USMC Base Brig. 11:21 PM (of course). A guard steps out of the parking kiosk to meet a black, armored-looking car. The guard asks to see some identification; the driver hands it over. It's Noel Roaoaoooooaoaoar. The guard waves him inside. That can't be good. Besides, I thought he was dead. Just kidding! Because he's...well, you know. Moving right along to...
...Mulder's cold, dark, dank, sad little cell. Someone throws the door open. "Who's there?" Mulder asks, sleepily opening his eyes. It's Doggett, holding a flashlight. "I'm here with Skinner," he says. "Get up." Skinner sticks his big, bald, beautiful head into the cell. "Move it, Mulder," he barks. Aw, yeah! Jailbreak, baby! Mulder stiffly pulls himself off the ground. "We're getting you out of here," Doggett says. "Come on!" Skinner impatiently hustles both of them out of the cell, shutting the door behind them. The three men run down the hallway, accompanied by the Pounding Drums of the World's Easiest Jailbreak.
Meanwhile, someone throws open the door to Mulder's empty cell. It is, of course, Noel Roaoaoaooooooor. "Guard!" he yells. "Where is he? Seal the building! Seal the base!" The rest of the guards exchange worried glances. They are so fired! "We've got an escaped prisoner," one of them radios to...you know, whoever.
The boys are still running though the basically deserted brig. This prison is very poorly staffed. An alarm sounds in the background, loud and obnoxious. They come up on a locked gate, for which Skinner somehow has the key. He unlocks it, then nervously peers around the corner. The guard stationed at the desk near the entrance takes this very convenient moment to slip away. Doggett, Skinner, and Mulder quietly race to the front gate, which Skinner, again, opens. They file through and turn a corner, coming face to face with Kersh. Dum dum dum dum! "You're never going to make it this way," he says. "Come on." I knew he was going to turn out to be a White Hat! I love it when I'm right. The four of them turn tail and head in the other direction.
More running. Running. Running. Running. Running outside, down a hill, up a set of stairs, and through a hole in the barbed-wire fence, where Moronica waits with a car. Everyone hops in the product-placed Ford Explorer, Moronica sliding behind the wheel. They speed off. It's nice to know that it's pretty easy to break out of a military prison. I'll remember that the next time the Marines throw me in jail.
Finally, Moronica pulls the Explorer up by an anonymous patch of highway where Gibson and Scully are waiting, standing by Scully's parked car. Moronica barely has the car in Park when Mulder jumps out. "Mulder?" Scully asks. She watches everyone else -- Kersh included -- get out of the SUV. "You've got to move out," Kersh says. "What's he doing?" Scully asks Mulder, her eyes flickering over Kersh. "What I should have done from the start," Kersh tells her. "Go north to Canada. Get to an airport. If you're not off the continent in twenty-four hours, you may never get out. You understand?" Mulder looks at his former co-workers -- Skinner and Doggett, Moronica and Kersh, all of whom are looking at him and Scully with real concern. "None of you will be safe now," he tells them. "You let us worry about that," Doggett assures him. "Good luck," Mulder tells them warmly. Scully runs to the car without a word. No "Thanks for breaking my boyfriend out of military prison and saving him from the death penalty!" No "I totally appreciate your risking your lives and careers to help me and the tall guy!" No "Hey, Moronica, thanks for delivering my baby, even if that all worked out for shit!" I guess she's just got her eyes on the prize. She's had a tough couple of years, people. I think Ms. Scully may need to invest in some good therapy once she and Mulder get to Canada. I hear they've got some good socialized healthcare up there, so maybe that won't be a problem. ["Yep. That and poutine." -- Wing Chun] Mulder at least turns back and gives Gibson a paternal pat on the cheek before following his partner to the car. He climbs into the driver's seat and they take off. Gibson watches, slightly shaking his head. Dude, poor Gibson. I wish Skinner and Doggett would adopt him, and the three of them could move to Atlantic City and solve crimes while using Gibson to beat the pants off of everyone at poker. Moronica could come along and bring in some extra cash by reading people's auras on the boardwalk.