From: livengoo@bcvms.bc.edu
X-From: rkwong@engin.umich.edu (Roberta Chi-Woon Kwong)
Newsgroups: alt.tv.quantum-leap.creative,alt.ql.creative
Subject: "Leap of Faith" part 3/?
Date: 18 Apr 1995 18:29:24 GMT
Message-Id: <3n10e4$ert@srvr1.engin.umich.edu>

This is being posted for the author, who doesn't have access to
this group. Please direct all comments to livengoo@bcvms.bc.edu.
This story is also currently appearing in alt.tv.x-files.creative.

I've done some re-formatting to make my news system accept the line
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-----------------------------------------

Subject: Leap of Faith 3/? 

Leap of Faith Pt. 3.  Story might as well be copyright livengoo.
Characters copyright Ten-Thirteen, Chris Carter, Fox, Bellisarius,
and if you can't sort out who owns what you've been watching the
wrong shows.  If I mention any trademarked characters please add
the little tm in your mind.  Oh, yeah, and Jackie St. George is
Sheryl Martin's although, not being Kinky Friedman, she didn't
copyright herself!  Blame livengoo@bcvms.bc.edu.

Sam woke from dreams of being interrogated by men who flashed
lights in his eyes, and from dreams of being buried and lost
forever when stacks of paper fell off Mulder's desk onto him.  He
was used to flashes from former leaps, but the file-o-phobic dreams
were new.  They weren't anything compared to his neighbor's
nightmares, from the sound of it.  He could hear Mulder through the
cheap wall-board, screaming at somebody to bring someone named
'Sam' back.  It put chills up his spine as he sat there, and he was
glad when the Al's door appeared.

Al glanced at the wall and raised an eyebrow, then back to Sam.  "I
was going to tell you about that, but I guess you already know.
Did Scully's files tell you he believes his sister was abducted by
aliens?  Her name was Samantha."  

"They told me, but I didn't really think about it before.  Does he
do that often?"

"Scully figures probably every night or so."  The voice cut off
with a gasp and they heard water running, and clothes rustling.
Sam got up and glanced out the window in time to see Mulder take
off into the pre-dawn fog, almost invisible in his gray running
suit, and silent.  "She said that on an abduction case like this
he'd probably have some bad nightmares, worse than usual."  Al
shook his head.  "Maybe you can "If she couldn't I doubt I could."
Sam sighed.  He could sympathize with someone missing a huge chunk
of his life, with no real control over the effect of that loss.
Sam remembered losing someone dear to him, but couldn't quite
recall who it was.  At least Fox Mulder knew who he'd lost.

"So what's the plan, Sam?  You got something in mind?"

"We just got here!  What do you expect me to do, call 1-900-psychic
hotline for a road map how to handle this?"

"You must have some idea?" 

"Stick close to him and hope I'm there when it hits the fan."

"Well, you've got a couple more days to come up with something
better.  'Night, Sam."

"Night"

************************** 

Day 2.

The next time Sam woke the sun was heating the room up like a
pressure cooker and Mulder was knocking on the door.  Sam struggled
into a robe (how did women get Sam growled at him and retreated for
a fast shower.  The FBI-blue suit felt like an iron maiden in the
prickly heat.  If it was bad inside the motel room, it got worse
the instant he stepped outside.  He feet were slipping from sweat
in the high heels and the pantyhose were strangling him from the
waist down.  How Mulder managed to look comfortable in his summer
suit was incomprehensible.  The only thing that kept Sam from
running back and throwing himself in the hideous, red pool was the
promise of air-conditioning in the car.  As it was, by the time
they pulled up to the sheriff's offices in town Sam had decided to
take up full-time residence in the car.  How could anyone have
deliberately chosen to live in this sweltering place?  No wonder
they called it Devil's Circle.

The 50 feet to the front door was enough to utterly wilt him.  The
blast of air-conditioning from inside chilled the sweat on him and
Sam got an insight into what his next nightmare was likely to be,
vacillating between the staggering summer heat and this chill that
would make Mrs. Paul's square fish feel right at home.

The sheriff was a man who looked half melted, as though he had been
fat until he stepped out the door this morning.  His neck draped
his snug collar, and his short sleeves revealed arms that hung like
tapestries from his bones.  His drawl dripped off his tongue as he
answered their questions.

"Nah, no one seen them up there a t'all.  They was celebrating in
town first night, then went up to camp and we never saw 'em no
more.  Aint the first time. They's always been strange things
hereabouts, lights and people missin' and the Circle of course.

"Maybe you could tell us about that?"  Sam wanted to hear an
explanation from someone other than Mulder.

"Well, there's this round track up in the hills.  Put something on
it, it's kicked off by morning, nothing grows on it, and sometimes
people claim to hear hoofs on it.  Folks stayed and tried to watch
it, but never see nothing.  They'll blink and whatever they put on
the track is off.  Puts a chill up your spine, I tell you.  First
folks up there found it.  Indians never went near it, said it was
cursed.  Settlers figure it's the devil guarding a lost soul he's
hidin' up there.  Maybe he's what took those two, livin' the way
they were without holy matrimony."

The look Mulder gave Sam clearly said "and you thought *I* was
bad?"

"We didn't find anything out of the ordinary," the sheriff
continued.  Their campsite was in order, no bodies or sign of
trouble by the overlook, their car not touched, just like they
vanished off the planet.  I don't think I can really help you,
that's all we saw when we went up there."

"Thank you, we appreciate every bit of help.  Do you have the names
of the hikers who found the camera?"  Mulder sounded calm and
professional, following up on details.  Sam waited for the
inevitable line of questions after the sheriff handed over a list.
"And you mentioned lights, noises up by the Circle, what kind of
lights?"

"Oh, you know.  Same thing you always here about in these bad
places, lights in the sky, screams, weird weather," the sheriff was
grinning now, clearly not believing any of the stories he was
passing on.  Mulder was writing them down, adding to his amusement.

"Any cattle mutilations, crop circles?"  

Sam decided this was a good time to jump in.  "There could be
activity people are trying to cover with an appearance of the
supernatural or strange, to discourage idle curiosity."  The
sheriff seemed to be planning who he'd get drinks and dinner from
on this story.  

"I suppose, but never heard of the like.  Look, we don't have
cattle getting mangled and you cain't grow enough crops on these
dirt-farms to make a circle in.  You just gonna have to look for
these kids the hard way, on foot.  Now if you don't mind?"  He was
up and holding the door for them.  Sam looked out into the cruel
splash of heat and hesitated,

"Can you recommend a good restaurant?  Someplace with lots of air
conditioning?"

 That got a sympathetic grin.  "Try the Horn cafeteria down the
road, they the coolest place in town."

************************

Lunch was a planning session, they'd split up the hikers and
interview them, then go through the stacks at the local paper
tracking similar disappearances.  One of them would hike up the
mountain to where the couple vanished and check the site, just in
case the evidence was not long gone from exposure.  Mulder had been
planning to take the hike, but there was no way Sam was letting him
into those hills on his own.  So long as he stayed around witnesses
there was no way he could disappear without a trace.

"Scully, you're usually better dealing with the questioning on the
first round, and I'd like to see that overlook."

"You'll see it, and you're the psychologist, they should open right
up for you." Sam grinned, "besides, most of them are women, just go
charm them." 

Mulder looked exasperated but caved.  "Just wear your sunscreen.
If we show up with tans Skinner will never let us hear the end of
it.  He thinks you live in the morgue."  Sam let him have the last
word, satisfied with winning the battle.

*************************

Fox Mulder braced himself before he stepped out of the shade.  He
wasn't terribly fond of cold, but he absolutely hated this kind of
heat.  It made the FBI-look painfully sticky to wear.  Washington
wasn't any better in the summer, it just had more parking garages
where you could keep your car out of the sun.  It was like living
in a St. Bernard's mouth to be out in this kind of weather. 

He abandoned his jacket as soon as he got in the car, rescuing the
cell phone before he tossed the coat into the back and rolled up
his sleeves.  The next interviewee, Pamela Whelan, was home and
would be glad to talk with him.  He got directions (three miles
past the barbecue joint, over the railroad tracks and look for the
dirt road with the pink mailbox at the end.  Fourth trailer on the
right.)  and took off.  He would much rather have been hiking up to
where the campers had disappeared, but Scully had poached that
assignment.  He wasn't certain what was going on, but she was
acting very oddly.  Of course, she'd been through so much, it was
no wonder if her gears sometimes slipped, but he still worried.  He
had considered suggesting she see a shrink, but couldn't think how
to do it without sounding like the pot calling the kettle black.
(Roses are red, Violets are blue, I'll see a shrink, If you see
one, too.  Or maybe, Look, my shrink's got some extra time after I
finish ignoring him, why don't you drop in and I'll spring for
pizza afterwards?  He shuddered.  He had some clinical training,
but not enough to teach him how to field this.  It took a theology
degree to handle miracles.)

He turned the car off the two lane highway, and it locked into the
ruts of the dirt road like a toy slot car.  He reminded himself
that Scully was a grown-up who could take care of herself and
girded his loins for the experience of getting out of the car.

***************************

Sam stood at the overlook, just enjoying himself for a minute.  It
was cooler up here, but any comfort the temperature might have
offered was more than compensated for by the humidity.  Even so,
the beauty of the view was worth the hike.  

He turned to inspect what he supposed was the crime scene.  Almost
an hour's close searching failed to add anything to what they
already knew although it did offer the theory that mosquitoes might
have carried them away.  Sam had turned to grab his backpack when a
loud crack startled him.  He'd dropped flat before he understood
that he'd heard a gunshot, close, and a whine that said he was the
target.  His heart was beating so hard he couldn't hear anything
and he was trying to scrabble back behind an outcropping while
remaining smeared on the ground.  The sound of Al's door registered
an instant before another *crack* and a shower of splinters told
Sam he wasn't out of trouble by any stretch of the imagination.  

"Sam!  Is it the aliens?!"

"If it is someone better tell them they're hunting out of season,"
hissed Sam through clenched teeth.  He peeked over the small cliff
below him, gauged his chances, grabbed his pack and rolled over the
edge, followed by another *CRACK* and more splinters.  A warm
trickle on his cheek told him one hadn't missed.

"Where is he, find him Al!"  The hologram peered around, then
vanished.  A few seconds later he was back, and guiding Sam around
another outcropping and out of sight of the shooter. 

"He's in camouflage, Sam.  I'd bet my last cigar he's military.
Weapons make it almost certain so keep your head down."  Al was
beckoning Sam into a short chimney between two rock faces, and then
into a shallow cave.  "Stay here, Sam. I'll go see what he's up
to."  Sam was alone again, desperately pawing through his pack for
anything that might help.

Scully's gun was the first thing he came up with.  He'd had to
carry it, it wasn't safe to leave it in the room, but lord he hated
these things.  The cell phone was his next find, his hands shook as
he unfolded it and punched the first speed dial number, sure it was
Mulder's.  He was even more sure when the line was busy.  The
second was the Bureau, too far away to help.  The third was
Scully's mom's machine, what else was there?

The fourth, "Hello, this is Jackie.  I'm out shopping at a sale for
. . . Leather Goods..  Leave your name, number and favorite
position after the whiplash and I'll call when I get done.  If it's
Mulder, quit smiling."  No-o-o-o, not that one.  Sam wondered
briefly what that person was doing on nice Agent Scully's speed
dial, and why Mulder would be smiling, then gave up on the phone.
Al was back.

"I think we've got him.  He's coming over the top, and he can't get
down that chimney without slinging his weapon.  I'll cue you and
you take him when I say."

 "ME?" mouthed Sam soundlessly.  Scully's build suddenly seemed
very small, and this cave very shallow.

"You don't have a whole lot of choice.  You aren't getting out of
here past that guard, and if he doesn't find you soon he'll call in
friends."  Sam didn't like it, but he could see the sense of it.
Al stepped back and started signaling.  In all too little time, Sam
could hear the faint sounds of the patrol.  Al waved him still.
Still, still, still . . . a sudden slash of the hand and Sam
exploded from the cave, grabbing the man's legs as he emerged from
the chimney and PULLED.  The armed man yelped, then all Sam was
aware of was the quick scuffle of limbs and breath as they
grappled, a fist grazing his cheekbone, then he jackknifed and
kicked and saw his opponent's eyes widen with alarm as he slid down
the curve of stone, then nothing, nothing, a faint scream.  When
Sam crept forward to peer around and down, he saw that the cliff
above him might be small, but not this one.  The man lay 40 feet
down, his neck at an angle Sam recognized.  He'd get no answers
from this man.

Sam shivered for a long time.  Al stood by, respecting fear, and
adrenaline, and release.  It was late, the sun dropping, before Sam
gathered his pack and started back down the mountain.  It was long
past dark when he reached his car. His cell phone was buzzing as he
slid into the car.  It was Mulder, trying not to sound worried.
Sam assured him he was fine, on his way back, and would talk with
him shortly.

************************

"They SHOT at him?  I was afraid of this.  Are you sure that man
was military?" Al nodded.

"After my career, I'd know 'em anywhere."

"Were you able to get any idea if there's a base close, or a site
or ANYTHING?"

"North Carolina's got several bases doctor, but nothing near there.
Whatever that guy was guarding it wasn't on the map.  Unless, of
course, he wasn't there guarding anything."

Scully's confusion showed plainly on Sam's features.

"Agent Scully, what if he was there because you were there, or near
enough. You said the military had tried to kill you and your
partner before, and that you both knew of things they'd rather you
not know.  I can vouch from experience that these guys can get
awfully touchy about their secrets."

Scully was nodding.  She didn't like it, but she could see it.  It
had happened before, after all.  "Tell your friend to keep his eyes
open.  Mulder's going to want to find out what they're hiding.  And
he's very sneaky when he wants to be."

Heh, there's more where this came from.  Will trade stories for
archived tales from other people in the attempt to elude my bad ftp
karma.  Pick any old story you thought was good for the bribe.

livengoo :)  ;)  :)