untitled
'FLEEING
THE GREAT BEAR'
By: Waddles52
The big,
bearded man kicked the door open and threw the defenseless man
into the simple hut where he landed in an undignified heap on the
floor. "This son of a bitch ruined my truck!" The man
shouted vehemently in Russian, disgust and anger evident in his
voice.
A woman quickly moved from the table where she had been reading
by the light of a kerosene lamp and helped the unexpected visitor
stand and make his way to the table where he slumped into a
chair. "Be careful with him. He's hurt." The woman
admonished the man, her gentle hands checking him for injuries.
Fox Mulder caught his breath and was thankful that he had at
least been thrown into a building, allowing the slightest bit of
warmth to seep into his body in many hours. He was surprised to
be there at all. He had been sure that the irate truck driver
would take him directly back to the gulag as soon as he had been
pulled from his hiding place under the dead leaves on the forest
floor.
The bearded man continued to speak as the woman fetched their
visitor something to drink. "We can't keep him here. They're
looking for him."
"You shouldn't bring him here if you don't want me to take
care of him." The woman looked at the shivering man
sympathetically as he drank greedily from the tin cup.
"He's not staying!" The man walked outside and angrily
slammed the door.
"Kak va za voot?" The woman kindly asked what his name
was as she began to examine the wound on his head.
"No Russian." Mulder shivered.
"American?"
"Tell your husband I'm sorry about his truck." Pain and
exhaustion were evident in his voice.
She examined Mulder's arm, lifting his sleeve to reveal the
needle puncture site. It was red and inflamed and had been a
source of agony since he had awakened in his cell with the memory
of the black oil pouring onto his face. "The test?"
"Yeah." Mulder was relieved that she could speak
English. He shivered again. Even though they were inside there
was very little heat. He could see their breath in white swirls
as they spoke.
She sighed and shook her head. "They kill everybody for the
test."
"Why don't they kill you?"
"My husband makes deliveries. They spare our lives, but now
. . .no truck . . .he is afraid." The woman seemed almost
apologetic as she answered.
"I have to go now." Mulder knew he must leave and soon.
"No."
"They'll come looking for me. They'll come looking for
you." The FBI agent knew he was a danger to them. He didn't
know how far he would get in his present condition, still reeling
from the effects of the test and the truck crash. Throw in a
little exposure and he was feeling decidedly ill, but the safety
of this kind woman was more important.
"No, there are other ways."
Mulder's tired mind couldn't grasp what she was saying. "I
don't know what you are talking about. What other ways?"
"Grisha!" the woman called. A haggard looking young boy
of about 13 entered from the back room, his shirt tied in a knot
below the remains of his left arm. "No arm. No test."
Mulder gasped, his eyes growing wide with horror. "Dear God,
no! That poor boy," he thought as he tried to come up with
the words to make her see. "You don't understand . . .these
tests. The smallpox scar on your arm is some kind of
identification. You have to help me escape. I'll help you escape.
You have to help me get to St. Petersburg."
The door crashed open and Mulder spun around to see the truck
driver standing in the doorway, a large knife in his hand. A look
of fear passed over the American's face as the man fingered the
weapon.
He made his way over to Mulder and threw the knife on the table.
"Since you have stolen my livelihood, my protection,"
he spat, "It is only right that you should also be the one
to take my arm."
Mulder's face registered shock. He shook his head no despite the
pain that lanced through it.
"Yuri, no!" The woman scrambled from her chair and
embraced him. "He can help us. Please give him a
chance." She led him to the table where he sank into a
chair, defeat etched in his features.
"What is your name, American, and what can you do to get us
out of this hell hole?"
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Mulder rested on the rickety bed in the back room, wrapped in a
thin blanket thinking that he would never feel warm again. They
had dined on a watery vegetable stew and the black bread that was
common to the area. Though much better than the roach-infested
gruel at the gulag, it had still fallen short of filling him up.
These people led a hard life made even more difficult by the fear
forced upon them by the conspirators and their experiments.
He shivered again as he heard Anna and Grisha gathering the
meager supplies they would be taking on their hastily planned
journey. Yuri had talked a friend into transporting them as far
as he felt he safely could in his battered, old, pick-up truck.
From there they would have to walk a fair distance until they
could catch a train into St. Petersburg.
Yuri came in, urging them to hurry. Mulder took that as a signal
to haul his weary body from the bed. His head was pounding,
whether from plain exhaustion or the tests he had no idea. He was
only aware of the relentless pain behind his eyes and an ache in
every joint in his body. He stumbled and was surprised to find
Yuri quickly at his side, steadying him as he tried to catch his
breath.
"American, come. We must hurry. The sun is going down and it
is best to drive at night. Bring the blanket. We will be riding
in the back of the truck."
Mulder wearily followed him out to the truck where Anna and
Grisha were already squeezed into the cab. Yuri climbed up into
the bed of the truck and extended his hand to Mulder. He gladly
took it and sank onto the pallet that had been arranged in the
bed of the truck. He closed his eyes and Yuri pounded on the
grimy back window. "Pavel, let's go. The Quadavitch family
is leaving this hell hole!"
Mulder heard the roar of the engine and felt the truck bounce
over the rough terrain, rattling his battered and abused body.
Despite the discomfort, he was sleeping before they had gone a
mile, hoping not to dream of the black oil on his face crawling
into his nose and eyes, a deep shiver going through him at the
thought.
He awoke with a start when he realized the truck was no longer
moving. It was daylight, probably late afternoon he judged,
noting the position of the sun. He had been asleep for almost
twenty-four hours! How was it that he still felt so weak and
tired?
Yuri climbed into the bed of the truck. "American, come.
Pavel must go home now and we must walk to the train station. Get
your blanket and follow me."
Mulder did as he was told, dizziness nearly knocking him to his
knees when he jumped off the truck. Once again, Yuri was there to
steady him. "We must walk until the sun goes down. Are you
able?"
Mulder nodded yes wearily and followed Yuri into the forest where
Grisha and Anna waited. They rose when the two men entered the
small clearing. Without another word they began to travel west.
When it was almost dark Yuri finally called a halt to their trek
for the day and Mulder was grateful. He slid to the ground beside
a huge tree and propped himself up with the trunk as a backrest,
feeling the last ounce of strength leaving his body. The FBI
agent could only remember one other time when he was this
exhausted.
Waking up in the hospital in Alaska had been catalogued with his
good memories. Scully had been by his side and he recalled the
huge smile plastered on her face when he finally came out of the
coma. They shared a few words before he was overcome with
unbearable fatigue. Now, he was experiencing that same feeling
without Scully and her smile. Oh, how he missed her!
"American!" Mulder's thoughts were interrupted when
Yuri pushed a hunk of bread into his hands. Next came a jug of
water. He drank greedily and once again rested against the tree,
picking off small pieces of the bread to eat. He was almost too
tired to swallow. He put the bread in his lap and a small groan
escaped before he could even think about stopping it. Anna was
immediately at his side, her soft, warm hand taking his in
concern. With his eyes shut for a second he could almost believe.
"Mulder?"
"Mmm." He couldn't get his mouth to work. All his body
knew now was the relentless pain from his head, his aching joints
and the fire of the injection site. He wrapped the blanket
tightly around his body as he shivered, more from his fever than
the cold.
"Drink this," Anna ordered, putting a small jar of
clear fluid in his trembling hand. He tilted it up and swallowed
a small sip, surprised at the liquid fire traveling down into his
stomach.
Vodka! Very strong vodka! He began to choke and sputter, then
relaxed as a warm feeling took over his entire body.
"Thanks," he managed as Anna felt his forehead.
"You have fever."
Mulder shook his head in agreement. That effort cost him as
shards of pain sliced through his head.
"Another swallow." Anna pointed at the jar of vodka.
He complied, this time managing to get it down without choking.
With shaking hands he returned the jar to her, amazed that he
hadn't spilled it. He watched as the kind woman spread a blanket
on the ground and beckoned him to lie down.
Mulder accepted her invitation and moved over to the pallet.
Surprise registered on his face when she sat beside him and began
to massage his temples. Yuri and Grisha looked on knowingly as he
began to relax under her ministrations. Soon the pain was more
manageable and his eyes began to close, the vodka still warming
him from the inside helping to wash away some of the discomfort.
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If he thought he was tired the night before, he quickly realized
how wrong he had been. After walking since dawn with only a few
brief stops, he found a whole new meaning to the sensation. Yuri
called a halt when the train station came into view.
"American, we'll catch the first train out, but we will
probably have to wait until morning. Do not talk out loud. You'll
draw attention to us. Just pretend to be ill and let Anna take
care of you."
Mulder nodded carefully. He wouldn't have to act. He was ill.
The station was small, furnished with six long benches. Anna
motioned for him to lie down and put his head on her lap. She
whispered to him soothingly in her native tongue as Yuri and
Grisha went to purchase the tickets. "We had a few coins
saved and Yuri begged our friends for the rest. We have good
friends," she smiled as she switched back to English.
"I'll repay you when we reach St. Petersburg," the
exhausted man whispered back.
"Rest. We still have a long journey on the train." When
she looked down the man's eyes were closed. She felt sorry for
him, but he'd been lucky to escape. He would be weak and ill for
a while from the testing, but it could have been much worse. Many
died the first time.
Anna couldn't help but wonder what would become of them when they
reached St. Petersburg. She hoped she hadn't been wrong in
trusting the American.
After Yuri and Grisha returned with the tickets, Anna left Mulder
to find a place of her own to sleep on the hard bench, first
making sure he was as comfortable as possible, careful not to
disturb him as she moved. She needn't have worried. The American
slept the sleep of the dead.
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Where had the nighttime hours gone? Once again Mulder found that
he had slept straight through and still felt like hell when he
woke up. He looked around, hoping to locate the facilities, and
found Yuri pointing outside, a huge grin on his face. The truck
driver motioned for him to follow and Mulder soon found himself
outside facing the foulest smelling outhouse in the world. The
flukeman and the sewers of New Jersey paled in comparison. Yuri
motioned for him to go first and the FBI agent soon found himself
inside, vomiting everything that he had put into his stomach
since the gulag.
The nausea had been threatening off and on since the gulag, and
the heaving of his stomach brought the headache back full-force.
Explosions of pain burst behind his eyes. Weakness finally
overtook him and he sank to his knees, still vomiting. Mulder
felt a large pair of hands on his shoulders, holding him steady.
Yuri! Who would have thought that the angry, tough truck driver
image was really a cover-up for a kind, compassionate man?
When the stomach spasms eventually stopped, the Russian helped
the federal agent to his feet and practically carried him to the
train where Anna was pressed back into service as a nurse.
"You must seek a doctor when we arrive in the city,"
she ordered, reaching to feel his forehead.
"No," Mulder answered softly, trying to make himself
comfortable in their private car. Thank goodness Yuri and his
friends had enough money to splurge on the last leg of the trip.
Anna rummaged around in her bag and came up with some water.
Mulder turned down her offer and pulled the blanket around his
shoulders as tightly as he could. His stomach began to roll again
and he swallowed, barely managing to keep it under control.
The shivering began in earnest again as the train blew its
whistle and began to slowly build up speed. A doctor in St.
Petersburg was beginning to look better and better. "How
long . . .Petersburg?" A particularly violent chill shook
him, taking some of his words.
"About 30 hours with many stops," Anna supplied.
"Sorry, but it's the only train available."
"Don't apologize. It's fine, better than I expected.
Would've died . . .without . . .help." Little black dots
began to swim in his vision, followed by a roaring sound in his
ears. Mulder knew that feeling. He managed to choke out a
strangled plea for help before he slumped over, landing limply in
Anna's arms.
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The train was still moving but the motion wasn't bothering him as
much as it had at first. His mouth felt like it was full of
cotton and the injection site on his arm was sending out sharp
pain signals. The ever-present headache seemed to have improved a
bit. He decided to try and sit up but only managed a pitiful
groan when the pain assaulted his joints.
"Mulder, you mustn't try to move."
The agent managed to pry his eyes open and found that his head
was once again in Anna's lap. "What happened?"
"You passed out. Your fever has been very high. How are you
feeling now?"
"A little better."
"Yuri searched the train for a doctor and found one in the
next car. He said you have to drink. You have an infection in
your arm and something with your head, a cushion, I think."
Anna looked exasperated. "My English . . .sorry, I don't
know all the words."
"It's fine. The word is concussion. Must've got it when I
crashed the truck."
"Mmph." That was evidently still a sore point with
Yuri.
"The doctor put an injection in your hip and left these
tablets to take." Anna shook a white tablet into her hand
from a small envelope. "He says it is most important to take
them. Without . . .you could lose your arm or worse."
Since he didn't like either alternative, Mulder took the pill and
drank a good portion of the water that was offered by the Russian
woman.
"Now, rest. We still have many hours before we reach the
city."
"Yuri, thank you."
"Don't worry about it, American. Just be sure to carry out
your end of the bargain."
"I will." Mulder's eyelids began to droop and no amount
of effort on his part could keep them open.
Later Anna once again expressed her worry about Mulder to her
husband. Yuri admitted that he was worried too, not only for the
man's health but also for their own well-being. If the American
was unable to help them, the little Russian family was stranded.
There was no turning back.
His wife chided him for thinking that way. "He is a good
man. I can feel it."
Mulder shifted in his sleep and moaned, but didn't wake up. Anna
felt his forehead once again. "His fever is still high. Look
in my bag, Grisha. I need a handkerchief. Yuri, would you soak it
with water, please?"
She took the wet cloth from her husband and began to bathe
Mulder's pale, sweat soaked face.
"Sc . . .Scully?" He appeared disoriented as he looked
around. "Where? Scully?"
"Shh, you're safe, Mulder. We're on our way to St.
Petersburg."
"Anna?"
"Yes, it's Anna. How are you feeling?"
"Feel bad . . .cold, thirsty."
"Yuri will get you some more water." She continued to
bathe his face until her husband handed her a water bottle.
"Here, take a few sips."
Mulder tried to raise his head and found that he was too weak to
manage it. Yuri reached over and held him up while Anna tilted
the bottle so he could drink.
"Thanks."
"More?"
"Not now."
"How is your pain?"
Mulder took a quick inventory and found that there wasn't much
improvement. "Same . . .hurts."
"You should rest some more. We are about half-way there and
you will need your strength when we reach the city."
"Our money is almost gone. We will have to walk to your
embassy," Yuri supplied, watching his wife minister to the
stranger.
"'Kay, I'll make it."
"Yes, you are a strong man to escape the gulag, but a little
more rest wouldn't hurt," Anna decided.
Mulder agreed. He was going to need a lot of rest just to make it
off the train.
Several hours later Anna shook Mulder awake. "It is time to
take more medicine."
He made a face but dutifully took the tablet and swallowed almost
half a bottle of water. "Thanks. How much longer?"
"Maybe ten hours. You still have time to rest."
Mulder shook his head no and pushed himself up. "I need to
sit up for a while." He looked around and saw that Yuri and
Grisha were gone.
"My men were restless. They went for a walk." She
reached up to feel the agent's forehead. "Your fever is
better."
"I feel a little stronger," he volunteered, flexing his
left arm with a wince. "Still sore, but improving."
"That is good. Have you thought . . .what your plans are
when we reach the city?"
"If you have enough money for a pay phone I can make a call,
get us some transportation."
"We have enough," she assured him, rubbing his shoulder
in a comforting, yet familiar way.
He found her world-weary eyes and held them with his own.
"Anna, I know you're worried, but I wouldn't lie to you. I
can get someone to help you start over in a different
place."
"America?"
"I can't promise that, but somewhere nice where you won't
have to worry about the tests." He hoped there was such a
place.
"How will we support ourselves?"
Mulder was forced to smile at her persistence. She reminded him
so much of Scully.
"You'll take on new names and identities. A job or training
will be provided, but until you're ready to make it on your own
you'll receive assistance in the form of food, money and
transportation."
Anna looked relieved and her eyes held a flicker of hope, but she
was still curious. "Do you think I could become a
nurse?"
He gave her a tired smile. "I don't see why not. You're a
natural." The agent's voice was getting weaker, the
conversation sapping his strength.
Anna quickly recognized his distress. She took him by the
shoulders and helped him ease down until he was flat on his back
once again. "Sorry," he gasped.
"You say sorry too much." She tucked the blanket around
him and smiled.
"Sor . . .right, I do."
"Rest now."
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Mulder woke to the sounds of anguished screams. He attempted to
look around, to figure out where he was, but found that he was
unable to move. Something was pressing down on him, holding him
in place. The wails grew louder as a black substance began to
drip from a pipe above. Shit! He was back at the gulag! What had
happened to Anna and Yuri? He found himself praying that they
would leave Grisha alone.
A drop of the black, oily substance landed on his nose. He tried
to avoid the liquid, struggling against the chicken wire holding
him in place to no avail. Soon his screams joined with the
others.
Something heavy clamped onto his shoulders, forcing him to open
his eyes and see what new torture was being inflicted on him. His
vision was blurry due to the black oil that had fallen into his
eyes, but he thought he could make out several figures. They were
talking but sounded far away. His heart racing, breath ragged in
his ears, he forced himself to listen to what was being said.
Someone was shaking him and he tried desperately to avoid his
grasp.
"Nononono!"
"Wake up! Mulder! You are worse?" Yuri questioned,
quickly withdrawing his hand upon seeing the sick man's distress.
His eyes were wild, his breath labored, obviously somewhere else
entirely. It wasn't too difficult to guess what dreams held the
pale American in their grip.
Mulder took a few seconds to orient himself before he answered.
"Bad dream." He pushed up from his reclining position,
tearing away the blanket that was cocooning his body. He wiped
the perspiration from his face with a corner of the cover.
"Hot."
Yuri handed him a bottle of water. "Don't drink too much.
That is the only bottle left."
Mulder took a couple of gulps and screwed the top back on.
"Where's Anna?"
"With the boy trying to buy some food."
Mulder nodded his understanding and suddenly felt uncomfortable
when he found Yuri staring at him.
"Yuri, what's wrong?"
"You told Anna she could be a nurse. That has been her dream
since she was a girl. You do not tell her lies about that?"
"No, Yuri. I didn't lie. If that's what she wants to do I'll
make sure she has a chance to go back to school."
"I'll hold you to that. She has made many sacrifices. Too
many. It is time for her to have a good life."
"I couldn't agree more," Mulder assured him, lying back
against the seat with a sigh.
The door began to open and both men tensed, expecting the gulag
goons to have found them. Both sighed in relief as Anna and
Grisha walked in. He held several sandwiches in his remaining
hand while Anna brought up the rear bearing oranges. The men
smiled and made room for the scavengers.
The sandwiches were simple fare, some kind of fruit preserves on
buttered bread. The oranges were a true delight. Plump and juicy,
they were just sweet enough to leave them wanting more.
"Sorry, but I had to keep back money for the phone. I
couldn't afford more."
"That's okay, Anna," Mulder smiled. "We'll have a
good meal in St. Petersburg. This will tide us over nicely."
"How are you feeling? The fever is better?"
"Yes, I think so. My arm feels better and I don't ache as
much." He made an effort to stand up but sank back weakly.
"Guess I feel worse than I thought," The FBI agent
sighed and tried to regain his footing once again. This time Yuri
was there to steady him.
"You need the restroom?" The big Russian had noticed
Mulder's fidgeting while they ate.
"Yes, I do."
"Then I will go with you in case someone tries to speak to
you. Your Russian is not good."
"My Russian is non-existent," Mulder grinned.
"I was trying to be polite," Yuri grinned back.
The walk through the train helped to clear some of the cobwebs
from his head. Though still somewhat weak, Mulder realized that
he was feeling much better. The fever was gone and the joint pain
was just a dull ache. He winced as he moved his left arm. It was
still pretty painful, but bearable. Right now he'd almost kill
for a shower, but that would have to wait.
When they returned to their compartment, Grisha began to ask
Mulder questions in halting English. Shy at first, after a few
minutes the Russian youth was bombarding him with inquiries about
food, sports, clothing and any other thing he could think of
concerning his new life.
"Grisha, I hope you get to live in the Washington, D.C. area
because I'd really like to take you to some college and
professional ball games." The FBI agent smiled kindly.
Grisha nodded his approval then a wistful look took over his
features as he looked at what remained of his arm. Mulder noticed
the change of expression and could tell that the boy was thinking
of all the activities that he could never experience.
Before saying anything else, Mulder took a few moments to choose
his words carefully then decided that he didn't need to be so
cautious. His father had left the major portion of his estate to
him and he would make it happen,period! A warm feeling spread
through his chilled bones at the thought. Something good would
come of this whole, evil mess if nothing else.
"Grisha, as soon as you get settled, no matter where you
live, you will be the owner of a new, state-of-the-art
prosthesis." There, his promise was out in the open.
The little Russian family looked confused. Although their
conversational English was quite good, their vocabulary was
rather limited. "What that means is that Grisha will have
the finest artificial arm available."
The looks of confusion turned to cries of joy as Anna hugged
Mulder tightly. Yuri clapped him soundly on the back while tears
of happiness flowed from Grisha's eyes.
Mulder noted sadly that it was the first time he had seen them
truly happy since he had met them. He hoped that he could be
responsible for keeping that grin on their faces. That money was
just sitting around drawing interest. It was only right that his
inheritance should be used to help right some of the wrongs his
father had caused, even if the older Mulder hadn't been directly
involved.
"Mulder, you're sure?" Yuri asked cautiously.
"You have my word," Mulder promised solemnly.
The next few hours were spent resting. Mulder first listened to
their excited chattering in Russian then nodded off. He felt
someone gently shake his shoulder, rousing him. "Wake up,
Mulder."
The tired traveler yawned and stretched as Anna's face came into
focus. "What? Is it time?"
"We will be there in about an hour," Anna informed him.
"How are you feeling?"
Once again he took stock of his physical state. The omni-present
headache had faded to a dull throb behind his eyes. Once so stiff
and sore that every bounce of the train had caused intense pain,
his joints were almost back to normal. No fever, chills or nausea
could be detected leaving only one more area to analyze, his left
arm. After cautiously flexing it, the American smiled.
"Everything is much better. Thank you for taking care of me.
I think I would have died if you hadn't taken me in and nursed me
back to health."
"Perhaps it wouldn't have been that terrible on your own,
but we were happy to assist."
The last hour of travel was spent planning what he would say to
his United Nations contact, Marita Covarrubias. Normally able to
make his wishes known to others quite easily, Mulder realized
that the wellbeing of his rescuers depended on his ability to
convince his contact that they deserved asylum.
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Mulder leaned back and relaxed for the first time in days. Of
course, the luxurious limousine made that a lot easier. He opened
the bar and looked over the offerings. Settling on bottled orange
juice, his thoughts went to the Quadavitch family. They were
traveling in another fancy car heading for a different embassy.
Even though his U.N. contact had promised eventual relocation in
the United States, she felt it would be much safer to split up at
the train station. He sighed and twisted the cap off the orange
juice and drained it in a few swallows. He really needed the
Vitamin C after his adventures. Disposing of that bottle, he
quickly searched the bar for another. His illness had left him
slightly dehydrated and his body was demanding that its fluids be
replenished. The cold liquid went down easily.
Hopefully it wouldn't take him too long to reclaim his ID and
passport from the American embassy. Mulder's body was reminding
him of the lack of proper food, water and sanitary conditions
that he had suffered through over the past few days.
Krycek entered his thoughts, unbidden and unwelcome. He vowed to
find that son of a bitch and punish him for all the indignities
he'd suffered since his arrival on Russian soil and after that
he'd punish him some more for killing his father and the part he
played in Melissa's death and Scully's abduction.
Scully. How he missed her. He couldn't wait to get back to D.C.
and give her a hug, grateful that he was still alive and had two
arms to do it. There was so much to tell her.
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Three months later Mulder entered the basement office after
raiding the snack cart upstairs. Scully hung up the phone as he
laid a bagel in front of her.
"That was security, Mulder. It seems that you have some
visitors," Scully stated.
"Oh? That's odd. No one ever visits me. Did the officer give
a name?"
"He said it was the Smirnoff family and they spoke with
heavy Russian accents."
Mulder's eyes lit up. "Scully, come with me. You've got to
meet these people. They're the ones who literally saved my life
in Russia. My contact came through and managed to get them to the
states and get them new identities."
"I'd love to meet them, Mulder." Scully rose from her
seat and pulled on her jacket. "I'd like to thank them for
bringing you back to me." She smiled broadly and cupped his
left cheek with her hand, savoring his beautiful eyes and smile,
realizing how close she had come to loosing him yet again but for
the kind people they were about to meet. Several emotions sifted
through his gaze and then she smiled again
Mulder paused then opened the door for her. Their hands met
unconsciously, the light pressure of her squeezing his hand
suddenly made his face break out in a smile too. "I'm so
glad they did."
The agents made their way to the elevator, Mulder gently guiding
Scully with his hand at her back.
THE END
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Disclaimer:
Not for profit. Just for fun. Since this episode had such a
gaping hole in it, I felt it was my duty to fill it in. I did
borrow some of the dialogue from Terma, written by Frank Spotnitz
and Chris Carter.
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