TITLE: Surfacing Chapter 10: Full Circle

AUTHOR: Chad Moore

FANDOM: XF

DATE: November 29th, 2001

SERIES: Dangerous Undercurrents and Conundrum

E-MAIL: Mulderholic@webtv.net

RATING: PG13 (Chapter 10)

CATEGORY: M/O

ARCHIVE: Yes, please

KEYWORDS: Slash, Romance, Angst, Adventure

WARNINGS: WIP

SPOILERS: This story takes place after "Existence,"
with references to past seasons.
DISCLAIMER: All familiar characters belong to CC, 1013
and Fox TV; any others were conceived in my warped
imagination.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter was inspired by "Buffy The
Vampire Slayer"

EXTRA SPECIAL THANKS: To Goddess Michele

BETA READER: Bertie

*****

Chapter Ten: Full Circle

At the bottom of the stairs Skinner regained
consciousness with a low groan. He got up, using the
railing for support. His head swam and there was a
fire in his gut. How long had he been out? he
wondered. Nearby Krycek moaned groggily beneath the
shattered cabinet still pinning him down. Walter
hurried to his side, concern shining in his warm brown
eyes.

"Are you okay?" he asked, shifting the panelling.

"About as okay as anyone would feel with a cabinet
dropped on them," Alex replied with as much sarcasm as
he could muster. His tone reassured Walter that his
lover would be fine.

Exhaling painfully, Alex was shocked at the state of
Skinner's normally immaculate apartment. It looked as
if a bomb had dropped.
"Walter!" Krycek shouted. "What the fuck happened?" It
was all a blur.

"Come on." Grasping him under an arm, Skinner helped
him to his feet. Together they surveyed the damaged
apartment. Skinner's eyes shot to the broken door,
which he'd just had replaced -- he grimly thought, and
out into the hall where a crowd had gathered.

Alex rubbed at his sore back, hoping that he hadn't
cracked his freshly healed ribs. He pointed to the
floor where a black shape lay unconscious. "Who do you
suppose did that?" he asked.

Skinner eyed the fallen Dathomir assassin. After
Jamie's valiant fight, he could guess who was
responsible. The creaking of feet on stairs made him
turn. With shaky steps a disshevelled Dr. Kitzseiger,
holding tight to the railing, came downstairs. She
peered about disoriented. Walter came over as the poor
woman looked on the verge of collapse.

"Come and sit down," he urged her gently. "Are you all
right?" he asked, leading her to the sofa.

"Y-yes," she replied. "I've never seen anything like
this."

Walter swallowed, hard. Anger swelled at the thought
of his home being violated and ripped to shreds. He
looked over at Alex. "Can you make it upstairs on your
own?" he wondered.

"I think so."

"See what happened while I take care of things down
here."

Nodding, Alex made a couple of jerky movements toward
the stairs. Walter watched him go. He unconsciously
clenched his big palms into fists; his eyes darted
down at the prone assassin lying spreadeagled across
the remains of the door.

"Watch him," he told Kitzseiger.

Using the railing Krycek hauled himself up each step,
his breathing laboured. Down below he could hear
Walter telling the crowd that "everything was under
control." Krycek snorted. Like hell it was. Their
attackers had been highly trained and more than
prepared. Just how the fuck had they tracked Jamie
down?

The thought of his friend forced his legs to move
faster. Krycek came rushing into the study, and
stopped short when he saw that the place was in a
similar shamble. His alert green eyes panned through
the room to the desk, where Jamie sat facing the wall.

"Jamie!"

Alex rushed over to him to help, but he shook him off.
Jamie was pale, and there were tear tracks on his
cheeks.

"What happened?" Krycek asked. He grimaced at the
nasty gash Jamie sported on his right temple.

"He's gone," he said simply, quietly.

*****

Ten minutes later Skinner had managed to get rid of
the crowd. Now he was out in the hall talking with a
couple of agents sent over by the bureau, and fielding
a call from John Doggett. The agent agreed to keep the
incident quiet from Scully for the time being, both
men not wanting to alarm her.

Dr. Kitzseiger sat on the sofa shakily gulping down a
glass of water. The woman seemed to be suffering from
shock. Krycek imagined this was possibly the most
excitement she'd seen outside the cloistered confines
of Oxford University.

He took another gulp of whisky. Aside from the
constant throbbing in his back, it only really pained
him when he raised his arms. Alex looked over at
Jamie. He'd managed to coax the other man downstairs,
but Jamie remained distant and silent.

Jamie gazed down into space for a moment, then sniffed
and put his hand to his forehead. He sniffed again,
reaching out for a cloth lying on the table next to a
bowl of water, and picked it up.

Krycek walked over to him and put his hand on the
cloth. Jamie let him take it from his hand. Alex
dipped it in the water and knelt down in front of him,
reaching out and gently patting it over the gash in
Jamie's forehead. He winced in pain, but doesn't pull
away. He looked up at his friend sadly for a moment,
then lowered his eyes.

"I don't understand," Jamie said suddenly. "If
everything you love and fight for is taken away..."
His voiced faded away, overcome with emotion.

"We're going to find him, Jamie. I promise." How, he
wasn't sure. It just seemed to be the right thing to
say. Krycek turned the now-bloody cloth over and
continued to lightly dab it on his wound.

Jamie looked away. "We, we just have to think. Where
would they have taken him?" A thought struck him. He
turned back and looked at Krycek seriously. "Why did
they take Fox and not me?" he asked, half talking to
himself.

Krycek shrugged, still very much in the dark himself.

Skinner, coming back into the room, cleared his throat
and explained. "Mulder said the ritual was, um... They
needed the person who was closest to Azathoth.
Physically close. When he, uh..."

"The Latin was translated rather badly," Kitzseiger
continued, having finished her water. "Closest to the
Old One actually translates as 'nearest'. Physically.
The person who was with him... when he..."

"The one who was with Azathoth when he died," Jamie
muttered. It all came together and his heart sank. "Oh
my god." He remembered Mulder saying he witnessed
Azathoth's death. Jamie stood up, ignoring the waves
of dizziness. "We need to find out where," he said
vehemently.

Alex sighed. "How?"

Tapping the table with his fingers, Jamie's eyes
darted to the dark sleeping figure lying amongst the
remains of Skinner's front door.

"He asks an excellent question," Kitzseiger chimed in.
She seemed to have regained a bit of her stern
composure. "All we know is that the revivification
ceremony will take place on holy ground."

Jamie flashed a determined look at them. "Yeah, and I
have a pretty good idea where."

Several feet away, the Dathomir assassin was awake.
His black, tunnel-like eyes swept over the room. He
raised a hand to his mouth, and Jamie pounced, kicking
an object from his fingers.

"Ee-aagh!" the man cried out in pain.

"Jamie?!" Krycek shouted. They all watched as a small,
white pill rolled over the carpet.

Jamie pulled the man to his feet, the assassin
struggling all the while as Jamie slammed him against
a wall. "No poison today, thank you," he told him.
"Where did your friends take Mulder? Tell me where
they are!"

The man just stared past him, unafraid and unblinking.
Jamie increased his grip on him. 
"Now we can do this the hard way or..." Jamie paused,
cocking his head as if in deep thought. "...no, sorry,
there's just the hard way."

"You can do what you like," the captured assassin
replied in a thick British accent. "I am not afraid of
death."

"Neither am I," Jamie replied dangerously. "You see,
I've been there and done that. One more time: where is
Mulder?"

The man laughed. "You're already too late. He is
dead."

"No." Jamie threw him against the wall, harder.

"What are you going to do, little one? I see it in
your eyes. You can not kill me."

"Maybe he can't, but I will." Krycek moved up behind
Jamie, took the assassin by the arm and threw him onto
the floor. Kitzseiger gave a little squeak of
surprise.

Krycek knelt beside the man, keeping him down firmly.
"Now, my friend, since I'm not gonna kill you any time
soon, the question is..." Using a technique he learned
from the Consortium, Alex applied intense pressure to
the man's throat. "...how are we gonna pass the time
till then?"

The man gasped for air, and he violently shook his
head. Blood began to stream from his nose. After
several seconds Krycek moved his elbow away and backed
off.

"What are they gonna do to him?" insisted Jamie,
willing him to answer. "What are they gonna do?"

The man's eyes glazed over and his voice became a
litany. "When the moon fills the sky we of Dathomir
will meet in the Place of Augurs and bleed him dry!"

Alex, seeing the anguish in Jamie's eyes, lashed out
and punched the man, knocking him out. Jamie felt a
numbness creep over him.

There was an awkward, pained silence.

"What did he mean, a Place of Augurs?" Skinner asked
Kitzseiger, who looked distressed.

"Augurs are people who can foretell the future. It's
an ancient place of prophecy."

Jamie stalked across the room toward Dr. Kitzseiger.
"Will this ritual kill him?" he demanded.

"Yes," she replied. "Mulder's blood can infest and
reanimate Azathoth's corpse. And if he gets loose..."

"Then we have to get there and stop it!" Jamie broke
in, determined.

Walter exhaled and proceeded carefully. "Jamie, we
don't even know where they took Mulder."

"They're taking him back to Oxford."

Six questioning pairs of eyes looked at him.

Kitzseiger glanced at him, surprised. "What?"

"Jamie, how do you work that out?" Krycek asked.

"You said that ritual book was found in the catacombs,
right?" Jamie confirmed with the doctor, who nodded.
"These guys are obviously from the Mother Country," he
said, pointing to the unconscious figure. "And that
missing professor was from the university. Don't you
see? It all fits! They're going back to where this all
started."

"That is a huge leap," Kitzseiger said slowly.

"If these assassins came into the US, I can request
airline security tapes to check," Skinner suggested.

Jamie exhaled in frustration. "We so don't have time
for that!"

"I think it's best to allow Mr. Skinner to check
first," Kitzseiger agreed.

Jamie looked at their faces in disbelief. Walter came
closer and tried to make Mulder's lover see reason.
"Jamie, if you're right and they did take Mulder back
to England we're going to need help. We just can't run
blindly into this."

"I have two days to find him," he replied through
gritted teeth, "and you're all telling me to just sit
around and wait. Well, I can't do that!" He moved
away, heading for the door.

Krycek shared a worried look with Walter. Jamie was
just as stubborn, if not more so, than Mulder. He
hurried forward and grabbed Jamie's arm. "We're just
trying to help," he told him. "Jamie, you're talking
about flying all the way to England on a hunch. I
think you've already been through enough."

"That's right." Jamie nodded. "I don't care if I have
to smuggle myself aboard a plane. I have to end this
once and for all. I have to get him back." His eyes
darkened and he leaned forward. "Are you going to help
me? Please tell me you're with me," he begged.

Alex bit his lip. It seemed to him that Jamie was
playing with fire. He didn't exactly relish the notion
of walking into a coven ceremony to rescue Fox Muder,
but did he really have the right to stop Jamie when it
meant so much to him? At least he was going in with
his eyes wide open.

Walter shared another look with his lover, who nodded
sagely. "We're with you," he said gently.

Alex nodded. "What he said."

"Good, because I've had it!" Jamie exclaimed, walking
around them. "You can attack me, you can possess me,
that's fine. But nobody messes with my Fox!"

*****

The first thing he noticed was the cold, which twisted
round and seeped into his bare skin. Then his second
shot of awareness came when he realized he was tied
with a red, satin cord at the wrists and legs to a
chair wearing nothing more than his slate grey boxer
briefs. Ignoring the blinding pain behind his eyes,
Mulder tried to take in his surroundings. How long had
he been unconscious? It seemed like an eternity.

Vaguely he remembered briefly regaining consciousness
some hours before. He was aware of movement beneath
him, a slight low rumbling, like that of a private
plane. He'd asked where and why of a man who'd given
him something to drink. But the man had said nothing,
and it wasn't long before Mulder drifted back into a
restless sleep.

"That must've been some party," he muttered under his
breath. He tried his restraints, but they were far too
tight and were cutting into his flesh. With a deep
sigh of resignation, he turned his attention to the
darkness.

He was inside a small chamber. All around his feet
were clumps of damp straw. The only illumination came
from cracks and holes in the stone ceiling. Memories
came flooding back, painfully. The black-clad Dathomir
assassins bursting inside Skinner's apartment, Jamie's
warning cry, the ritual text: the mortal nearest the
Old One at the time he died. It was him! Him!

Just as panic set in, Mulder craned his neck and
strained against the cords binding him to the chair.
From somewhere nearby a door creaked open, emmitting a
shaft of flickering torchlight. The licking orange
flames stung his eyes and sent a fresh shooting pain
through Mulder's head.

A figure wearing a hooded robe stepped inside. Mulder
blinked through streaming eyes. The blow he'd
sustained earlier had probably been a mild concussion,
but the blinding light slowly became a little
bearable. He noticed that the strange, small man
appeared to be in his late sixties. His craggy face
was somewhat familiar.

"Who are you?" Mulder asked, his voice breaking.
"Where the hell am I?"

The cloaked stranger remained distrubingly quiet as he
moved forward to examine Mulder's restraints. The heat
from the flambeaux he held gave Mulder a little
comfort. He shivered and goose bumps appeared as a
cold hand ran over his skin.

"Look," he began, "any other time I'd be excited about
being tied up, but I have a boyfriend. If you don't
mind, I'd really like to get back to him."

Satisfied that the sacrifice was secure, the man stood
and pulled the hood away from his face. Mulder blinked
at the full elderly image before him.

"Just a minute. I know you." Recognition took hold.
"You're Professor Henric Tiamat, aren't you?" Mulder's
heart did a somersault. This was the man who'd been
present when Azathoth's bones were recovered, the man
who'd spent his life writing about occult ceremonies.

Tiamat stooped beside Mulder and reached out a hand,
touching a vein that pulsed in the younger's man's
neck. In a trembling voice Tiamat said, "Your blood is
the key to the awakening. Is it not glorious? My work
was scorned for years, but Dathomir showed me true
power. All of the fools will learn."

He extracted a small knife from the folds of his
robes. Mulder instinctively shrank bank. He grunted
from the uncomfortable bonds. Glinting in the light,
Tiamat placed the sharp knife edge against Mulder's
chest. He applied pressure and made a shallow cut.
Mulder cried out as a little trickle of blood
appeared.

Tiamat reverently held the crimson-stained blade up to
the light. "Just think," he whispered. "So much power
in just a few drops." He smiled down at Mulder like a
grandfather would toward their favorite grandchild.
Mulder found his expression ghoulish.

Sheething the knife, Tiamat stood with some effort and
headed back toward the door.

"Hey!" yelled Mulder. "Come back! You can't leave me
in here!"

"Shout as loud and as long as you like," Tiamat said
reasurringly, "no one can hear you."

******

Jamie peered through the small, oval window and down
into the darkened, clouded heights. Below he could
faintly make out the twinkling blue lights of a
landing strip. His headache was nearly gone, and he
felt ready to tackle the world.

Although Dr. Kitzseiger was eager to return home,
securing a last-minute flight to the United Kingdom
had taken some doing. As Skinner predicted, it had
also taken a lot of red tape cutting to get Jamie a
passport.

Before leaving Crystal City, the unconscious assassin
had been taken into custody, and Carolyn had finally
called back on Mulder's discarded cell phone. As he'd
dashed to answer it, Jamie naively hoped Fox would be
on the other end.

Carolyn's voice had gripped Jamie's heart, but there
was little time for sentiment. He'd swiftly explained
what had transpired. Carolyn and her husband had
arranged to meet them at Heathrow. Apparently Keith
Frederick's journalistic contacts had come up trumps
with information on the mysterious Professor Tiamat.

Because of the hasty flight arrangements, the quartet
were scattered about the passenger compartment. This
had caused a grumble from Skinner, who was rather
insistent on sitting next to Alex. Now Krycek was
crammed between a mother and the obligatory crying
baby. As the airplane made its descent, he leaned
forward.

"Are you sure you're alright?" he asked Jamie.

"I'm ready."

*****

"Here they are!" Carolyn squealed, her voice
rebounding off the walls. Her enthusiasm was
infectious, and Keith huddled nearer as several people
rushed forward to greet those disembarking from the
morning flight. After his wife's encounter with Fox
Mulder over the summer, he was more than intrigued to
meet her presumed-dead friend Jamie, and learn what
connection they had with Tiamat. There was definitely
a big story brewing.

Carolyn gasped and pushed her way forward. Keith
craned his neck to see four people, three men and one
woman, step off an escalator. Carolyn's breath caught.
She stopped a few feet in front of Jamie, still not
believing her own eyes. Dressed in a long-sleeved,
black cotton shirt with blue jean overalls, he was
literally the vision of a ghost from the past. Nothing
about him had changed, except the modern hairstyle and
the sad, haunted look in his glistening eyes.

"Jamie," she breathed.

"Hi, Carolyn."

He moved closer and was soon engulfed in an enormous
warm hug. "Foxy said you were alive," she whispered,
hugging Jamie even tighter. Her nickname for Mulder
sent an ache to Jamie's fast beating heart. Through
tears Carolyn gave him a kiss which Jamie returned. He
then smiled a greeting at Keith.

After a quick round of introductions, Carolyn and
Keith escorted the group through security to pick up
their luggage. They walked down a carpeted corridor
past gift shops and snack bars. Down a wide hall, into
the sprawling terminal, and out toward the parking
lot.

Carolyn opened the side door of a blue family
mini-van, waving at them. "Climb on in." She pulled a
sea green duffel bag from Jamie's arms and threw it
into the back. Jamie, followed awkwardly by the
others, found plenty of room inside.

Keith started the engine and headed out. Carolyn
twisted around in her seat to evaluate her long-lost
friend. Jamie was still Jamie, Carolyn thought,
relieved. Waiting for him at the designated airport
gate, she had not been sure what to expect.

"I booked you rooms at Rose Cottage," Carolyn
addressed them. "We'll drive you there so you can
rest."

"No," Jamie interrupted. "I want you to take us to
Oxford Woods."

Carolyn hesitated. "Jamie, you don't mean--"

"Yes, the catacombs."

Uncertain looks were passed. Skinner ended any
possible debate by waving at Jamie. "Don't argue with
him."

Dr. Kitzseiger, who'd been silent for most of the
trip, turned her thin, tight lips to Jamie. "So that's
what you're planning?"

Jamie folded his arms and nodded, daring anyone to
give him an argument.

"What did you think?" Krycek sarcastically asked her.
"This isn't a pleasure trip, sister."

"I was thinking that we'd arrive here with a clear
course of action."

"I'm sorry, Jamie," Carolyn began. "But I have to
agree with her."

"What?" he exclaimed, dumbfounded.

"Sorry." She shook her head. "Still can't take it in
about Phoebe, I guess."

"Phoebe?" asked Jamie. "What happened to her?"

"She's dead," Carolyn replied sadly. "She was found
battered to a pulp near that cave." She visibly
shuddered at the memory. She and Foxy had barely
escaped with their lives.

Jamie didn't know what to say.

"That's horrible." He managed in the end.

"Yeah," Krycek agreed, vaguely.

Skinner sat back. "I knew this trip was a bad idea,"
he muttered gruffly under his breath.

There was a slightly embarrassed pause. The silence
that followed was almost physically painful.

Keith looked up at them in the rear-view mirror. "Have
you notified the police?"

"Do you really think they'd believe us?" Kitzseiger
spoke up, surprisingly.

Skinner nodded. "She's right. We only have our word
about what's going on. What we need is solid proof."

Jamie tuned out their conversation. He gazed at the
misty countryside stretching by. He would sooner die
-- again -- than let Mulder suffer harm. Thinking of
the terrible danger his lover was in crushed Jamie's
heart.

"Hold on, Fox," he whispered. "I'm coming."

*****

A thick, other-wordly blue mist engulfed the few
remaining trees surrounding the excavated Oxford
Woods. Keith parked the van as close as he could to
the sealed catacomb entrance. Jamie, seeing the dark
woods ahead, had to keep himself from panicking, an
instant response to the environment.

"Now what?" asked Carolyn, nervously.

"I'm going in there." Jamie was firm.

He saw the look in their eyes. To avoid a lecture, he
got out and headed away. Stepping through the cold,
morning air, Jamie shivered. Hugging himself, he was
assailed by too many sharp, painful memories. They
revolted him to the point of being physically sick.

"Jamie, be careful!" Carolyn's sweet, concerned voice
called out.

"Don't worry," Krycek reassured her. "He's a lot
tougher than he looks."

Carolyn and her husband opted to remain in the vehicle
while the others investigated the cavern. Not waiting,
Jamie filed ahead through a thicket of oak trees,
toward the clearing. He paused before the churned up
earth and stone. Planks of wood had been boarded up
over the cave entrance, and the undisturbed ground
showed that no one had tramped here recently.

"Jamie," Skinner began carefully. "I don't think
they've been here."

"You're wrong." Jamie lunged forward and started
tearing at the planks with his bare hands.

Kitzseiger, carrying one of two black, tubular torches
handed to them by Keith, looked on closely. "The
catacombs have been sealed ever since the excavation,"
she put in.

Thrusting a loosened board aside, Jamie whipped his
head up. "I'm not leaving." He returned to work with
renewed vigour. Destiny was forcing him to walk this
path, back to where it all began. "I've got to find
him before it's too late."

Seeing Jamie's exhausting effort, Alex hurried forward
to lend a hand. Straining his muscles, he pulled one
of the larger boards away in one go. Walter shook his
head, admiring both Jamie's strength and
determination. He laid his flashlight down to lend a
hand. 

"Jamie, I think you're right," Alex said, believing
his friend needed encouragement. "You said this was a
powerful place for the Cult. Some primitive
traditional beliefs hold to the idea that cosmic
forces equal great power."

Skinner looked up at him, suitably impressed. "How did
you know all that?"

"Hey, I'm not just another pretty face," Krycek
smirked. "Besides," he continued at Jamie. "I actually
learned a thing or two working with Mulder on the
X-Files." He took a deep breath and ripped away
another sturdy plank.

In a few moments the entrance was clear. Brushing off
his reddened hands, Jamie plucked Walter's flashlight
from the dewey ground and faced the round, dark
opening. For a second he could not catch his breath.
Then he steeled himself, high on an adrenaline rush he
could not control. Jamie shut his eyes and focused his
thoughts on Mulder.

"Something tells me this is wrong," Kitzseiger said to
Walter. "For an FBI Assistant Director you should be
discouraging this."

"Loosen up, woman," Krycek retorted. Were her panties
in a perpetual bunch?

"We've come too far not to check this out," Walter
told Kitzseiger sternly. "There could be another way
inside." Mulder was in terrible danger. By his
calculation, they had less than twenty-four hours to
find him. Sitting around reading a bunch of musty old
books certainly wasn't going to help.

Kitzseiger stamped her foot. Walter wasn't sure if
this was out of irritation or from the chill. "Still,
I feel this needs proper research," she started.

Alex breathlessly turned. "You better quit talking and
start walking." He nodded toward the entrance. "He's
already in there."

Thankfully, the good doctor chickened out and decided
to wait for them by the entrance. It was her reasoning
that if, and she stressed the word 'if', there was any
trouble she could call for help. While Walter thought
this a very good idea, Alex simply shook his head and
hurried after Jamie.

Two torch beams weren't enough to penetrate the inky
blackness of the caverns. Jamie carried on, despite
the terrible memories. The place was overpowering, the
rock walls emanating with evil. His light flashed over
rickety pit props and the rabbit warren tunnels
leading deep under Oxford University. 

"This place is like a maze," Krycek observed. His
husky voice echoed all around them. Both Walter and
Jamie made hushing sounds. "Okay, okay," he hissed
back.

Jamie strained his ears. The only sound seemed to be a
steady drip drop of water in the distance. He turned
down one of the tunnels that sloped at a steep
incline, the sort avid skateboarders would've loved.
Certainly this would head toward the central chamber.
If the coven had Mulder anywhere, it would be there,
he reasoned.

Walter and Alex followed close behind. The further
along they went, the more the walls seemed to crush
in. Krycek felt himself break out into a sweat. Tiny
rivulets of salty water streamed down his neck. "Are
you okay?" he whispered.

His lover looked at him and nodded.

"I'm glad one of us is," he muttered. Alex reached out
and grabbed Walter's strong hand, tightly, anxiously,
squeezing it hard. He'd developed a severe case of
claustrophobia ever since being locked up in that
bunker all those years ago. "Fuckin' bastards," he
swore under his breath.

Eventually, and much to Alex's relief, they emerged
into a huge cavern. Twin high beams danced along the
walls. The trio squinted in the darkness.

"So this is where they used to hang their hats," Alex
remarked, speaking of the Cult of Azathoth.

Jamie nodded as they moved around the natural rock
formations protruding from the ground. He felt an
unnatural chill sweep over him. "It's dark, so dark,"
he whispered. "Can't you feel it?"

"It's your imagination, Jamie." Skinner attempted to
reassure him, though he wasn't so certain. His skin
started to prickle.

"There's something dangerous here." Jamie walked
toward the cracked stone altar where he'd been stabbed
eighteen years ago. He froze in his tracks. "I
suddenly feel cold." His breath floated away in the
chilled air. It was as if a dead hand were pressing on
his heart. "I can't move!" he cried. 

A low, hungry, hissing, gobbling sound filled the
chamber.

"I think we're in trouble," Alex exclaimed.

From out of the darkness, a huge shape appeared.

Jamie's fears were confirmed. It was a Shoggoth, a
huge, monstrous creature used by Azathoth's followers
as a guard and to seek out a Chosen One. He swallowed
at the tormented memory of the Great Old One,
possessing his body, and turning a hapless youth into
this grotesque horror.

The Leviathan reared up like a cobra, its five-pointed
head, ringed with red eyes, zeroing in on the three
energy filled bodies before it. It was starving, its
last meal having been months ago. With its only escape
route sealed, the Shoggoth had waited patiently for
food and now it was presented before it in abundance.
With a hungry roar its tentacled mouth swooped down.

"Get back! Get back!" Skinner barked, pulling Krycek
out of harm's way. Both men fell scrabbling onto the
cave floor.

Jamie grunted and tried to move. There were whispers
in his head, he couldn't concentrate.
"Got...to...break...free!" With an agonising shout,
Jamie willed his muscles to work.

The glistening carapace of the Shoggoth bore down on
his friends. Without a moment to lose, Jamie hurled
his flashlight, striking the horrible creature across
the back.

"Hey, you overgrown slug!" he called, tauntingly.
Jamie turned and ran up one of the tunnels with the
enraged Leviathan in pursuit.

The slavering beast barrelled down a pit prop and some
of the surrounding wall as it pursued its prey. Jamie
kept running, following his instincts, while the
Shoggoth tore through the tunnel like a freight train.
Sections of the delicate roof began to collapse.
Trickles of sand rained down on Jamie as he turned a
tight corner. He scrapped his left arm painfully
against an outcropping.

With a sudden, rending crack one of the more fragile
pit props exploded downward. Jamie ran on, vaulting
the jagged beam and looking back at the creature.

Its red, evil eyes became aware of the devastation it
was causing, and realized it would soon become
trapped. It whipped back around, squeezing its slimy
body along the walls.

Jamie stopped and ran back. "Hey! Remember me?" he
yelled.

The Leviathan turned its star-shaped head.

"Aren't you hungry? Or are you just plain scared of
the Chosen One?"

Growling, the creature looked at him.

Jamie held out his scrapped arm, showing fresh spots
of blood. "That's right. Come and get it!"

With a shrill roar, the Leviathan lunged forward and
Jamie ran toward it. At the last second, he jumped and
landed on the fallen pit prop. The sharp, broken edge
shot up and impaled the hideous monster. The tentacled
mouth let out a terrible shriek as vicious green blood
spattered against the walls. In its death throes, its
body gyrated like a snake.

Jamie crouched down next to the beam, catching his
breath. He gazed at the creature, crinkling his nose
in disgust. When it finally stilled, Jamie wiped at
his face and breathlessly made his way back up the
tunnel.

He found an anxious and concerned Skinner and Alex
waiting for him. He staggered past them and wandered
around the central chamber. He stopped when his foot
hit the fallen torch.

"What happened, Jamie?" Walter asked, moving up behind
him. "We heard a crash. Is it dead?"

Jamie nodded silently.

"Way to go!" Alex shouted, a little too loudly. He
rested a hand on his young friend's shoulder, but
Jamie flinched.

Jamie turned white, his eyes brimming with tears.
"Where are they?" he asked, his voice strangled and
throaty. "Where's Mulder?"

[Next Episode: All Roads Lead To Mulder]