Hospital. Night. Jeremiah Smith -- who I thought was dead, but I have no idea who's dead and who's alive on this show anymore -- walks through the deserted halls, pauses for a moment before the nurses' station, morphs into Dr. Desai and tells the nurse to arrange to transfer Theresa Hosie to another hospital. She's surprised, but agrees. As she trots down the hall, the camera pans to Jeremiah's feet. He's wearing Nikes. Mark Snow cues up the Minor Chords of Evil Footwear.

The phone in Scully's motel room rings loudly, waking her from a nap. Or maybe it's morning, and she fell asleep in her clothes on top of the bed. Whatever. All mussed and disconcerted, Scully furrows her brow as she listens to the person on the end of the line. "Yeah? Hold on. Who took her? Why? Where? Where's Agent Doggett?" She sighs. I hate this job, she thinks. Why wasn't I satisfied with just being a doctor? I could have been the chief of staff at a major hospital by this point. And rich. And my babies would turn out normal. Instead, I'm chasing some stupid space ship all over town, and no one -- no one! -- appreciates all the money I'm spending on these fucking Armani suits. Stupid FBI. I swear, once we find that pain-in-the-ass Mulder, I'm going to quit this retarded job and live my life like a normal person. She stomps out of her hotel room.

Skinner and Scully drive their Sensible FBI Rental Car all the way out to some random hill in the middle of nowhere. The time/date stamp actually literally says "Random Hill, The Middle of Nowhere. 9:34 AM." Okay, it doesn't, but wouldn't that be funny? Doggett scampers down the hill to meet their car. "Did you find [Theresa]?" No, he didn't. "No? I don't understand. You called us all the way out here," Scully says, biting her tongue to keep from mentioning that Doggett interrupted her nap. Doggett says that he called them out into the middle of nowhere to "to get another point of view." "Another point of view?" Scully parrots, irritably, as she follows Doggett up the hill. HairCheck2K1: Smashing. Skinner makes a face like he just stepped in dog shit. At the top of the hill stands a dark-haired woman, smoking a cigarette, in three-quater profile. Gee, I just know that reminds me of someone else on this show, but for the life of me, I can't remember who it is. Doggett tells them that the woman's name is Monica Reyes, and that she's a fellow agent with whom he once worked a case. He explains that Monica has a Masters in Religious Studies, and specializes in ritualistic crime. "Ritualistic crime? Are we working the same case, here?" Scully asks, shortly. Doggett grins widely, and wisely says nothing.