6 Down the rabbit hole

— "This is crazy," grumbled Scully as she slid herself behind her companion in the seemingly abandoned concrete tunnel.

— "There's not much choice if we want to know, right?" stated Mulder, his voice echoing along the cylindrical walls of the pipe as he got further down.

Grumbling some more about the stupidity of their actions, the young woman nonetheless complied and followed his partner down the rusty ladder, lighting her frontal lamp as she was doing so. Tilting her face upwards, it took her a few seconds to accommodate anew through the sunrays to check that Frances was following. As usual, the young lady was being quite silent, observing intently her surroundings. Scully knew that she lost nothing of what was happening, and she always followed closely behind. Right, time to get a run for their money.

— "If we get caught…"

The rest went unsaid. They had debated for hours about this facility and the weird tip that could lead them into a highly secured military base. They all knew the risks, and even the lone gunmen had obstinately refused to deliver the name of their source. The information was quite scarce as it only stated that the base was used for alien technology and that there was an evacuation shaft hidden in the vegetation of the surrounding forest. The precision of the instructions had, however, been very reliable. How did a quidam get access to this top-secret information?

In the end, curiosity had won the day, and the pushy impatience of Mulder who had somehow been working all his life towards this precise goal. Finding what the government knew about aliens, a step to reclaim his younger sister. Until now Scully had followed albeit with an attitude, and so had Frances. Why turn around now?

The consequences could be terrible for the three of them. Yet, finding an explanation to all the weird occurrences of past years was a reason enough to hold on, even if it was a quest standing on the razor's edge and driven by an anonymous tip more than debatable. As both women shared the same thoughts, Mulder was, for his part, back to his earlier state of excitement. Something was up; his guts told him so. Most of their discoveries until now had been driven by his inner senses, and this time again he would trust his intuition.

Scully's scientific mind had been chosen to ground him on his research, or even better, stop him altogether. If she was admirably playing her part in the process; it didn't have the expected effect. By making their confrontations constructive, Mulder and Scully used it as a drive rather than letting the antagonism stall them. No matter how Cartesian the legist could be, she always ended up following Mulder, even against her reason. Frances, on the other side, was another story. The woman could be awfully practical and reasonable, but most of the time she decided with her inner senses, not with the wheels of her brain. Not that she was unable to do so, for her analytical capacity could be outstanding. Yet, sometimes, the thinking came after. Thus, she would follow when she felt the urge to, and on the contrary refrain Mulder when her guts did not abide with his. Several times already, she had prevented him from jumping headfirst into a fishy situation. A voice of reason uncorrelated to her age.

The well plunged deeply, and the three of them were still following its course in the dark, precariously clinging to the rusty bars as they paid attention to the deep silence that surrounded them, the nothingness only interrupted by the screech of their feet on the ladder. After a few dozens meters, however, Mulder noted that there wasn't so much rust on the metallic ladder. The walls, covered with layers of moss and humidity until then, became a bit lighter. The level of cleaning went increasing, until at last the pipe looked like it had been regularly maintained, leaving a feeling of military tidiness.

— "I knew it!" he exclaimed.

— "Shh. Keep going," came Scully's shush.

The team went down, further and further, until Frances felt very constricted in this little shaft. She hated being underground, and tight spaces even more. But there, her feet going from step to step, was not the time to let her claustrophobia take precedence. Inhaling and exhaling slowly, she waved away Scully's concern as the doctor sent her a silent inquiry.

— "There," murmured Mulder.

His torch was set on the wall, showing a round opening looking curiously alike a submarine airlock. Puzzled, the teams exchanged wary looks.

— "How the heck are we going to open this?"

Mulder sighed audibly, his torch following the line around the airlock, the metal pressed to the wall and no wheel in sight.

— "I have no idea"

The answer though, came in an unexpected way, for noises were heard on the other side of the airlock. The screech of cogs unused for too long echoed in the shaft, and Mulder had just a second to fling himself down before the airlock opened fully. Scully and Frances flattened themselves against the ladder, hoping to remain unseen and press their advantage if needed. But it was not to be, for a MP-90 appeared in the gaping hole, as well as a military uniform. A young airman pointed his weapon to the ladies, while a colleague of his checked down the shaft to find Mulder. Frances' heart missed a beat. There was no escape possible.

— "We're so screwed," she huffed.

— "Yeah. I bet you are," answered the airman.

The three of them were shoved out of the shaft into a dark room where three more guys awaited them. The air of no nonsense on their face, and their lack of communication skills were enough to unnerve Frances. Obviously, there were not here to entertain their guests. Beside her, Mulder's eyes were scanning the surroundings. Not that there was much to see, but she knew he was checking doors, corridors and people alike, looking for an opening. Frances tried to gather her courage and refrain her body from trembling in fear. The US military could be touchy, and sometimes less than friendly. Would she ever get home? Would she get kicked out of her Interpol program? Cause a diplomatic incident? End up in jail? Scully was silent beside her, but her blue eyes conveyed some reassurance. She knew the wheels of the agency, and the strings to pull to get them out of there. She would figure it out.

The three of them were shuffled into an elevator with so many levels that Frances' mind got dizzy. It answered their previous questions: the military base was huge, much bigger than what could be expected under Cheyenne Mountain. At least, they had discovered something … and been discovered. Damn! How could they be so naïve to think that the escape shaft would not be watched! Damn Mulder for his stubbornness and wishful thinking after escaping the elevator of death, they followed corridors, filled up with people going around in BDUs, the standard military garb. Less than sexy, but very functional.

At last, they came to a long corridor with many doors. The heavy locks were simple enough to spot. Welcome to a military jail. A cold bead of sweat ran between Frances' shoulder blades. If they were interrogated separately, she didn't know how she would handle it. Could they possibly torture them? Threaten each other? The uncertainty was gnawing at her. To her great relief, the three of them were ushered in the same room. The clang of the lock echoed in the tiny space, and Frances collapsed on the nearest bed, her hazel eyes meeting Mulder's. The older man sat beside her, shoulders slumped in defeat.

— "I'm sorry for dragging you into this mess."

— "As you should be! I told you, but you wouldn't hear of it. And you know she follows wherever you go."

Scully's anger pooled out of her blue eyes, her fist clenched as she stared at her companion.

— "It was our chance Scully, our chance to find out. And I think something fishy is going on in this base…"

— "Mulder ! Don't…. Just don't start again! Even if anything was going on, we're stuck in a jail and will probably lose our job!"

Huffing, the copper-haired doctor crossed her arms protectively, her gaze focusing on the wall, her teeth gritted in frustration. Frances, seated beside Mulder's slumped frame, wrung her hands together. She was used to the banter, and the antagonism. But this anger, this tension she couldn't bear.

— "If you need to fight, don't do so because of me. I took my own decision, and am responsible for my actions. Please don't drag me into this, the situation is dire enough…"

Dire enough to terrify me. But this remained unsaid, for she had not the courage to admit it. Her stern voice, though, was enough to startle both special agents and shake Scully out of her angered state. Once more, Frances was the voice of reason. It would not do to bicker, it certainly wouldn't bring a solution about.

— "All right. But this is not over, Mulder."

— "Fair enough"

A welcome silence followed this statement, and Frances sighed, her brain wracking itself to find an excuse good enough to prevent the US government from suing them. She had no experience of trials in the States, but she knew it to be tedious, and your chances of success highly related to the lawyer that defended you, his own talent correlated to his wages. Perhaps they would grant her to call Charlie? Maybe her own CIA[1] team could get them out of here? It seemed improbable that Kowalsky would grant her any leeway when it came to facing the military but hey, they'd gone against worst odds. Or so Charlie had said! How she longed for his arms right now, just a little time in his warm embrace, her nose stuck in his neck and inhaling his gentle scent. They had not been together for long, but she missed Charlie's crooked smile and endless energy. Too bad he was called back to the States only three months after they had confessed their love for each other. The relationship, long-distance calls and all, was strained. She had been hopeful to see him this summer, after this quick mission with Mulder and Scully. Now, nothing was less certain. Perhaps he would visit her in jail?

The clang of the lock being pulled back shook Frances out of her depressing musings. Beside her, Mulder stood, dragging her behind his tall frame. As useless as it was, the young woman appreciated the effort; her colleague was trying to shield her from view. An airman passed the door, gun at his hip, his face juvenile but an air of 'no nonsense' about him that left no doubt as to his function. He was followed by a bald man with two stars sewn on the shoulder of his short-sleeved shirt. As it was, the general – for that was the reason for the stars – was dwarfed by Mulder's taller stature, blocking Frances' view totally. His voice was low, purposeful as he interrogated Mulder and Scully on the reasons of their presence in a restricted area. Fox kept his mouth shut; a request from his partner so that she could handle the meeting. Her father was a captain in the marines, after all, and she knew how the wheels worked in the military.

Unfortunately, the general was unmovable. No amount of coaxing nor discussing brought them any good. For every request turned down, every question unanswered, Frances felt Mulder stiffen. In the end, he lashed out at the military man.

— "You cannot prevent us from talking. The people deserve to know what is happening there!"

Scully closed her eyes in defeat. Threatening a general was the last point of her checklist when it came to negotiating with the military. Awaiting for the backfire to sweep them off their feet, she was surprised when the general paused.

— "You are in no positions to make demands, young man. No phone call, no contact with the external worlds until further notice. You are criminals, and will be treated as such. And you will step aside now"

Mulder blanched, refusing to move. Beside him, the airman seized his gun from the holster.

— "Mulder !"

Scully's panicked calls fell on deaf hears. Fed up with the stubbornness of her co-worker, she yanked at his sleeve strongly enough to move him. The general started, the lines of his face easing up as he spotted the terrified young woman. Auburn hair falling down her back in a long braid, hazel eyes staring at him, the fear hidden in their depths as she tried to remain neutral. The sight touched him, he that was a father and a grandfather. She was too young to remain in a cell. He needed to sort this out, and turned on his heels without a word. Would the goddess Hathor provide him with a solution? The general shook his head as he treaded through the corridor. No, it wouldn't do. He couldn't bother the goddess with such a petty issue.

A tiresome game of waiting started for the three agents. The evening passed, they were brought some food, surprisingly edible for a military mess, but no one came to visit. As Frances's watch indicated ten o'clock, there were not closer to finding a solution than they were five hours prior to this. Frustrated, the three agents curled up on their beds, hopelessly staring at the screen of their mobile displaying 'no service'. Doubt gnawed at Frances as she preyed to be out very soon. Her parents would freak out if she couldn't be reached three days in a row. Such a childish though, when all hell could break loose from the importance of their offence regarding US laws. They were utterly and royally screwed !

[1] CIA being Charlie, Ice and Alphonse from the TV series Players.