Gibbs held up a hand, then turned away, his eyes moving back to the marines as though he’d already received all the information he needed from Illya. And Napoleon wouldn’t have left me here.” “Because he murdered these men?” Gibbs asked harshly. The NCIS agent-in-charge shook his head briefly. “Was another man here? Five-ten, or five-eleven? Dark hair?” When she shook her head, he looked over at Gibbs. “So no sign of Napoleon upstairs? Outside?” Mulder asked Scully. Breakfast, and then I woke up-I came to and saw Scully,” Illya repeated, his voice rising slightly, drugged eyes wide. “I don’t know,” Illya said firmly, looking back at Mulder and ignoring Gibbs. Something was seriously pissing this man off, and it was more than the mystery of his two dead marines and one injured survivor. Mulder was surprised at the continued low tone of Gibbs’ voice, considering the anger on his face and tense body language. “Who hit you on the forehead?” Gibbs asked. But Scully said I have been unconscious, probably for twelve hours.” Illya pointedly looked over at Gibbs, who was standing up now, his sharp gaze fixed on them. “By my calculation,” Illya emphasized the word, “it has been barely thirty minutes since I last remember seeing him, maybe more. “How long ago was this? To you,” he qualified. “We’ll look for him,” Mulder said reassuringly. I take it we were ambushed somehow or knocked out or- I don’t know what happened,” he said, his voice suddenly breaking as he added, “I don’t know where he is.” “Napoleon and I were having breakfast at the hotel before meeting up with one of our colleagues when… I’m not sure. Illya stared back at him for a moment, as though trying to pull up the memories. “So what do you remember?” he asked Illya carefully. He’d been crouching down talking to Illya, but he repositioned himself, sitting on the floor next to Scully. He was now fifty-two, and thirty-something seemed so long ago. Mulder realized suddenly how his own perceptions of age had changed. Then again, to Illya in his early thirties, fifty-something might seem old. “You’re over forty,” Illya responded matter-of-factly. “Scully and I aren’t agents with the FBI any longer. There was a puzzlement edged with alarm in his voice. “Not an agent?” Illya asked him cautiously. This wasn’t the ultra-reserved man he remembered, but the drugs in Illya’s system were probably what was making him jittery. Just Mulder,” he said quietly, watching Illya, who looked one step away from bolting. “Can you… can you go outside and look for him, Agent Mulder? See if he’s out there?” Illya jerked back as Scully went to put a bandage over one of his raw wrists. “At breakfast.” His eyes tracked back to Mulder, and he shivered. Gibbs and Ducky were transferring the younger man’s body into a black zippered bag. Illya shook his head slowly, turning to look at them again. And I don’t know why I’m here or how I got here,” he added glumly.

“Yes,” Illya said, rubbing at his forehead. Then, realizing it probably would be best not to blurt out every crazy detail when a senior NCIS agent was obviously listening to them, he added, “Oh, have you met Agent Gibbs?” “So what brings you back to our neck of the woods?” Mulder asked, crouching down in front of Illya. So Illya had either arrived in that condition-with a bump on his head and drugged-or it happened shortly after he arrived. He’s been drugged-and with something that kept him out for a very long time-until just before you got here.” “I’d say this injury also happened about twelve hours ago. Is he okay?” he asked Scully, studying Illya. What exactly happened, they didn’t know yet. So a lot of stuff happened about twelve hours ago. That had been around twelve hours ago, too. Mulder looked back at the two dead marines. She said the time with such casual significance that he had to play it back. “It’s been around twelve hours since Illya got here.” “He could, uh, show up at any time, Mulder,” Scully said, glancing at Gibbs who was studiously ignoring them but undoubtedly listening. On top of everything else, not having your partner at your side, not knowing where that partner was, was disorienting and…frightening. Mulder had been in those shoes too many times before, being attacked while on the job and waking up to find Scully missing.

“I don’t know where Napoleon is,” Illya told him quietly, and, for Mulder, those few words explained a lot of Illya’s anxiousness. MULDER Crime Scene, Woodbridge, VA 3:45 pm

Observer system redux discount