Arch Angel By: Jenga CaptJenga@aol.com Date: Thu, 16 Apr 1998 Rating: Strong PG, maybe PG-13 Classification: UST (verging on MSR)/X Spoilers: ReduxII Keywords: Mulder/Scully angst Summary: Mulder and Scully go undercover as newlyweds to apprehend a serial killer. Disclaimer: They're not mine. I know, and willingly accept that (well, almost). Also, I don't know if any of these places really d do, then I apologize for anything I may do with them to offend anyone. I also have no medical knowledge whatsoever, so please forgive me for the outrageous mistakes I'm sure to make on that subject. Author's Notes: Warning! Any non-shippers, turn back now or forever hold your peace (It's not *that* bad. Just a little cheesy at times). But you have been forewarned. Also, I am completely indebted to my sister for forcing me to edit this to a slightly more realistic level. She's actually reading this over my shoulder, and wants me to say she's a KTer and says hi to Jeff. In addition, there are some weird idea about religion played around with here. They do not necessarily reflect those of the author, and are not intended to offend anyone on any way. 1/9 * * * April, 1998 J. Edgar Hoover Building "And he scores!" Special Agent Fox Mulder announced as his launched missile went in the intended target. His partner looked on in amusement as her six foot partner did a small victory dance around their slightly cramped office. "The crowd goes wild!" He collapsed into his chair, which came dangerously close to tipping over but managed to stay upright. Special Agent Dana Scully arched an eyebrow as he grabbed another sheet of paper off his desk and crumpled it into a ball. "Mulder, somehow I doubt that's what Skinner intended for us to do with those expense report forms," she commented as he carefully aimed and shot the makeshift basketball into the garbage can. In response, he merely grinned. "Aw Scully, don't you think--" As if on cue, the telephone rang, saving Scully from having to listen to yet another of Mulder's wild theories. Smiling smugly, she answered the phone. Her expression quickly changed from bemused to serious. Mulder noted her change in mood, and although he attempted to keep a smile on his face, he also switched tracks into "work mode". She hung up, and he waited for an explanation. "That was Skinner." She paused, and he knew he wasn't going to like what was next. "VCS has been handling a serial killer investigation, and they're out of options and personnel. They figure since we don't have any open cases at the moment that we could give them a hand. They want to bring us in." She braced herself for the barrage Mulder was sure to launch, but was surprised when he merely stood and put on his suit jacket. "Coming, Scully?" he asked, waiting for her by the door. She nodded, and they headed for the elevator together. They waited for the elevator to arrive, and Scully took the opportunity to study his face. He seemed to be okay, except that he was looking everywhere except her face. The doors opened, and he placed his hand on the small of her back as they walked in. "You okay about this?" she asked, concerned that he wasn't reacting. After everything he'd experienced as a result of his profiling genius, she would have expected a little more resistance to a request to help with it again. "Yeah Scully, I'm fine." The use of her old excuse was not lost on her, although it seemed as if he hadn't meant it. The elevator doors opened, announcing their arrival on the fifth floor. Making sure one last time that he was okay, she followed him to the conference room. * * * "He's not going to like this," Skinner warned Agent Norton as they waited for the two renegade agents to appear. The other men and women in the room looked at each other uneasily--they'd all worked with "Spooky" Mulder before, and were not looking forward to doing so again. "Well, he'll just have to deal with it," Norton replied as the two agents in question walked into the room. He noted how easily they moved together, and knew he had chosen the right agents for the job. Taking a deep breath, he gestured for them to sit down and began his report. A blank screen remained on the slide screen while he began his introduction, putting off the dangerous territory until necessary. "For the past six months, we have been tracking a serial killer in Vista Del Mar, Florida. In that time period, he has killed twelve women. The local police department only handed the case over to us officially two months ago, but we've been monitoring their progress for the full six months." Norton paused, his gaze flickering to the agent wearing the loud alien tie. He'd heard stories about this guy, and while having no doubt concerning his legendary abilities, he did question his sanity a little. After all, this guy did believe in aliens and UFOs. But he was also a good agent with brilliant profiling abilities, and Norton planned to take advantage of every available resource he could get his hands on. What he was concerned about, however, was how Mulder was going to handle the next aspect of the case. "All the victims been female. . ." he flipped to the next screen, a picture of a woman closely resembling Scully. Both Mulder and his partner noticeably stiffened, though Scully remained more detached than Mulder. "between the ages of 25 and 40, between five feet and five foot ten inches tall and had red hair." "The unique signature to this guy is how the bodies are found. All twelve women have been found dressed in white, and carefully laid out in a church in the Vista Del Mar area. None of them appear to have suffered or have been physically abused in any way, and there are no signs of struggle. In fact, it would appear as if they were very carefully and meticulously cared for, even fussed over." He flipped through a few more picture, all bearing a striking resemblance to Agent Scully. He glanced at her, impressed to find her studying the pictures intently. "Agent Norton," she asked, "what was the nature of death?" He sat down at the table and glanced at the report in front of him, not wanting to make a mistake in front of this obviously competent agent. "Unknown. The only mark on their bodies is a small puncture wound on their right shoulder. Other than that, it almost appears as thought each died in her sleep." He looked at Mulder for a moment, then realized he should focus his words toward her, because the hostility Mulder was starting to radiate wasn't going to lessen. "Agents Mulder and Scully, the reason you have been called here is because quite frankly we are running low on manpower. We've had our best minds working on this for far too long, and they can't take any more of this kind of stress. This man has killed twelve woman, and will no doubt continue killing unless we do something. We need answers, and we need to find this SOB. And we need both very quickly. Agent Mulder, we are all aware of your profiling ability and were hoping you could give us some insight. Even if you can't, we can still use you and Agent Scully. His next cycle will begin on Friday, and we want to be ready for him--" The tall agent was up out of his chair before Norton could even finish his sentence. "No way. You are not sending Scully into that." Norton thought in surprise, then realized he should have expected this brilliant (if slightly mad) agent to have made the connection so quickly. What did surprise him, however, was Mulder's reaction as Scully simply called her partner by name. The angry agent looked at her, and when she merely stared back at her, he sighed and fell back into his seat. In a single word, she had managed to subdue her much larger partner rather significantly. It was almost as if they had held an entire conversation in a matter of seconds through eye contact alone. Norton watched on in amazement, and Skinner quickly jumped in, knowing even Scully could restrain Mulder for only so long. "Agent Mulder, Scully will be safe. We will provide a complete timeline showing where and when each victim was taken, and we are sure the killer will follow his schedule again. Something which Agent Norton neglected to mention was that each of the women was with a husband or significant other. You will be accompanying her to play that role." Upon hearing that he could accompany Scully, the lanky agent calmed down a little. He still, however, was not pleased that she was to be sent in as bait. Before he could protest, Scully rose and asked Skinner if she might speak with Mulder in the hall for a moment. Norton breathed a sigh of relief as the two agents left the room. The tension level decreased significantly, and he was definitely glad that he would not be in charge of the operation once they left Washington. * * * Mulder waited until the door was properly closed behind him until he exploded. "Scully, are you really going to let them do this to you?!" He leaned over to argue with her in a whisper, and was not surprised to once again feel like she was the taller one in their partnership. She had some magic ability to stare down men twice her height which was an X File in itself. "Mulder, what would you have me do about it?" she asked, quietly and calmly. "This is our job, and it certainly won't be the first time either of us have put our life in danger for the people we swore to protect." He sighed, his argument completely deflated. She was right, of course. He knew that perfectly well, he just didn't like the thought of using her like a guinea pig. "Fine. But," he added, a childish gleam entering his eye. "Only if I get to play the part of an excited newly wed." A smile barely showed itself on her lips as she replied, "You do that, and you'll be limping across the threshold." Mulder grinned, and as they walked back into the room, whispered, "Oh Scully, I love it when you talk dirty." She didn't get a chance to respond but laughed silently. This was going to be an interesting assignment. * * * "Your plane leaves tomorrow morning at seven," Skinner finished, placing the two tickets before the agents. He noted with some amusement that Scully picked up both tickets as she shot Mulder a look saying . He pouted for a moment, and Skinner knew they would have no trouble acting as the newlyweds they were supposed to be. Most Assistant Directors would have been concerned to see such behavior exhibited by his agents, but to tell the truth Skinner was kind of rooting for them. As much as he liked to give both Mulder and Scully a good dressing down when they, well, Mulder, was being a pain in the ass, he actually liked the agents. Most of the time. * * * "Done," Scully announced triumphantly, hitting a key on her computer keyboard. She had wanted to get their report from the last case finished before they left, and had spent the better part of the day doing so. Mulder looked up from his sorting as the printer whirred to life in the corner--he'd also decided that before they left he should put away any "sensitive" material. In other words, the majority of his desk and it was taking him forever. Sighing in exasperation, he dropped the remainder of the pile into a desk drawer and locked it. "Very efficient, Mulder," Scully commented dryly. She picked up her report from the printer, and went to drop it off with Skinner's secretary. While she was gone, he attempted to straighten out the smaller mess of files left on his desk. A photo dropped out of one of the files, and he bent over to pick it up. When he saw what the picture was of, he breathed in harshly. It was the one of Scully screaming out in terror for him. When he had come so close to losing her. Again. Jerry had been about to murder her when he barged in just in the nick of time. He closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, trying not to think about what would have happened if he had arrived a few seconds later. It wasn't that he took credit for saving her life again. No, it was that he took the blame for putting her in danger yet again. He opened his eyes, and stared at the picture, tracing the image of outstretched her hand. He didn't know what he would do if he lost her. He had gone over the edge when she disappeared for those terrifying few weeks that seemed like an eternity. Her mysterious reappearance had brought him back, and her recovery had been his own as well. And then when her cancer tried to take her from him again. . .He had never felt such joy as when he heard she was going to be all right. Mulder sighed and dropped the photo back in the file. He walked over the to filing cabinet and put the file away. "I know," he admitted aloud softly. He also knew that he could never tell her how much he cared. Of course she knew he considered her his best friend, but he'd finally admitted to himself that it went beyond that. He tried to push those feelings away, to bury them so deep that they weren't there any more. And it worked for the most part. But then there were moments when he just wanted to take her in his arms and. . . "Mulder?" Her sudden presence startled him, and he jerked his head up, smashing it on the open drawer above him. He swore, and didn't need to turn around to know that she was attempting somewhat unsuccessfully to keep from laughing. With as much dignity as he could muster, he slammed both drawers shut and turned around. It was then that he noticed two blue velvet jewelry boxes and an official looking document in her hands. She saw his interest in the objects, and set them on her desk. He walked over, and she passed him the document. "This is our marriage certificate," she explained, pointing out the names. "We're William and Katherine Scully." In response to his unasked question, she continued, "The Bureau wants to make sure they get the honeymoon discount at the hotel we're staying at, which means we have to be able to produce a marriage certificate." He took the certificate from her and studied it silently for a moment. "Scully?" Mulder asked, his eyebrow raised in an imitation of her famous gesture. She smiled and replied demurely, "They needed a name." He chuckled, "The guys in the lab must be having a field day over this one." Scully smiled, "Well, I made sure we weren't married by Elvis in Las Vegas." Mock hurt was written on his features as he pouted. "Scully, would you really deny me my dream wedding?" When she answered positively, he placed her hand over his heart, "My lady! You wound me!" Scully attempted to keep from laughing at him, unable to prevent her eyes from sparkling in delight. She couldn't deny it-- there was no one else she'd rather pretend to be married to. she told herself sternly. Still smiling, she removed her hand from his and picked up one of the jewelry boxes. Opening it, she couldn't help but gasp--in it was the most beautiful wedding band and engagement ring she'd ever seen. She couldn't have picked a better one for herself. "I guess the Bureau doesn't do things halfway," she murmured. to be continued. . . Disclaimor and everything else in part 1 2/9 * * * Mulder snorted in sarcasm, but refrained from saying anything. He didn't want to ruin this moment for her. He felt like she never had these small moments of happiness, and he would be damned if he would take it away from her. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head, and he couldn't resist. Taking the box from her, he grabbed her left hand. She looked at him, apprehension written on her face. He grinned, and tried to slip the rings on her finger as she pulled her hand away. After a few moments, she sighed and allowed him to place the rings on her finger. He did so and smiled with childish pride. After a moment of silence, she smiled and chuckled. She remarked, "Mulder, only you could put rings on backwards. The wedding ring is supposed to go on first, and then the engagement ring." He made a face at her, the somber mood instantly broken. "Now how was I supposed to know which one went on first?" he demanded in exasperation. He gently he slide the engagement ring off and placed the golden wedding band on, then replaced the engagement ring. Scully opened the other jewelry box, and held his much larger hands in hers as she slipped his wedding band on. "Well, if I'd known getting married was this easy, I would have done it years ago!" Mulder commented dryly. Scully raised an eyebrow and was about to retort when someone knocked at their door. "Come in," she called out. Skinner stepped inside, and glanced at the scene before him with interest--Mulder and Scully holding hands rather tightly in what looked like an exchange of vows. Realizing what he was looking at, Scully blushed and let go of Mulder's hands. She walked over to the AD, and took the papers he had brought down for them. "This will be your schedule over the next few days," Skinner explained as Scully looked at the papers. Mulder came over and read over her shoulder while Skinner finished his explanation. "Most of the couples visited all of those places, and we believe you have the best chance of. . ." Mulder filled in silently. "Making contact with the suspect if you stick to these places," Skinner finished after a slight pause. "Thank you sir," Scully answered after a moment. "Sir, who will be in charge of the investigation?" "I will, Agent Scully," Skinner answered. After much debate, it had been decided that he would fly down to Florida a day later to lead the investigation. It had basically boiled down to the fact that no one else wanted to try and work with "Mr. and Mrs. Spooky," and if that's what it took for Skinner to be in a position to protect these two agents, then so be it. "I won't be able to join you until Tuesday. Agent Norton will be in charge of the investigation until I arrive, but we don't expect any activity until Friday evening so that will just be a formality." With that, he bade them good bye and returned to his office. "Scully?" Mulder asked, and from the tone of voice he was using Scully knew she was not going to like what he was going to say. "Yes Mulder?" "These places look kind of fancy. Does this mean I'm going to have to learn how to dance?" "Yes Mulder." "Damn." * * * "Hi Mom, it's me." Scully had decided she'd better call her mother while she packed, but was not looking forward to broaching the subject of Mulder's "position" on this assignment. She knew her mother had already adopted "Fox" into the family, but never hesitated to drop a hint about upgrading his status to son-in-law. "Dana, how are you?" her mother asked warmly. It had been a while since she'd seen her daughter, and she had decided last week that she should invite her and Fox over for dinner. Fox always enjoyed her homemade meals, and it made her happy to see him relax once in a while. "I'm fine, Mom," Dana answered automatically. She smiled, knowing how much she had used that response in the past few months and how little it meant now. "I'm *really* okay. I just wanted to say good bye before Mulder and I left for our latest assignment." Mrs. Scully sighed inwardly--it always seemed like her daughter was leaving for a new assignment. She was very proud of Dana, and wanted to encourage her, but sometimes she would like to force her little girl to take a break once in a while. Her daughter had always been a hard worker, but since joining the X Files, it seemed like she spent all her time working. But she didn't begrudge her daughter's work, nor the man responsible for Dana's insatiable thirst for the truth. Fox Mulder had never been anything but caring (if somewhat overprotective) towards her daughter, and it was obvious to everyone that he would never do anything to intentionally hurt Dana. "How long will you be gone?" she asked. "I was hoping I could have you and Fox over for dinner sometime soon." She heard her daughter sigh, "*Mulder*, Mom." Margaret smiled; it had become something of a ritual, her calling Fox by his given name and Dana reminding her not to use it. But Margaret was sure that a time would come when Fox would be happy to have both Scully women call him by his given name. "Well, I was hoping I could have you two over for dinner sometime." "I'd love to," Dana began, hating to have to put this kind of thing off yet again for the sake of her job. "And I'm sure Mulder would too, but I just don't know when we'll be back." Mrs. Scully smiled, "All right, Dana. I'll talk to you when you get back. Be careful." "I will," her daughter replied as always. "I love you," Margaret reminded her. "I love you too." The phone went dead, and Mrs. Scully hoped (as she always did) that she wasn't saying those words to her daughter for the last time. * * * Knock knock. "You're late, Mulder," Scully scolded as she unlocked the door for her partner. He shrugged, and she could practically see the wheels turning in his head as he tried to come up with some excuse that had to do with being stopped by aliens. "Save your excuses for another time," she called as she headed for the bedroom to get her suitcase. Due to the nature of this assignment, she'd actually packed a suitcase in addition to her carry-on bag. Usually, she just grabbed the prepacked carry-on bag she'd started having with her 24 hours a day since working with Mulder. On this assignment, however, she'd actually been able to bring clothes other than business suits. She never minded wearing them, but it was nice for a change every once in a while. "Let's go," she declared, returning from the bedroom with both carry-on and suitcase in hand. Mulder thought about offering to carry her suitcase, but then realized she was likely to inflict bodily harm on him if he did. So he simply followed her out to his car empty-handed. * * * The flight down had been surprisingly uneventful, and even renting the car had not been the hassle it usually was. They didn't talk much during the drive to the hotel, but it was a comfortable silence between, not the tense one they had been experiencing before her miraculous recovery. Mulder drove down the highway, completely ignoring the scenery as he thought about everything she'd been put through in the last couple of years because of him. He glanced over at her, and was relieved to see her smiling as she watched the palm trees zoom by. He looked back at the road, vowing that he would do what he could to make this assignment more of a vacation for her. he reminded himself. "Mulder, I think this is it," Scully suddenly interrupted his thoughts. He looked over, and was impressed to see the hotel they were staying at. Usually the places they stayed at were a little less classy (okay, a whole hell of a lot less classy) and he was surprised the Bureau had sprung for this one. It was a tall building, made mostly of glass and shiny steel. Flowered gardens decorated the extensive grounds, and a water fountain of two dolphins was directly in front. He pulled up to the entrance, and was startled to see two bellboys and a valet approach. The bellboys took their luggage, and Mulder reluctantly handed the keys over to the valet. He and his "wife" walked into the front desk area, and a young woman came to serve them. "Hello, welcome to the Starlight Hotel," she greeted them brightly. "How may I help you?" Mulder stepped forward, "We have a reservation for the honeymoon suite under `Scully'." The clerk typed in the name, and nodded, "Yes. It says here that you are eligible for the honeymoon discount. If I could see your marriage certificate, please?" Mulder turned to Scully, "Honey?" He tried to keep from laughing as she arched an eyebrow and then got it out of her briefcase, replying with a smile, "Here, sweetheart." He handed it to the clerk, who looked at it briefly and then returned it to him. "You will be in room 1013." She handed them their keys, and he thanked her. "Have a good stay, sir. Ma'am." Mulder and Scully then followed the bellboy with their luggage up to their room. Mulder's hand remained on the small of her back, until they reached their room. The bellboy unlocked the door, and then stood back expectantly. Mulder grinned, and Scully shot him a look, warning him of the consequences. He knew she would not be pleased, and probably would not hesitate to shoot him again, but this was simply too good an opportunity to pass up. Gently, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her across the threshold. "Mulder, put me down!" she whispered angrily, attempting to keep the bellboy from hearing. Her "husband" merely smiled angelically at her. Blushing furiously as he put her down, she attempted to smile at the bellboy as she straightened out her suit. Mulder tipped him, and as soon as he was gone, she turned on Mulder, ready to attack. But before she could say a word, he interrupted her. "Scully, it's tradition. He may have questioned something if I hadn't done it." "Mulder, he's a *bellboy*!" she argued, hands on her hips. "I doubt it would have mattered if he thought we were aliens! He's in no position to pose a threat to our cover." But Mulder merely shook his head, "You never know. Remember `trust no one'?" Before she could respond to that one, he picked up their luggage and dumped it by the bed. "Ready for dinner, Mrs. Scully?" he asked, enjoying throwing her off balance. It was so rare that he got to see this side of "Special Agent Dana Scully, MD" and he intended to take full advantage of it. "Where are we going?" she asked resignedly as she walked over to her luggage. She opened her suitcase and started putting away her clothes, looking for something suitable to wear. "The Starlight Cafe," he replied. "It's the hotel restaurant on the roof. It's supposed to be beautiful, especially at night. It's open to the sky, so maybe we'll even get to see some little gray men," he finished with a grin. He watched as she smiled at his unique humor, and then up a flower print summer dress out of her suitcase. "What about this?" she asked, holding it against her body for him to look at. He honestly replied, "Perfect." She smiled, and he forgot to breath for a moment. If only she really were his wife. . . He picked up his own suitcase and started unpacking it as Scully walked over to the bathroom to change and closed the door behind her. As he started laying out a suit to wear, she called out through the bathroom door, "Mulder, you better be wearing a nice tie." He looked at the door, then down at the Marvin the Martin and Star Wars ties he was trying to decide between. "Well, what do you define as a `nice tie'?" he asked, knowing very well what she considered a nice tie, and he had a feeling that none of the ties he had brought fit that description. "Never mind," she replied through the door. "Just try and find one that doesn't have an alien on it." Mulder looked down at his ties again. "That may be a problem. . ." * * * Scully sipped her drink and leaned back, gazing at the stars above them. Dinner had been wonderful. At some point in the evening, Mulder had put his arm around her. She had felt a bit self-conscious at first--this was, after all, her partner she was leaning against. Then she decided that they did need to keep up their cover, and she wasn't going to complain if this was how he wanted to do it. Fox Mulder sighed contentedly as his petite partner leaned against him again. It had been a wonderful evening, and he had come up with the best way to end it. When she had excused herself to "freshen up", he had asked the waiter to have the band leader dedicate a song to her a little later in the evening. The same waiter came over and now cleared their dessert dishes. He nodded discreetly to Mulder, and Mulder in turn asked Scully if she'd like to dance. She looked pleasantly surprised (probably because she had taken that comment about his not knowing how to dance seriously), and nodded. He led her out to the dance floor just as the previous song was ending. The bandleader paused for a moment to lean into the microphone and dedicate the next song to "Mrs. Scully from her husband." Scully looked at him in surprise as he took her in his arms. She smiled, but whispered in his ear when he leaned down, "Don't push it, Mulder." He merely grinned back, and held her tightly. * * * It was late by the time they returned to their room. Scully waited wearily as Mulder unlocked the door and held it open for her. She went straight to her suitcase and took out her pajamas. Heading for the bathroom, she changed and got ready for bed. She emerged to find Mulder lying on the bed and wearing his glasses, the case file open in front of him. Feeling slightly self conscious in her silk pajamas (he was wearing an old Knicks shirt and gym shorts), she went over and sat down on the bed. It was a huge bed, and when she sat down she sank into the plush comforter. As she tried to rearrange herself to sit comfortably, he took off his glasses and began his report. "Well, we don't have a physical description of this guy, but we do have a pretty accurate profile to go on," he began, watching in hidden amusement as his rather small partner attempted to avoid being swallowed by the bed. She glared at him, and he realized he better keep going before he got himself in trouble. "He's in a position to help people, they trust him and don't see any reason to fight back. He lures the couple away somehow, without physically harming either one of them. This always occurs on a Friday evening, and on the following Sunday morning, the woman's body is discovered in a church sanctuary, usually by the clergyman or organist. She is physically unharmed, and appears to have died peacefully. A chemical compound they still haven't been about to identify is found in her blood, and the only mark on her body is a small puncture wound in her right shoulder." He paused for a moment as Scully looked through the pictures of the women. "All the women are dressed in white robes, and are wearing a golden cross necklace." His eyes automatically went to an identical necklace hanging around his partner's neck as her own hand fingered it. * * * "Were all the women of the same religion? Or at least very religious?" she asked, ignoring the worry in his eyes. He shook his head, "No, three of the were Catholic, one Jewish, one Baptist, one Muslim, one Congregational and five nondenominational. Of the twelve, only four of them were described as attending services regularly by friends." He watched as she processed that information, then turned her attention to the male counterparts. "Where were the men discovered?" He passed her the pictures of the men, explaining as she looked them over. "All of them were found in the first pew of the church where their wife was laid out. They appeared to be in a deep, drug induced sleep. They all woke up within 4-5 hours later, with no recollection of what had happened since they had arrived in Florida." He paused, knowing she would poke holes in his next bit of information. "All twelve men, however, were sure that his wife had not suffered, and was in a better place now." She looked at him, skepticism written on her face. "But you just said they didn't remember anything after they arrived in Florida." "They didn't," he confirmed, enjoying this little game they played where he laid out the facts, came up with a theory and she ripped it apart. Then he got to do the same thing. They worked so well together; her yin to his yang. "But when questioned, each was very certain that his wife was in heaven, or a version of it, and that she had not suffered at all before dying. It's interesting to note, actually, the lack of grief these men felt." Scully put down the pictures, giving him her undivided attention. "All of these men had just lost the most important person in their lives," he continued. "And yet none of them were angry or grief-stricken to see her dead. They were upset, but none of them reacted typically for that of a murder victim's family." Scully looked again at the pictures. She paused before asking, "Do you think the husbands could be responsible?" Mulder shook his head--he'd already thought of and eliminated that one himself. "The details of all the murders are so specific, and none of them vary at all. Even a copycat murderer couldn't match each scene so perfectly. And even if he could, do you really think twelve different men from all over the country would be able to reenact the exact same murder? Especially when details about the crime hadn't been released by the police." He watched as she considered his points, and dismissed the theory. Scully looked at him, and sighed. She knew what that look in his eye meant--she was not going to believe his latest wild and crazy theory. His excitement when they had these debates was so childlike she almost hated to debunk his hypothesis. But she knew that it was part of this game they played that he so enjoyed. the annoying same voice added. She wouldn't deny it, however, she did enjoy this challenging life which always kept on her toes. "I suppose you have a theory?" she asked, an eyebrow raised. She was surprised when the smile disappeared from his face, "Actually, I don't. I hate to admit it, but this one has me stumped. I can see why Agent Norton wanted to pull his agents off it--they must have been going crazy with this one." Yawning, she realized it was late and she was exhausted. She was about to go back to her hotel room when she realized that this was her room. The only problem was, it was his room too. She was about to say something when Mulder beat her to it. He started clearing the papers off the bed, "Here, Scully. I'll take the couch." Before she could protest, he added, "I always sleep on the couch anyway." Failing to find a feasible argument, she sighed and got into bed. It was going to be a long week. * * * The rest of the week passed in a blur. As per orders, they went sightseeing and visiting all the places on their "itinerary". They went to Sea World, Universal Studios, several beaches, the world famous St. Mary's Cathedral, and most of Orlando where Mulder could have sworn they visited every gift shop imaginable. He had even convinced Scully to visit Disney World for an afternoon, rationalizing it by saying that the fourth couple had visited the Magic Kingdom. They received a message from Skinner on Wednesday to meet him at the Buena Vista restaurant on Thursday evening, which was the restaurant which they were now trying to find. "No, go right here, Mulder," Scully protested as he turned left. She threw up her hands in resignation--if he wasn't going to listen to her, then she wasn't going to waste her breath. Straining to see down the road in front of him, Mulder suddenly declared deadpan, "Scully, what are you talking about? We should have turned right back there." Scully glared at him as he chuckled at his own sardonic humor, "Skinner is not going to be pleased when we walk in fifteen minutes late." Mulder grinned, "Relax, Scully. He called while you were in the shower to tell us he would be half an hour late. So we have plenty of time to get lost." She sighed. "Mulder, why didn't you tell me?" she demanded as he turned around, heading back in the direction she had originally told him to go. He chuckled, "Because I knew if we left when we were supposed to, then we'd be late. But if you thought we needed to leave half an hour ahead of time and tried to make sure we did that, then we'd arrive on time." He stole a glance at her as she sighed again and looked out the window, a small smile making its way across her face. It was so nice to see her having fun, even if they were waiting for a serial killer to kidnap them. They could still pretend that this was a vacation, at least until tomorrow night. he berated himself as he tried to find the restaurant. He was not going to let anything spoil their last evening of fun. Even if they were meeting Skinner for dinner. * * * "I'm with the Scully party," Assistant Director Skinner informed the host, straightening his tie. One of his less experienced agents had lost "the Scullys" when he was supposed to be tailing them, and it had taken a while to clear up the confusion. As a result, he had been a full forty five minutes later than the original time they had agreed to meet at. "This way sir," the host gestured, picking up a menu and leading him through the crowd. After a moment, he could see his two agents seated at a table by the window. He and the host were forced to wait a moment while several waiters carried by food, and he took the opportunity to study them. While he was doing do, he was astounded when Mulder apparently told a joke. Scully actually laughed, and Mulder smiled--Skinner didn't think he could ever remember seeing either of them this relaxed. It was rare when Scully truly smiled, and Mulder never really smiled; he just grimaced gracefully. Eventually the caravan of waiters passed, and he was able to move again. The host laid his menu down, and he sat, noting with amusement as Scully tried to recover her dignity whereas Mulder barely reacted to his presence. "How are you two doing?" he asked, opening his menu. He noticed Mulder and Scully's meals had already arrived, and decided he would just have a drink and then leave them alone. "Fine, sir," Scully answered. "We've visited every site listed in the victims' itinerary up to this point." "You wouldn't believe how sick of sightseeing I am, sir," Mulder added wryly. Skinner was pleasantly surprised to hear a back of sarcasm in his voice--for once the agent was genuinely kidding around and not angry at his superior. "Good--" Skinner was interrupted as a waiter came to take his order. After ordering his drink, he paused and then continued. "From what we know of how this guy works, you should go for a sunset drive or picnic on an out-of-the way beach or other area. That activity was pretty much the only common element among the twelve couples; they had all gone to a secluded area to watch a sunset on Friday evening. Apparently, that's when they were taken. The manager of the Starlight Hotel didn't notice they hadn't stayed in their rooms until questioned by police." Scully mulled over this information for a moment. Mulder leaned back in his seat, asking "So what are we supposed to do tomorrow day, then?" Skinner shrugged, "Whatever you'd like, as long as you leave from your hotel in order to watch that sunset. That's another thing--all the couples had returned to their rooms prior to leaving for their sunset rendezvous." Scully nodded. "And I assume we're still being tailed most of the time?" "Most of the time?" Skinner asked, impressed they had noticed the fact that they hadn't been being followed constantly. "They don't call us Spooky for nothing, sir," Mulder commented dryly. Scully tried to keep from smiling as Skinner reacted to Mulder's comment. Finally, the AD just looked back at Scully. "Starting tonight, we've put you under 24 hour surveillance. And Agent Mulder," he added, staring across the table at his renegade agent. "It would be appreciated if you would refrain from intentionally losing the agents who are attempting to keep you and Agent Scully safe." "Understood, sir," Mulder replied flippantly in imitation of army style. Skinner simply shook his head and stood. "I won't be in touch with you again until you need us," he informed them, knowing they already knew the procedure but he was unable to resist the urge to run over it again. Things always seemed to stray from the regulation method with these two, and he wanted to make sure they weren't planning anything stupid. Well, really stupid anyway. "Thank you, sir," Scully replied, she and Mulder standing respectfully in unison. He started to walk away, only to turn back when Mulder called out, "What about your drink sir?" "Knock yourself out, Agent Mulder," Skinner replied over his shoulder, only permitting himself a small smile once he was certain they couldn't see him any more. After all, he had to keep up his image. * * * She's the one. The arch angel. The messiah. The other twelve, they have served their purpose. The twelve disciples, awaiting their messenger from God. They are ready to serve this one, this messiah. And now I have found her. After all my years of searching, waiting for the right time to fulfill my Lord God's holy purpose. It had taken me some time to hear my calling. But when the angel saved my life, I knew what I was destined to do. I was brought back for a special purpose. As I came back into this life, I heard, and understood the will of our Holy Father. I spent years searching for the right one. I could not make a mistake. But I should have known my Lord would not allow me to fail in my quest. He sent me a sign, and I acted. With the first, I was not sure but I knew better than to doubt the will of our Holy Father. But as each one made herself known to me, I became more and more certain that these were in fact the twelve prophets. And finally, I have seen the messiah. I was told she was to come to me following the others, but I had barely dared to hope that she would make herself known to me. I prayed to my Father in Heaven, and knew that He would bring her to me when it was time. And it is time. * * * Scully stretched and slowly opened her eyes as she lay in her bed. Glancing at the clock, she was astounded to see it was 10:00 in the morning. Remembering they had been out late last night, she forgave herself for sleeping in so late. After finishing dinner, they had scouted several potential sites for their Friday night rendezvous, finally deciding on a cliff overlooking a small cove. They had stumbled upon it by accident (Mulder had refused to ask for directions) and decided it was perfect. She sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes, "Mulder, why did you let me sleep in so late?" "Mulder?" she called again when there was no answer. Somewhat worried by his disappearance, she reached for her gun on the nightstand. On top of the gun, however, was a note from Mulder explaining he had gotten restless and gone jogging, and that he'd be back soon. As if on cue, the door lock started to unlock. She was sure it was Mulder, but years of his paranoia had worn off on her, and she tightened her grip on her gun. A familiar face appeared around the door as he called, "It's me, Scully. Don't shoot." Upon seeing she was awake he added with a smile, "Again." She was about to apologize for the hundredth time when he held up a white paper bag and proudly displayed the coffee and bagels he had gotten for them. Shaking her head in amusement, she walked as he crossed the room and settled down on the bed with their breakfast. She reached into the bag, almost afraid to see what kind of bagel he had brought her. Discovering up a toasted raisin bagel with cream cheese, she smiled and thanked him. "I'm impressed. I never thought you were paying attention all those times we had breakfast together." His mouth was full of some strange kind of bagel, preventing him from responding right away. Swallowing, he responded, "Scully, I always notice what you're eating. Although it usually doesn't do me any good because it tastes like cardboard." Scully laughed, "And here I thought you kept me around for my investigating skills. I'll have to remember to order food more to your liking in the future." Mulder smiled, and suddenly stood up from the bed, unintentionally jostling Scully. She looked at him in annoyance, but he hadn't noticed. She watched curiously as he ran back to the jacket he had dropped when he came in. He dug through a few pockets, and eventually unearthed what he was looking for. Holding up a white envelope in triumph, he walked back to hand it to her. She looked at the envelope suspiciously--with Mulder, anything was possible. He urged her to open it, and she did so. Slowly she pulled out two tickets. She looked at him for an explanation, but he gestured for her to read them. "Tickets to 'Miss Saigon'?" she asked, looking up at him. He nodded, and she looked at them again. "Mulder, these are for a one-thirty performance today. How did you ever manage to get them?" He was certainly not going to tell her about the cases of beer he now owed the Lone Gunman in exchange for their small miracle, so instead he passed it off as "dumb luck." "Mulder, you don't believe in luck," she responded with a smile. "And how did you know I wanted to see this?" "Well, your mom called me a while ago because she wanted to surprise you with tickets and needed to find out what dates you could go. I, uh, I had to tell her we would probably be out of town when the show was playing, and so I wanted to make it up to you." Realizing he was treading on dangerously sentimental ground he added, "Besides, Skinner practically gave us the day off. And I want to see the agents tailing us get into the theater without raising any questions." He smirked at the thought of it. "Thank you, Mulder," she replied softly, looking at the tickets in her hands. Suddenly realizing what time it was, she got out of bed and started rummaging through her suitcase. "The theater is a good distance from here, so we'd better start getting ready if we want to make it on time." He agreed, and started to pick up the remnants of their breakfast as she gathered her clothes and toiletries. "Oh, Mulder?" she called. He looked up from his cleanup, and she softly added, "You can even wear a tie with aliens if you want." Mulder smiled as she shut the door--this was well worth the beer he owed now to his three strange friends. * * * "Scully, are you--" Mulder trailed off as his partner stepped out of the bathroom. There was no need to finish his original question; she was obviously ready to go. She smiled at him as he mutely gestured for them to leave. He'd always known she was an attractive woman but dressed up like this. . . Scully congratulated herself as they left the room--this dress was definitely having the effect she'd intended. She's packed it knowing that she probably wouldn't have anywhere to wear it but she couldn't force herself to not bring it. It was deep blue velvet, with spaghetti straps and a slightly flared skirt which ended right above her knees. It was the kind of thing you'd wear to the theater or a fancy restaurant, and even though she didn't usually frequent those places, when she'd tried it on in the store she couldn't resist buying it. As her handsome partner accompanied her down the corridor (with a somewhat acceptable Marvin the Martian tie on), she was definitely glad she had brought it. She knew it was cruel to keep setting herself up like this, but there were times when she wished Mulder could see past his partner Scully and see Dana. She knew he couldn't, and she wasn't about to encourage him to jeopardize their jobs or their friendship in order to do so. But the look on her face when she had made her entrance her made her wonder just what he was seeing now. * * * They arrived at the theater in plenty of time, and decided to look around the lobby for a few minutes before taking their seats. Neither agents noticed how easily they fell into their newlywed roles--Mulder with his arm around her waist, the way Scully instinctively leaned into him. She laughed at his good jokes and rolled her eyes at his bad ones. He listened to her comments on the displays, and made fun of her impressive knowledge of Broadway. As they were about to go find their seats, Mulder noticed a small line gathering at the ticket booth in front. "Scully, look," he whispered. She turned around, and bit her lip to keep from laughing as she recognized the pair of agents as one of several who had been following them for the past week. They had obviously not expected Mulder's activity for the day, and now were trying to get into a soldout show to follow their "charges". "Think we should help them?" she asked, only somewhat seriously. He shook his head, "Nah. This can be a little lesson for them in dealing with the unexpected." She laughed, and he smiled, "Come on, let's go get our seats." They gave their tickets to the usher, leaving the struggling agents to fend for themselves. * * * She's here. I should have known I was sent here for a reason. She looked right at me, but didn't seem to recognize me. I wonder if she will recognize me when the time comes. I stood and watched her with her husband. There is something special about them. Their difference in height would seem comical were it anyone else, but somehow it seems perfect for them. He never hesitated to bend down to whisper in her ear or listen to her. She always looked up at him to listen or comment, her eyes sparkling in the delight. There is something between this man and women which transcends anything I have ever seen. Even with the others. I know each loved her husband, and he loved her, but it was different. The relationship between these two goes beyond that. They seem to complete each other. My Lord, dare I destroy something which You Yourself must have created? Only from You could have sprung so perfect a love. I will do as You wish, but I hesitate to take them from each other. Merciful Father, is it Your wish for me to bring her to You while he remains to mourn? But what He giveth, He taketh away. * * * By the time "the Scullys" started back to the hotel, it was getting late. After the show, Mulder had patiently waited with Scully to get the autographs of the leads. She had enjoyed the show very much, and he had been startled to see tears in her eyes at the end of the show. At first he had been surprised to see a Broadway musical bring tears to her eyes, but then realized it wasn't the show itself that was making her cry; it was everything it represented. He squeezed her hand lightly, and she smiled at him gratefully. It had actually been his idea for her to get her program signed--he had been joking about how much their autographs must be worth, and then suggested she get her's signed. She hadn't wanted to waste time waiting in line, but he insisted. When he saw how happy she was after she was able to talk to the actors for a moment and get her program autographed, he made a promise to himself to start encouraging her to do these things more often. After all, if she went with him on his crazy alien hunts, why couldn't he go with her to see a musical or two? On the ride home, he turned on the radio. It was playing some kind of "light music" which Scully seemed to like, and they both sang along to the songs they knew. Before long they were back at the hotel, and it was time to start getting ready for their sunset picnic. An uneasy silence settled in their hotel room--both of them knew that this was going to be dangerous. They went about getting ready without speaking, each thinking about what could happen. Finally, the room service they had ordered to take with them had arrived. Mulder inspected it, and carefully hid their guns in the hotel-provided picnic basket. He sat on the bed, staring at it for a moment. He didn't want to think about what lay ahead of them, but knew he should. "Ready to go?" Scully asked brightly, breaking him out of his reverie. She smiled, but he could see she was feeling the same apprehension he was. He nodded and stood, taking the picnic basket with him. Extending his hand to her, Scully smiled as she took his arm. Whatever they were about to face, they were going to do it together. * * * "What do you mean, you lost them?!" Assistant Director Walter Skinner thundered into the phone. He ripped his glasses off with his free hand, and massaged his tired eyes. "Well, sir--" Agent Jefferies's meek voice tried to explain over the phone to his rather angry superior. "I don't care how you managed to be so incompetent," Skinner interrupted harshly. "I want you to find them now! I'm sending Agents Norton and Henry to aid and then relieve you. You better find them soon," he warned. "Or there will be hell to pay." "Yes sir," Jefferies replied meekly. His only answer was the abrupt sound of the phone being slammed into its cradle. Whipping around angrily, Skinner ordered Norton and Henry out, then sat down in his chair heavily. It was almost sunset, and Mulder and Scully were no where to be seen. He knew that Mulder had somehow intentionally lost their tails, but Skinner also knew that even Mulder wouldn't't be stupid enough to want to permanently shake them. Skinner thought, shaking his head. Skinner hoped that mistake didn't cost Mulder his and Scully's lives. * * * Mulder glanced over at Scully as they approached the turnoff to their picnic site. She was sitting with the basket in her lap, holding the handle with both hands and staring out the window. He wanted to say something to break the uncomfortable silence, but didn't know what to say. Frustrated, he flipped on the radio. It was on the same station they had listened to before, but the radio signal was weak and they could only hear bits and pieces of the song. He ended up just turning it off again. A few moments later, they arrived. Without speaking a word, they got out of the car and grabbed their stuff--Mulder took the blanket and Scully carried the basket. They walked a little ways out on the cliff till they were nearly on the edge of it. Mulder spread out the blanket, and they sat down. Scully started taking the food out of the basket, being careful to keep their guns accessible but hidden from sight. She handed the various dishes to Mulder, who spread them out on the blanket. They had ordered a good amount of food, but neither of them was very hungry. They both sat silently, staring at the ground. Scully started playing with the cross at her throat. Finally Mulder couldn't take the silence any longer, and grabbed the bottle of sparkling cider. "Champagne?" he asked, attempting a grin. She nodded even though she knew it wasn't really champagne, and took out the champagne flutes. She watched in melancholy amusement as he struggled to get the bottle open. When he appeared to be ready to just throw it over the cliff, she reached out for it. He handed it to her, and watched in amazement as she effortlessly opened it without spilling a drop. "I loosened it for you," he grumbled good-naturedly, taking the glass she handed to him. "Sure you did," she agreed with a smile. She paused, and he waited for her to make a toast. "To life," she declared, raising her glass. "To life," he echoed, gently clinking her glass with his. They each took a sip, and the silence descended again. "Scully," he began seriously. "Hello there!" a voice interrupted him. They both turned to see a young man in his late twenties jogging toward them. Mulder silently cursed and thanked the man--he had no idea what he had been about to say, but had the feeling it was something important. "Hello," Scully called back as the man came closer. "Forgive me for interrupting," the man apologized. He had sandy blonde hair, blue eyes and the body of a surfer. "It's just that I don't get many visitors around here. . ." he trailed off, looking at Scully. "Doctor Scully?" She looked at Mulder, then back at the man again. "I'm sorry. Do I know you?" she asked politely. The man grinned, nodding his head. "You saved my life about nine years ago. I overdosed on cocaine, and you were able to bring me back." Scully smiled--now she remembered the young man. He certainly looked different than he had when he had come into the hospital. The handsome athletic man before her now looked nothing like the sickly teenager with a pierced nose and green hair who had come into the ER unconscious from a drug overdose. "Right, Jacen. . ." she paused, trying to remember his last name. "Jacen Reirden," she recalled finally. Jacen grinned, "Yeah. I don't know if I ever thanked you enough for what you did for me, Dr. Scully. Thanks to you, I was able to completely turn my life around." Scully looked him up and down with a smile, "I can see that." Jacen suddenly looked at Mulder and then back at her. "Am I interrupting your picnic? I'm sorry!" Scully realized she should introduce Jacen to her partner. Well, she did have to keep up their cover. "Jacen, I'd like you to meet my husband, William Scully," she introduced smoothly. One look at Mulder's face made her want to burst out laughing, but somehow she managed to keep from cracking up. "Nice to meet you, Jacen," Mulder greeted wryly, extending his hand. As much as he didn't mind being Scully's husband, they'd have to talk about this "Mr. Scully" stuff later. "You got him to take your name, Doc?" Jacen asked, looking at Scully as he shook Mulder's hand. "I'm impressed." Scully smiled sweetly, "Well, it took a little work but he came around." She ignored the glare Mulder threw her way. "How long have you two been married?" Jacen asked, settling down on the grass next to them. Mulder sighed inaudibly as Scully answered, "Actually, we were married in June, but were only able to get away on our honeymoon now." Jacen looked surprised and embarrassed, "I'm sorry! You're probably trying to have a romantic picnic, and here I am intruding on you like this." He glanced up at the sky, then added, "Although I don't think you'll be able to have much of a picnic before it starts pouring." Startled, Mulder and Scully looked up at the sky. Dark clouds hung threateningly overhead, ready to open up any second. Mulder swore under his breath--this night was just getting better and better. "Why don't you two come back to my house for a little while?" Jacen suggested. "I'll help you pack up your stuff, and then you could come over for a cup of coffee." The "Scullys" looked at each other, about to protest when Jacen broke in, "Please? I'd really like to hear what you've been up to since I last saw you, and I'll show you some of the changes I've made since then. Doctor Scully, you saved my life. Please let me do this for you and your husband. It's really the least I can do." Mulder sighed as Scully replied, "Sure Jacen. Why don't you go on ahead, and we'll just pack this stuff up and take the car to your house." "Sounds good," he answered with a grin. Standing, he brushed the dirt off his jeans and pointed to a house in the distance. "That's my place. See you in a few minutes?" Scully forced a smile, "Sure Jacen. See you then." Mulder came up behind her as they watched in walk away. As soon as he was out of earshot, she turned to Mulder and took a sip of her sparkling cider. The silence descended again. "Mulder?" she questioned after a moment, studying his face as he watched Jacen's distant retreating figure. He sighed as he looked back at her. "Do you really think the rain is going to keep him away?" Scully smiled inwardly--it was so typical of him to be thinking about their case, even when most people would pushed it aside. But she already knew that Mulder was definitely not "most people". She thought for a moment as she knelt down to pack their picnic away. He began to help her, pausing as she answered logically, "Well, the sunset can't even be seen now, and that could be a crucial part of his pattern. Not to mention, don't you think he would have been here by now? And if he saw us with Jacen, then that could also have scared him off." His shoulder slumped, and he resumed packing up. Something was bothering him about this whole thing, but he just couldn't put his finger on it. Scully's explanations made perfect sense, but there was something about this guy made him think otherwise. But as much as he didn't want to go to Jacen's, it would be nice for Scully to get away from work for a little while, even if it just was talking about med school with some guy whose life she saved years ago. Together they trudged back to the car, and he took one final look around before getting in. Various things may have prevented the killer from taking him and Scully, but Mulder had no doubt that he would claim another victim before the night was out. * * * "So we met five years ago through a mutual friend, and started dating soon after. Last June we got married, but your work as a psychologist and mine as an emergency room pediatrician made it impossible to go on our honeymoon until now." Scully glanced at her partner as they drove down the long driveway to Jacen's house. "Are you listening to me?" "Of course," he replied, never taking his eyes off the road. "We met the day before yesterday in a Las Vegas bar where you were working as an exotic dancer, and fell madly in love at first sight. When I hit it big in the casinos yesterday, we got eloped to Graceland and were married in the Blue Suade Shoes Chapel, then flew down here last night." He glanced over, a small grin on his lips as he saw her trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. He loved it when he made her laugh like that--even if she didn't laugh out loud, he knew his unique sense of humor brightened up her day. Well, most of the time anyway. In between developing a cover story, she'd filled in Mulder with what little she knew of Jacen. He had stuck in her mind all these years because he had come into the ER the second week of her rotation, and it had been the first real life/death situation she had worked on. * * * As they reached the bottom of the porch stairs, the sky above them suddenly opened up, sending torrents of rain pouring down on them. They quickly ascended the stairs, and as if on cue Jacen opened the door for them. "Perfect timing," Jacen commented, staring at Scully for a brief moment. He quickly broke out of his reverie, and ushered them into his living room, leaving to get them some coffee. Scully sat on the couch, watching Mulder as he stared out the window overlooking the cliff. "What wrong?" she asked quietly after a moment. He turned back to face her with his hands on his hips, his figure silhouetted by the dark clouds lurking beyond the glass. "I don't know. Something just doesn't feel right." "Mulder, I know you're upset he didn't show, but we will get him," she offered as consolation. His response was cut short by Jacen's return with two steaming cups of coffee and one cup of tea. "You don't drink coffee?" Scully asked as he handed them their coffee, trying to keep the conversation away from her and Mulder as long as possible. "No, I can't stand it personally," he answered, then explaining with a smile, "But the people I counsel usually crave it." "Who do you counsel?" Mulder asked, sipping his coffee. "Are you a psychologist?" Jacen shook his head, "No, actually I'm a clergyman." "Really?" Scully inquired, her interest piqued. "What denomination." "Roman Catholic," he answered. He paused for a moment, staring into his tea. "Actually, it was when you saved my life that I realized my calling." Scully reacted in surprise, sipping her coffee again in an attempt to cover her reaction. The coffee was a bit stronger than she usually liked it, but there was a unique flavor which she quite enjoyed. "And how is that?" "When I regained consciousness, the first thing I saw was your cross," he explained, gesturing to the golden chain around her neck with a hint of embarrassment. "That's when I knew I has been brought back for a purpose." She fingered the gold cross handing at her throat, exchanging a look with Mulder. "Well, that's a pretty profound experience, there Jacen," Mulder commented with underlying sarcasm only Scully picked up on. She shot him a glare, but Jacen didn't seem to notice. "Yeah, it was. It completely changed my whole perspective on life. I got cleaned up, and managed to get to where I am today," he finished proudly. He then looked from Mulder to Scully, "So, do I get to hear about you two now? How'd you meet?" Mulder opened his mouth, and Scully quickly prayed that he wouldn't make the story too extravagant. To her utter amazement (and pleasure), he retold the story she had fabricated in the car on the brief ride over. She leaned back and listened to him, impressed with the details he added on the spot to make it sound more realistic. She paid attention as she drank her coffee, trying to memorize them in case she needed to recall anything later. After all, what kind of wife was she if she couldn't remember their anniversary? * * * An hour and a half and two cups of coffee later, Scully decided it was time for them to leave. She and Mulder had spent the last half hour describing their "wedding". It was amazing the way she and Mulder had been able to create the same wedding without any preparation beforehand. Although she hated lying to Jacen, she knew they couldn't tell him the truth. And if she was truthful to herself, she really didn't mind fabricating a wedding to Mulder. They were so in synch with their ideas, it was almost as if it had really happened. She covered a yawn, surprised she was so tired, especially after sleeping in late that morning. "Jacen, I'm afraid we really must be going now." "Of course," he replied courteously, looking at his watch. "I didn't realize how late it had gotten." He stood, as did she. Or tried to. It was difficult for her to stand up, she was so exhausted. But then she looked at Mulder, noting his lethargic movements as well. she thought. She tried to take a step towards Mulder, only to find her legs unresponsive. She looked at him in alarm, dismayed to see the same surprise registering in his eyes. "Jacen, what you are doing?" she tried unsuccessfully to force past her lips. she slowly realized, her thinking process dulled by whatever he had drugged them with. Her mind dimly registered the sound of glass shattering, and some part of her mind realized that she had dropped her coffee mug. There was also a dull thud, the sound of a body hitting the ground. . . her mind screamed when her voice couldn't. Struggling against the darkness which threatened to engulf her, she saw Jacen's anxious face appear in her limited field of vision. His voice was the only thing in her world as her legs turned to jelly and she fell to the floor. "Dana, I'm sorry. But this is how it has to be. This is the only way. I'm sorry." Scully surrendered to the darkness. * * * It was Saturday afternoon, and still no word from the "Scullys". Walter Skinner paced the length of his makeshift office, waiting for word of Mulder and Scully. It had been over twenty hours since they had had any visual contact, and he was getting a very bad feeling. He hadn't slept all night, hoping to get a call from one of the two agents, reporting on their arrest of the killer. He'd added every agent he had to the search, and pulled a few strings to get more put on the manhunt. Jefferies and his partner were out there, but only because Skinner couldn't afford to pull two people off, even if it were their fault to begin with. The phone rang shrilly, and he grabbed it before it finished ringing. "Skinner." "Sir, I'm sorry." Agent Norton greeted him the same way as he had every hour since the yesterday at two o'clock. "There's been no sign of them, and their car is still missing. The local police have been alerted and are on the look out, but they haven't seen anything suspicious in the last twenty four hours." Skinner sighed, "Thank you, Agent Norton." "Sir, we will find them." "Of course we will," Skinner replied. "Keep up the search." "Yes sir." A bleak dial tone filled his ear, and he angrily slammed the phone down. "Dammit Mulder," he cursed aloud in the empty office. "For once in your life, can't you play by the rules?" * * * She was floating. No, actually she was resting on a white cloud. She felt warm, and safe. Someone was with her; he was calling her name and holding her hand. Slowly she opened her eyes. Looking around her, Scully was surprised to find herself lying down on a bed. Mulder was sitting on the bed beside her, and relief spread across his features as she tried to sit up. "What happened?" she asked, still groggy. "Jacen put something in our coffee," Mulder reminded her. "I woke up about an hour ago. I only had one cup, and I guess because I didn't drink as much of it as you did, it didn't affect me as much. I told you that stuff was bad for you," he kidded gently. She leaned back against the wall the bed was next to, taking her first good look around the room. It was pretty small, and the only other thing in the room was a blanket spread out over the thick carpeting. Everything in the room was white, except the blanket with what was left of their picnic dinner spread out on it. "Do you know how long we've been out?" Scully asked. Mulder nodded. "It's four o'clock now. He didn't take anything from us," he explained, pointing to his watch. Looking at her own wrist, she realized she still had hers on as well. "Mulder, did he bring in everything from the picnic basket?" she suddenly inquired. "I think so," he answered, curious as to why she was so excited about the food. She got off the bed, and swayed slightly on her feet. He steadied her, and she started looking through the cartons on the blanket. "I was just wondering if he left our guns in here," she explained quietly. He joined her on the floor and started looking through the various dishes. After a few minutes, she shook her head, "They're not here." She sat back on her heels. "Have you seen him yet?" Mulder shook his head. He heard a noise behind him, and got to his feet as he realized it was the door opening. "Mr. Scully, please stand behind your wife," Jacen's voice ordered from behind the door. "I have your weapon, please do not make me use it." Reluctantly he backed up until he was standing behind Scully. Frustrated, he put his hands on his hips and waited for Jacen to show himself. Scully stood up, and he noted with detached amusement how she positioned herself as a barrier between him and the door. Slowly, a figure emerged from behind the door, Mulder's gun in hand. Jacen looked at both of them, focusing on Scully. "Dana, I'm glad your awake. How are you feeling?" "Fine," she answered curtly. "No thanks to you," Mulder muttered loudly. Jacen glared at him, and Scully elbowed him in the ribs none too gently. "I'm sorry. But it had to be done." "Jacen, put the gun down," Scully advised him gently. "I know you don't want to hurt us. Please, just put the gun down." "No," he answered calmly. "You're right, I don't want to hurt you. But I will, if I have to. Your husband, I'm afraid, is more expendable than you. I don't want to shoot him, but I will." "Jacen," Scully continued in her non-threatening tone. "He is not my husband. We're FBI special agents. After medical school, I joined the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This man is Fox Mulder, my partner but nothing more." Mulder thought absurdly. "What are you talking about?" Jacen asked, confused. This was not the way it was supposed to be. "He must be your husband. What about everything you told me? About how you met and fell in love and got married?" "Jacen, I did meet Mulder five years ago," she continued softly, her hand outstretched, "except I was assigned to work with him. We didn't meet at a party through a friend. What we told you was a story. It didn't really happen. Mulder and I are not married." "You lied," Jacen realized, shocked. "You can't lie." He started to panic, but then his common sense kicked it, "Well, it doesn't matter. I still must do what I have been chosen to do." Mulder jumped in, hoping his years at Oxford would be of some help, "Exactly what have you been chosen to do, Jacen? Why did you kill those women?" Jacen looked at him, and the detached look in his eyes scared Mulder. It reminded him of the look in eyes of the leader of the Heaven's Gate cult. "I did what my Lord told me to do. To bring home his twelve disciples, and the messiah. I have brought him his disciples, and now I will give him the messiah." He looked at Scully, and Mulder's stomach knotted up. He felt her flinch in front of him as Jacen's words sunk in. Scully inhaled harshly. "Jacen, listen to me. I am not the messiah--" But Jacen wasn't listening. He stared at her, "Dana, I'm sorry." Slowly, he held his left hand up. In it he was holding a sheer white dress, almost identical to the ones the other victims had worn, except that this one had elaborate gold embroidery decorating the neckline and sleeves. Mulder took a step forward despite Scully's attempt to stop him, freezing as Jacen aimed the gun at him. "Mr. Mulder, please do not make me shoot you. I despise violence, but I will do what I have to achieve my purpose." His voice was even, leaving no doubt in their minds that he would carry out his threat if needed. Slowly he laid the dress on the floor, watching both Mulder and Scully very carefully. "Dana, please change into this dress while I'm gone. There is a basin in the corner for you to cleanse your face and hands with." His gaze shifted for a moment, then returned to her face, pleading her to understand. "I am not a cruel man. I brought the man I thought was your husband with you, so you could say good bye. Even if he is not your husband, I can see you are important to each other. Please, take the time I have given you to make your peace with each other." "I won't let you do this," Mulder threatened. Jacen smiled sadly, "I'm afraid you don't have a choice. If you prevent her from preparing herself for her journey, I will shoot you. And if she refuses, then I will cleanse and dress her myself. Do you understand?" Mulder nodded tersely, his entire body stiff with rage. When he remained silent, Jacen stared at Scully, "You have one hour. Please, use it for the reasons I intended." With that, he slowly backed out of the room, and closed the door behind him. The lock clicked ominously behind him. * * * "Mulder, stop that!" Scully snapped as he paced around the cramped room. She was sitting on the bed, playing with the white dress. They'd spent the last half an hour trying to come up with an escape strategy, and he'd spent most of the pacing. He stopped momentarily, then resumed it. She sighed--it was the fourth time she'd asked him to stop. He wasn't doing it to annoy her, he just needed to get rid of his energy. They'd been discussing various escape plans, and they'd both searched the room from floor to ceiling for a way out. Mulder had bruised his shoulder trying to ram the door a few times, until Scully ordered him to stop. She had attempted to open the lock with her earring, but hadn't been successful. "I'm going to put on the dress," she told him quietly, making him freeze in his tracks. "Scully, no," he protested, kneeling beside the bed. "That would be giving in to him. We can't do that." "I'm not," she promised. "We're not. I'm just going to change and do what he asked. He could be watching us, and we want him to think that we're cooperating. Maybe it's buy us some time." Mulder watched as she got up from the bed without the gown, remembering Jacen had wanted her to "cleanse" herself. Silently, he looked on as she meticulously washed her face, neck and hands. He sat on the bed, sighing in frustration. Glancing himself over, he realized with a small, sardonic smile that he certainly didn't look the part of a federal agent at the moment--his usual suit had been replaced by more comfortable vacationing clothes, and his sneakers weren't exactly FBI standard issue. His gaze then settled on the golden band resting comfortably on his left ring finger. * * * In the back of his mind, he had always hoped he'd get married someday. It had one of those things he'd never really thought about but always assumed he would do. But soon after joining the FBI, he had realized that his lifestyle left little time to find a wife. So he'd settled for having an attractive, intelligent and witty partner and best friend And he was pretty happy about his choice. Except for the times when her life was put in danger. Even if it wasn't his fault directly this time, he was the one who had wanted to shake the agents tailing them. If he hadn't lost them, then they probably wouldn't still be in this room. Or he'd at least know that someone else knew where they were. he chided himself. He hadn't put much effort into losing the agents, but it worked anyway. And now she was in danger again, and there was nothing he could do about it. * * * She washed her face carefully, trying to concentrate on the task rather than think about her fate. She hadn't been lying to Mulder about buying them time, but she knew also knew that she couldn't lie to herself. The house they were in (probably still in, anyway) was secluded and no one would think to look for them there. She and Mulder wouldn't have even discovered it if he hadn't been too stubborn to ask for directions. She checked her watch--fifteen minutes. Picking up a towel, she dried of her face slowly. She knew she needed to talk with Mulder, but he would never listen to her. He would hold out against all hope. Believe the impossible. She smiled sadly to herself; that's what had fueled his quest for the truth all these years. Belief in the impossible. She wanted to believe. In him, and in them. But she also had to face that if this was it, then she needed to say goodbye to him. She looked over at him sitting on the bed. He was staring at his hands. His left hand. She glanced down at her own left hand, fingering the rings she had almost stopped believing she'd wear someday. Marriage had always been something she'd assumed would happen naturally. As a career oriented woman, she hadn't had time to wait for a man to come along. She had always thought that someday she'd just meet the right guy, and eventually they'd settle down. Obviously that was before Special Agent Fox Mulder of the X- Files entered the picture. He had sent her controlled world in a tailspin, tossing everything she'd previously believed out the window. His quest had become their quest. On it, she'd seen more than she had ever thought possible, and tested herself to the breaking point. She'd survived and become stronger because of it. As had her relationship with Mulder. Over the past five years, they'd been to hell and back together. They'd survived mutants, alien retroviruses, shapeshifters, government conspiracies, the loss of family members, Russian experiments, and her cancer. And through it all, she and Mulder had had each other. Even if they hadn't been physically together, each knew that the other was out there, looking for them. And ultimately, they were all each other had. Here and now, they were literally all each other had. She knew she had to talk with him, because in a few minutes. . . Ten minutes. She got up and walked over to him on the bed. Sitting down, she prepared herself for what she had to say to him. "Mulder. . ." she paused, taking his hand. She hated to do this to him, to herself, but it had to be done. "We have to acknowledge that there's nothing else we can do we this point," she stated, knowing he wouldn't listen to her but she still had to acknowledge the possibility for both of them. "This is it." "No," he exclaimed, his eyes flashing in anger. "Scully, Skinner's out there, searching for us. We can't give up. He's probably got the building surrounded as we speak." "Mulder, you know if that were true, we would have heard something," she replied softly. She looked around the room, "And we wouldn't still be in here." He stood up angrily, turning away from her. His voice rose in volume as he turned back to face her. "Scully, we've been through too much to let some simple psychopath kill us! This isn't how it will end." "No, Mulder, this isn't how it's going to end," she agreed, fingering the white fabric. "I don't want to die. We are going to fight him until the end. We are not giving up. We will see this through together." He sighed in relief. He'd known she wouldn't give up, but it was a weight off his chest to hear her said it aloud. "But if I don't. . ." she paused, then continued, her voice strong and calm. "If I don't, I want you to promise me that you are still going to continue our work after I'm gone." "Scully--" "Mulder, listen to me," she interrupted firmly. She stood up, and locked eyes with him. "You are going to continue our search for the truth," her voice faltered and she looked down at her hands, "My truth. There's so much left for us to uncover, so many conspiracies to expose," she tried to joke, her humor falling flat. "Scully, I can't--" he protested weakly. She shook her head, "Yes, you can. And you will. And if you don't, I'll come back and haunt you," she threatened good- naturedly. He smiled and softly teased, "I thought you didn't believe in that stuff, Agent Scully." He looked down at her for a moment, and then hesitantly, he wrapped his arms around her. "I don't," she replied with a sad smile, resting her head on his chest, arms around his waist. She stayed there for a moment, savoring the warmth of his arms. Reluctantly, she pulled herself out of his embrace. "How long?" she asked, fearing the answer. "About six minutes," he answered, his voice catching with emotion. Silently, he turned away and walked to the furthest wall. He stood facing the wall, offering her privacy to change in. Without words she thanked him, and began to change. * * Mulder stared at the wall, studying the microscopic crevices in it. He wanted to just refuse to say goodbye to her, because if he did, it would be like giving up on both of them. But he knew that if she didn't. . .and he didn't say goodbye then he'd hate himself for the rest of his probably very short life. Dammit, they'd survived worse than this! They'd even survived her cancer. It just. . .they couldn't end like this. They wouldn't end like this. He heard her toss her clothing on the bed, and clear her throat, giving him permission to turn around. He did so, an idea suddenly entering his head. "Scully," he began, crossing the small room quickly to where she stood. "He'll probably tell me to get behind you again when he comes in. But there's now way for him to tell if I'm there or not without sticking his head out. I'll hide behind the door, and when he does, I'll grab the gun." Scully shook her head, "No Mulder. Didn't you see the mirror just outside the hall when he came in last time? He could see exactly where you were." He thought back, his eidetic memory replaying the scene perfectly. "Damn," he cursed softly. He looked at her in the white dress, throwing out the wild card he'd been thinking about. "What if when he comes in, you head for cover and I charge him?" He cringed inwardly before she even started speaking, her eyes flashing. "No! You heard him--he won't hesitate to shoot you. It should be me, he's already said that he needs me." "No," he replied equally as forcefully. "Scully, I'm not going to let you do that." "Well, *I'm* not going to let *you* do that," she returned firmly. He sighed--they weren't getting anywhere. The door handle started to turn. * * * Scully stared at him for a moment before turning around. She hoped to God that he wouldn't try something stupidly heroic to save her life like he usually did. She took a deep breath, turning around slowly. The door opened a quarter of an inch, and Jacen's voice ordered them to stay where they were, with Mulder behind her. Jacen slowly inched his way into the room, marveling at the unified front these two individuals presented before him. Dana stood in front of Mulder, much shorter but still with the presence of natural-born authority. They were close enough to be touching, almost as if each took strength from the other's physical proximity. "Dana, are you ready?" he asked softly. He noticed how tightly Mulder was coiled, almost as if ready to spring on him. "I am not taking her anywhere, Mr. Mulder. She will remain her with you. I advise you stay where you are," he warned, his gun steadily pointed at the tall figure. "Before I was reborn, I was a very dangerous man. Barely out of boyhood, and I already was an expert marksman." Scully noted that he was right--when most people held a gun, they had to hold it with both hand, and their hands shook at least somewhat, but his hand one was perfectly steady. She was sure he would have no trouble hitting his target. She was almost tempted to charge him herself, but that would kind of defeat the whole purpose of escaping with both their lives. Not to mention Mulder would feel guilty for the rest of his life. "Dana?" he pressed gently. She stared at him defiantly, and he knew that was the only answer he would get from her. "As soon as I leave, a gas will start to fill this room," he told them, not unkindly. "You will not be able to see or smell it, and you will not feel any pain, but it will make you feel very tired. You'll fall asleep one to three minutes later. I suggest you lie down on the bed, it's much more comfortable than collapsing on the floor." "And then you come back to murder her," Mulder snarled angrily. Jacen shook his head, "She'll be in a better place, Mr. Mulder. I assure you, she will feel no pain. The injection I will give her will make simply be as if she went to sleep and never woke up." "And if we don't let you leave?" Mulder demanded threateningly. Jacen didn't react. "The gas release is on a timer, and I have already ingested the antidote. Whether or not I leave this room does not matter." "What about Mulder?" Scully interjected, breaking the palatable tension between the two men as they stared at each other. Jacen looked at her in surprise as she continued. "What will happen to him?" "He will be made to forget everything that has happened her," Jacen answered. "No," Mulder declared softly and dangerously. It was a tone of voice that Scully had come to hate, the one he only used when his back was up against the wall and he knew he had nothing left to lose. "I refuse to lose the past week. I have lost too much time already." Scully could tell without looking that he was thinking about the others times when he lost time: when Samantha was abducted, when he was made to forget what he had seen at the Ellens Air Base and far too many other occasions. To Mulder, there was almost nothing more terrifying than not being able to remember. Jacen looked at him sympathetically. "Mr. Mulder, I am sorry. But I cannot allow you to remember what has taken place here. There is too much at stake for that." He paused, carefully considering his options. "If you would like, I will allow you to remember everything up until the evening you took a picnic with your `wife.' " When Mulder didn't answer, he added, "It is more than I allowed those before you to remember." "Forgive me for not jumping for joy," Mulder retorted angrily. Jacen looked over the couple before him. Despite their fate, they still stood proud and tall, more concerned about the other's safety than their own. Again he wondered about what he was about to do--dare he separate these two? But he must. And he would. "I am sorry," he apologized softly as he backed out the door. "But this is the only way. I am sorry." He closed the door behind him, hearing the click as it locked into place. He knew the room was soundproof, but he could swear he heard fists beating against the door, begging him to let them out. He couldn't let his misplaced feelings get in the way of his duty. He must serve his Lord, even if he must sacrifice. He must serve his Lord. * * * As soon as Jacen was out of sight, Mulder rushed to the door, reaching it just as it locked. He pounded on it helplessly, ignoring the pain in his hands as they connected with the stainless steel again and again. Scully watched him for a moment, then walked over and grabbed his fist. "Mulder, it's over." "No, it's not," he argued hopelessly. He looked at her, his stomach churning as he realized this could be the last time he saw her. "Scully. . ." he begged, not sure what he was asking of her. But somehow she knew. Quietly she suggested, "Why don't we sit on the bed." She took him by the hand, and he allowed her to lead him. Sitting down, she continued to hold his hand tightly as they sat in silence, their bond of communication without words as strong as ever. About a minute later, she blinked tiredly and realized what was happening. "Mulder," she called softly, breaking him out of his reverie. He looked at her, and saw the fatigue he felt reflected on her face, realizing how tired he was getting. "Scully, fight it," he pleaded, saying it for his sake as much as hers. He squeezed her hand, "Please, Scully. Don't fall asleep. Stay awake." His own mind growing fuzzy, he forced himself to focus on her. "Mulder, I'm sorry," she apologized, almost in a whisper. His heart broke as a single tear spilled over her cheek. "I'm trying. But it's so hard. I'm so tired, I can't fight it anymore." Her eyes pleaded with him to understand. He realized that they weren't just talking about this anymore--she was tired of the psychic psychopaths, the fake alien autopsies, the strange creatures trying to kill them in the woods. . .She was tired of fighting against a lost cause. He put his hand on her cheek and gently wiped away her tear with his thumb. "It's okay," he soothed, his throat tight with emotion. He had caused her so much pain in the past, he would be damned if he denied her these last few moments of happiness. "Why don't you lie down," he suggested quietly, the exhaustion he was trying to ignore becoming more evident in his words. She nodded, easing her body back onto the bed. She held on to his hand tightly, her motion forcing him to lie down also. She curled up next to him, and he uncertainly let go of her hand, putting his arms around her and drawing her close to him for the second time that day. It felt so natural to have her next to him like this. She leaned into his embrace, using his chest as a pillow, her body relaxing against his as the gas took effect. "Promise me you'll be okay," she asked, her voice small and wavering. She looked at him, and he smiled sadly as he brushed her hair out of her eyes. * * * "Scully, I can't make that promise," he answered regretfully, his voice rough and emotional. He had never been able to lie to her, and wasn't about to start to now. He knew just as well as she did that once she was gone, there was nothing left for him. The truth meant nothing without her to share it with. He blinked hard, trying to focus and clear the moisture that had gathered in his eyes. "Scully, you believe there's an afterlife, don't you?" he asked seriously. She nodded, curiosity written on her tired features. "Then I guess I'll see you there," he murmured. Another tear spilled down her cheek as she searched his face, looking for some sign that he would be okay. He felt like crying at the fear in her eyes-- fear for him. She was afraid for what he would do after she was gone. He held her tightly, burying his face in her hair. He could feel the emptiness swallowing him, and knew he only had a few more seconds left with her. "Scully," he whispered into her ear, his breath warm on her face. "I love you." He felt, rather than saw, her smile as she fought to answer him before sleep claimed her. "I love you too, Mulder." She smiled and her face lit up, joy filling both their hearts as tears made their way down her face. "I always will," she murmured as he pressed his lips to her forehead. She sighed contentedly, and let herself drift away in his loving embrace. "I will always love you," he promised hoarsely, closing his eyes. He felt her body go limp in his arms, and held her even more tightly against him, burying his face in the fiery hair he had always wanted to caress. "Always," he echoed softly. The darkness claimed him. * * * Jacen stood at the doorway and stared at the two still figures before him. They lay together, their arms wrapped around each other in one final embrace. "How can I do this?" he whispered, staring at the tears which still stained their faces, the ghosts of smiles which graced their lips. He had heard their declaration of love for each other through the microphone which he had used to listen to their conversation. It had stunned him into shock. It shouldn't have, because it had been obvious that they cared very much about each other. But their simple vow to each other brought tears to his eyes. Even to the very end, they had been more concerned about how the other was going to be than themselves. He walked closer to the bed, noting the protectiveness which Mulder still displayed toward his partner, even in death. He remembered how the agent had cursed and threatened him, even though Jacen was no where to be seen when he awoke and found Scully still unconscious. After he ran out of steam, Jacen had been surprised by the total silence which reigned over the room. Turning up the volume on speaker, he heard Mulder quietly talking with Scully, pleading her to wake up. Of course, at that time Jacen had thought they were married and hadn't thought anything unusual about the words which "Mr. Scully" used to revive his "wife." But thinking back on it now and knowing they were merely partners (although "merely" wasn't quiet accurate), he realized he should have known how much they cared about each other. "I know this is what You want," he acknowledged quietly, eyes upturned to the ceiling. "But are You sure? I do not meant to question Your wisdom, my Lord, but I must. These two. . .their love is as strong as Yours. How can I take that away from them?" He looked at Dana and Mulder again, seeing her golden cross resting across their bodies. "She is Your child, as is he. Would You deny them this happiness?" Silence was his only answer, but it was enough. He knew what he had to do. * * * He didn't want to wake up. He was safe and warm, and she was with him. . .No, she was being taken from him. Strong hands lifted her body away from his, but his own body refused to respond. Mulder struggled to clear his mind of the heavy fog restricting his thoughts and movements. But the swirling black mists pulled him down again, and she was gone. * * * He was in a hospital. Years of waking up from comas, gunshot wounds and other injuries had made him all too familiar with the sounds and smells of a hospital. Even before he opened his eyes, he knew what the room looked like. They were all exactly the same, except there was something different about this one. Scully wasn't waiting for him to wake up in this one. Sometimes she'd be sitting by his bed, other times standing across the room, arms folded across her chest, ready to berate him for his latest crazy adventure. He'd wake up, and for a brief moment, revel in the relief and happiness in her eyes. Far too quickly it would be replaced by a stern expression as she good- naturedly scolded him for getting himself landed in the hospital yet again. But she wasn't here this time. He could always feel her there, always. But now he couldn't. He struggled toward consciousness as panic filled his mind. He tried desperately to remember what had happened to end up with them both in the hospital, but his memory was refusing to cooperate. A voice suddenly whispered in the back of his mind. < "I'm sorry, Dana, but this is the only way." > he instinctively cried, remembering. . .nothing. The voice didn't have a name, didn't have a face. He couldn't remember what happened. But it didn't matter, he would worry about his forgotten memories after he found Scully. "Scully," he croaked, forcing his eyes open. He fought back nausea as he tried to sit up. A nurse checking his chart saw him, and put a gentle but firm hand on his chest, forcing him to lie back down. "Sir, I'm afraid you must stay still. You--" "Where's Scully?" he demanded with as much authority as he could muster. At her blank stare, he explained, "Dana Scully, the woman I was brought in with. Where is she?" The nurse merely shook her head, "I'm sorry sir, but I don't know who you're talking about. Let me get the doctor." He breathed in harshly as he realized what she was saying. As soon as she left the room, he again attempted to sit up. A wave of dizziness hit him, but he refused to lie back down again. If he was in Their hospital, or if They were trying to keep him from her, there would be hell to pay. A short, balding man wearing a lab coat entered the room carrying a clipboard. When he saw Mulder attempting to get out of bed, he snapped, "No so fast. You're in no condition to be going anywhere." "Where is she?!" Mulder demanded more forcefully. "The woman I was brought in with, her name is Dana Scully." "I'm sorry, no one with that name has been admitted to the hospital in the last twenty four hours," the stern-faced man replied, though not unkindly. "Twenty four hours?" Mulder repeated, suddenly wondering just how long he had been out. "When were we brought in?" "About nine o'clock yesterday evening," the doctor answered. Mulder looked at his watch--it was nearly seven at night. He started--he and Scully had been getting ready for their picnic yesterday at seven-thirty. "What day is it?" he asked cautiously. "Sunday." The doctor watched curiously as the nameless young man in front of him started swearing under his breath about "them" and "more lost time". He hated to interrupt, but he did need information about his patient. "Sir, I'm sorry but I'm afraid I need to get some information from you." When his patient nodded reluctantly, he asked, "Your name please?" "Fox Mulder," he replied, wondering why they were asking him for his name. Suddenly he realized that all his and Scully's identification had been in the car. No wonder they didn't know who Scully was! "I'm a special agent with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. The woman who was with me is my partner, Dana Scully. Do you know if she was admitted?" The doctor consulted his clipboard again, ignoring Mulder's question "Mr. Mulder, I have orders from an Assistant Director Skinner to ask you to contact him if you or Agent Scully were admitted." Mulder took only a moment to realize the state of mind Skinner must have been in to have issued such an order to local hospitals, but right now he was much more concerned with Scully than pissing off the AD. Pushing off the bed, he took a few shaky steps toward the door, grateful to be wearing a hospital gown that actually closed in back. Before the doctor could open his mouth, Mulder ordered him to go contact Skinner while he went to go look for Scully. "Agent Mulder, I must protest--" Mulder interrupted him, "Look Doctor. . ." he glanced at his nametag, "Doctor Zimmerman. I need to find my partner, and I refuse to sit back and wait for someone to do it. I'm going to look for her!" His outburst didn't faze the Doctor--he'd had more than his share of difficult patients. "Agent Mulder, if you do not get back in bed right now, I will have you put in five point restraints," Zimmerman warned, his glare approaching the intensity of the one's Scully usually shot at him. Mulder was about to angrily retort when a figure in a wheelchair in the hallway demanded, "Mulder, what the hell are you doing out of bed?" A relieved smile broke out on Mulder's face even before he turned to look at the petite figure. "Scully," he greeted happily, kneeling down as a nurse pushed her wheelchair closer to him. "How are you?" he asked, concern written on his features as he grasped her hands. She squeezed his hands back, "I'm okay, Mulder." She saw him taken in the IV stand attached to her wheelchair, and the needle stuck obtrusively in her right arm. "It's just a safety precaution," she explained softly, dispelling some, but not all of the worry in his eyes. "Ahem." Dr. Zimmerman cleared his throat behind Mulder, indicating that Mulder should get back in bed. "Agent Mulder?" "And exactly what are you doing out of bed, Mulder?" Scully demanded good-naturedly, a mock stern expression on her face. "Looking for you, actually," he admitted guiltily with a sheepish smile. "Well, you found me, so get back into bed, " she ordered, a smile dancing around her lips as he grumbled but did as he was told. Dr. Zimmerman looked on in satisfaction and thanked Scully. She smothered laughter at the face Mulder made at her from while the Doctor's back was turned as he explained Mulder's condition. After the doctor left, the nurse (who looked more like a security guard than nurse) pushed Scully's wheelchair to Mulder's bedside and warned him of the consequences if he got out of bed again. After a reprimand that would have made Skinner proud, the nurse left and Scully remarked, "Well, Mulder, it seems as if you've already made quite a name for yourself here." "You know, I've always wanted to be famous," he retorted dryly. He stared uneasily at the liquid pouch dripping into her arm, noting the lack of such medication running into his own arm. "Scully, why do you have an IV if I don't?" "I can arrange for one if you want it that badly," she offered lightly. When his forced smile didn't reach his eyes, she sighed. She had hoped he would leave it alone, especially the pain was still so fresh for both of them. "Late last night, I slipped into critical condition," she explained softly, her small hand clasped over his larger one in reassurance. "You were simply in a drug induced sleep, but for about fifty two minutes, I lost the ability to breath on my own. I was on a respirator for that time period, but then the medication they administered kicked in and I was fine. The doctors think it was a result of my weakened immune system from my cancer that caused the reaction." "But I thought you were fine," Mulder interrupted anxiously. "I am," she comforted him, squeezing his hand. "But the recovery period for my body to completely heal itself is a long time. It's nothing to be concerned about, just something to be aware of. It'll probably be a while before my immune system is back up to where it was before the cancer was a significant growth." She paused, struggling with the memories of the pain they both had gone through during those difficult times. "The doctors think whatever affected us hit me harder because of that. The IV is just something to help me recover faster." "So you're okay," Mulder stated in relief. She nodded, and suddenly the events of his very brief day caught up with him. He'd only been awake for about an hour, but he still felt tired, and could feel the effects of his medication starting to kick in. Drained from his earlier outburst, he sagged back against the pillow, his eyes closing despite his best attempts to stay awake. "We're both going to be fine. Go to sleep, Mulder," she whispered, brushing an unruly lock of hair away from his face. "Will you sing for me?" he murmured sleepily, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. She chuckled softly, remembering their trip to the Florida FBI conference which ended with her sitting in the middle of the forest, reluctantly singing to an injured Mulder cradled in her lap. "Not this time," she answered softly with a smile. " `Night Scully." "Good night, Mulder." * * * Walter Skinner stepped out of the elevator, heading for the nurses center. "I'm looking for Agents Mulder and Scully?" he asked one of the nurses. The man checked the charts, then pointed down the corridor. "He's in room 64. Down the hall to your left." Skinner walked brisky in that direction, furious at his two renegade agents. The doctor he'd spoken to said they'd been awake since seven o'clock last night, and Skinner had only found out where they were when someone called about the damned insurance! He couldn't wait to get his hands on Mulder for this one! He approached room 64, and strode in, opening his mouth to reprimand Mulder with a dressing down that would have made his boot camp drill sergeant proud. But instead he shut his mouth without saying a word, the scene before him neutralizing most of his anger. Agent Mulder lay curled up in his bed, looking surprisingly vulnerable in the sterile white room. He was clutching something tightly, and Skinner realized it was the hand of his petite partner, who was asleep in her wheelchair, her head resting on top of their intertwined hands. He stood silently for a moment, savoring in silence in the presence of the two agents. The only time they were ever quiet was when they were too pissed off to yell at him, and he was surprised to find himself wishing Mulder would make some out-of-line remark or that Scully would tell him in the most diplomatic terms possible to go to hell. Noticing a doctor walk by, he stepped out into the hallway. "Are you Doctor Zimmerman?" he called. "I am," Zimmerman replied evenly, giving no further information. "I assume you are the Assistant Director Skinner who ordered me to ask Agents Mulder and Scully to contact you." It was clear from his tone that he did not appreciate being told what to do with his patients, but Skinner really didn't give a damn. He had ordered those directions as a last resort when the search for his agents went past the forty-eight hour mark. "How are they?" Skinner asked, watching them from the doorway. "They're fine. Whatever they were administered appears to have run its course and there are not side effects." Skinner interrupted him, "What do you mean, `whatever they were administered'?" Zimmerman returned his glare with equal intensity-it wasn't that he was a bad-tempered man, he just didn't like it when someone questioned his competency or told him what to do, and this man had managed to do both in the last few hours. "We found a chemical compound which we were not able to identify in both their bloodstreams when they were admitted. We didn't administer any other medication in case they might interact, and they were able to sleep it off. Agent Scully had to be put on a respirator for about an hour very early Sunday morning, but as soon as she awakened she insisted it be removed, and hasn't needed any other aid since. We are administering a intravenous fluid to help build her immune system back up because she still hasn't completely recovered from her cancer treatments. I plan to release them this afternoon. If that's all right with you, of course," he added, an undetectable hint of sarcasm in his words. "That's fine. Thank you," Skinner replied. He glanced at his watch-it was still relatively early, and he figured Mulder and Scully would stay out of trouble long enough for him to go catch some rest. He hadn't slept since they had disappeared, and he was exhausted. Besides what kind of trouble could they get into in the hospital? He refused to answer that-with Mulder, anything was possible. * * * "Ah, Agent Mulder. Nice of you to rejoin the world of the living," a sarcastic voice greeted Mulder as he awoke. "Nice to see you too, Doc," he replied, still groggy. Realizing his partner was no where to be seen, he asked, "Where's Scully?" Zimmerman finished signing Mulder's chart and put it down on his bed. "She returned to her room to change and see if you two could be released today." "Good news, Mulder," Scully announced, walking into the room. "Doctor Zimmerman's letting us go as soon as you're changed." She glanced at the doctor and smiled. Mulder snickered quietly as Zimmerman blushed slightly and returned her smile. Shooting Mulder a glare, she dropped a change of clothes on the bed and told him to get dressed while she signed some forms. "Agent Mulder, may I speak with you for a moment?" Dr. Zimmerman asked after she closed the door behind her. Mulder got out of bed, and grabbed a pair of jeans off the bed. Grinning, he anticipated the good doctor's question. "Sorry, Doc, she's taken." He held up his left hand, and the Doctor sighed. "Ah well. It was worth a shot. Although," he added, his eyes narrowing. "I thought partners weren't supposed to get involved with each other." "Now Doctor Zimmerman, do we really seem like agents who do what they're *supposed* to do," Mulder answered, deadpan. Zimmerman raised an eyebrow, remarking dryly, "I see what you mean. Good bye, Agent Mulder." Mulder nodded his goodbye, and the doctor left, closing the door behind him. Chuckling to himself, Mulder quickly finished getting dressed and hoped Zimmerman wouldn't ask Scully for any details about her husband. * * * Finally signing the last form, Scully handed the clipboard back to the nurse and turned around to see Mulder coming out of his room. "Ready to get out of here?" she asked with a smile. "Always," he replied with a smile, then froze as the word sounded hauntingly familiar. he mused, trying to figure out why it suddenly had major significance for him. He stood lost in thought for a moment, and Scully watched in concern. "You okay?" she asked, bring his attention back from wherever it had been. "Yeah," he answered. When her concern didn't dissipate, he kidded, "Must be the hospital food." Not satisfied with his answer but reluctant to push him any further, she fell into step next to him as they headed for the exit. Walking out into the parking lot, Mulder was surprised to see their car waiting for them. "I talked to Skinner while you were sleeping," she explained as she fished the keys out of her bag and handed them to him. "They found the car when they found us, and I asked him to drop it off here." "And how exactly did they find us?" Mulder asked, unlocking the door for her. "I don't recall doing anything worthy of getting us both in the hospital." He opened it in an uncharacteristically gentlemanly manner, and she waited until he got in and started the car before continuing. "Apparently about eight-thirty on Saturday evening, an anonymous caller tipped off a 911 operator that there was an unconscious man and woman on what appeared to be a picnic out on a cliff. In other words, us. An ambulance was dispatched, and according to the ambulance driver, the fog was so bad that they were only able to find us because of the caller's excellent directions. We were both in stable condition but unconscious, and didn't seem to be in any danger. They ran tests, and couldn't identify a strange toxin that they found in a very small amount bloodstream." "Would that have been detected in an autopsy report?" Mulder asked. Scully could practically see the gears turning in his head as he analyzed what little information they had while still smoothly navigating the somewhat crowded Florida highway. Scully shook her head, "No, unless they were specifically looking for it. Which is why," she continued, a small smile on her face, "I called the coroner's office and asked them to run a blood analysis of the latest victim and her husband. It was found in both their blood, and I looked through the men's file, and one of the doctors had made a note about what appears to be the same toxin in the fifth man's file. He suggested that it might be some kind of air-borne tranquilizer, absorbed through the lungs, but that is yet to be proven." Mulder looked at her in amazement for a moment before returning his eyes to the road. "You did that all while I was asleep?" Scully shrugged, her eyes twinkling mischievously. "You were out for a while. I guess your insomnia was catching up with you." Mulder acknowledged her teasing with a smile of his own. After a few moments of silence, he asked quietly, "Do you remember anything?" "No," she answered regretfully. She played with her rings in the nervous habit she had acquired over the past week. "I remember arriving on the cliff, and setting up. You offered me champagne, and that's all I remember until I woke up." Mulder nodded tensely, his hands clenching the steering wheel. "Same here." "Mulder, Doctor Zimmerman said that the medics brought the champagne bottle with them, and it was nearly empty. He also said that there was strong evidence to indicate that we simply drank too much champagne and passed out. They ran a blood alcohol test, but the results were useless because the unknown chemical was interfering with the test." She paused, then asked cautiously, "Do you think that we just drank too much? After all, a bottle of champagne, even split between two adults, can--" "Scully, do you really think we'd do that?" he demanded. She shook her head--she hadn't honestly thought it was a real consideration, but she couldn't discount the possibility without first mentioning it to Mulder. "Not only were we on duty," he continued, "but I don't like champagne enough to even finish a glass, let alone drink half the bottle. And you don't exactly seem like the type to drink three quarters of a bottle by yourself." He looked over to see her shaking her head with a grin on her face. "You didn't know me in college," she joked. Lost in her thoughts, she was startled when he suddenly announced, "But it wasn't champagne! It was sparkling cider." She turned her head sharply to look at him, trying to picture that moment in her head. "You're right. So if we were found with champagne and an empty bottle, but took sparkling cider with us, then how did the champagne get there?" "The same way that unknown toxin got into our bloodstream," he answered, taking the exit off the highway suddenly. "Mulder, why are we going back to the cliff?" she asked, recognizing the now familiar scenery as he pulled up to their picnic site. "The police have already examined and cleared everything away." "I know," he replied, turning off the car. "But they may have missed something. And besides, do you really want to report back to Skinner now?" Sighing, she followed him out of the car. She watched as he knelt down and examined the grass where their picnic had been. Looking over the breathtaking scene before her, she took a moment to appreciate the clear blue sky and aqua water extending as far as she could see. A seagull coasted gracefully through the sky as a soft breeze caressed her face. Her eyes followed the bird, and she raised her hand to shield them as it flew in front of the sun. She dropped her hand slowly as the house on the horizon suddenly clicked in her mind. "Scully, look at these footprints," Mulder pointed excitedly. When he looked up, he saw her staring at something in the distance. He stood, and turned to see what she was looking at. "Is it just me, or does the that house appear very familiar for no apparent reason?" he commented dryly. "Shall we?" Without answering she started for the car, and he followed close behind, his hand resting on the small of her back. In the time it took them to drive to the house, Mulder and Scully both tried to recall exactly where they had seen it before. They hadn't really looked around before their picnic, and neither could remember any other time they had seen even a similar looking house. Getting out of the car, Mulder scrutinized the building before them. He could swear he could see an overlapping image of the same house, only this time with the skies pouring down on them as they ran up the stairs, and someone opening the door. But the image was little more than a long-forgotten memory. He passed it off as a strange coincidence, but nothing substantial enough to be worth mentioning. He was somewhat startled when Scully remarked about the strange feeling of deja vu she was getting, and he refrained from commenting on how great minds think alike as they climbed the stairs. The door seemed to swing open of its own accord when they reached the top, and Mulder instinctively reached for his gun, swearing under his breath when he realized it wasn't there. Scully exchanged a look with him--neither was too happy about entering without their weapons, but they also didn't want to have to come back later. Without a word they agreed on how to proceed, despite their lack of protection. Mulder entered hallway silently, his eyes scanning the right side of the room while Scully looked to the left for signs of life. There was no sign of anyone, and they cautiously proceeded to the next room. Room after room they searched in the same manner, until they reached the main living room. Something in the air was different as they readied to enter it, and Mulder looked at Scully, seeing that she also sensed the change. Again the door seemed to swing open by itself, and on a silent count of three, the two agents burst through the doorway. Mulder heard Scully sharply breath in as he froze momentarily. The scene before them was one of the eeriest and most disturbing they'd seen, and that was saying a lot. A man in his late twenties hung crucified on a large wooden cross in the middle of the living room. * * * Scully instinctively thought upon seeing the deceased young man. Even from where she stood next to Mulder, the unnatural pallor of his face indicated he had been dead for several hours. They both stepped forward cautiously, warily eyeing the body while looking for someone else in the room. Satisfied that they were alone, Mulder nodded to Scully, who stepped forward to examine the man while Mulder watched from where he was. The young man looked familiar somehow. He had shaggy sandy blond hair, but she could see natural roots of a striking red growing close to his skull. His head hung limply on his chest, his eyes closed and a look of something she couldn't identify on his face. The large cross was made of dark brown wood, and stood from floor to ceiling. It had been carefully placed in from of the large windows overlooking the cliff, giving the faint impression that the man was suspended in air just beyond the edge of the cliff. After getting over the initial shock of seeing this man in such position, the medical training in Scully took over as she examined him meticulously. The victim's feet were nailed about a meter off the floor to the base of the cross. His hands were nailed to the horizontal piece of wood on either side of his body by the palms. He wore only a plain white cloth strategically placed over his body. There was a deep gash on the right side of his torso, and blood stained his hip and leg, but somehow had left the white cloth untouched. She stared at the positioning of his body, and in her mind merged it with a painting that used to hang in her church of Jesus Christ's crucifixion. They were so similar, it was uncanny. "Could he have done this himself?" Mulder asked quietly from behind her. "No," she answered, still studying the figure before her. "The placement of the nails would have been impossible from the angle he's at. Not to mention, gravity would have pulled him down before he could secure himself enough to do this kind of damage. No, someone else did to this to him." "Or something else," Mulder answered mysteriously. Scully turned around to question him, when she saw him looking at a table in the far corner. She walked over to look at it, and bit back a gasp as she examined the tabletop. It was covered with pictures of her and Mulder. All three by five glossies, taken over the past week. There were a few closeups of her golden cross, but most of them were just regular shots. Her and Mulder in Orlando, the theater, even a few of them talking in their hotel room taken through the window. Glancing over the pictures, she realized that all of them had been taken after they'd seen St. Mary's Cathedral. She shivered inwardly as she found a pile of pictures of her and Mulder dancing at the Starlight Cafe from Wednesday evening. She stared at those pictures, feeling violated, but even more so than with the others. The rest of the time they had been tourists, playing the parts they had been assigned. But every time they ate at the cafe, it was like they weren't pretending anymore. Those had been private moments, and she felt a surge of anger at whomever had invaded their life like this. "Scully," Mulder called quietly. Startled, she looked up to find him staring into a huge cabinet. Crossing the short distance to where he stood, she was again startled by its contents. There were literally hundred of pictures on display, all of them featuring the twelve women who had been murdered. They were very carefully arranged into twelve sections, each categorized by a name and date. "I think we should call Skinner," she offered quietly. Without a word, Mulder pulled out his cell phone and called the Assistant Director. * * "Now why exactly were you here?" Skinner demanded, his sole focus on the two agents in front of him despite the flurry activity all around them. "Agent Mulder and I wanted to examine the crime scene," Scully tried to explain, but Skinner shook his head. "That doesn't explain how you ended up in here. Your picnic site is a good distance from here, and this house was in no way connected to the crime until you two discovered this evidence." Annoyed, Mulder jumped in. "When Scully and I were examining the crime scene, Scully saw this house and we both realized that something seemed familiar about it even though neither of us could ever remember seeing it before. We came to get a closer look, and the door was open. We investigated, and found that," he gestured to the cross, now lying on the floor. Skinner glared at him, but couldn't bring himself to give Mulder the reprimand he definitely deserved. It was Mulder's fault they had all been put through this to begin with, but it was also Mulder's completely not "by-the-book" approach which, combined with Scully's abilities, made their solve rating the highest in the current Bureau. In fact, it was one of the highest in the Bureau's entire history. * * * "Sir, you might want to take a look at this," Norton interrupted. He and other agents had been organizing the hundreds of photos. He led them over to the table, which was now contained twelve nearly identical photos. On the back of each was a name and date. The pictures were all the same--the female victim laid out on a white bed in a white room, holding a white rose and what looked like a mother-of-pearl cross in her hands, about six inches in length. Her hands lay across her chest, and a golden cross necklace was clearly visible at her neck. "These are the victims names, and each of them is dated on the Saturday before she was found." "Time of death," Scully observed softly. On a sudden hunch, she asked, "Did you happen to find a Bible?" Norton answered affirmatively, and she asked him to get it. "What are you looking for?" Mulder asked quietly after Skinner and the other agents had left. "I have a hunch," she answered honestly, smiling slightly at the look of false shock on his face. Whatever comment he had been about to make was interrupted by an agent holding out a photograph and elaborately decorated thick white book. "We just found this in the Bible," she explained, handing them both objects. Scully's eyes widened in shock as she looked at the picture. It was of herself in the exact same position as the other women. Except that Mulder was in in photograph was her. In her left hand, which was crossed over her chest, she held a white rose like all the other women, but her right hand was intertwined with Mulder's. He was holding the white cross in his hand which was crossed over his chest. They lay close together, but the pose was unnatural somehow. It looked almost as though they had been laid out for some ceremonial ritual. Slowly, Mulder flipped the picture over. "Mr. and Dr. Scully," Mulder read softly, then on the line beneath it read, "Agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully." The question of how the killer knew their names remained unasked, both trying merely to comprehend the implications of this photograph. A moment passed as they stared at their names, both real and pseudo, in silence. Then Scully pointed the to the bottom right corner, where it looked as though a date started to be written but had been left unfinished. "That's the day before yesterday, Saturday." She stared at him, apprehension written in both their eyes. "Mulder, what happened to us?" she asked quietly. He took the photograph in his hands, turning it over to stare at the picture in his hands. "I don't know," he answered softly. He placed it on the table and ran his hands through his hair. Placing them on his hips, he started to walk away only to turn back in frustration. "Dammit, I'm so tired of this!" he exploded softly to Scully. "Of not being able to remember." "Mulder, look at this," Scully interrupted, the ornately decorated Bible open to a page between the new and old testaments. He vaguely recognized it as the page where a family usually recorded deaths, marriages and births. He followed her hand down the page to where it was pointing. In elegant calligraphy, written in what appeared to be gold lettering, were the names of the twelve victims. To the right of each was a date of birth and date of death. Written to the left in smaller lettering on an upward slant were twelve men's names. "The twelve disciples," she stated quietly. Mulder scanned the names, realizing what conclusion Scully had come to. Naming them partially from memory, she read the disciple's name with the victim's next to it. "All the names match. For Peter; Petra Wilkins. Andrew; Andrea Johnson. James; Janie Ouris. John; Joanna Lipoc. Philip; Philius Hertus. Bartholomew; Bethany Loman. Thomas; Tomasina Snikes. Matthew; Mattea Olrand. James; Jemma Retugn. Thaddaeus; Thadia Compro. Simon; Simone Erinak. Judas; Judy Fustern." She looked up at him, horrified recognition in her eyes. "He's reenacting the twelve disciples. He thinks he's sending them back to God," she finished slowly, not sure where that understanding had come from. But somehow she knew that's what he thought he had done. "He believes it was his mission here to send God his twelve disciples, his prophets." Mulder nodded, knowing in his gut that she was right. "Then who were you?" "I don't know," she answered, staring off into space for a moment. "There were only twelve. Why add a thirteenth victim?" "Are there any people considered to be honorary disciples or anything like that?" Scully took a moment to think back over all the church services she had been forced to endure during her childhood, and later the services she had come to love. "No," she replied, shaking her head. "There are other people who have been considered to be disciples, but none are named specifically. At least, there's no one who stands out." Mulder nodded. He was about to open his mouth when she suddenly looked down. He saw her lifting a small piece of paper from the bottom line that had blended in before so they hadn't seen it. Carefully she pulled it off. "Oh my god," she breathed. The paper had revealed a name in gold leaf even more ornately decorated than the others: Jesus; Dana Katherine Scully. * * * Scully sat at her laptop in her now separate hotel room. The Bureau had sprung for a two-bedroom suite in the Starlight Hotel as a thank you, but she had to admit that she had gotten used to living with Mulder for the past week. She had spent the last few hours trying to get to sleep, but to her disgust, she found it too quiet without the TV turned on dimly in the background. Sighing, she had thrown on her robe and settled down with her computer and was now typing up her report. "The suspect has been positively identified as Jacen Reirden. In addition to the photographs in the house which he owned, we also found a journal detailing the specifics of each murder. It turns out that my theory was indeed correct--Jacen believed he had received a message from God, ordering him to find and return to Him His twelve disciples and the messiah, or arch angel, as Jacen often referred to her. There is no clear explanation as to why Jacen killed twelve women, when it was twelve men who were the original disciples." She paused for a moment, picking up the old-style leather bound journal next to her computer. After flipping through it absently for a few minutes, she put it back down and resumed her typing. "The first entry in the journal is dated over ten years ago. It would appear that this is the same teenager that I treated for a cocaine overdose while in medical school. He was comatose for three days, and when he regained consciousness was ordered to seek psychological help. We believe this journal was part of that treatment. "In the first several entries, Jacen writes about what he calls a "divine experience." In what I believe to be a drug- induced hallucination, Jacen claims that God spoke to him and saved him for a special purpose. This belief is reinforced when he awakens from his treatment, and the first thing he sees is a small gold cross I wear as a necklace. In accordance to God's directions, Jacen became a ordained priest for the Roman Catholic church and has been employed at St. Mary's Cathedral since that time. There he waited for some heavenly sign from above to tell him exactly what to do. Apparenly, David and Petra Wilkins's holiday approximately six monthes ago was that sign." Staring at the blinking cursor for a moment, she attempted to collect her thoughts. "In the last three entries, Jacen writes about the messiah. Although he doesn't mention a specific name, Agent Mulder and myself agree that this would appear to be my role in Jacen's delusion. That would also explain our disappearance. Each entry concerning the messiah, or arch angel, becomes more and more incomprehensible. It would appear that Jacen was beginning to question what he was doing." Scully hated to involve herself and Mulder so personally in a case, but it was the truth, and she refused to suppress the truth for the sake of her dignity. "A note should be made that our cover as husband and wife remained intact. From the journal, it would appear that Jacen only knew that we were not married after we informed him of it ourselves. He also expresses shock that I, being the chosen one, could lie, but soon decides that it is all right. He remains convinced through his entries that whether or not Mulder and I are married that we belong together. Jacen often asks if this, as in my murder, is what "You" (meaning God) really wants. He also expresses a deep concern for Mulder when he is left to "mourn for her" (myself). "The very last entry appears to have been made late Saturday night. In it, Jacen speaks of sacrificing himself for his angel and her companion. It would seem that in some twisted way, Jacen recognized that what he was about to do was wrong, but his delusions would not allow him to merely give himself up. Instead, he apologizes to "Him" (God) and offers himself as sacrifice. He also explains that while he could not take "her" from "him" (meaning myself from Mulder), he could not allow us to remember what had transpired. This would account for our memory loss, but also the unexplained insight we seem to possess into his mind." Scully continued writing for some time, tying up most of the loose end. She felt somewhat uncomfortable with leaving the report as it was, but also didn't know quite what else to put in it, and decided that it could wait until morning. Just as she was getting into bed, she heard a soft knock at the door. Glancing at her clock, she called, "Come in, Mulder." He opened the door and poked his head in, grinning sheepishly. "How'd you know it was me?" She smiled, and he returned it, though remaining in the doorway. "I heard you typing, and though you might want some company." "Nothing good on TV?" she asked dryly, raising an eyebrow. "I though we got the Playboy channel here." He colored slightly but walked the rest of the way into her room. Settling himself on the corner of her bed, he replied defensively, "I didn't check. Besides, I didn't feel like watching TV." Scully smiled and leaned back against the bed's headboard. He glanced at her now shutdown computer. "Did you finish the report?" "No," she shook her head. She stared at her hands, "I wasn't sure quite how to phrase some of the more sensitive details." "What? About how he hypnotized the men to assist him and then brainwashed them to forget what happened?" Mulder asked, concern written in his hazel eyes. He leaned back on the bed, and Scully realized the case must have affected him more than she'd thought--he was wearing his Knicks shirt and shorts, but his hair was damp, presumably from the shower he'd taken after his late night/extremely early morning run. "Mulder, those men didn't just assist him," she argued, despite the fact that this hadn't been what she was talking about. Her voice dripped with disgust and contempt for Jacen. "He actually forced each and every one of them to inject his wife with an unknown substance which killed her. And then he led that man to believe that he had assisted his wife to a better place." Mulder nodded slowly, "He's a killer who took advantage of his power and position." He looked at her, trying to catch her eye. "But that's not what's bothering you. We've dealt with this kind of psychopath before--what's different about this one?" She thought for a moment. Finally she answered hesitantly, "I don't really know. I guess the fact that I was, in a way, the trigger mechanism for all of this." At his surprised look, she continued, "If Jacen hadn't seen me when he woke up--" "Then he would have latched onto someone else to base his delusions on," Mulder interrupted. "Scully, this isn't your fault." She avoided his eyes, answering, "I know." Understanding that this was something she'd come to terms with herself, Mulder remained silent. A few minutes passed, then she broke the silence by asking, "How did you know where those room were? Or even that they existed at all?" Shortly after discovering the inscriptions in the Bible, Mulder and Scully had searched the house more thoroughly for clues. It was only on a sudden hunch by Mulder that they found the concealed doorway in the coat closet. It led down a full flight of steps to a two room basement connected by a hallway. Upon entering one of the rooms, Mulder and Scully both had an eery sense of deja vu again. Something about the white room with white carpeting and a white bed triggered a sense of recognition that could only have come from being in that room before. In the second room, they found an audio surveillance device which was hooked up to the first room. They found twelve carefully marked tapes in alphabetical order in a box next to the speakers, and soon discovered the contents of the tapes were the final moments of each woman's life. Playing back each tape, they were horrified to realize that each husband had been in some altered state of consciousness and had actually been the one to inject his wife with the toxin. What had been even more disturbing, however, was the tape found in the trash can marked "Scully". Everyone had held their breath as the tape was played, and simultaneously experienced relief and anger to realize the tapes had been erased. They had been sent back to Washington for further analyzation, but the experts there warned them not to expect too much. Mulder now realized it wasn't the disturbing nature of the crimes that bothered Scully so much as the unknown factors concerning them personally. He wished he could come up (for once) with a scientifically sound theory to explain what had happened to them, but he couldn't. "I don't know," he answered truthfully. "Do you remember anything?" She shook her head, "No. I just wish we knew what happened. It's like. . . I can almost remember it, but when I try I just push it further away." She sighed, frustration written clearly on her face. Mulder attempted to smile, "So don't push it. Let it come naturally. Forcing yourself to remember is just going to make it worse." She nodded, and he chuckled as she stifled a yawn. "I'll let you get some sleep," he offered, getting up from his position on her bed. On a sudden impulse, he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, "Good night, Scully." She smiled as he kissed her, then watched him walk away. "Good night, Mulder." He closed the door softly behind him slowly, and she listened with bemusement as he switched the TV on. The volume was turned way up, and she could hear Captain Kirk yelling for warp speed as Mulder quickly reduced the volume to a low murmur. She smiled to herself as she curled up in bed. Mulder would fall asleep with the TV on, but somehow be fully rested and ready to go in time for their flight tomorrow. Everything was back to normal. Or at least as normal as things got for her and Mulder. That night, though, they both dreamt of a man holding out a white dress while training a gun on them, and whispers of forgotten vows echoed through a hazy mist. * * * And from above, someone smiled down on them. The End Well, that took long enough! You've stuck with me this long, please let me know what you think! Write to me! CaptJenga@aol.com. No flames please, but I WANT FEEDBACK! (please?!)