in her eye.

Grey looked on with great amusement. "Why do I sense there's a story 
there somewhere?"

Mulder glanced at Scully, a wicked look appearing on his face when she 
pointedly didn't answer. "Never underestimate Scully, Grey. I learned 
that the hard way. She shot me -- right in the shoulder. I still have 
the scar."

"MULDER!"

She dropped his hand and glared at him, outrage warring with mirth on 
her face. "You'd better explain that or I'll make it a matching set!"

Grey was laughing, now, eyes darting between them in an effort to take 
it all in. "Come on, Fox. Give. I just don't see Dana as the deranged 
shooter type."

"Someone was deranged all right, it just wasn't me," she growled, 
picking up Mulder's hand and spreading some antibiotic cream over the 
gash. "Tell him, Mulder. And you'd better be sure to get it right."

Wincing a little as she began wrapping gauze around his palm, Mulder 
held up his other hand in surrender. The laughter in his eyes faded. 
"It was actually right after Dad was murdered. The people responsible 
for his death had also drugged my water supply with a hallucinogen. I 
guess the plan was to make it look like I killed him. It wouldn't have 
been too far a stretch -- the fact that we didn't exactly get along 
was common knowledge."

"Anyway, I'd cornered the real murderer with his own gun and was ready 
to kill him. Scully tried to reason with me, to remind me that if I 
shot Krychek with that gun it could only implicate me in my father's 
murder. But I was out of my head by that time, unable to think 
straight. So she shot me."

Scully surrendered his hand and looked up, guilt in her blue eyes. "It 
was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, Mulder. It still haunts me 
sometimes -- the look on your face just before you passed out, so 
certain I'd betrayed you."

Mulder leaned over to nudge her with his shoulder. "You saved me, 
Scully. And left me with a lasting souvenir of our partnership. It's 
definitely more manly than a tattoo."

Grey shook his head in amazement. "She shot you? And you still ditch 
her? I've made up my mind, Fox. That's not bravery, that's stupidity!"

Scully chuckled softly, then yawned. "I'm beat. We should decide who 
takes the first watch so that the rest can get some sleep."

"I will," Mulder spoke up quickly. "I can't sleep this early anyway. 
You two get some rest."

"I'll relieve you at one," Grey volunteered. "Then Dana can take over 
around four."

Within a half-hour Grey and Scully were both sleeping soundly, leaving 
Mulder to the crackling of the flames and his own thoughts. Once 
resurrected, memories of the dark time surrounding the deaths of his 
father and Melissa were hard to put to rest. He still dreamed those 
final moments of his father's life, played out at the house in the 
Vinyard. The pleasant shock of an embrace -- Bill Mulder was a man who 
shook hands, never the kind to pull his son into a hug -- words spoken 
in praise and not disappointment or anger, another first. It was 
ironic and cruel that he'd been given such gifts only to have the hope 
of more snatched from his grasp.

And Scully -- he counted her loss as double his own. Her relationship 
with Melissa had been warm and loving, something he could hardly claim 
about his father. Now he'd gained a brother, but what about Scully? 
She'd paid dearly for his quest, yet received nothing in return. Grey 
could keep prodding him to confess his feelings to Scully, but he knew 
he never would. She had nothing to gain from a relationship with him, 
and everything to lose.

A branch snapped somewhere deep in the undergrowth, pulling Mulder out 
of his reverie. He sat up from his sprawl against his pack, all senses 
attuned to the surroundings. First to seize his attention was the 
absence of the typical night sounds of the forest. There was no 
chirping of crickets, no rustlings from small animals scavenging for 
food. And the cicadas had stopped buzzing. The woods had fallen 
strangely silent.

He listened, every muscle in his body wired for action. When several 
minutes passed without further incident he gradually allowed himself 
to relax, though he continued to scan the perimeter for anything out 
of the ordinary. He'd just decided the silence was a fluke and was 
about to lean back when a low growl shattered the stillness. Mulder 
leaned quickly forward, one hand reaching out to touch Grey's shoulder 
where it peeked out of the sleeping bag. Three inches from his target, 
Mulder froze.

The snarl had changed, modulated into something scarcely resembling 
the utterance of a wild animal. It was a melodic hum that rose and 
fell, beckoning, cajoling. His gaze darted almost involuntarily in the 
direction from which it originated, his mouth dropping open in 
surprise at the sight of two gleaming red orbs that pierced the 
darkness.

His hand made a single, impotent twitch before falling heavily to his 
side and his expression turned oddly slack as the animation drained 
from his features. The gentle crooning filled his ears, driving all 
fear from his mind. The eyes were perhaps the most beautiful he'd ever 
seen, overflowing with an ageless wisdom that drew him deeper and 
deeper until he lost himself in their depths. They told him exactly 
what he needed to do, and he was only too willing to comply.

Rising quietly to his feet, he left the circle of golden light from 
the fire and moved into the darkness. Oblivious, Scully and Grey slept 
on.


Continued in part 5