Title: Closer to Fine Author: Xscout Rating: R Classification: ASR Keywords: MSR, Alternate Universe Spoilers: Grotesque, Tunguska, Terma, Paper Hearts Timeline: Approximately end of sixth season, but before Biogenesis. Summary: A serial killer and a deadly disease could lead them to disaster. Or it could take them closer to fine. Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully, Skinner and any other names you recognize but I forgot to mention, are the property of Chris Carter, 10-13 Productions, and Fox. I don't pretend they're mine and I have no illusions about their *ever* being mine. But everything else contained herein is. Author's Note: This is a sequel to a previous story called 'Fine'. I highly recommend that you read it first or this won't make complete sense. If you're clever you could probably figure it out, but why bother? Let me apologize to all of you who I've been promising this to for the longest time for making you wait and thank you for your patience and encouragement. Thank you to Kel for her medical advice, letting me bug her at all hours for the sake of accuracy. Please take a moment and satisfy my almost overwhelming curiosity and let me know what your thoughts are in regards to this story. XScout@hotmail.com Thank you, I truly appreciate it. Now, before you break your screen with your keyboard in a vain attempt to shut me up because you just want to read the damn story, let's begin. *************** Closer to Fine *************** Georgetown, Virginia Dana Scully's Apartment 6:23 a.m. She wrinkled her nose at the tantalizing aroma that wafted into the room. Cracking one eye open, she looked over at the clock on the nightstand. Almost half past six, too damn early to be awake. Scully stretched her arms languorously and a huge yawn escaped her lips. She heard the soft clatter of dishes in the kitchen and smiled to herself. Who would have thought Fox Mulder had a domestic side? She pushed herself into a sitting position and then swung her legs over the bed, toeing blindly until she found her slippers. She padded quietly down the hall and through the living room, noting that the sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon. He was standing at the stove, carefully turning the bacon so it cooked evenly, his spatula-free hand holding a glass of orange juice that he sipped from occasionally. She snuck up behind him and slipped her arms under his, pulling him into a hug. He didn't even flinch. "Morning, sleepyhead. Finally decide to join the land of the living?" Dana was mildly disappointed that she hadn't been able to startle him. "Mulder, six-thirty is hardly what I call 'sleeping in'. Why are you up so early?" He shrugged. "Couldn't sleep." She tightened her embrace. "Nervous?" He turned around within the circle of her arms and looked down into her eyes as they stared up at him. "Yeah," he sighed, "I guess I am." "Me too." Stretching up on her toes, she placed a warm kiss on his lips. "I'm worried about you pushing yourself too hard and making your condition worse. I know I can't do much about it, but I can still worry. So what's *your* reason for being nervous?" Mulder swiveled around to turn the bacon over. "It's not so much the idea of profiling that bothers me. I did it for years; I can do it again. Especially now that I have you to make sure I don't become too... involved. I think it's the fact that I'll have to face a lot of people who see me as... not quite sane." "That's never bothered you before," Dana pointed out. "I know. But in the VCS, it's important that they take me seriously, that they take my work seriously. Otherwise, people could die." "I wouldn't worry about that, Mulder. I think your reputation as the best analyst in Violent Crimes is well known throughout the bureau. Besides, it's been what, eight years since you left? How many new faces do you think you'll see?" she reasoned. "True. Other than all the assistants and researchers, I believe there are only a few people who I won't know. I think there's only been about three who've left the unit, not including Patterson. That leaves seven full-time profilers who would recognize me by more than my name. Richard Davis took over for Patterson as head of the ISU, he's a pretty fair guy, doesn't hold a grudge." Scully raised an eyebrow. "Are you trying to tell me that other agents might hold a grudge against you? Whatever for?" He sighed. "Because I had a tendency to be right more times than they were." "In other words, they were jealous that you were the fair-haired child and couldn't stand the fact that you had a much higher solve rate as a rookie?" "That about sums it up. The last thing I need is for them to see me as a crippled prodigy. That'd just add fuel to the fire." Mulder removed the bacon from the pan and set them aside to cool. "How do you want your eggs?" "Over medium." She leaned against the tiled counter beside him. "Do you really think that your condition will make that much of a difference in how they perceive you? Most of them already know you, have worked with you before, and the new agents were brought up hearing 'Spooky Mulder' stories. Trust me when I tell you that all of them will have preconceived opinions about you. The fact that you have an unexplained illness will just be something to add to your mystery." Scully sat down at the breakfast table as Mulder set her plate in front of her. He walked back to get his own plate. "My mystery, huh? And do you find my mystery alluring, Agent Scully?" "Absolutely," Dana purred. His answering chuckle was broken off by a gasp. Scully looked up to see that Mulder had stopped halfway between the kitchen counter and the table, his face a mask of pain. She stood up quickly, moving forward to catch him if he fell. He didn't. But the plate in his hand did. It crashed to the floor, fried eggs and bacon strips spilling onto the tile. His arms wrapped around himself in a useless gesture of protection against the agony, his muscles spasming as the tremors ran their course. Then, as quickly as it had come, the seizure subsided. It took him a second to reorient himself and when he did, he let out a tiny cry of dismay. Dropping to his knees, he began to gather up the remnants of his breakfast. "I'm sorry, Scully. I'm so sorry." She knelt beside him and stilled his frantic actions with a touch of her hands. "It's okay, Mulder, that's why we bought plastic dishes. Nothing a little water and a sponge won't fix." Mulder picked up his plate, bacon grease and egg yolk dripping off the edges, and walked over to the sink. Suddenly, anger swept over him and he slammed the dish into the basin. "God damn it! What the hell am I going to do when this happens in front of the team?" He placed his palms on the edge of the counter and leaned forward, his chin almost touching his chest. "What am I going to do?" he whispered. Scully was beside him instantly, taking him into her arms. "Oh Mulder, is that what is *really* worrying you? We are due to meet with Davis the first thing this morning and we'll clarify a few things about your condition. Then we are going to go in there and we are going to show them the best damn pair of agents that the bureau has ever had, regardless of physical impairments. We will explain it to them, tell them how to deal with it when it happens, so that they realize that it is nothing to be afraid of. If we treat it as a fact of everyday life, they should accept it as such and that will be the end of that." "And if it isn't?" "Then they'll have to face my wrath," she intoned ominously. Mulder grinned. "They'll learn real quick that dealing with serial killers is safer." ************ Quantico, Virginia 8:55 a.m. They stood in the elevator, briefcases in hand, eyes fixed on the numbers above the doors. "Jesus, Mulder, how deep is this place?" "Sixty feet down. The ISU is what used to be a bomb shelter built during the McCarthy area. See, there *are* worse places than the basement." "Do they have heat and air conditioning?" "Yeah, I think they installed it a couple years ago." "Then it's the Hilton compared to our office." Mulder grinned. "Well, you know my penchant for choosing the less... reputable hotels." "I *knew* you did it on purpose. Do you know how many times-" she broke off her sentence as the elevator announced its arrival at their destination. She gave Mulder's hand a quick squeeze before the doors slid open. They stepped out into a large room that contained nothing but workstations. Most were occupied but a few were empty, their owners off on one errand or another. Both walls to the left and right were lined with doors that led to private offices, assigned to the senior profilers. The wall opposite the elevator housed only one door - the one for the head of the Investigative Support Unit. That specific door had just opened and a man emerged, heading straight for the newcomers. He was a tall man, thinning hair, meaty limbs, could stand to lose a few pounds. His large nose was placed in a cock-eyed position on his face, set below a pair of brown eyes. His mouth was open, revealing a row of slightly discolored teeth, evidence of too many caffeine binges. As he came towards them, his arms opened wide and he boomed in a friendly voice, "Mulder! Welcome back!" Those who hadn't looked up before did now, upon hearing the legendary name. Heads swiveled to stare at the man who could write the impossible profile, catch the uncatchable. Spooky Mulder. A soft murmur ran through the room as the newer members of the team questioned the older agents on the return of the Golden Boy. Mulder reached out to take Davis' proffered hand. "Rick, good to see you. Who would've thought they'd saddle such a good guy with Patterson's job." Davis laughed loudly at this. "No one else wanted it, so I got stuck with it." Placing a hand on the small of her back, Mulder pressed Scully forward slightly. "Rick, this is my partner, Dana Scully. Scully, this is Rick Davis, head of the ISU." "Ah, the eminent Dr. Scully. It is a pleasure to have you working with us." He shook her hand aggressively, jarring her arm in the process. She carefully extracted her hand from his grip. "I'm looking forward to it." "Come on, let me show you your office. In fact, I think it's the same one you had before, Mulder." He turned and walked to the left, his finger pointing at the door farthest from the elevator and closest to his own office. He held the door open as the two agents entered. "Why don't we have our first meeting in here?" "Fine," Mulder said absently, his eyes inspecting every inch of his new home at the FBI. He kept trying to keep in mind that it was only temporary. "I see you didn't bother to fix the hole." He gestured to a large dent in the drywall just to the right of the window. Davis shrugged. "It's kind of a historical monument. I still remember the look on Patterson's face went you did that." Dana's eyes went wide. "You did that, Mulder?" "Yeah." He looked sheepish. "I wanted to transfer out of here and Patterson wouldn't let me. I took it out on the wall. All I got for my trouble was eleven stitches and another year in the ISU." Scully grimaced at the thought of Mulder's knuckles slamming into the wall. She decided to change the subject to safer territory. "Look, there's even a couch in here." Davis nodded. "Yup. I had it moved in here when Skinner told me about Mulder's condition. Thought it might be useful." "I'm fine. I'm not sick, I don't need to take naps." Mulder's face was stony. Scully moved to intervene in what appeared to be the makings of an argument. "That was very thoughtful, Sir. Though Mulder won't be needing it as a result of his condition, I'm sure it will be put to good use in the context of daily work." Davis looked confused for a moment but then realization dawned in his eyes. "Still don't sleep much when you're on a case, huh Mulder?" Mulder ignored him. The older man shrugged and seated himself on the object of the conversation. Mulder had already taken the high-backed chair behind the desk and Scully leaned back on the edge of the desk. "All right, let's get serious. Mulder, you know the drill, I expect you to show Agent Scully the ropes. Assistant Director Skinner specifically requested that you two not be separated, so you'll share this office. I requisitioned another desk, but it won't be here until tomorrow. Now, Skinner didn't go into detail about your... special case, so I was hoping that you could clarify some things for me." Scully decided that this was a line of questioning that was better suited to her expertise. "Agent Mulder is suffering from a non-communicable condition in which he experiences seizures of an undocumented nature. They are periods of intense pain that usually pass within a half-minute. They can last up to a minute, but any longer is rare, though not unusual. There is no known treatment and no prescribed methods to deal with the seizures. Just wait them out." "Hmmm. And you're cleared to work with these... seizures?" Davis chewed on his lip thoughtfully. "Yeah. Skinner okayed my return to work, but without field agent status. I'm not allowed to drive but I can visit crimes scenes, do interviews, all the stuff I used to do here." Mulder couldn't help the bitterness that seeped into his tone. Davis had only one more question. "Do you want me to talk to each of the team members about this, or do you want to approach them yourselves?" Scully answered for her partner. "I think we should do it ourselves. Coming from us would make it less foreboding and more of a reality than coming from their superior. They can ask questions and we'll explain that this is nothing that they need to be concerned about." "Well, that's about it." He stood from the couch and took a step forward so that he was right in front of the desk. "I hope you don't mind, but I put together some case files that needed to be looked at. Don't worry, I kept it light so that you could get back into the swing of things." He headed towards the door after nodding to both of them. "Glad to have you aboard." With that, he disappeared into the bullpen. Scully levered herself off of the desk and circled around to face her partner. "He gets right to the point, doesn't he?" She surveyed the office and her eyes came to rest on the stack of folders lying on the hardwood desk. Fingering through them, surprise lit her eyes. "There must be thirty case files here!" "Well, he did say that he had kept it light." "You call this light?? How many is normal?" Scully raised an eyebrow in consternation. "Fifty or so are always open, though I try to focus on only one at a time. Just think, now that I have someone else to work with, we'll get it done twice as fast." He smiled evilly as he reached for the folder on the top of the pile. "Wait a minute." Her fingers touched the back of his hand, aborting his motion. "I think we should talk to the team first. Why don't I go introduce myself to them and ask them to come in one by one?" Mulder sighed. "All right. But get the senior agents first. They tend to get testy if rank isn't respected." "However did you last three years down here, Mulder?" ********* 11:29 a.m. "That was the last one." "Good. I think the kid was about to wet his pants." "He did look kinda shaky, didn't he?" Mulder grimaced. "If he had trembled any harder, I would have thought that it was *him* with the seizure problem." Scully could help but laugh. "Well, it's over and done with. Now all we have to worry about is how they'll react when they see it for the first time. It's a good thing that we made it through all the interviews without you having one." "Yeah, I thank my lucky stars," was the sarcastic reply. Dana glanced at the windows, double-checking that the blinds were drawn, then moved around to stand behind Mulder, placing her hands on his shoulders. He rotated his neck as she rubbed away the tension, his head finally falling back to rest on her stomach. "I'm sorry, Scully. I know that I haven't been the most positive person ever since..." She bent down and kissed his upturned forehead. "No, Mulder. You would be surprised at how much more upbeat you have become. I have never seen you smile so much." He swiveled sideways in his chair, grabbed his partner and pulled her down into his lap. "And what do you think caused my change in attitude?" His lips left a burning trail down the side of her face and her neck. "Mmmm," she hummed in pleasure. "I love you too." He pulled back and flashed her a huge smile. "What?" She cocked her head in confusion. "Nothing. It's just that I love it when you say those words to me. I can't get over it." Her eyes softened and she reached up to run her fingers through his hair. "I love you, Fox William Mulder, with all of my heart." Mulder had to struggle to keep tears from springing to his eyes. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck, smelling the delicate fragrance that was her. "I love you so much, Dana." Scully was fighting her own tears, the desperate tone in her partner's voice making her heart skip a beat. His arms tightened around her and she returned the gesture. His embrace grew even tighter and she was starting to have a problem breathing. "Mulder?" she gasped. She could feel the shudder that ran through his body. She squirmed in his arms so that she could see his face, pushing against his chest until she had enough room to breathe. His eyes were clenched shut, his breath being sucked in through his nose as he tried to deal with the pain. Her hands moved up to his face, caressing his temples, wishing that she could alleviate his agony. Finally it passed and his arms relaxed, his breathing slowly returning to normal. He opened his eyes to find Scully staring at him with concern. His own eyes mirrored hers. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" "No, not at all." One last stroke of his cheek and she pushed her self out of his lap. Both regretted the sudden lack of physical contact, but the seizure had drawn them both back into reality. It was time to get to work. ********** 4:51 p.m. "You almost finished with that one?" She waited patiently for an answer. "Mulder?" "Huh? What?" "I asked if you were almost done?" Worry stained her irises gray. "Um, yeah. I just have to add a few more notations," he said absently, his eyes never leaving the paper he was scribbling on. "Then I'm going to run these finished files over to Davis. Be right back." No reply. She didn't really expect one. She heaved a sigh and left, walking the few feet to their new superior's office. She noticed that most of the workstations were now empty, but lights could be seen in several of the other offices. Looked like the older profilers usually stayed late, unlike the less seasoned agents. She knocked on Davis' door and entered after she heard a grunt of assent. "Sir, I brought today's finished assignments." She held up the stack of folders for him to see. "That many? Spooky hasn't lost his touch." He used the nickname without malice, more like reverence, so Scully didn't comment on it. "It's just one preliminary profile and three local police consults. He is finishing up another consult right now." She set the files on his desk and waved her hand at them, a sad expression on her face. "It is certainly a learning experience." "Yeah. I remember my first day in the unit. I don't think I ever threw up so much in the space of eight hours. It is horrifying to think of all the sick people in this world. I thought I would go crazy if I dwelt on it too much." He leaned back in his chair and rested his hands on his stomach. "Mulder was brought in only a few months after I started. He was so good it was scary. It was like he had been doing it all his life. But he really connected with everyone - the victims, the killers, everyone. I had learned that I had to distance myself from the people involved or the depression would swallow me whole. I know it was eating *him* alive. I couldn't help but wonder why he did it? Why did he put so much of himself into his work that he was so affected? One day I got up the nerve to ask Mulder. You know what he said? I'll never forget it. He said, 'Because I can'. Then he picked up a photo from the case he was working on and passed it to me. It was a candid shot of a little girl. Pigtails, freckles, smiling from ear to ear, and eyes as blue as the sky. I remember that picture vividly. So there I was, with the photo of the All-American Girl in my hands and I didn't get it yet. Mulder gestured at the picture and said, 'Look at that little girl and tell me if she isn't worth it? If she deserves any less?' "To this day I still think back on that conversation. Since then, I have never looked at a body as just a piece of evidence, seen victims as sources of information. They deserve nothing less." Davis inhaled deeply and then let it out in a long, slow breath. "Agent Scully, I won't lie to you. I don't know if profiling is the best way for Mulder to recuperate from his condition, if he will be able to deal with so many traumas at once. I was reluctant when Skinner came to me, but I certainly wasn't going to pass up the opportunity of getting Mulder back in profiling. You are his partner, his doctor, and his friend. He trusts you. I expect you to let me know if it is too much for him to handle." Dana was touched at the senior agent's concern. "Yes, Sir. I intend to keep a close eye on him." "I'm sure you will." A huge grin was plastered across his face upon that last remark. Scully wasn't sure if it meant what she thought it did, or if she was just being paranoid. She mentally shrugged and left the office, still pondering on the insights of the head of the ISU. ******************* Dana Scully's Apartment 6:16 p.m. "Not bad for a first day's work, wouldn't you say?" Scully asked as she spooned spaghetti onto the two plates. "Mulder? Mulder, did you hear me?" She set the pot down and wandered into the living room, wiping her hands on her apron. She found her partner sitting on the couch, a file open in his lap, several others piled on the coffee table. "Mulder?" His head snapped up, his glasses slipping down his nose at the hasty movement. "I'm sorry, what?" She put her hands on her hips and scowled. "Dinner's ready. Are you working?" Mulder ran a hand over his chin and mouth in a nervous gesture. "Um, yeah. I wanted to get a head start on tomorrow. We still have at least four more priority cases to go through." Scully walked over and held out her hand. Mulder didn't move. A dangerous gleam came to her eyes and he bowed his head in defeat. He closed the open folder and placed it in her palm. "Today was our first day back at work, I think it can wait. Besides, I prepared a special dinner to celebrate. Spaghetti with my mom's secret sauce." Before she could set the file back on the table with the others, Mulder was in the dining room, standing by Scully's chair. She smiled and followed at a less frantic pace. Sitting gracefully into the chair he pulled out for her, she couldn't help but wonder if the way to a man's heart really *was* through his stomach. Mulder disappeared for a moment and she soon heard noises from another room. "Mulder? What are you doing?" "I'll be right there, hold on a sec." Eventually he returned, trying to carry several things in his arms. Somehow he made it to the table without dropping anything. He placed the candles on the table and lit them with a match. Then he moved over to the stereo and placed a CD in the tray, the soft strains of Bach dancing through the air. Lastly, he popped the cork of the champagne he had managed to hide from her and poured two crystal goblets to the brim. Finally he took his own seat and looked expectantly at his partner. Her face, softened even more by the candlelight, was set in an expression of wonderment. Her cheeks flushed and the moisture on her lips catching the flickering light, she was the most beautiful creature Mulder had ever seen. And he had brought that look of happiness to her face. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Raising his glass, he made a toast. "To us. Working together, being together, loving together." Dana picked up her own glass and brought it forward to delicately clink with Mulder's. "To us," she repeated and took a sip. "Mmm, that's good." "Better be, at the price I paid for it." He forked some noodles into his mouth, savoring the taste before swallowing. "Delicious." "Thanks. Wait until I try out Mom's meat loaf recipe." Scully waggled her eyebrows. "Ooh, I think I just got a chill of anticipation." Dinner passed in contented conversation, banter about inconsequential matters. When they had both cleaned their plates, Mulder stood and moved to stand next to Dana. Her head tilted back on her shoulders to look up at him and she was caught a bit off guard by the hand he held out in front of her. She raised an eyebrow in question. "This is a full service celebration, Scully. That means dinner, dancing, and debauchery." "You make it sound so romantic," she chuckled. She placed her own hand in his and he pulled her out of the chair, into his arms. Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 was playing and they swayed around the room, holding each other close. They danced around furniture as they moved from room to room, both knowing their destination. The last note of the concerto was joined by the decisive thud of the bedroom door shutting. ********* End 1/9 Date: Tue, 08 Feb 2000 00:07:13 PST Subject: xfc: NEW: Closer To Fine part 2 of 9 Source: xfc From: "XScout --" Summary and Disclaimer in part 1 ********** ********* Two Weeks Later Monday 3:11 a.m. It had begun. She knew it would eventually, had accepted that fact when they took the assignment. But she had hoped that maybe her influence would help keep it at bay. After a full week in the ISU, she had almost believed that to be true. I want to believe. She caught the flailing arm just in time to avoid it being slammed into her face. "Mulder! Mulder, wake up!" "No! No, don't!" The cry was torn from his throat, a testament to his inner struggle. "Mulder, please!" Scully pulled on his other arm and pinned them both to his side. "It's all right, you're just dreaming." He sat bolt upright with a gasp, his eyes wide and dark. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and covering his face with both hands. Breathing loudly through his nose, he rocked back and forth slightly. Dana crawled across the bed and knelt behind him, placing her hands on his back. His shirt was damp beneath her palms and his shoulders heaved with each deep breath. "Mulder?" He remained silent, continuing his rocking. She chewed on her lower lip, trying to decide if he just needed more time or if she should start to seriously worry. Before she could determine her course of action, he took the matter out of her hands. He stood up suddenly and strode quickly into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a force that wasn't quite a slam, but couldn't exactly be considered soft either. Scully remained where she was, her hands now resting on her knees. She held her breath, her ears straining to pick up any noise from the bathroom. Nothing. Apparently, Mulder hadn't reached the scale of nightmare that caused him to expel everything he had eaten in the past twenty-four hours. She chuckled humorlessly. How many other people had a rating scale for nightmares? Mulder had always been prone to bad dreams, how could he not with a life such as his had been up to this point? But, ever since he had come to live with her, the frequency and severity of those dreams had lessened considerably. She could only hope that this was one of those few times and not a byproduct of profiling. Fat chance. The sound of running water filtered under the bathroom door and she could picture Mulder standing over the sink, bringing his cupped hands to his face to splash the cool liquid on his features. Then he would run a damp hand through his tousled hair, teasing it into a semblance of calm before he felt recovered enough to confront the world. When he finally emerged, the droplets glistening on his face and in his hair were evidence that her imaginings had become reality. He wouldn't look at her as he moved to the closet, pulling his tennis shoes from the bottom. "What are you doing?" Dana asked quietly. His voice was even and measured as he answered, "I'm going for a run." "It's almost three-thirty in the morning, Mulder." She waited for a response, but he just continued to tie his laces. "Can't we go jogging after the sun comes up?" "Go back to sleep, Scully, I'll be back in an hour." "What?? You want to go running by yourself?" She stared at him in astonishment. They had been jogging together in the mornings so she could keep an eye on him, make sure he didn't put too much strain on his heart. "Mulder, what if you have a seizure and fall and seriously hurt yourself?" All of a sudden, his calm veneer disappeared. "What do you want to do, Scully?! Do you want to spend the rest of your life holding my hand as I do simple things that I have been doing for most of my life? I am not a fucking invalid! I can take care of myself, for Christ's sake!" Her face went pale at his tirade and she bit her lip to keep the tears from coming. She would not cry, she would *not* cry. Not over an inane argument that was caused by too much stress. Mulder was just affected by the nightmare, that was all. He saw the color drain from her face and with it went his anger. He pushed himself up from the floor, walking over to the bed. He knelt in front of her and covered her hands with his own. "Scully, I'm sorry. I had no right to yell at you like that, especially about your supporting me through all this. I appreciate the fact that you worry about me, that you want to be sure that I'll be all right; it makes me love you all the more. But, Scully, this is different. "Usually when I have nightmares, I can turn to you and know that I can find comfort in your arms, solace in your words. But profiling dreams are different. In them I see the killer or, more likely, from the killer's point of view. It is like it's me committing the crime, causing death and sorrow, enjoying it." He swallowed loudly before continuing. "When I wake up from those, I can't turn to you. I am so angry, so confused; I wouldn't want to... I don't want to..." "You're afraid you'll hurt me," she finished for him. He nodded solemnly. "It's sometimes hard to distinguish between my thoughts and the killer's. The only way I can vent all that anger and fear is to run it off. Thank God I was usually alone when I woke up, because I don't think I could have controlled myself. One time, I wasn't by myself. Diana and I had been seeing each other for months, and she stayed over one night." He shifted uncomfortably. Diana Fowley was still a bit of a sore subject between the two agents. "I had a nightmare and she had the misfortune of being there when I came out of it. I started yelling and throwing things, ranting and raving about whatever insanity was going through the head of the killer I was profiling at the time. I grabbed her and pinned her against the wall, ready to tear her apart, when I suddenly remembered where I was and what was going on. "She was so terrified, Scully. She was afraid of *me*, afraid for her life. She told me that I needed to get out of the ISU, that someday I wouldn't be able to come back from wherever it was that I had been. The next day, we started looking for somewhere else in the FBI that I could put my talents to use." "You found the X-files together," Dana murmured, remembering what Mulder told her when she had first met Diana. "I don't ever want to put you in that position, Scully. I don't ever want to see fear in your eyes because of me. Maybe you should put in for a transfer to Quantico." His eyes were fastened on their hands. "No," she replied immediately. "Mulder, look at me. Skinner kept us partnered because we're better together than we are apart and I, for one, am inclined to agree with him. Besides, what good would it do? You'd still be here with me. Or are you saying that you want to leave?" His head shook rapidly. "No!" Watery eyes looked pleadingly into hers. "Unless you want me to." Scully had to mentally stop herself from rolling her eyes and sighing. Sometimes he could be so daft. "Of course I don't want you to leave. Mulder, we'll deal with it. I don't know how, not until it happens, but we'll deal with it. I know what to expect... sort of... and I won't be afraid of you, because I'll understand. You're not going to get rid of me that easily, Fox Mulder." She took his face between her hands and leaned forward to kiss him gently. "Now, go run." Mulder scooped up her hands and brought them to his lips. "Scully, I don't know what I did to deserve you, but I am thankful every day that I have you." He stood from his crouched position and headed into the hallway. "Mulder," Dana called after him. He poked his head back in, "Yeah?" "Don't push too hard, remember what the doctor said." "No extra stress, I got it." He grinned reassuringly before he departed. Scully waited until she heard the front door close before she fell back onto her pillow. Grinding the heel of her left hand in her eye, she stared at the blurry red numbers of the alarm clock. Her groan of dismay was broken by a huge yawn. Life with Mulder certainly kept her on her toes. ******** Investigative Support Unit 11:21 a.m. 'There are five short, jab-type, incisions at the lateral most lower left forehead. These just penetrate the outer table of the skull beneath this area, the largest being 0.2 x 0.1 cm. Just inferior and posterior to these jab wounds is a definite, penetrating stab wound of the skull. At the skin, this is diagonal with the blunt end 0.2-0.3 cm in thickness, and being at the anteoinferior aspect of the diagonal stab wound, and the acute angle at the superoposterior aspect of the wound being 1.4 cm long. At the skull, this makes a similar triangular-shaped wound, more horizontal over the right sphenoid bone, with a base thickness of 0.2-0.3 cm and length of 1.4 cm. The anterior-most 1.0 cm of this stab is the actual penetration of the skull.' Mulder pulled off his glasses and set them on his desk before squeezing his eyes shut. He *hated* reading autopsy reports. They always drew everything out to the last letter. Why couldn't it just say, 'The victim was stabbed over his right eye'? Wouldn't that have sufficed? He sighed at his own irrelevant question. "What's the matter, Mulder? Already got you stumped?" Mulder's head jerked up at the familiar voice and he stood automatically. "Me stumped, Sir? Never." Skinner chuckled. "Well, I thought that perhaps I was lucky enough to catch you at the rare moment you were mystified." Mulder waved at the other man. "Come in, Sir, have a seat." He motioned towards the couch. "What can I do for you?" Skinner lowered himself onto the sofa, folding his hands behind his head and crossing his legs in a position of ease. "I just came by to see how you were doing. Where's Scully?" "She just finished an autopsy. I was reading the results she faxed to me when you came in. I was despairing over the length to which she, the thorough woman that she is, goes to describe a hole in the head." Skinner chuckled again and Mulder was shocked to realize he had never seen his boss so laid back before. The AD must have understood the confused look on the younger man's face because he explained himself. "Mulder, I'm not your direct superior anymore, Davis is. He still reports to me and it is ultimately my decision as to whether or not you work, but *you* don't have to report to me. So relax." Mulder mock saluted. "Yes, Sir." Skinner shook his head in defeat. "How are they treating you down here?" "Just fine, Sir. Everyone has been pretty much trying to stay out of my way and give me time to readjust." "In other words, they're scared of the great Spooky Mulder and are avoiding you like the plague." Mulder pursed his lips. "Well, I *suppose* you could put it that way." An evil grin graced his lips. "You should have seen their faces when I told Roberts that he was completely off on the Blue Hills Strangler case and started pointing out all his mistakes." "I wish I could have been there," Skinner amended. Anthony Roberts was the current prima donna of the ISU, the man who claimed he could write any profile accurately down to color of the UNSUB's - unknown subject's - car. The fact that he had an eighty-one percent solve rate just added to his feeling of self-importance. The arrival of Spooky Mulder, who had exceeded a ninety-percent solve rate, must have knocked the other agent down a notch or two. "Mulder, try not to alienate everyone, okay?" "I am always the consummate professional, Sir. I told him-" He was interrupted as the door opened. "Mulder, did you get my- Oh, hello, Sir." Scully nodded to the AD as she entered the office. "What did you do now, Mulder?" Dark eyebrows shot up the high forehead. "You wound me to the quick, Scully. I have done nothing, the good AD has come by to see how we are settling in." "How kind of you, Sir." Scully set her briefcase on her desk in the corner and turned around to lean against its edge. "Mulder was just telling me how he was playing nice with all the other little boys and girls. Other than that, any problems?" Skinner knew Scully would understand that he was referring to Mulder's physical and mental health. "As a matter of fact-" she began. "As a matter of fact, there haven't," Mulder hastily interjected. He shot his partner a glare, which she returned without flinching. Skinner was about ready to call a cease-fire, when there was a knock at the door. "Come in," Mulder barked. The doorway became filled with the bulk of Rick Davis. "Assistant Director Skinner, I didn't know you were here. I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" "Not at all. In fact, I was just leaving." Skinner stood from the couch and inclined his head at the two agents. "Mulder, Scully. I look forward to continuing this conversation at a later date." Scully smiled briefly, thanking him for his concern. Mulder rolled his eyes. Davis stepped aside to allow the AD out the door and then shut it behind him. "Agents, I have a case for you. One that requires immediate attention." The partners silently called a draw on their battle of wills and focused on the SAC. Mulder was the first to speak. "What is it?" Davis handed him a thick folder, watching as he leafed through it. "A serial killer in Portsmouth, Ohio, has killed four ten to twelve year old girls over the past two weeks. All have been killed a different way, and there bodies dumped in dissimilar places. The only thing linking them together are the notes found with them." Scully lifted an eyebrow. "Notes?" "The guy leaves Edgar Allen Poe poems pinned to the bodies. The media's already named the guy 'Poe of Portsmouth'. What will they think of next? Anyway, I want you two on a plane this afternoon so you can meet with the team at the regional office in Cincinnati." Davis rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger absently. "Mulder, I know you can't actually physically go out and catch this guy, but you can visit the crime scenes, look at the evidence gathered, review the bodies, etceteras. Scully, your medical expertise will be an enormous help as well. We need to be as hands on as possible because the press is screaming bloody murder, if you'll pardon the expression. It's like they think we're all sitting around twiddling our thumbs." "Sir?" Mulder looked up from the file. "Didn't you already put a profiler on this case?" Davis appeared sheepish. "Um, yeah. I sent Roberts up last Thursday, but he hasn't had any luck. I was hoping that you would be able to get a handle on the guy." "Roberts," Mulder repeated. "Oh goody." "Yes, well, I'll leave you two so you can get packed. You're booked on a flight out of Dulles at one o'clock." With that, Davis retreated back out into the bullpen. Scully opened her mouth to speak, but Mulder beat her to it. "I didn't want you to tell Skinner about the nightmare because there is nothing he can do about it. It is a normal, at least for me, side-effect of profiling and not important enough to bring up." "It certainly seemed important enough this morning," Scully pointed out. He was going to argue but she held up a finger and silenced him. "Contrary to what you may think, I wasn't going to mention it. I was going to tell Skinner that everything was going as well as can be expected. I fully realize that your definition of 'normal side-effects of profiling' is a bit broader than mine and I am willing to abide by your version. But I will not allow you to put your own health at risk. Do I make myself clear?" Mulder looked like a little boy who had just been scolded by his mother. "As glass." "Good, now that we have that settled, let's get going. We don't want to keep them waiting." Silently, Mulder gathered the files pertaining to their new case and walked around his desk towards the door. Scully turned to retrieve her briefcase and was startled by a loud crash. She whirled about to find her partner sprawled on the floor, surrounded by fluttering paper. The crash had come from the overturned lamp that he had clutched at to keep himself, unsuccessfully, upright. Presently, he was huddled on the ground, his arms wrapped around his ribcage. Dana ignored the questioning voices coming from outside and hurried to her partner's side. She dropped beside him and put one hand on his shoulder, the other running soothingly through his hair. It was a bad one. She could tell by the breathy grunts he was making as waves of pain washed over him. It was his way of holding in the screams that any other person would be making. Finally, the attack subsided and he rolled onto his back, taking slow, deep breaths. "Damn it," he muttered. "It's all right, Mulder, no harm done," Scully murmured as she set about gathering up the scattered papers. "That's not what I was talking about." He carefully maneuvered himself upright, making sure he hadn't strained anything. Deciding that he had nothing more than a few bruises, he helped his partner clean up the mess he had created. When the last piece of errant paper was returned to the folder, he handed it to her so she could put it in her briefcase. He caught her hand in the process. "I'm sorry, Scully. I have a tendency to overlook the fact that you're a doctor when you try to advise me on my health management. I know that it's only because you care, but sometimes I am just so sick of being treated like a cripple." "You're not a cripple." "I know, but it seems like it at times. I had to be self-sufficient at a young age and I'm not used to depending on other people. I get so frustrated at having to follow all these different rules and limitations, that I forget what's good for me." "Which is?" she queried. He pulled her into an embrace. "You." ********* FBI Regional Office Cincinnati, Ohio 12:06 p.m. "What the hell?!" A loud slap punctuated the statement as a hand slammed against a desk. "What do you mean, they assigned Mulder??" "Look, man, I'm just the messenger here, don't yell at me." The younger man held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "The order came down from Davis, so I have to assume he heard that the last profile hasn't turned up anything new." Roberts clenched his fists in anger and began pacing alongside the oval table in the briefing room. "It's only been four days, what does he expect?? Oh, what? He thinks Spooky'll be able to solve it in twenty-four hours?" Agent Brenner shrugged. "I heard the Spook was the best." The older agent whirled around, venom in his eyes. "The best?? Listen to me, you little shit, Mulder is a nobody, a flash in the pan whose profiling skills died when he left the unit. *I* am the best analyst in the ISU, not that freak!" Several others, who were returning from the fifteen-minute break they had been granted during the meeting, joined the two men. The newcomers didn't have to wonder what the commotion was about, had heard it from down the hall. Agent Vangelis, always one to be on top of all bureau gossip, joined the discussion. "I thought Mulder couldn't come out into the field?" Roberts snorted angrily. "He can't! Not exactly anyway. He doesn't have field agent status, but he can still visit the crime scenes. Seeing them first hand won't help him though, he lost his talent when he abandoned the ISU for the X-Files. And you know what? His partner is coming as well. He can't go anywhere without her because she's the only one who knows what to do if he has an attack." A green agent, newly graduated from the academy, stared wide-eyed at his superior. "Attack?" "Yeah. Mulder has these fits where he shakes and drools all over the place, pisses his pants and pukes everywhere." Roberts reveled in the looks of disgust that registered around the room. "Why?" Vangelis asked. "Hell if I know. I think it's from electroshock therapy they performed on him when he was in the loony bin," the profiler sneered. Voracious laughter echoed throughout the briefing room. *********** Flight 1701-A 2:32 p.m. Scully placed her hands on the metal surface of the sink and looked at her reflection in the mirror. "Well, Dana, you've got to get over it and get on with it," she muttered to herself. She had left her partner slumbering in his cramped airline seat, his soft snores the background music to which she reviewed the case files, and hidden away in the lavatory to process her ambiguous thoughts. She was looking forward to this assignment, as odd as that sounded. It was the first time that she and Mulder would go out and investigate a relatively normal case and she was eager to watch her partner in action. When she had first joined him on the X-Files, she had been wet behind the ears, lacking much time in the field, naive when it came to crime scene analysis. Give her a corpse any day, but the location of the corpse? It was from Mulder that she had learned the real art of investigating, not the stale explanations of a rulebook. It was like watching a ballet of sorts, seeing Mulder move about a crime scene, practically absorbing information through his pores. He used all his senses to *look* at the area from all perspectives, often picking out insignificant things that later became quite relevant. She had learned more from working one case with Mulder than she did in her years at Quantico. And this time, she was going to see him in full gear, no outrageous theories or unbelievable explanations to clutter the process. But that also frightened her. Her memories of the Mostow case were far too vivid; the black pools of her partner's eyes as he stared into nothingness, the hollow note in his voice, the sallowness of his complexion. He had become a darker and more forbidding version of the man she had worked with, someone she didn't understand and couldn't reach. When Skinner had come to them two weeks ago with a proposition for Mulder to return to the Investigative Support Unit, it had been an image of that unrecognizable man that had haunted her. She had desperately wanted to believe that if they stayed in a nice, safe office, then the effects on her partner wouldn't be so drastic. It hadn't occurred to her that surroundings made little difference when you're inside a killer's mind. She chided herself for being so foolish, for thinking that her presence and no on-site investigating would keep the demons at bay. The nightmare of last night was proof enough that she was kidding herself. But, as scared as she was, she knew it was for the best. Mulder was a restless spirit, a man who needed to be constantly busy. She had often wondered why he seemed to never take a break and she had come to the conclusion that it was a defense mechanism. It was a way to avoid the demons of his past, the ones that were always hovering at the edge of his consciousness, waiting to consume him. Sitting at home doing nothing was an invitation for disaster and she knew that if Skinner hadn't come to them, Mulder would have searched him out instead. This was the right thing to do. Really. Scully drew in a deep breath and let it out in a whoosh, blowing strands of hair away from her face. She straightened her jacket and opened the door. She had just stepped out when she jerked back, pressing herself against the closed door as a flight attendant rushed past with a hasty "'Scuse me". Watching the other woman hurry down the aisle, Dana was alarmed to discover that the reason for the attendant's celerity was none other than her partner. He was thrashing about as much as the cramped space of the airline seat allowed, his muttered cries drawing the attention of the other passengers. She hurried after the stewardess, who was trying to wake Mulder gently. The woman turned and looked at Scully with an unsure look in her eyes when the agent laid a hand on her arm. "I'll take care of it, thank you." Dana nodded her appreciation. The flight attendant let out a breath of relief and stepped away, returning to her duties with measured equanimity. Scully sat in her vacated seat and leaned over the arm to place her hands on Mulder's left shoulder and cheek. "Mulder. Mulder, wake up, come on." His eyelids snapped open and his glazed eyes flitted about the room, not appearing to focus on anything. Suddenly he began speaking in a monotone voice, his words muted. "Thrown by accident into her society many years ago, my soul, from our first meeting, burned with fires it had never before known; but the fires were not of Eros, and bitter and tormenting to my spirit was the gradual conviction that I could in no manner define their unusual meaning, or regulate their intensity. Yet we met; and fate bound us together at the altar; and I never spoke of passion, nor thought of love. She, however, shunned society, and attaching herself to me alone, rendered me happy. It is a happiness to wonder; - it is a happiness to dream." Scully didn't know what to do. It didn't sound as though her partner were speaking *to* her, let alone from his own mind, quoting something she didn't recognize instead. His next words were still in the same expressionless tone, but she was able to comprehend their meaning with ease. "The original profile is wrong. He is in his late forties, early fifties, married and living with his sister. He has a high-paying job, stressful, most likely in communications, services, something like that. He isn't doing this out of anger, but of sorrow. He had a good childhood, nothing remotely significant to point to as a sign of instability. His parents doted on him, his sister adores him. But something happened. Something tragic. It scarred him so deeply that he is trying to find a way to make the pain go away. But it won't. It never does." His eyes closed with his last statement and Dana could see that he was struggling to come back from the darkness of the killer's mind. He took several deep breaths and then reopened his eyes, glancing about to evaluate his surroundings. They came to rest on his partner and she could see the tension seep out of him, only to be replaced with something close to embarrassment. "Guess I saved the airline the need for an in-flight movie, huh?" She sighed in a mixture of relief and disgust. "Mulder, I..." she trailed off, not knowing what to say. "I never said it was going to be easy, or that there wouldn't be a few rough patches on the way. I can't help what I do, can't stop myself from immersing everything that I am into this. Having you here is making a world of difference and I am grateful beyond words; but if this is too much, maybe you should step away. I refuse to let you suffer once again because of me. I love you, Dana, with my entire being, but I can't walk away from this. Because I know that, in the end, all that matters is the lives of the victims saved. You can understand that, can't you?" Scully remained silent after his discourse, too shocked by the idea that he was asking her to leave. Anger began to bubble up inside her, anger that he didn't seem to know her as well as she thought he did. She opened her mouth, ready to bombard him with an armory of hurt accusations and stinging questions, when she looked up at his face. The utter despair reflected in his eyes was enough to erase her anger instantly. It was then that she realized what he was doing. He was pushing her away to keep her safe. How typically Mulder. "Of course I understand, Mulder, that's one of the reasons I agreed to this whole situation. Hell, it's one of the reasons I joined the FBI in the first place. Do you honestly believe that I *could* walk away? From either you or this case? I am not doing this out of some sort of instinct to protect you, or because I pity you in any way. Mulder, I love you and I intend to spend the rest of my life with you, no matter what the future holds. That is *my* choice, it is what *I* want. How can I get that simple fact through your thick skull?" Mulder looked reticent. "I'm sorry, Scully. It's just that... I don't know... maybe I'm afraid that if you see me... disconnected from reality, shall we say, that you won't want to be with me anymore." "Mulder, if aliens, ghosts, mutants, goblins, men in black, werewolves, vampires, and a various assortment of genetic monsters can't frighten me, what makes you think a little foray into the mind of a serial killer will? All right, I'll admit that I was a little concerned for you during the John Mostow case." She saw his look of reproach. "Okay, I was more than a little concerned. But that was because I couldn't comprehend what you were doing, what you were going through. I do now and I'd like to think that I will be more prepared this time. I'm not going to kid you or myself; I admit that I am still anxious, but now that is tempered by understanding. We are in this together, Mulder, for better or worse." Mulder's expression of apprehension melted away and he raised a hand to run his fingertips through the hair at her temple. "Thank you," he whispered in reverence. Dana turned her head and kissed his palm in acceptance of his apology. "Never doubt how much I love you, Mulder. Never." He bit his lower lip as a tide of emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He leaned forward, kissing her softly and then touched his forehead to hers, looking her straight in the eyes. "Never. I promise." ********* end part 2/9 Date: Tue, 08 Feb 2000 00:07:34 PST Subject: xfc: NEW: Closer to Fine part 3 of 9 Source: xfc From: "XScout --" Summary and disclaimer in part 1 ********* Cincinnati/Northern Kentucky International Airport Cincinnati, Ohio 4:53 p.m. "I think it's over this way." Mulder tugged at her hand, pulling her along behind him. It was odd that, after all his years of flying about the country, he had never been to this particular airport. He had no idea where the baggage claim was and the corridors were teeming with travelers. Luckily, he could see over most of their heads and he was able to make out the directory signs. Scully, vertically challenged as she was, had to trust him and hold on tight so as not to get lost in the sea of people. Weaving their way through the living maze, Mulder pulled them up alongside conveyer belt and scanned the area for any sign of their suitcases. Scully made a circle in the spot where she stood in order to pinpoint the location of the car rental desk. "I'll be right back," she told him after finally seeing Hertz's yellow and blue sign. Without turning around, Mulder called after her, "Call me on my cel if you get lost." Dana chuckled as she dodged past a group of screaming children. She reached the rental desk and was about to ask the clerk for the usual forms, when a loud drew her attention. "Agent Scully! Agent Scully!" She looked to her left and saw a man jogging towards her, calling her name. He was about six feet tall and twenty-five years old at the most, reddish brown hair swept off his forehead, dark sunglasses adorning his nose, and a long trenchcoat swaying about his knees. He might as well have been wearing a sign that said 'FBI'. He waved at her when he saw that he had caught her eye and slowed his pace a bit. He had to hastily sidestep a couple and their child so that he didn't run into them and came to a halt in front of the female agent. He flashed her a grin and held up his right index finger, indicating that he needed a moment to catch his breath. She raised her eyebrows and waited. After several long, deep breaths, he nodded at her and removed his sunglasses. "Agent Scully, I'm Agent Phillips, I was sent to pick you and Agent Mulder up." Surprise flashed in her eyes momentarily but she hid it well. "That was very thoughtful of SAC Hallowell. Mulder's over at the baggage claim." Phillips' head swiveled around to search the direction Scully had indicated, seeming disappointed when he didn't find the agent in question. He gave Dana another nod and started off towards the luggage area, she having to wait behind a moment to allow a caravan of elderly people pass. She caught up with Phillips and directed him towards where she knew her partner was waiting. All of a sudden, the throng of people parted like the Red Sea, revealing Mulder at the other end of the corridor of humans. She could see confusion and then suspicion flit across his features as he saw the man she was walking next to. The two joined him and she opened her mouth to introduce their escort but she was beaten to the draw. Phillips snatched up Mulder's hand and was shaking it vigorously. "Agent Mulder, it's an honor to meet you, Sir. I've heard so much about you and I am looking forward to working with you." Scully snickered quietly as she watched Mulder carefully extract his hand from the younger man's grasp. "Thank you, Agent..." "Phillips, Sir. Keith Phillips." "Agent Phillips. Am I to assume that you are here to give us a ride?" "Yes, Sir. Here, let me get your bags." Phillips began reaching for Mulder's suitcase. Scully noticed the irritation building in her partner's eyes and quickly moved to circumvent any possible arguments. "Agent Phillips, would be so kind as to carry one of my suitcases? I have an extra one that is filled with the case notes and such." "Certainly, Ma'am." The kid hefted the bag that Scully had indicated and then swept his hand out before him. "This way please." The partners shared a look of amusement before moving to follow. It was obvious that Phillips was as green as they came. Having been brought up through the academy on Spooky Mulder stories, he looked upon Mulder as a legend in his own time. Scully didn't mind the fact that her partner was famous within the law enforcement community, knowing that he in no way tried to consciously perpetuate it or use it to his advantage. Mulder was one of the most modest men she had ever met - just another one of his endearing traits. Phillips led them out the entrance and down several rows of parked cars before turning down one of the rows. He walked up to a black Ford Taurus and used a button on his key chain to pop the trunk. He set his burden in the trunk and graciously held it open so the other two agents could deposit their suitcases. Mulder kept his carry-on with him, wanting to add a few notes to his profile-in-progress. Another button on the keychain unlocked the doors and Phillips made to open Scully's door, but was warned off by a glare from Mulder, who took the opportunity to do it himself. Scully smiled at him in thanks and in a silent reminder to behave before she got in the vehicle. Shutting the door after her, Mulder pulled open the rear and settled himself in the back, wasting no time in getting to work. He was already scribbling away on a yellow note pad before Phillips was able to start the engine. Five minutes into the ride and Scully could tell that Phillips was getting fidgety. He was constantly glancing in the rearview mirror and then back to the road. She figured that he was probably trying to figure out how to ask Mulder something and she also knew that her partner wouldn't particularly appreciate an interruption right now. "So, Phillips, how long have you been on this case?" He jumped slightly at her question, not expecting it. "Um, since uh... let me see... since the beginning, I guess. It's my first case in the field, Ma'am." 'You're kidding' she wanted to say sarcastically but smiled kindly instead. "Not exactly what you were hoping to start out with, is it?" The kid gave a half-hearted laugh. "No, Ma'am, I was kinda hoping for something easier. But I am learning a lot and am looking forward to watching you and Agent Mulder in action." "Enough with the 'Ma'am', Phillips. You can call me Dana, and Mulder prefers just his last name." "I'm sorry, Ma'am. Um, I mean, Dana." He paused and appeared to consider something. "Everybody calls me Gopher, but you can call me Keith if you like." Scully chuckled. "I think every new agent gets stuck with that one until another newbie joins the unit, so don't take it personally." "Uh, Da- Dana," he stumbled over her name, "is he really as good as they say he is?" The words were whispered in awe and Scully resisted the urge to turn and see if Mulder had heard the comment, knowing that he was miles away instead. "Everyone wins some and loses some, Keith. No one is infallible." The youth stared ahead of him and chewed on his lip, digesting that statement. The rest of the drive was spent in thoughtful silence. ********* Brentanos Plaza Hotel 5:46 p.m. "There's a briefing at six, so if you just give the bellhop your luggage, he can take it up to your rooms and we'll be able to make it to headquarters in time. It's only about ten minutes from here, seven if you hit the lights right." Gopher was talking fast, his excitement at being the knowledgeable one seizing him. Mulder and Scully did as recommended and they all piled back into the car, barely having time to buckle their seatbelts before Phillips had them racing down the streets. Contrary to what he had claimed, they made it in five minutes, most likely due to the young man's expedient use of side streets and a discreet disregard of the speed limit. The Cincinnati Regional Office was a nondescript building on the outside and a reproduction of the J. Edgar Hoover building on the inside. They crammed into the elevator with several other people, some of whom were casting curious glances at the Washington agents. Mulder didn't seem to notice the attention, his gaze focused inward. Scully was slightly worried about his demeanor. He had responded to nothing but direct statements ever since the airport and she hoped that he would be able to pull himself together enough to face the team of agents they would have to work with for the next who knew how long. They exited the elevator on the fifth floor, greeted with the drearily blank hallways all government buildings seemed to possess. But this one wasn't bubbling with activity, as bullpens usually were, indicating that a meeting was about to commence. One of the people bustling down the hall stopped when he noticed the trio of agents standing in front of the elevator doors. Phillips raised a hand in acknowledgment and ushered his charges forward. They met the other man halfway. "Agent Mulder, Agent Scully, it's a pleasure to have you aboard. I wish we could have met under better circumstances, but in this line of work, how often is that?" He shook each of their hands, his meaty palms engulfing theirs. He was a few inches taller than Mulder, his jaw was thick and square, his torso was practically a rectangle, and his muscles flexed when he moved. He looked as though he could break a man in half with his bare hands, though his jocular manner belied the sheer power of his body. He appeared to be jovial and upbeat, but the dark circles under his eyes told of the constant strain he was under. They all stared at each other for a while until the man realized what the two agents were waiting for. "Oh, how silly of me. I'm Todd Hallowell, SAC on this case. You can call me Bear, I don't believe in wasting time with niceties." Scully turned to Mulder and raised an eyebrow out of the big man's view. This was the Special Agent in Charge of a publicity nightmare serial killer case? Whose bright idea was that? Mulder's shoulders hitched up a fraction, enough to tell her that they should just go with it. Hallowell swiveled around on a heel, his tree limb of an arm gesturing before him. "You're just in time for the six o'clock briefing. This way." They let him move away a few steps, their hesitation keeping them immobile, and Gopher was somehow able to sense their doubts. "Don't let his vigorous nature deter you, he's one hell of an SAC. He can be sweet and kind one minute, ready to rip you in two the next. That's why we call him Bear." Phillips grinned at that. "You know, like a teddy bear versus a grizzly..." "Yeah, and I'm sure his size has nothing to do with it," Mulder said, his gaze raising to watch the retreating back of their new superior. "Well, you heard the man, let's get going." He placed a hand on Scully's back and started after the SAC, Phillips trotting along behind. They reached a set of double doors, opened to reveal a large room, a huge wooden table set in the dead center. The far wall was covered with photographs, maps, and scraps of paper with dozens of different handwritings upon them. Boxes were pushed up against the wall in a haphazard fashion, plastic bags sticking out, labels identifying them as pieces of evidence. There were about seven agents sitting at the table, another eight or so milling about. Once Hallowell entered, everyone quieted and found their seats quickly. The SAC moved to the head of the table, the chair creaking under his considerable weight. Mulder and Scully took the vacant seats to his left and Gopher remained standing, ready to live up to his nickname. Murmurs rippled throughout the room as the men realized who the newcomers were. "All right, people, settle down," Bear instructed, standing as he spoke. "I see you all noticed that we are being joined by some new members. Agents Mulder and Scully have been gracious enough to lend their support to our efforts and I am sure that we will all benefit from the association." A stern glare was sent around the table, emphasizing the seriousness of his comment. His gaze rested for a few seconds on the man opposite him at the other end of the table. Roberts refused to flinch and the SAC moved on. "I'll introduce the team leaders now and the rest of you can get acquainted later. Agent Jackson Brenner is heading up the victimology team," Bear nodded to his right at a lithe man with a dark complexion and a thin face that showed the tension of his job. "Ulysses Vangelis is in charge of crime scene analysis," his chin tilted farther down the table. A man with curly brown hair and piercing blue eyes inclined his head in their direction. "Dr. Chris Walden from the Portsmouth PD has been instrumental in dealing with our forensics and I know that he has been itching to have a word with you, Agent Scully." An elderly man about three chairs to Mulder's left flashed a grin at the redheaded pathologist, nodding his head eagerly. "And I believe you both already know Tony Roberts, working on the profile for this case. Mulder, I'm sure you and he will have quite a bit to talk about after this meeting. Now, Uly, why don't we start with you?" Vangelis rose as the SAC lowered his bulk back into his chair. Running a hand through his tangled locks, the man used his other hand to flip open a file folder on the table before him. "Latest results from the crime lab show that there were no biological traces of the UNSUB at the scene, no fiber, blood, prints, hair, gunpowder, arson traces, and no signs of drug use. Nothing, same as the rest. All we have is the note, which reads, 'The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me--' We haven't been able to identify which of Poe's writings it's from, but we're fairly positive that it is a line from a poem. There appears to be no link between this dumpsite or any of the three previous ones, just the fact that they lie within the same fifty-mile radius. Access to the site is open to almost anyone willing to go in and there are no security measures for the building, so we're stuck when it comes to narrowing down people with right of entry. Since the victim was found frozen in a meat locker, we were hoping forensics could find something substantial preserved with the body." Uly dropped into his chair in defeat. Bear chewed on his lip thoughtfully. "Okay, Dr. Walden, I believe that's your cue." The white-haired medical examiner adjusted his glasses and shuffled the papers in front of him. "Victim is female, eleven years old, white, seventy-three pounds. Death has been determined as severe hypothermia from prolonged exposure to temperatures below zero degrees Celsius. There is no trace of antimony or carbon monoxide in the blood, nor any other toxic substance. The victim was knocked unconscious with a hard object, most likely metal, as no splinters or fibers from the weapon have been found, resulting in a cracked skull." Walden paused momentarily as he became aware of a mumbling voice to his right. He looked around and saw that several of the others were staring at Mulder, whose lips were moving. The doctor strained to make out the words, but couldn't discern anything intelligible. He tried to dismiss it and continued with his report. "From the amount of frostbite, I would have to say that the victim was in that freezer for approximately eight hours, but she was not conscious for any of them. At least we can be thankful that she didn't feel anything. I hate to disappoint you boys, but I can't tell you anything more substantial than that." Finished with his summary, Walden was greeted by an eerie silence. The team members were directing their attention to the man near the head of the table, expressions of wonder and suspicion on their faces. After a moment, the old man was able to make sense of the words spilling from the profiler's mouth. "...With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven, Coveted her and me." Bear looked at the new member of the team and was surprised to see that Mulder's eyes were almost shut, his face calm and expressionless. "Mulder?" No change except that the words dipped down beneath the edge of hearing. The SAC glanced at Scully, searching for an explanation. She shook her head, indicating that she didn't know what her partner was talking about either. Bear was at a loss. He had heard of Mulder, was thrilled to have him on this case, but he had never worked with the man. He thought all the rumors were exaggerated, that they were beanstalks of hearsay grown from seeds of truth. Now he wasn't so sure. It was as though Mulder was in some sort of fugue state, unresponsive except to anything pertaining to the killer's thoughts. He uneasily decided to let Mulder be, instead motioning to Brenner to update them all on the victimology. Brenner's gaze flicked back and forth between Mulder and Bear, unsure as what to do. He cleared his throat and nervously plucked at his tie. "Um, yeah, okay. The victim has been identified as Loren Moniker, who disappeared four days ago on her way to James A. Garfield Elementary. It was initially believed that she had been kidnapped for ransom, as her parents are one of the wealthiest couples in Portsmouth, with a waterfront home on the Ohio River. Loren was well liked by her friends and classmates, a model student as well as actively involved in community affairs through Girl Scouts. One other victim, Harper Bingham, was a member of Girl Scouts, that being the only link we've found thus far." A low monotone voice followed on the heels of Brenner's last statement. "So that her high-born kinsman came, And bore her away from me, To shut her up in a sepulchre In this kingdom by the sea." "Mulder? Is there something you want to share with us?" Bear raised his eyebrows at the young profiler. "Mulder?" He waited a moment longer until he was positive that Mulder had no intention of replying. With a deep sigh of resignation, the SAC waved at Roberts. "Would you please go over your profile, Tony." Roberts tossed a look of disgust in Mulder's direction and then puffed out his chest in self-importance. "*My* profile says that the killer is in his late twenties and lives by himself. He cannot hold a steady job, often doing menial labor for minimum wage. He comes from a broken home where he was abused both physically and sexually. His mother was the source of the abuse and the UNSUB holds aggression towards women because of this but an adult woman is too intimidating for him, therefore he turns to children to vent his anger-" "No." "Excuse me?" "No, he isn't angry." Roberts glared at Mulder. "Really? You think I'm wrong, huh? Well, why don't you enlighten us as to what you believe are the killer's motives?" All eyes were riveted on Mulder, as though waiting for an oracle to speak. The younger profiler lazily blinked his eyes. "He does it out of sorrow. He isn't angry with the children, he doesn't hate women either. Something happened to him, maybe he lost someone, and he was so hurt by it that he feels a need to release that hurt. He loves those children." The elder profiler snorted in contempt. "Uh huh. And how did you come to *that* conclusion?" "The angels, not half so happy in heaven, Went envying her and me-- Yes!-that was the reason (as all men know, In this kingdom by the sea) That the wind came out of the cloud by night, Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee." ******** Silence reigned for a good two minutes as the team members realized that Mulder had just quoted the poem from which the note on the body was taken. Mulder had sunk back into himself, ignoring the pointed stares. A surprised grunt broke the utter stillness. "So, you're saying that the victim matches the girl in the poem? That makes sense, since she was well off and lived by a body of water. Her death was certainly chilling, being frozen in a meat locker and all. But I still don't get why he would kill a little girl if he actually loved her." Gopher glanced around the room, hoping someone would shed some light on the mystery. Most just returned his look with one of disdain, as though he was wrong in voicing his belief in Mulder's theory. "I was a child and she was a child, In this kingdom by the sea; But we loved with a love that was more than love-- I and my Annabel Lee." Mulder's voice was quiet and slightly muffled, as his chin was almost touching his chest while he stared at his hands, folded on the table. He said nothing more, as though that quote explained it all. "Bullshit." Heads whipped around in the other direction. Roberts was standing, leaning over the table, his palms placed flat on the glossy surface. "What, Mulder? You think you can come in here, tell me I'm all wrong and just rewrite *my* profile because you know some poetry? Well, forget it! I have spent the past four days on this case and I think I'm more qualified to interpret the meaning behind the note as well as the motives behind the killer's actions. Furthermore-" "That will be enough, Agent Roberts." It was a low warning growl but it had the same effect as if it had been shouted across the room. Bear was standing as well, his massive bulk tense with anger. "Mulder is here to solve this, just like you. I will not have you harassing him or belittling him. Constructive criticism, fine. Reasonable arguments on major points of the profile, okay. But outright dismissal of a fellow agent's insights is unacceptable. Do I make myself clear?" Roberts' face had gone sheet white, his knees buckling so that he sank into his chair. "Yes, Sir." "Good." The SAC turned his attention to the entire room. "Now, I want you all to go home and get a good night's rest. Tomorrow, we are going to rehash this whole thing from the beginning, with a fresh pair of eyes and a possible new perspective on the killer. Dismissed." The room erupted into chatter and noise as chairs slid across the linoleum floor and men excitedly discussed the events of the past half-hour. They all began to slowly file out, heading home or to the cafeteria for a fresh cup of coffee. Most kept their eyes averted as they passed Tony Roberts, a few muttering condolences on being shown up by the Spook. The elder profiler methodically put his notes into his briefcase and shut it with exaggerated care. Then, with stage-performance precision, he strode from the boardroom, his back straight and his face set in stone. Bear watched the man go and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Asshole," he muttered. Turning slightly to his left, he dropped his hand away from his face. "Mulder, sometimes I wonder about you. I know Roberts is an arrogant pain in the ass, but there's no need to antagonize him. If you disagree, do it in a manner that isn't so... so absolute. There is always room for interpretation and I want everyone to work together to come up with the most accurate information available." He leaned forward and placed his meaty palms on the table. "Mulder?" He closed his eyes and shook his head, then opened them and wearily looked at the other man's partner. "Scully, take him back to the hotel, make sure he gets some sleep, huh?" "Yes, Sir." Dana stood, gently wedging a hand underneath Mulder's arm. "C'mon partner, time to go." Without any visible acknowledgment, Mulder stood, wavering slightly and raised bloodshot eyes to the SAC. "I apologize for causing disruption among the team members, Sir. In the future I will try my best to be more aware and respectful of the other agents' theories, no matter how much they differ from my own." Bear's mouth dropped open. Did Spooky Mulder just apologize? It wasn't that the SAC thought that Mulder felt he was above apologies, it was just that Mulder was famous for being stubborn and refusing to back down. Maybe his years with the X-Files had mellowed him a bit. Maybe his partner played a large role in the change. Who knew? But whatever it was, it floored the older agent. "Thank you, Agent Mulder. Now, get some rest, you two look like you could use it." Mulder grinned. "Sir, if *we* look tired, *you* must be in a coma." Bear, belatedly realizing that he himself wasn't exactly the most well-rested person in the room, guffawed loudly and slapped Mulder on the back, jarring the younger man slightly. "Damn straight!" ******* 7:53 p.m. Phillips had the privilege of driving the two agents back to their hotel. He was quiet most of the way, his free foot tapping nervously next to the break pedal. He kept glancing in the rear view mirror at Mulder, who was sitting lengthwise in the back seat, laptop resting on upraised knees. Scully was in the passenger seat, reviewing the files she had received from Dr. Walden. "Go ahead, ask." Gopher jerked his eyes back to the road. "I'm sorry, what?" "You're going to get us into an accident if you keep that up any longer, so go ahead, ask me whatever it is that's on your mind." Hazel eyes peered back from the rear view mirror. "I, uh, wanted to know how you knew what poem the note was from?" "I went to Oxford, Phillips; Edgar Allen Poe is required reading in England. As luck would have it, I did my American Literature thesis on him and so I read all his works, including poems. My memory is fairly good, so it was simply a matter of remembering which poem the excerpt was from." Dana harrumphed loudly. "Fairly good memory? Don't mind him, Keith, he's being modest. The man has a photographic memory and remembers almost everything." Her voice dropped a decibel. "Of course, he has a tendency to conveniently 'forget' certain things." "I have no idea what you're talking about, Scully. I remember every-" "Where you put your cellphone, what happened to your last gun, what time you were supposed to meet-" "Okay, okay, I don't remember *everything*. I only have so much room in my head and sometimes the more mundane everyday matters are sacrificed for the greater good." His head swiveled back to the driver. "Phillips, when you get a partner, make sure he or she is either less punctual than you are or more prone to lose equipment. It'll save you a world of headaches." "Don't kid about it, Mulder. Do you know how tempted I've been to Velcro your phone to your hand? Or your gun? Maybe super glue would work." Mulder sniffed in disdain and shut his laptop with an audible click. He set it aside carefully and moved to sit normally in the seat. "Scully, why don't you use that super glue to adhere your high heels on your feet? Then you wouldn't have to worry about losing them when we're chasing a suspect." Up front, Gopher was trying his damnedest not to burst out laughing. He failed when Dana whirled around in her seat and Mulder jerked back just in time to avoid being hit in the face with a stack of rolled up autopsy notes. He was still chuckling a bit when they pulled up in front of the hotel. "Here we are. I'll be back tomorrow morning to pick you both up at seven thirty." Mulder was already out of the car, laptop slung over one shoulder, briefcase dangling from hand, and opening the door for his partner. Scully smiled over at their escort. "Thanks for the ride, Keith, see you in the morning." She took Mulder's hand as he helped her out of the vehicle and ushered her inside. Phillips watched the two stride into the building, their heads tilted together in conversation, their bodies brushing together every so often as they walked. He sighed forlornly and pulled away from the curb. ********* Brentanos Plaza Motel 8:13 p.m. "Don't worry about it, Mulder. Roberts is an idiot and a blowhard, everyone knows that and most of them don't take him too seriously." Dana walked through the open connecting door and sat down on her partner's bed. Mulder emerged from the bathroom, scrubbing his damp hair with a small towel. "It's not Roberts I'm worried about. It doesn't matter what he says, they all have preconceived notions about me already. My little stunt this evening certainly didn't help either." "Well, I think all it did was perpetuate the myth. Like it or not, you have a reputation. Mulder, I hate to admit this, but you earned that reputation. I don't know how you do what you do, but I do understand that it isn't voodoo or some sort of psychotic dementia. Sometimes though, it seems like it." Mulder's eyes flashed angry for a moment but cooled quickly. "It isn't voodoo, Scully, it's not that simple. I have a Ph.D. in Criminal Psychology, I've been trained to understand how the human mind works, particularly those with a violent tendency. I look at their behavior and the results of said behavior, and from that I can put together a psychological profile of that person's mind. It isn't an exact science, but it is as close to a science as anyone can get when it comes to comprehension of the human mind." "You're preaching to the converted, Mulder. The audience you should be talking to is back at the office. What I'm trying to say is that you don't make it any easier for them to come around by acting like a prophet." Scully pulled her legs up and crossed them underneath her. With a deep sigh that seemed to come from his toes, Mulder flopped down beside her and leaned back to stare at the ceiling. "I don't do it consciously, I don't even realize I'm doing it until afterwards. I put my thoughts into words without any consideration of how it sounds or as to whether it makes sense." Dana fell back to lie next to him. "Mulder, after six years with you, you *still* don't make sense to me." A soft chuckle shook the bed. "I like to keep you guessing." He turned over and enveloped her in his arms, silencing all conversation with a long kiss. ********* end part 3/9 Date: Tue, 08 Feb 2000 00:07:50 PST Subject: xfc: New: Closer to Fine part 4 of 9 Source: xfc From: "XScout --" Summary and Disclaimer in part 1 ********** Tuesday 1:26 am Scully woke to the sound of sheets rustling next to her. The bed bounced slightly and creaked as weight was lifted from it. The sound of bare feet padding across the carpet told her that Mulder had gotten up. She dismissed it as a middle of the night trip to the bathroom and turned over, burying her head in the soft pillow. Click, click, click, tap, tap, click, click, tap, click One eye popped open and she drearily lifted her head. The light by the small table had been turned on. "Mulder?" No answer. Sitting up, she turned to find her partner seated at the round table, typing on his laptop. Putting her hands to her face, she shook her head and sighed deeply. A good scrubbing and she dropped her hands, using them to push herself up from the bed. She shuffled over to stand behind him, leaning sleepily on the back of his chair. "Mulder?" she asked again. She got the same response as before - nothing. Leaning closer, she started scanning the words appearing on the small screen: Ye who read are still among the living; but I who write shall have long since gone my way into the region of shadows. For indeed strange things shall happen, and secret things be known, and many centuries shall pass away, ere these memorials be seen of men. And, when seen, there will be some to disbelieve, and some to doubt, and yet a few who will find much to ponder upon in the characters here graven with a stylus of iron. Not dead, not alive, but in some state which can be defined as neither. Loss of a loved one is a fate worse than death for some, life without real life. Writes of dead, describing through Poe's works the essence of each child. Characteristics of the lost one, not a child, but a woman. Takes the obvious, the bare meaning of each excerpt, not reading into the true value of the words. Interest is perhaps in the man who wrote those words. Some corollary between own life and Poe's. Must save those girls, save them before... before what? Before they grow up and fall in love. Fall in love and make a man so happy and then die and create a void that can never be filled. So alone, need to stop the pain of being left behind. Angry, so angry at not being able to follow but not angry with the children. Love them like surrogates, save them from themselves, make them a link to the lost. Kill them before they kill with love gone astray. Kill them before they kill me again. The cursor blinked lazily at the end of the last sentence, signaling Mulder's exhaustion of thought. Scully stared at the words, reading the last two statements over and over. Fear curled around her throat and made it hard to breathe, like a weight descending upon her and forcing her to dig her fingers into the rough fabric of the chair. '...kill me...', *me*. That was what he had written. First person, not observer. Was this a sign, a warning that the descent into madness had begun? Or was it simply a mistake, a common occurrence among profilers when trying to see from a killer's point of view? Perhaps she was overreacting. Perhaps not, she amended as she felt the chair beneath her hands begin to shake ever so slightly. Mulder's body was trembling, his breathing uneven and his glazed eyes turned inward. Laying her hand on his left shoulder, she squeezed gently. "Mulder?" The tremors lessened and the drooping head raised slowly. "We're looking in the wrong place, Scully. We have to look into the background of Poe himself, not his writings. Do you know anything about him?" Dana just blinked. Talk about feeling like a fish out of water. "Mulder, do you have any idea what time it is?" His brows came together in a frown and his eyes darted to the screen. "A bit past one-thirty." "And what do normal people do at this time of night?" The indentation between his eyebrows deepened. "Sleep?" "Correct! Vanna, tell our lucky contestant what he's just won!" Scully put her cupped hands to her mouth and mimicked a cheering crowd. The corner of Mulder's mouth quirked up and she dropped her hands. "Scully, if I didn't know any better, I would say you were mocking me." She simply batted her eyes at him. "Me? I would never." A sly grin spread across Mulder's face, making years of exhaustion disappear. Then he became serious again. "But Scully, the sooner we get started on this, the sooner we'll have some more information for the team. He's going to take another girl before long and we might be able to cut him off at the pass." "Mulder, everyone is asleep right now, there's not much we can do at this point. Come back to bed, get a few more hours of sleep and we'll start bright and early in the morning." She added a pleading note to her voice as she said, "Please, you need to rest." For a moment he looked as if he might argue but his features softened. "All right." He waited for her to back away from his chair before he stood up. Taking her outstretched hand, he allowed her to lead him to the bed and push him down gently. She climbed in next to him and curled up in the crook of his arm, resting her head on his chest. "Sweet dreams, Mulder," she murmured. For once, he had no problems complying; he did not dream at all. ********* 5:46 am At least it wasn't typing this time. Scully was tempted to pull a pillow over her head to drown out the sound of the shower, but she knew that she would have to get up soon anyway. She had promised Mulder that they would make an early start today and she was going to keep her word. Too bad her definition of early was not the same as her partner's. She compromised, pulling the sheets over her head and reasoning that she might as well grab a few more minutes of rest before Mulder got out of the shower. She drifted in and out for a bit and then finally woke up enough to realize that she had been dozing for what seemed a long time. Poking her head out from under the covers, she was startled to see the red numbers on the alarm clock stating that it was a quarter past six. And the water was still running. Mulder had been in the shower for over half an hour. Fear shot through her and she tossed back the blankets and sprang to her feet, her feet moving in tandem with her pounding heart. She skidded to a halt in front of the bathroom door and knocked quickly before grabbing the handle and twisting. She wrenched open the door and was assaulted by a hot blast of air, causing her to gasp involuntarily. Her eyes went straight to the shower doors, fogged over and obscuring her vision. She slid one of the glass doors open and the sight that greeted her produced another gasp. Mulder was huddled on the wet tiles, arms curled about his midsection as he rocked slowly, eyes clenched shut against untold agony. She reached in and turned off the water with one hand, grabbing a towel from the rack with the other. She knelt down in front of her partner, the legs of her pajamas soaking up the remaining water and pulled Mulder forward so that she could wrap the towel around him. He didn't acknowledge her presence, just continued rocking. "Mulder? Mulder, please talk to me." She saw his lips move and leaned closer to make out his words. "Hurts...hurts...stop...hurts...Scully..." She bit her lip as her heart constricted and she moved to sit down, pulling Mulder to her and stroking his damp hair. "I'm sorry, Sweetheart, I wish I could make it stop," she whispered. A tear spilled down her cheek to mix with the droplets in his hair. This was the worst seizure he'd had in over a month and she was scared, so scared. What if the strain was too much on him? That, added to the stress of this case, it might be enough to tip the scales, put enough pressure on his heart that it finally quit? Scully shook her head angrily. That could not happen, she wouldn't let it happen. She didn't know what the hell she could do about it, but she was going to do her damnedest to find a way. She held her partner and lover tighter, waiting for him to come back to her. ******** 6:52 a.m. He couldn't take it any more. "Stop looking at me like I'm about to spontaneously combust. I'm fine." Scully gripped her briefcase firmly and took a deep breath. "I just don't know if you should be going to work so soon after what happened. Undue stress could-" "Bullshit, Scully. You know that stress has nothing to do with this," he snapped. He watched her shoulders slump and was immediately repentant. "I'm sorry, you didn't deserve that. I know you're worried, but I feel fine, aside from being a little sore. In all honesty, I wouldn't really mind a respite, but both you and I know that the next little girl can't afford us taking a break." Scully licked her lips and appeared to concentrate on watching the road for a few minutes before answering. "You're right, I know you're right, but that doesn't stop me from worrying." Mulder lifted his left hand and rubbed his eyes with thumb and forefinger. They had been over this too many times. "There's nothing either of us can really do about it, so there is really no point in worrying, is there?" Dana clenched her jaw and stared straight ahead. Silence reigned until they saw Gopher's car round the corner and head their way. Mulder shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other, working out his stiff muscles. This morning's attack had left him feeling as though he had been hit by a train and now he had pissed Scully off. What else could go wrong? Gopher pulled up in front of the hotel and they moved out from under the overhang to get in the car, Mulder in back and Scully up front. Dana shut the door loudly and turned to the driver. "Keith, I'm sorry we woke you so early, but-" "Actually, everyone is up and on their way in, didn't you know?" She quirked an eyebrow. "Know what?" Mulder's heart dropped into his stomach and he felt the beginnings of a headache form behind his eyes. "Another girl is missing." Gopher's grimace was enough to confirm Mulder's assumption. Dana shook her head. "It's too early, we should have a few more days." Mulder closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Damn serial killers, they never keep a convenient schedule." ********** Cincinnati Field Office 7:17 am It was only twenty minutes past seven in the morning and already the halls were bustling with people. Most of them were carrying papers or had a phone jammed between their cheek and shoulder. The primary team members were gathered in the conference room, each one outlining what he believed to be the best course of action. Vangelis and Brenner were loudly arguing over whether or not this was even the same killer, as their particular UNSUB should have remained quiet for at least another three days. Bear brought their squabbling to an end with a fist brought down on the table. "That's enough! The last thing we need right now is to lose our tempers." He waited patiently as both men looked down in repentance and seated themselves. "I don't think the question here is whether this is our guy or not, because we're going to operate under the assumption that it is. Now, I want to know why he's escalated. Roberts, Mulder, I want your thoughts." Mulder kept his mouth shut, knowing that Roberts would inevitably take the stand first. Tony stretched his lips into a thin line, his brows furrowing in concentration. "There has been some sort of unexpected event that has occurred to cause our UNSUB to shorten his timetable. Probably the loss of another job or perhaps he has been rejected by another woman. This is the most likely prospect, as it would just fuel his anger towards women and force him to vent sooner." Having finished his explanation, he leaned back in his chair and folded his hands on his stomach. Waiting a moment to be sure that the other profiler was finished, Mulder took his turn. "I agree with Agent Roberts that an event has caused the escalation." A few murmurs of surprise along with Roberts' own widened eyes showed that this wasn't what the team expected to hear from Tony's rival. "However, I don't believe that it was one of bad fortune. He probably was promoted or given a raise, something he knew was going to lead to tragedy and so he had to speed up his work to make sure that the girls would be cared for. He's going to start drinking heavily now, his coworkers will see a change in his attitude for the first time and he may maneuver himself into getting fired." Roberts' face was a vivid shade of red and he looked as though he was ready to lambaste the younger profiler. Bear intervened just in time by diverting his attention. "All right, no more pulling punches. I know that you two have developed profiles quite contradictory to each other and at this point, it creates nothing but confusion and is a hindrance to this investigation. Therefore, I am going to split the profiling team into two separate units, one following up on Mulder's profile, the other on Tony's. As much as I hate to say it, one of you is wrong. I am not going to take a chance and guess which one, so both of you are going to have to come up with something tangible in order for me to put it before this team and make some use of it. "Now, I do however feel that we make an official statement to the press and ask the public to take notice of their friends and family, reports any unusual behavior that includes drinking and such. You, Riggs," he pointed a thick finger at a shaggy-haired man close to Brenner, "I want you to coordinate the contact team, take the calls, weed out the cranks and make a list of all the possibles." Riggs nodded, "Yes Sir, I'll get right on it." He left quickly, the double doors not quite closing in his haste. Bear stood and surveyed the agents in the room. "That's about all we can do for now. Uly, I know you're dying to get over to the crime scene, so I won't hold you up. The rest of you are to continue the assignments handed out last night. Dismissed." The room erupted into organized chaos as men sprang into action, conferring with each other's notes and some following Riggs out the door in order to start working in their different areas. Bear stamped out of the room, heading for his office to prepare an official statement to the press. Scully and Mulder looked at each other and silently agreed on what their next step of action would be. "Agent Vangelis, hold up," Scully jogged over to intercept the man. "Would you mind some company on the ride to the crime scene?" Uly's blue eyes sparked with something Dana couldn't define. "Why certainly, Agent Scully, it would be a pleasure." "Mulder, c'mon," Scully called. She noted that Vangelis' demeanor shifted and was now cold. She realized he hadn't intended that Mulder be part of the deal. Well, he'd just have to get over it. They both waited as Mulder pulled on his coat while crossing the room. She saw his eyes flick from her to the other man and back to her. She thought she saw a hint of suspicion but it was so fast that she dismissed it as her imagination. Vangelis opened the door and ushered Scully through, dodging in front of Mulder to follow her out. His plan backfired when Dana simply stopped and remained in one place until her partner was beside her. They accompanied Uly down to the garage in silence, piling into the car without discussing seating arrangements. He was about to start the car when they all heard a voice shouting for them to hold on. They turned as one and saw Phillips running towards them. Vangelis rolled down his window and motioned the kid to his side. "What do you want, Gopher?" "Bear wanted me to go with you, I'm supposed to make sure that Agents Mulder and Scully have everything they need." Uly shook his head and jerked his thumb at the back seat. "Get in." Gopher nodded breathlessly and jumped in the back, grinning at Mulder like a kid in the candy store. His fast breathing was the only noise in the car for a few minutes. When Vangelis pulled out of the garage, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Mulder started speaking in a quick and hurried manner, as though his mouth was trying to keep up with the speed of his mind. "Scully, remember when I asked you what you knew about Poe? What if the UNSUB is more interested in the man as a person and less on the contents of his poems? I mean, it is obvious that he only has a rudimentary understanding of the deeper inflections of Poe's writing. Perhaps he feels he's somehow connected to Poe, that he's a kindred spirit and is using his writings as a justification. It probably started at a young age, when he found out that Poe was an orphan just like himself. Later, he found other similarities that just cemented the perceived bond they shared. He fought with his adoptive father and tried to get into a branch of the military but was rejected and then-" "Mulder, Mulder," Scully repeated, trying to get his attention. "Whoa, slow down. Where are you getting all this?" Mulder grinned sheepishly. "Sorry. Remember I told you I wrote a thesis on Poe? Well, that included doing research into his past. He was orphaned at an early age and adopted by John Allan. After a quarrel with his stepfather he enlisted briefly in the Army and won an appointment at West Point. But he was temperamentally unfit for military life and was dismissed for breaking the rules. His aunt took him in and he soon married his young cousin, Virginia. Meanwhile, he launched his literary career with publications of verses in Boston and New York. He was rewarded with a raise and a promotion, but then his wife became ill with tuberculosis and he began drinking. This cost him his job and had to make due with occasional literary periodicals. Virginia's health continued to decline and when she died, he was devastated. He never fully recovered and became ensconced in his work. Eventually he became engaged again, but before they could ever marry, he died from an unexplained fever." Despite his obvious disdain of Mulder, Uly appeared interested. "Okay, but how close can our man's life be to that?" Mulder chewed on his lower lip for a moment. "Well, he was orphaned at a young age and after a disagreement with his adoptive father, he applied for the military. It doesn't matter what branch of service, because he was rejected. He then moved in with a female relative, probably his sister and found a job in publishing or journalism. His sister introduced him to one of her friends and soon they got married. But she became sick, not with tuberculosis but some other pulmonary disease and she eventually died. This was the initial event that started him on the path of murder." "But why?" Gopher asked. "He lost everything that was important to him, his wife was everything. He had known about Poe since high school, when he had studied English, and knew of the similarities of their lives. He came to the conclusion that this was a sign, that men like him were destined to lose their greatest loves. He has to stop it, has to make sure that no one else is forced to suffer like he and Poe did. So he kills the girls, before they can grow into adult women who break the hearts of men. He chooses them based on Poe's writings, killing them in a manner that reflects the poems. "Think about it. Kelly Mervin was poisoned with atropine and carbon monoxide, mimicking the symptoms of Morella, the subject of the excerpt attached to the body. And then Harper Bingham was also poisoned with CO2 and atropine to look like sickness. She was blonde, rich, and proud, just like Lenore, the second poem. Jackie Wright was the daughter of a lieutenant commander in the navy and was drowned in a pond, hyacinth petals stuffed in her mouth. The note with her referred to Helen, who Poe wrote, 'On desperate seas long want to roam,' and is part of a larger poem that continues, 'Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home' "You already know about Loren Moniker as Annabel Lee. Don't you see? He is killing children who he believes will grow to become the women in the poems and die, causing grief for some man. He has to stop them before that happens." Scully shifted in her seat so that she could look behind her. "But Mulder, you said that he doesn't hate the girls. To me it seems that your postulating that he hates them for becoming women who hurt men." Mulder shook his head. "No, because it is through no fault of their own that they die. It's always a sickness or an accident. If he hated them, they'd die much more violently. He made sure that Loren didn't feel the cold. He loved his wife and hence he loves these girls as harbingers of a new life." Gopher was flipping through his own personal notes. "Agent Mulder, how do you know what poem the note with Harper referred to? I thought that our team hadn't identified it yet because the ink was partially smudged and all we could make out was 'died so young'." Mulder closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the seat. "Come! Let the burial rite be read - the funeral song be sung! - An anthem for the queenliest dead that ever died so young - A dirge for her the doubly dead in that she died so young. "Wretches! Ye loved her for her wealth and hated her for her pride, And when she fell in feeble health, ye blessed her - that she died! How shall the ritual, then, be read? - the requim how be sung By you - by yours, the evil eye, - by yours, the slanderous tongue That did to death the innocence that died, and died so young?" The rest of the drive to the crime scene was in silence as each person reviewed the conversation with different perspectives. *************** 1290 Doubleday Avenue 9:16 am A low whistle sounded in the car. "Man, look at this place, it must've cost a fortune." "Yeah Gopher, it'll take the rest of your career to earn enough to buy a lawn ornament for a place like this," Vangelis observed. "Looks like the Crime Scene Unit is here, let's get this over with." They all got out of the vehicle and headed up the sizable walkway, nodding at the now familiar faces of the Scene Unit as they passed. Vangelis split off from the other three and moved over to take charge of the unit as the remaining trio entered the house. "I feel like Annie at Daddy Warbucks' mansion for the first time," Scully said as she turned in a circle in the foyer. The white marble floor was towered over by vaulted ceilings decorated with baroque ornamentation and topped off by the most ostentatious chandelier that rivaled the Phantom of the Opera's. "Is that a Delacroix?" Mulder wandered over to an enormous painting that took up half of one of the walls. Leaning forward until his nose almost touched the painted surface, he scrutinized the signature located at the bottom right corner. "Yes, it is," answered a deep male voice from behind them. "Are you with the FBI?" As a group, they turned around to find a man standing before them. He was well over six feet tall, his thin bone structure and blond hair adding to his scarecrow look. He was dressed in an expensive-looking suit and he was well groomed. His eyes however were red-rimmed and his pale complexion spoke of a tremendous sorrow. He must be the father. "Mr. Belshe, I presume?" Mulder held out his hand in greeting. "I'm Agent Mulder. These are Agent Scully and Agent Phillips. Sir, I know how you must feel right now, but is there any way you could answer a few questions for us?" Belshe's eyes hardened at the mention of feelings and spat, "I don't think you could possibly have any idea as to how I am feeling right now. But, if your intrusion into my sorrow will in any way bring Georgia back to me, then I willingly capitulate." He motioned for them to follow him and he led them into a room where the walls were lined with bookcases, ceiling high. They all sat down in the green leather chairs, except for Mulder, who preferred to stand during this particular interrogation. Formalities aside, he began asking questions that might help him refine his profile, questions that normal agents weren't trained to ask. Once all his inquiries were answered to his satisfaction, he decided to turn it over to Scully. "Mr. Belshe, I would like permission to examine Georgia's room." "She was kidnapped from the front yard, not from her room, so I don't see what kind of good that would do. But go ahead, just don't..." he trailed off, his expression a mixture of anger and fear. "I'll leave the room exactly as she left it, so nothing is different when she returns." A tiny smile played at the man's lips. "Thank you, Agent Mulder." Mulder nodded at Scully and Gopher, knowing that they would be able to handle it from there. He walked out of the room and turned right to go up the stairs. Ascending the stairway, he marveled at the decadence of the home. Intricate carvings, priceless paintings, lush rugs from India gracing the marble floors. Reaching the second story, he made a left and came to the room immediately next to the banister. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open. He was immediately assaulted by the smell of sunflower potpourri and he had to quell the urge to squint due to the bright yellows inundating the room. Posters, bedspread, silk flowers, anything and everything that had to do with sunflowers filled the room to overflowing. Mulder walked cautiously into the room, taking in the bright colors. He noticed several collage frames depicting Georgia and her friends from gymnastics, their smiling faces a painful reminder of how victims were never too young. Closing his eyes, Mulder imagined Georgia bringing her friends into this room, sitting cross-legged on the bed as they played Mystery Date or some other such game. They all wished for handsome husbands with good jobs and big houses, fancy cars and pretty dresses. Oh yes, and a horse. All little girls wanted a horse. He could remember when Samantha was six; all she wanted was a pony. She begged and pleaded for months before her birthday. His mother had managed to hire a pony ride for Sam's birthday, but the child was still disappointed. So she wrote to Santa Claus and asked for a pony. Then, just to be on the safe side, she had dragged a very disgruntled brother to the mall in order to tell Santa in person. Fox, who was a very mature and intelligent ten-year-old, had hated every minute of it. But he could remember Sam's face as she sat in Santa Claus' lap and begged for a horse of her own, her big brown eyes so wide and believing. That Christmas he bought her an enormous stuffed horse that was large enough for her to sit on. It was the closest she ever got. *************** 12:33 p.m. "Keith, would you mind if we stopped and picked up some food?" "No problem, Dana. What do you feel like? Chicken, hamburgers, or tacos?" "Chicken is the healthiest of the three, so let's aim for that. Mulder, what do you want? Mulder?" Scully twisted around in her seat and looked at the man behind her. He was sitting with his right elbow propped on the door handle and his chin resting in his upturned palm. At first she thought he was asleep, but upon closer inspection she saw that his eyes were slightly open and his lips were twitching every now and then as though he was trying to voice something but couldn't get it out. She was about to nudge him out of his reverie, her hand poised just inches from his arm, when she paused. They had just come from the victim's house where they had gained some information, however minimal, and it was obvious that Mulder was processing this. Was it her place to interrupt? She was only just becoming familiar with Mulder's behavior while profiling in an office and had barely any reference to his behavior while profiling in the field. What if this was normal? What if her interruption threw him off whatever scent he was on? Pursing her lips, she pulled her hand back and rubbed at her chin. Finally she made her decision and turned to look at Keith, who was staring politely at the road. "Chicken is fine, Mulder'll eat anything that's put in front of him." "Okay, Chaco Chicken it is." "Actually, how about KFC instead?" "Um, okay, whatever." Gopher sent her a quizzical look. Scully smiled and proceeded to tell the younger agent all about Chaco Chicken and cannibalism. *********** end part 4/9 From: "XScout --" Date: Tue, 08 Feb 2000 00:08:09 PST Subject: xfc: NEW: Closer to Fine part 5 of 9 Source: xfc From: "XScout --" summary and disclaimer in part 1 ********* Mulder gazed impassively out the window, seeing nothing of the scenery passing by. He was thinking about Georgia Belshe. An active child, she was often out of the house, at one sports practice or another, be it ice-skating or gymnastics. Happy and well liked by her friends and classmates, she was far ahead of everyone else in her skating group and also a star gymnast. Her coach thought she might even be Olympic material. That meant the killer probably saw her practicing, decided that she was the one he needed to save next. What did he see when he looked at her? Graceful, beauty in her movement, full of energy, a bright star among her peers. A girl who would grow into a woman that men would admire and desire. A heartbreaker. That was the crux of it all, the idea that Georgia would become a woman who would cause heartache for some man or another. But there was something more about her that drew the UNSUB to her, something that linked her to a character of Poe's writing. He wracked his brain, flipping through his internal Rolodex to pull up every story by Poe that he knew. One where there was an agile young beauty who died tragically before her time... Well, that didn't narrow it down much. Something else was needed to narrow it down - a comparison. A tale where the storyteller describes his contradictory nature to the girl's, a light contrasted to his darkness, her delight the antithesis of his misery. Misery. Misery is manifold. Yes, that was it! 'The wretchedness of earth is multiform. Overreaching the wide horizon-' He jumped in his seat, his head jerking off his hand and his knuckles bouncing into the window. "Huh, what??" "I said, we're here." Mulder frowned at his partner. Here? Where was here? He looked around and discovered that they were in the parking garage of the Cincinnati office. Oh, here. He turned up a corner of his lips and raised his eyebrows in apology. "Sorry, must have drifted off." Gopher snorted as he pushed open his own door. "Talk about an understatement," he muttered under his breath. Mulder pushed himself out of the car and shot the younger agent a withering look. Gopher immediately looked reticent. "Sorry, Agent Mulder." He glanced down at his shoes and then back again as though trying to summon up the courage to say something. "All right, out with it." The young man's eyes widened a bit and he looked to Mulder like a deer caught in headlights. "Um, Agent Mulder, Sir-" "Just Mulder is fine." "Uh, yes, okay. Mulder, if you don't mind me saying so, I think you could use a break." Mulder grinned widely across the roof of the vehicle. "Kid, we could all use a break." He sobered a bit. "But if you want to become a good FBI agent, you have to learn when to take them, because it could mean the difference between life and death for someone." Gopher nodded rapidly. "Yes, Sir." "And stop with the 'Sir' crap, it makes me feel old." He smiled to take away the sting of his words. "Come on, let's get inside. We have work to do." "We eat first," Scully demanded from behind him. Confusion flitted across Mulder's face for an instant. Food? Then he smelled a spicy aroma being emitted by a bag in Dana's hand. "That's the beauty of fast food, Scully. You can eat it and work at the same time." ************* Cincinnati Field Office 3:28 p.m. Gopher knocked meekly on the large door, straining to hear an answer from within. When none was forthcoming, he pushed the door open a crack. Nudging it open a bit more, he peered into the dimly lit room, wondering if Mulder was even still in there. He recognized a box from the fast food restaurant of earlier perched on the main table and still containing two legs of chicken. Well, that was a sign. He finally spotted the profiler in the darkest corner of the room. Mulder was sitting on a folding chair, his feet apart and his forearms resting on his thighs in a hunched over position. In his lap was an empty evidence bag and dangling from his hands was a small white tennis shoe with brown smudges on the toes. Mulder was rubbing his index finger along the sole of the shoe, his eyes half-lidded as he stared down. Gopher slowly entered, making sure that he wouldn't startle the older man with any sudden noises or movements but still be in the line of sight. He stood motionless once he was fully inside the room, unable to move any farther. Instead, he watched Mulder, something inside telling him that he was witnessing a thing misunderstood by many and feared by most. He held his position for almost ten minutes, hardly breathing, waiting for Mulder to do something. He almost gasped in surprise when the profiler's head turned to look at the wall he was sitting next to, the one covered with crime scene photos, maps, and other case paraphernalia. His brows furrowed and he drifted back to the shoe, his lower lip trembling. Gopher took this as a signal that he could approach and walked across the room, nervously fingering the packet of papers in his hands. He came to a stop directly in front of the older man, approximately two feet away. "Mulder?" There was no change in the agent's demeanor. Gopher took a deep breath, looking from side to side. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Um, Mulder?" Still nothing. He lingered, hoping that he would only have to wait until Mulder finished thinking before acknowledging his presence. He held his breath in anticipation and that was when he heard it. A quiet murmuring, so low that it was almost impossible to hear over the sound of one's own body. And it was coming from Mulder. Then Gopher did something he never imagined himself doing. He turned around and pulled a chair from the table over to a few feet in front of Mulder and sat down. He set the stack of papers in his lap and folded his hands on top of them, leaning forward to listen. "There are some qualities - some incorporate things, That have a double life, which thus is made A type of that twin entity which springs From matter and light, evinced in solid and shade. There is a two-fold Silence - sea and shore - Body and soul. One dwells in lonely places, Newly with grass o'ergrown; some solemn graces, Some human memories and tearful lore, Render him terrorless: his name's "No More." He is the corporate Silence: dread him not! No power hath he of evil in himself; But should some urgent fate (untimely lot!) Bring thee to meet his shadow (nameless elf, That haunteth the lone regions where hath trod No foot of man,) commend thyself to God!" ************* 5:08 p.m. Scully looked at her watch for the umpteenth time in the last five minutes. Where could they be? She had sent Keith to find Mulder and give him her notes from her meeting with Dr. Walden almost an hour and a half ago. They both knew that there was a briefing at five, so where could they possibly be? The other agents seated around the table were casting supercilious looks her way, several of them glancing pointedly at their watches. Even Bear was beginning to appear impatient. She was about to get up and go in search of the two men when suddenly the double doors burst open to reveal the agents in question. Mulder looked slightly disheveled, his suit wrinkled and his hair evidencing too many fingers run through it. Keith was out of breath, his tie askew and his arms full of papers. "Well, it's nice of you two to join us," Bear said, his tone disapproving. "Sorry, Sir, really, but Agent Mulder and I were following up on a lead that may give us a description of the UNSUB, that is if we can get the drug dealers to tell the truth, though I don't see why they won't since I'm sure we can give them some sort of deal and-" "Gopher. *Gopher*. Agent Phillips!" Gopher stopped midsentence, his mouth still open. Bear couldn't help but grin at the kid's enthusiasm. "Breathe, Gopher. Now, why don't you two sit down and then you can tell me what was so important that you made us all wait." Mulder sat in one of the open chairs, nodding at his superior in apology. Gopher started passing out the papers that he had been holding. "I'm sorry, Sir. Um, maybe Agent Mulder should, uh, tell you." "Fine, but somebody do it and do it now." Mulder sat up straight in his chair and addressed the entire room. "After visiting Georgia Belshe's home and interviewing her family and friends, I may have been able to ascertain which of Poe's works the killer may be trying to emulate. I believe that the next excerpt will be from 'Berenice'. "'Yet differently we grew - I ill of health and buried in gloom - she agile, graceful, overflowing with energy; hers the ramble on the hill-side - mine the studies of the cloister - I living within my own heart, and addicted body and soul to the most intense and painful meditation - she roaming carelessly through life with no thought of the shadows in her path, or the silent flight of raven-winged hours.' "Georgia was agile, graceful, and full of energy; a star gymnast and effervescent personality. The woman Berenice becomes sick - 'the spirit of change swept over her, pervading her mind, her habits, and her character, and, in a manner the most subtle and terrible, disturbing even the identity of her person!' Now, what is the first thing you think of when you hear a description like that?" "Drugs," Vangelis answered instantly. "Right. How do drugs kill?" "Overdose," Brenner stated. "Okay, that means our UNSUB is gonna have to find a supplier," Vangelis reasoned. "Bingo. But the added bonus is that these drugs must present symptoms similar to epilepsy, which means that they are prescription medication. So I called up the Cincinnati PD and had them give us a list of their known dealers who do business with medical drugs and their locations. Agent Phillips did the same with the Portsmouth PD and the compiled list is what he's passing out to you. Now, I spoke with the commissioner and he said that he didn't have the manpower nor the hours to send more than two patrolmen per precinct out into the neighborhood, so it is up to us to find these men and ask them the right questions." "You want us all to go out and waste our time talking to drug dealers based on some crazy whim of yours that is not even a guarantee?" Tony sneered. Mulder's eyes leveled with the other profiler's. "It's a theory, Agent Roberts, and that is what investigation is based on, not whims." "I don't care what it's called as long as it is a lead. And right now, it's all we've got. So, Tony, since we seem to be working off Mulder's profile, why don't you head up the interview team." Bear gave him a hard stare that brooked no argument. "If it doesn't pan out, you can reevaluate your profile and bring it before us all again. "Agent Riggs, have you had any luck with the phones?" "Well, there were several possible matches and I sent some agents to investigate. Nothing turned up though." Riggs' voice reflected his disappointment. "Keep on it. Brenner, any links between the latest victim and the previous ones?" Scully tuned the other agent's speech out, focusing on the man to her right. He seemed completely engrossed in the meeting, not even aware of her scrutiny. Mulder actually appeared more animated than she had seen him in the past few days. Most likely it was because he was 'on the scent' as she liked to say. But the adrenaline wouldn't last long, not in the condition he was in. She knew that the dark circles under his eyes were growing darker, the evidence of his ribs against his skin more pronounced, the strain wrinkles at the corners of his mouth more prominent. He was exhausted and running on nothing more than a few cups of coffee and some chicken legs, if even that. There was something different though. It took her a moment to pinpoint it but she finally figured out what it was. Mulder's eyes were redder and his complexion more pale. Not that this was necessarily out of the ordinary, considering the amount of sleep he had, but the fact that the redness and pale cast had not been so pronounced bothered her. That meant something had happened while she was meeting with Doctor Walden. Either he had another seizure or his general state of exhausten had worsened. Neither was an encouraging thought. There was only one way to find out. ********** 6:16 p.m. "Keith!" Scully hissed. The young man turned at the sound of his name. "Dana?" He jogged over to where she was at an unpopulated end of the hallway. "Did you need something?" She flicked her eyes over his shoulder, noting that Mulder was still inside the briefing room talking with Brenner. "I wanted to know what happened while you were with Mulder." He looked behind him at the open doorway and then back at her. "Why don't you ask him?" Dana sighed. "Because I know he won't tell it to me straight. He won't lie," she amended when she saw his raised eyebrows, "but he won't tell me the whole truth. He has a tendency to misdirect in order to avoid telling me everything." "Oh. Well, I went to the room you said he'd be in and at first I wasn't sure if he was there or not because the lights were off. I went in to see if he had left and I saw him sitting in the corner, holding Harper Bingham's shoe. I waited, hoping he'd notice me but he just sat there. So, I called his name. He didn't answer me but he was saying something. I decided to sit with him and listen; he was reciting Poe. We sat there for a good half-hour and suddenly he jumps up, stumbles to the other side of the room and loses his lunch in the trashcan. I didn't know what to do so I didn't do anything. He whirled around and started chanting a line over and over - 'Misery is manifold' or something like that. He walked right up to me and then, as though it was the most natural thing for me to be there, he told me to follow him. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he knew I was there the whole time and was just ignoring me, not that he was unaware. "Anyway, we went and made the phone calls to the police departments and you know the rest. I'll tell you, it was the most amazing thing I've ever seen. He just *knew* which quote the UNSUB would use next and now we have something to work with. What I wouldn't give to be able to do that. I-" "Don't ever say that." Scully's voice was deadly quiet. "Don't ever wish for what Mulder has, trust me. Because it is more that just knowing what the killer wants. It's feeling and understanding the sickness of what the killer wants. It's nightmares and headaches, loss of appetite and sense of reality. It is a plague on Mulder's soul that he never wanted but has dealt with the best he can. So I warn you, don't ever wish for what he has." ******** 9:42 p.m. "Scully, have I done something to piss you off?" "No, why do you ask?" "Well, for starters, you keep looking at me as though I've done something wrong. Plus, you've barely spoken to me for the past three hours, which is a long time considering we're the only two people in this room." Scully drew in a deep breath. "All right, something *is* bothering me." "What is it and I'm sorry?" "Don't apologize before you even know what it is." "Sorry." She couldn't help a quick grin. It disappeared when she started speaking. "I know that you didn't keep much of your lunch down and it worries me." "Kid can't keep his mouth shut, can he?" Mulder griped. "I specifically asked him. You don't actually think he'd be able to resist my charms, do you?" "Why Agent Scully, did you use your feminine wiles to gain information from an unsuspecting youth? I'm ashamed of you." Dana batted her eyes innocently. "Little ole me? I would never. And don't try to change the subject." Mulder sighed. "Okay, okay. My stomach was a bit upset so I didn't eat much of my lunch. Not that it mattered because it came right up a few hours later anyway. I'm fine, don't worry, I'm not sick. I was imagining what Georgia would be going through as she was submitted to overdose amounts of drugs. It wasn't a pretty sight and my already sensitive stomach rebelled. That's all." "You sure?" "Positive." "Only fools are positive." "Yeah and only fools fall in love, so I must be pretty damn stupid." Mulder reached over and pulled Scully's chair closer. Then he placed his hand behind her neck and brought her lips to meet his, kissing her with an intensity that signaled his need to feel her close. Finally he released her and she sat back, breathless. "Scully?" "Yeah?" "You didn't really seduce him, did you?" An eyebrow quirked. "Why? Jealous?" "No." He went back to the files he had been reading and she did the same. Several minutes passed in companionable silence until Mulder broke it. "Well, did you?" She simply smiled down at the papers in front of her and chuckled softly. ************ 10:07 p.m. "Okay, we've got manicotti for Dana, ravioli for Mulder, and some fettucini for myself. Also, here's a bag of garlic breadsticks," Gopher said as he passed out platters covered in foil. "I managed to get them to sprinkle everything liberally with parmesan cheese before I left." "Mmmm," Scully intoned, breathing in the mouth-watering aroma. "You are a lifesaver, thanks." "Yesh, thanks, it's vera goo-" Mulder managed to say around a mouthful of tomato sauce and pasta. Gopher grinned at the other man's enthusiastic consumption of food. "Feast or famine, huh?" "How do you think I keep my figure?" Mulder quipped before he took a bite from a piece of garlic bread. The young agent shook his head and took a seat across from the other two. "So, where'd we leave off?" Mulder took a sip of ice water from the glass before him. "Well, I've been thinking that the names of the women our UNSUB is referring to has some significance as words themselves. So I've been trying to see if they have some sort of code hidden in them, numerical or otherwise." Gopher nodded in understanding and motioned to Scully with his fork. "You?" "Going over all the autopsy reports, looking for any discrepancies, similarities, pretty much anything that catches my eye." "Anything I can help with?" "I'm sure Scully's got it covered. Why don't you give me a hand," Mulder suggested firmly. Dana almost choked on her manicotti as she tried to stifle a laugh. There was no doubt about it, Mulder was jealous. Both men looked at her quizzically. "Okay, what can I do?" Gopher asked. "I want you to see if you can find any links between the girls' real names and the names from Poe. We already know that the dump sites were chosen according to Poe's descriptions, I want to see if more than the girls' physical attributes played a role in his choosing them." Mulder handed Gopher ten three by five cards, each with a name written on it. "All righty then." Gopher took the proffered cards and sat down in the nearest chair, which happened to be next to Dana. He didn't notice Mulder's disapproving look. *********** 11:50 p.m. It had been almost two hours since they had eaten and still the agents did not feel as though they had made any progress. Gopher was going blind staring at the note cards, Scully was getting a headache from reading the cramped writing of Dr. Walden's reports, and Mulder had begun pacing in front of the wall that held the photos and maps. Mulder would make a prescribed circuit; scrutinize the first set of photos, walk across the room to look at the last set, turn and go back to the second set, and finish with the third. Then he would start all over again. Occasionally he would stand in front of one set longer than usual, mutter incoherently and move on. Dana knew that he was getting frustrated, that he needed to expend his pent up frustration by pacing, so she paid no heed to his wanderings. Gopher was too absorbed with his own task to be distracted by the fact that it had been almost five minutes since the older man had moved from his spot in front of victim number four's photos, his back to the wall perpendicular to the one decorated with pictures. All of a sudden Mulder let out a strangled gasp and he fell back against the wall with a loud thud. He tucked one arm around himself, hand in a fist, the other braced on his knee. His eyes were tightly shut, his breaths coming in harsh gulps as he sought to make it through the next few moments. Gopher was frozen in his chair, his eyes wide as he beheld the profiler deal with the seizure. Scully startled the younger man as she pushed herself out of her chair and went to her partner's side. She crouched down in front of him, placing her right hand over the one on his knee, and looked up into his face. She felt a lump lodge in her throat as she watched her lover experience indescribable pain. It had become a familiar sight to her but the sorrow and helplessness she felt when he had a seizure hadn't lessened as time wore on. Finally his body relaxed and his eyes slowly opened as he took deep cleansing breaths. He laughed under his breath. "I'd almost forgotten." "Forgotten what?" she murmured. "I didn't have a seizure all day and I was so focused on the case that I had almost forgotten that this wasn't just another assignment and I wasn't just a profiler." "You're right, this isn't just another assignment, it's an important case where little girls are being killed and we have the power to stop the man responsible. And you're not just a profiler; you're a brilliant profiler, excellent investigator, and caring man. Nothing changes that." They stared into each other's eyes for several moments until a cleared throat brought them back to reality. "Um, I hate to interrupt, but..." Gopher held up his hands in impotent gesture. "But what the hell was that?" Mulder finished for him. "Yeah." The older agent gave Scully's hand a final squeeze and pushed himself off the wall to walk over to Keith. "It's a long story, but to sum it up, I suffer from a non-communicable condition in which I experience seizures of an undocumented nature. They are periods of intense pain that usually pass within a half-minute. They can last up to a minute, but any longer is rare, though not unusual. There is no known treatment and no prescribed methods to deal with the seizures." Scully's mouth dropped open, recognizing her exact words to Rick Davis just two weeks before. He cast her a half-smile over his shoulder and turned back to Gopher. "Don't tell me no one in this office knows." "Well, Agents Roberts had mentioned something, but it didn't sound like what I just saw." Gopher gazed at the floor as though he was ashamed. "He described it a bit more... crudely." "I'll bet," Mulder growled angrily. "Mulder," Scully warned, coming up beside him. "You know Roberts feels threatened by your presence, you really didn't expect him *not* to spread rumors, did you?" "No, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. The man has no right to distribute information that he does not fully understand and has no wish to comprehend. Just because I happen to solve a few more cases than he does should have no bearing on his treatment of me. We are fellow FBI agents and he should simply be grateful that there are fewer evildoers on the street than there were before. We're all fighting for truth, justice, and the American way; can't we all just get along?" "Uh-oh, he's getting punchy. I think that's a sign for us to call it a night." Dana began to gather her files, placing them neatly in her open briefcase. Gopher lifted his arms over his head and stretched until he heard a satisfying pop. "Yeah, I could use a bit of shut eye." Scully noticed Mulder eyeing the wall again. "Don't even think about it, partner. We've done all we can tonight and I'm sure things will be fresher in the morning after a good night's sleep." Mulder's shoulders sagged in defeat. "Okay, but let me remind you that you have a tendency to snore when you're really tired, so I can't be held responsible if I don't get a good night's sleep." Dana's mouth once again dropped open and her eyes flicked over to meet Keith's, her face turning red. "Mulderrr," she grumbled. "It's all right, Dana. I figured out a while ago that you two were more than just partners," Gopher said happily as he collected his own belongings. "And how, pray tell, did you come to that conclusion?" Scully asked imperiously, embarrassment turning to anger. "Elementary, my dear Dr. Scully," Gopher drawled in a bad English accent. Dana tried to stay upset, but she couldn't do it. She began to chuckle and they all left with the sounds of laughter echoing down the halls after them. *********** Brentanos Plaza Hotel Wednesday 3:25 a.m. Almost three hours of uninterrupted sleep. Dana was kidding herself if she thought more than that was possible. Of course, she always had the option of using the other room. They always reserved two rooms, although they slept in one, for more than just appearance. It was easier to get ready in the morning with separate bathrooms, it gave them space in case they needed time alone, and it also provided an extra bed in the event that one of them needed silence to sleep. They rarely used both rooms except in the morning, but Dana had often been tempted to spend an occasional night in a separate bed in order to get some sleep. But then she would think of Mulder waking up from a nightmare to discover that he was alone and she dismissed the thought of leaving him for a night. She dodged a flailing hand and ducked under the arm it was connected to, resting both her hands against the bare chest of the arm's owner. "Mulder, wake up." He tossed his head from side to side, his arms pushing at anything that offered resistance. "No, no, not the... the raven... don't... No!" Mulder shot straight up, causing Scully to jump backwards and almost fall off the bed. His eyes were wide open and his breath was coming in great gulps. Dana cautiously moved closer, waiting for any sign that her partner was fully aware of his surroundings. "Mulder?" "She's dead, Scully. He killed her." His voice was low and monotone as he delivered his pronouncement, his face still blank. He began to shiver, goosebumps covering his flesh in a reaction to a combination of shock and drying sweat. Pulling at the covers with one hand, Scully wrapped the blankets around his trembling form, tucking the edges in so that no heat would escape. "It's all right, Mulder, it was just a dream." But she knew that it was more than just a dream. If Mulder had seen the girl die in his nightmare, it was more than likely that she was dead. It was one of Mulder's abilities that forced Dana to occasionally review her belief in psychic power. She reasoned it away as deductive thinking while asleep. Hell, he'd solved a case in his sleep before. Mulder continued to stare into space, his knees pulled up to his chin underneath the covers. Scully tugged gently on his shoulders to bring him closer. He abruptly went boneless and she was able to cradle him in her lap, slowly rocking back and forth and humming tunelessly. He eventually drifted back into slumber and she soon followed. ************* end part 5/9 Date: Tue, 08 Feb 2000 00:08:26 PST Subject: xfc: NEW: Closer to Fine 6 of 9 Source: xfc From: "XScout --" summary and disclaimer in part 1 ******** Portsmouth County Hospital 10:19 a.m. Mulder lifted up the yellow crime scene tape for his partner and then ducked under it himself. Vangelis saw them and moved to meet the pair, dodging an overturned trashcan in the middle of the alley. "Our guy has decided to get creative on us, left two notes this time." Scully paused to talk to the other agent while Mulder went in search of the body. He found her tiny form lying in the corner of the damp alleyway, her clothes gray and muddy. He blond hair was draped across her face, obscuring her vacant eyes. His lips thinned to a tight line and he crouched down to inspect the corpse, his eyes flicking over her as he committed every detail to memory. A survey of the surroundings and he was satisfied that he had everything securely locked in his mind. He drew a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and pulled them on with resounding snaps. Then he carefully removed the two notes pinned to the child's shirt, mindful not to disturb anything more than necessary. 'All is mystery and terror, and a tale which should not be told' was written on the first scrap, a direct quote from the story titled 'Berenice'. Mulder didn't give it a second thought and went to the next quote. 'Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door! Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!' Mulder chewed on his lip as he reread the excerpt. Well, it was the most obvious of the citations so far, being from Poe's most famous poem, 'The Raven'. "Leave my loneliness unbroken..." he muttered. He extracted an evidence bag from the same pocket he had retrieved the gloves and dropped the notes into the clear pouch. Giving Georgia Belshe one last look, he stood and searched out his partner, who was still talking with Vangelis. He joined them, handing the bag over to the other man. "He's already picked the next girl, he'll take her tonight." Uly didn't argue, he simply nodded and moved off to oversee his team. Scully laid her hand on Mulder's forearm. "You okay?" "Fine," he mumbled distractedly. "He left a quote from 'The Raven', a demand to be left alone. He sees the FBI as the Raven, come to stop him from remembering his own personal Lenore. He's going to continue to escalate until we catch him." "That means we don't have much time until the body count rises," Dana predicted, her tone grim. "Unless we get a lead from the dealers or get a call that pans out, there's no way we can stop him from seizing the next girl." Mulder raised a hand to his face and scrubbed at his tired eyes. "I know, I'm working on it." ************* Cincinnati Field Office 6:14 p.m. "You were right, Mulder. She was given overdose amounts of scopolamine then strychnine, destroying her mind first and then causing seizures that killed her in minutes. A bit more intense than epileptic convulsions - she almost snapped her spinal column." Dana flopped down into a chair next to her partner and kicked her high heels off under the table, flexing her toes. "Anything from the drug patrol?" "Yeah, actually. One of the lesser-known dealers by the name of Kyle Bowen was approached by a man who he had never done business with before and matched the behavior put forth in the profile. We also have three other possibles but now that we have the exact drugs used, we should be able to narrow it down to one. I doubt he used his real name, but it's a good start and we'll have a description of the UNSUB. One thing about drug dealers, they always remember their customers." Mulder yawned mightily and ground the heels of his hands in his eyes. Dana was about to suggest that he get some sleep when the trilling of a cellular startled them both. Mulder rolled his eyes and reached over the back of his chair, pulling his phone from the coat draped across it. "Mulder." Scully watched her partner's face intently, trying to discern the other end of the conversation by deciphering Mulder's expressions. His eyes slowly closed and he pinched the bridge of his nose in a gesture of exasperation. Damn, she thought, it certainly wasn't good news. "Fine, we'll be there in twenty minutes." Mulder pushed the off button and replaced the phone in his coat. He then stood and gathered his files, placing them haphazardly in his briefcase. "That was Vangelis." Dana understood immediately. "Who?" "Katherine Bittner, age eleven, was walking home from her friend's house and never made it." Scully ducked under the table to retrieve her shoes. "You'd think parents would be paranoid about letting their kids out alone when there's a serial killer on the loose." "Katherine's friend lives four houses down." **************** Brentanos Plaza Hotel Thursday 1:17 a.m. Dana collapsed onto the bed, her legs dangling off the edge. "I feel like I could sleep for a week." Mulder grunted noncommittally and drifted over to the table, setting his briefcase down with a thud. He opened it and began to rifle through its contents. Scully rolled over to look at him, her head propped up on her arm. "Did you manage to get something to eat while I was doing the autopsy? Because I could order some room service." She must have decided that his lack of a response was better than a negative one because she picked up the bedside phone and began to order some food. After finishing, she thanked the clerk politely and hung up, announcing that dinner would be there in about fifteen minutes. She then forced herself off the bed and wandered over to the closet, divesting herself of her jacket and blouse as she went. "We should order room service more often. After all, the Bureau picks up the tab and I think we're due for a bit of pampering. I really don't believe they'd question a steak dinner or two and-" "Scully," Mulder said softly. She continued to ramble on and so he repeated himself more forcefully. "Scully!" "So I- what?" She paused in the buttoning of her pajamas. "You don't have to take my mind off of it, I'm okay." He could see her fingers twitch slightly and then continue to work on the buttons of her top. "I don't know what you mean." "Scully, don't you think it has been in the back of my mind all this time? Today just brought it to the forefront." He refused to look at her as he spoke. "I'll be fine; tomorrow it will be back in its locked box within my psyche." Dana gave up on her denial approach and came up behind her partner, wrapping her arms over his shoulders and around his neck. "Mulder, I'm so sorry. I was so worried about you dealing with the profiling aspects of this case that it never occurred to me to worry about how cases involving children would affect you." He was stiff in her arms. "It doesn't matter, my own personal traumas have no place in this investigation." With a quick shove, Scully had Mulder's chair turned and was facing him, her features tight with anger. "Bull shit, they belong in this investigation! What happened to you as a child is what makes you the empathetic man you are today and helps you solve these cases." "Dana, it's not important. I'm-" he tried. "Mulder, you just came from the scene of a crime where you hared out and were unresponsive for over ten minutes, so don't you dare tell me that you're fine. It was all I could do to keep the parents from panicking." She leaned over and placed her hands on his knees, her nose two inches from his own. "I know you, Mulder. You would never give a victimized family anything less than your utmost concern unless something was really wrong." He stared into her blue depths. "I saw that picture and I just couldn't move. All I could think of was that I couldn't save her." "Mulder, that girl isn't Samantha. She may look like her, but she isn't your sister. And you are not a powerless little boy anymore, you *can* save her." "I'm so tired, Scully, I don't know if I can." His voice broke on the last word. "Oh Mulder," Scully whispered, drawing him into her arms. "I know you're tired, Sweetheart, I know." She ran her fingers through his hair in a soothing motion, kissing him lightly on the forehead. "Why don't you get some sleep, I'll cancel room service." Mulder suddenly felt completely exhausted, barely able to perform the simplest task. Dana seemed to understand immediately and moved to his aid. She hauled him out of the chair and led him over to the bed, nudging him gently to get him to fall back on it. She pulled off his shoes one by one and then removed his slacks, leaving his socks on for warmth. Next came his tie and shirt, tossed into the open suitcase that served as Mulder's laundry hamper. Drawing the covers over him, she bent and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "Goodnight, Mulder. I love you." A smile played at his lips. "Mmm, love you too, Sc'lly." Then he was asleep, snoring quietly. ***************** 4:43 a.m. He could see the girl now, her long brown hair bouncing across her back as she skipped down the street. No one else was around but he knew that someone might pass by at any second. That knowledge gave him the rush of adrenaline he needed to perform his deed. He stepped out from behind the tree and smiled at the child. The girl smiled back and skipped on her way, finally disappearing into a small white house with roses in the front yard. He followed her, walking into the room as though it was perfectly natural to enter a stranger's house unchallenged. The child was sitting on the floor in the living room, playing a board game with red and blue pieces, the television chattering away to her right. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a length of electrical cord, wrapping each end around his palms for stability. He crept up behind the girl, his heart pounding in his ears and sweat dripping into his eyes. In a flash of movement he had the child pressed up against him, her fingers clawing at the wire cutting into the tender flesh of her neck. He shoved her to the ground, casting the cord aside, replacing it with one of his hands. The other removed a knife from his coat and proceeded to cut a heart into the flowered pajamas of the whimpering girl. Lights began to flash wildly outside, illuminating the entire room with their flickering glow. Furniture began to shake, the sound of glass breaking behind him causing him to drop the knife. He had to stop this, he had to end it now, before the girl disappeared and caused her family grief. He encircled her thin neck with his large hands and began to squeeze. "Of all who owe thee most, whose gratitude Nearest resembles worship, - oh remember The truest, the most fervently devoted, And think that these weak lines are written by him- By him, who, as he pens them, thrills to think His spirit is communing with an angel's." The child pushed weakly at his arms, gasping ineffectually, her eyes wild with fear. The lights continued to flash and the house shook with a loud humming. And above the humming there was a noise that pulled at his attention. It was a screaming. Someone was calling his name. He shook his head to rid himself of the uneasiness the voice produced and he looked down at the girl beneath him. Her features began to undulate and shift, her face widening and her eyes turning a crystal blue. Her hair shortened and became a coppery red, her pink floral pajamas transforming into a silken navy blue material. Her small hands metamorphosed into adult hands, tipped with long fingernails. They were pulling at his arms. "Mulder!" This time the strangled cry registered completely and he found himself back in the hotel room, his body covering that of his partner, his hands wrapped around her throat. He released her instantly and threw himself backwards, stumbling into the far wall in his haste. He was shaking with adrenaline and fear, cold tendrils enveloping his heart, his breath coming in hard bursts. "Nonononononoooo," he ranted, his vision blurring and the world spinning sickeningly. He sank to the floor, pulling his knees to his chest and covering his head with his arms, still chanting. He didn't know what was happening, everything seemed distorted, swirling around him in an overload of his senses. He was so cold, his chest tight and his teeth chattering as he spoke. But then there was warmth. A tiny spot of warmth on his shoulder that spread heat down his arm. He turned into it, needing it as though he could not live without it. Suddenly the warmth disappeared and he almost cried out at its loss, his fear threatening to overwhelm him. Then it was back, extending into his arms and legs, soothing away his tremors and bringing the pain in his chest to a manageable level. He slowly lifted his head from under the protection of his arms and saw a pair of clear blue eyes staring back at him. With an anguished groan he pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly as he repeated "I'm sorry" again and again. Some minutes later, he had calmed enough that he was able to recognize what had just happened. He gazed down at the oval shaped face cradled in the crook of his neck and brought his hand up to caress the ivory cheek. His fingers traced across her skin, traveling down to the darkening bruises on her neck, hovering over them as waves of guilt swept through him. Her small hand came up and she laid her palm against the back of his fingers, communicating her understanding with that simple touch. He swallowed thickly. "I almost killed you." "No, Mulder, you didn't. You would never hurt me." "Take a look at yourself in the mirror and you'll see just how capable I am of hurting you." Dana pushed at his chest so that she could get a better look at him. "Mulder, listen to me. *You* could never hurt me. That wasn't you, it was the man that you are profiling, he's the one responsible." "It wasn't just him. It was Roche and the aliens and the UNSUB all in one, killing Samantha before she could be abducted and put our family through hell. It was me, identifying with the killer and knowing that if Sam had simply been murdered that night, it would have saved us all a lot of pain and sorrow. He is just trying to save others from the grief he felt when his wife died." Dana got to her feet and held out her hand to help Mulder up. "His wife?" "Yes, she died of lung cancer after a long and painful battle. He was devastated; she was the only one he loved. He had to..." he trailed off. Without warning he rushed over to his suitcase, pulling out a T-shirt and a pair of jogging pants. "What are you doing?" Scully asked in alarm. "I have to go," he said as he donned the clothing. "Where?" Mulder stopped his frenetic movements at the fear he heard in her voice. He stepped over to her and encircled her in his arms. "Oh Dana, I love you so much." He buried his face in her hair, breathing deeply of her scent and reveling in the fact that she was alive and relatively unharmed. "I'm so sorry, I never wanted you to have to go through that. I can't let it happen again, because next time you might not be able to get through to me. I'll do whatever it takes - therapy, drugs, whatever." Scully held him tightly. "I forgive you, Mulder, though there isn't much to forgive. We'll deal with this together, you aren't alone." He smiled down at her. "As long as you're in my heart, I'll never be alone." He bent his neck and kissed her deeply, their lips meeting in an intense embrace. He finally freed her and took a step back, his hands still on her shoulders. "Now, I have to go." "Where?" she asked breathlessly. "I'm onto something. I don't know what it is, but it's right there on the tip of my brain. I need to run, I need to-" "Go." She grinned as she moved to open the door for him. "But take it easy and remember to be back by six, the morning briefing is at seven-thirty. I won't be there because the Forensic team is having a separate meeting to go over Georgia's autopsy." "I'll be careful." A quick peck on the cheek and Mulder was out the door. Dana shut it behind him, the ghost of a smile on her lips. What was she going to do with that man? ****************** 5:51 a.m. Dana leaned forward and lifted her chin, examining her neck. Luckily the bruises Mulder had left were not very dark and the coverup concealed them completely. She hated to think what the other agents would say if they saw black and blue fingerprints circling her throat. The door burst open, startling Scully as she applied her lipstick, a red line smearing down her chin. Mulder slammed it behind him and rushed to the table, frantically searching through the papers scattered on its surface. "Ah-hah!" he shouted triumphantly when he found what he was looking for. He abandoned the table and sat on the floor, placing five note cards vertically in front of him. He then took a red marking pen and circled something on each card. Sitting back slowly he stared at the cards for a minute. Then a huge grin split his face. "What is it?" Dana questioned. He looked up at her, still beaming from ear to ear. "We've got the bastard." ************* Cincinnati Field Office 7:29 a.m. "Okay everybody, settle down," Bear ordered. "We have a long day ahead of us and I don't want to make it any longer than needs be. Agent Mulder has informed me that he has made progress in discerning the meaning behind the notes, so we'll begin with him this morning. Agent Mulder." The profiler nodded his thanks and stood, walking energetically over to the whiteboard in the front of the room. He picked up a pen and turned to address the team members. "I was convinced that the answer was in the names of the women in the poems, an anagram or some such thing. The only problem was that with so many letters, the number of combinations is almost impossible to exhaust. But then I remembered another poem by Poe, titled 'A Valentine', which was a riddle that contained the answer in itself. The first letter of the first line in connection with the second letter of the second line, the third letter of the third line, and so on to the end translated the answer." As he was talking, Mulder scribbled on the board, illustrating his words. He began to write the names of the women in a column. Morella Lenore Helen Annabel Lee Berenice "Now, apply the same theory to these names and you get MELAN. This might not appear to mean anything at first, but suppose we add an I and an E. MELANIE. The name of our UNSUB's dead wife." The room erupted into noise as the team members assimilated this information. "I'll be damned." "What if he's right" "Could it be that simple?" "You call that simple?" "Spooky did it again." One voice shouted in order to be heard above the tumult. "You're wrong!" Everyone quieted as they turned one by one to stare at the speaker. "You're theory is only applicable if you follow *your* profile, but your profile isn't correct." Roberts was turning red as he stood and berated Mulder. "You think you can waltz in here and feed us this bullshit and expect us to believe you? Come on, it is a huge leap to think that this is a name, pure chance that adding two letters spells out a name." "Tony, maybe you should give the guy a chance, I mean it *does* make sense," Uly intoned. "I mean, it seems pretty obvious that the UNSUB is obsessed with Poe." Roberts whirled around and pierced Vangelis with his eyes. "Yeah? Well, obsessed or not, it has nothing to do with little green men, and that's Spooky's area of expertise, isn't it?? What the hell does a UFO hunter know about profiling? What, just because he used to do it almost ten years ago means that he still has what it takes? His brain's been so screwed up by aliens that I doubt he could profile his own mother!" Everyone sat in shocked silence. It was one thing to joke behind someone's back, but to openly degrade a fellow agent in front of said agent and the entire team - that was unthinkable. Bear was either too stunned to reprimand Tony or he content to let everything play out, choosing not to intervene. Someone shifted uncomfortably and Roberts' heaving chest slowed. As if finally realizing what he had done, he clamped his mouth shut and sat down, glaring around the room, challenging anyone to contradict him. Mulder was still standing by the whiteboard, pen in hand. He blinked slowly, drawing on his inner strength to face these men. "Agent Roberts, my theory is perfectly applicable to your profile as well. You postulate that he was abused by his mother and from this stems his hatred toward women. The subsequent death of his mother triggered his killing spree. Melanie would then be the name of his mother and we would still go about searching death records for that particular name. Find her and we find him. "And Agent Roberts, I may have been working on the X-Files for the past six years, but I am still qualified to do profiles. I have a ninety-percent solve rate when it comes to profile accuracy, do you? Bill Patterson himself recruited me directly from the Academy, without the normal three years in the field, were you? I graduated cuma sum laude with a Ph.D. in Criminal Psychology from Oxford, did you? So, you claim that I know nothing about profiling because I used to work in the paranormal? Well, I do know that profiling takes empathy, insight and intellect. What a self-absorbed, arrogant, pig-headed prima donna such as yourself could possibly know about profiling is beyond me. In fact, I think that it could be classified as an X-File." Silence reigned for a moment, but suddenly the room blossomed with applause and whistles. Roberts was white with rage, but he remained taciturn, his arms folded across his chest. Once things had quieted down, Mulder continued. "Now, if we could perhaps focus on the *case*, I believe that one other piece of information should be brought to light. I searched through the entire literary works of Edgar Allan Poe and found only one name that would fit into the equation, providing an I as the fifth letter. In a poem titled 'Eulalie'," Mulder paused, a look of concentration on his face, "there is a mention of the moon and..." he trailed off. His brows furrowed and his Adams apple bobbed. "Moon and stars. "I dwelt alone In a world of moan, And my soul was a stagnant tide, Till the fair and gentle Eulalie became my blushing bride - Till the yellow-haired young Eulalie became my smiling bride." He stopped, taking several deep breaths and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. "Ah, less - less bright The stars of the night Than the eyes of the radiant girl!" He clenched and unclenched his hands, pushing the words out through gritted teeth. Sweat began to bead on his forehead and his swayed slightly as he stood. Some of the team members cast nervous glances about, wondering what was happening. "And never a flake That the vapor can make With the... moon-tints of purple and pearl, Can vie with the modest Eulalie's most... unregarded curl- Can compare with... the bright-eyed Eulalie's... most humble and... careless... curl." Having succeeded in finishing the poem, Mulder no longer tried to fight the pain that was threatening to overwhelm him. With a guttural groan, he wrapped his arms around his mid-section and dropped to his knees. He was dimly aware of shouting and someone's hands pulling at him. He doubled over as pain spasmed through him, forcing him to collapse onto his side. He rocked slightly, wishing for the agony to stop, kneading his chest and stomach as though it might help. He tried to concentrate on breathing, but the simple effort of filling his lungs was excruciating. All of his nerves were on fire, screaming at his brain for some release. It was too much. As the world faded away into darkness, the last thing he remembered was his partner's voice offering words of comfort. *********** end part 6/9 Date: Tue, 08 Feb 2000 00:08:44 PST Subject: xfc: NEW: Closer to Fine 7 of 9 Source: xfc From: "XScout --" summary and disclaimer in part 1 *********** As they watched Mulder stand beside the whiteboard and recite Edgar Allan Poe, looks of confusion graced all faces but one. Gopher knew what was happening, knew that Mulder was holding off a seizure, pushing himself to his limit in order to get the information to the group. He wrung his hands and cast a hopeful look at the doorway, wishing that Dana would walk through it at any moment. Then, as though in slow motion, he watched in horror as Mulder fell to his knees, his long arms encircling his body and his face a mask of pain. Gopher lurched to his feet and ran to Mulder's side, pulling at the man's arms in order to get him to lie down. "Someone get Agent Scully! Now!!" he shouted, not bothering to see if anyone responded to his order. He turned his attention to the man writhing on the ground. "It's all right, Dana's on her way, she'll make sure you'll be okay." He sucked in his lower lip and chewed on it, unsure as what more to say. He was saved from having to say anything else when Dana arrived and knelt beside him, nodding at him quickly in thanks. "Mulder, I'm here, it's all right. Listen to my voice, focus on my words." Mulder continued to rock back and forth and she shook her head. "Damn it, he's not responding. Mulder. Mulder, can you hear me? Try to take deep breaths, you can do it." Suddenly the profiler went limp, the tension in his body disappearing instantly. Scully leaned back on her haunches and looked up at the circle of FBI agents surrounding her. They were all staring down at the pair of Washington agents in shock. Keith reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder. The concern in his eyes appeared to shake her out of her stupor and she sighed as though in resignation. "Would you help me carry him to the couch in Bear's office?" The young man nodded silently and bent over to secure his arms under Mulder's. With a deft heave, he had the older agent suspended in the air, long legs supported by Dana. Together they manhandled Mulder out into the hallway and several doors down, where Dana kicked open Bear's door and continued to carry her partner in. They deposited him on the couch and Gopher took a step back, waiting to see if there was anything else he could do to help. He watched as Scully sat on the edge of the couch, her hand moving to caress the side of her partner's head. Feeling oddly voyeuristic, Gopher mumbled, "I'll be back to see if you need anything." Dana glanced up and smiled softly. "Thank you, Keith." Then she turned her attention back to Mulder. Gopher spared them one last look and then left, closing the door quietly behind him. He leaned back against the hard wood and closed his eyes. He felt an indescribable sadness as he thought about the pair of agents inside. Keith Phillips was a green agent in all senses of the word; he had graduated from the academy just one week before being assigned to Cincinnati and he had barely learned the names of his fellow agents before this case had become their nightmare. It was from this case that he had his first real taste of violence and the blood and sweat that agents put into solving crimes. He had worked hard to keep up with the more seasoned agents, running errands that might appear insignificant but were important in the greater scheme of things, paying attention to their techniques and taking copious notes during the meetings. He had learned a lot in the past weeks, but it wasn't until Mulder and Scully had arrived that he truly learned what it was to be an FBI agent. He had heard of Spooky Mulder in the academy, along with all of his classmates. It was odd; the name 'Spooky' was whispered in the halls with an curious mixture of reverence and scorn. Reverence for his profiling and analysis skills, scorn for his wasting them on chasing little green men. But Keith cared little for the rumors about the X-Files; he was more interested in years Mulder spent in the VCS and ISU previous to the X-Files. Having an unparalleled success rate, Mulder's old cases were used as examples and exercises in class, his techniques in investigation were taught as part of the regular curriculum. Fox Mulder was a living legend that Keith had idolized. When he heard that Mulder would be joining them on this case, he had nearly hyperventilated in excitement and fear. And when Mulder had arrived, he had not disappointed Keith in the least. He had been as focused, determined, and skilled as people claimed. But there was something else that no one had mentioned. There was a sadness that seemed to cling to the profiler, a weariness that spoke of despair at the inhumanity of the killer. And it went deeper than that, hinting at a past filled with pain and sorrow. Keith had watched as this case consumed Mulder, eating away at him as the man became more in touch with the UNSUB, his hold on reality a tenuous one at best during those times when submerged in the killer's psyche. Keith had always considered Mulder as something of a knight in shining armor, an agent who could come in, solve a case in a few days, and leave again without any indication of having been inside a killer's mind. Spooky Mulder was a profiling machine who could do anything. After seeing Mulder deal with a seizure last night, Keith was even surer that this idea was true, that nothing could stop the man. But after witnessing what he just had, Keith realized that Mulder was just as human as everyone else. He felt sadness, fear, and pain, just like the rest. He needed sleep and nourishment like a normal person, had a sense of humor and an intellect that went beyond solving crimes. But it was the fact that, despite his physical condition, Mulder continued to work that placed him above the rest. His empathy for the victims and their families as well as his dedication to bringing them peace were what made him an exceptional agent. Keith opened his eyes and looked down the hallway at various agents rushing about, putting Mulder's theories to the test. Perhaps it took more than brains to solve a crime. It also took heart. ************* 11:44 a.m. Dana was sincerely starting to worry. Yes, the seriousness of the seizure was definitely a cause for concern, but she had accepted the reality weeks ago that this might happen. What she was worried about was the fact that Mulder had been unconscious for almost three hours now. That hadn't happened since he landed in the hospital when the black cancer symptoms began nearly two months ago. She had chosen not to call for paramedics because of the incapability of medicine to help his situation, but she was beginning to rethink her decision. She could only hope that his unconscious state was due more to exhaustion than the seizure. Finally a low throaty groan signaled her partner's return to awareness. She lay her palm upon his cheek. "Mulder? How are you feeling?" His eyelids squeezed tightly together and he turned his head into her hand. She saw his Adams apple bob twice and then his eyes slowly opened. "Scully?" "Of course, who else would it be?" she answered softly, getting off the couch and moving to a chair. He sat up cautiously, wincing at the movement. "Where are we?" "Keith helped me bring you into Bear's office. Do you remember what happened?" He frowned imperceptibly and sighed. "Yeah, I remember." He grinned sheepishly. "Well, did I give anyone a heart attack?" She smiled back. "No, I think that the fact that none of themhave reached their fifties was the only thing that saved them. Actually, several of them have stopped by to ask how you were doing. I think Keith set the record straight." "Kid's going to be a good agent," Mulder observed, swinging his legs off the couch and placing them firmly on the ground. "Yes, he is. He said he'd be back around eleven-thirty to check on us but I doubt we'll see him anytime soon." He paused in rubbing the back of his neck and quirked an eyebrow at her. "Why not?" She stepped over and shooed his hand away, replacing it with her own and gently massaging away the tension. "Because everyone is in a frenzy trying to get all the information we need. You really stirred up a hornet's nest, Mulder." "Have they got anything yet?" "Not that I'm aware of, but I haven't left this office, so who knows." She patted him apologetically on the back. "Don't feel guilty, Mulder, there's nothing you could have done about it. Besides, there's plenty of people working on it, I would just be in the way." "You? Never. Most agents can't do half of what you do, give yourself some credit." Scully smacked him playfully on the shoulder. "Kiss ass." "Only yours," he shot back. "Better be. Well, I think I'll head down to the cafeteria and grab something for us to eat. Don't give me that look, you haven't had breakfast and after what just happened I want to make sure you have your strength up. I want you to stay here until I get back and rest a little bit more." "But--" "Not buts about it. Don't make me pull rank on you." She put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest in exaggerated importance. "Scully, I outrank you." She grinned evilly. "Yes, but the doctor can pull rank even on the captain." ************** Mulder waited until he heard the click of the door as it shut before he let his guard down. He slumped back into the couch and closed his eyes, willing the pain to go away. It didn't work. He tried kneading his temple but that only led to minor assuagement. What was he going to do? His whole body was aching; pulsing with a pain that had no promise of relief. It was just like before, when he had first discovered that the black cancer was still within him. It had all started as a sort of encompassing ache that gradually became worse until it was debilitating and he was taken to the hospital. Luckily he hadn't reached that level yet, but he was still in constant pain and it was distracting. And he couldn't tell Scully. Because, if she knew, she would not let him finish this case. He couldn't let that happen, he had to see this through. It wasn't that he was possessive and considered this *his* case, or that he had something to prove. It was that, if he did not see this case come to an end, he would be forever haunted by it in his nightmares. Resolution was the only thing that could keep the demons of the night away. After more than twenty-five years of non-resolution in his sister's abduction, he knew that it was the only way for him to avoid the downward spiral into a living hell. He was just going to have to grin and bear it, so to speak. There was no way that he was going to let some extraterrestrial slime worms beat him. Filled with renewed purpose, he jumped up from the couch, prepared to bring in the UNSUB himself if he could. But he had sadly misjudged how ready his body was and he stumbled into Bear's desk, locking his elbows when his hands hit the wooden surface in order to keep himself upright. He crushed his eyes shut and took in deep breaths, waiting for the sparks of pain to lessen to a more manageable level. "Agent Mulder, are you all right?" His head jerked to the side and he found Gopher looking at him with concern. "I'm fine, thanks." He pushed himself off the desk and stood up straight, wincing as he did so. Gopher cocked his head sideways. "If you'll pardon me for saying so, you don't look fine. In fact, you look worse than before." "Well, I won't pardon you then. Now, are you here just to make obvious diagnoses on my health or do you have something to report." Mulder instantly felt guilty when he saw the contrite look that graced the younger man's face. "Look, Gopher, I'm sorry. I know you're just worried, and I appreciate your concern, but I don't have time for that sort of thing. You remember when I told you that you need to learn when to take breaks?" He waited for the kid to nod. "This is one of those times when you put the good of the victims ahead of everything else." "I understand. But Mulder, wouldn't Dana prefer-" Mulder put up a hand to stop the younger agent's speech. "Gopher, listen to me. I want you to promise me that you are not going to tell Scully about any of this. No, hear me out. We both know that if she was aware of my current condition she would forcibly restrain me to keep me from seeing this case through to the end." Gopher appeared to mull over the decision for a moment. "All right, you have my word. But Mulder?" "What?" "If I can tell that you're in pain, don't you think Dana will be able to as well?" Mulder stared at the kid in astonishment. "Damn." They both startled at the sound of feet pounding past the room and a grin split his face. "But she's not going to." "Why not?" "Because we're all going to be so busy that she's not going to have the time to notice." Gopher's brows scrunched together. "How do you know that?" "Because Brenner just ran by with a huge smile on his face. Let's go." *********** 12:37 a.m. The briefing room was in chaos. People were shouting and clapping each other on the back, others hastily making notes on the maps and papers plastered on the wall, some with phone to their ears, free hands blocking out the noise. Mulder walked stiffly into the room, Gopher at his heels. The room got louder, if possible, as people congratulated him for his insight and jabbed him good-naturedly in the ribs as they winked conspiratorially. "Quiet down!" roared Bear. It took a moment longer than usual, but soon there was nothing but a twitter or two. "Thank you. Now, I want-" he paused as Dana rounded the corner, dumped a tray of food on the side table and scooted into the empty seat next to Mulder. "I want to thank everyone for pulling together so fast and getting this information in such an expedient manner, well done. So, let's get down to it. "Our main suspect is James C. Talbain, age forty-seven. He is currently employed with the Portsmouth Gazette and was recently promoted to senior journalist. He lives with his sister Caroline whom he moved back in with after his wife of fifteen years, Melanie Talbain, died of lung cancer two months ago. His driver's license photo matches the description given to us by Kyle Bowen of a man who bought scopolamine and strychnine within the past week. We also had an anonymous phone call from a woman who claimed that her brother was acting strangely, drinking and lashing out angrily. She would not give us her name but we were able to trace it to an area of ten square miles. Caroline and James Talbain live within that region. "Background on Talbain states that he was an orphan, adopted by Jonathan and Margaret Talbain in 1955. He had a good childhood and did well in school. In 1973 he applied to the Air Force Academy but was rejected for medical reasons. Apparently he is nearly blind in his right eye due to an accident as a child. He ended up going to Ohio State and graduated in 1979 with a degree in journalism. He worked at a few small papers for about five years and was then hired by the Portsmouth Gazette in 1984. We contacted his office and it seems that he called in sick today, the third day in a row, claiming to have the flu that's going around. "All right, here's the game plan. I want a small task force to go to his house and arrest him. Try and get him to tell us where the girl is, since he won't be holding her at the same residence, ask the sister for any information that might be helpful. Brenner, you head up the team, choose five agents to accompany you. Mulder, Roberts, I want you two to go along for on-site consulting. Okay people, let's do it." The response was instantaneous. Agents were moving at a run, getting everything together as fast as possible. Brenner was calling out the names of his task force. Mulder could see the dismay on Dana's face when she wasn't one of the five chosen. "Don't worry, Scully, I'll be fine. I can't go with them into the house, I can only advise over the radio. No field agent status, remember?" She gave him a half-hearted smile. "I know, you're right. Well, I doubt Brenner is leaving within the next five minutes, so I want you to eat something before you have to go." "You trying to fatten me up, woman?" "Oh yeah, you know how the sight of collagen turns me on." She couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "Promise to call me after you pick him up?" "The chances that Talbain is there are practically nil, but I promise to call you anyway." "Thank you. Now eat." He assumed a soldier's stance. "Yes, Sir!" *************** 11175 West Bernardo Drive Portsmouth, Ohio 2:18 Mulder stepped through the doorway, his senses alert, taking in his surroundings and scrutinizing them to the last detail. It was a small house, aging but well taken care of. Decorated with an eclectic yet aesthetic taste, it was a cozy little environment that spoke of a woman's touch. The woman in question was sitting on a black leather couch in the living room, two agents standing above her. She had her face in her hands and was crying softly, her shoulders hitching as she wept. One of the agents turned to him. "She's incoherent, we can't get anything out of her." Mulder pierced the man with a disgusted glare. The woman was not deaf and she certainly wasn't a suspect, someone who was to be interrogated. He waved the other two away and knelt down in front of her, placing his hand on her knee. "Caroline?" She lifted tear stained eyes to meet his. "Caroline, my name is Fox Mulder, I was wondering if I could talk to you. I know that this is all overwhelming and you feel hurt and confused. But we need your help." "My brother is not an evil man," she said firmly. "No, no he's not. He is a man whose mind has been clouded by grief. He doesn't know that what he is doing is wrong, he only wants to save others from the heartache he has suffered. Quite a noble goal if you ask me. But he is going about it the wrong way. He is not keeping sorrow from others, he is causing it. The families of those little girls will never be the same, they will have a void that cannot be filled and will have to live the rest of their lives wondering why. Please. Please help us fill one family's void." During Mulder's speech Caroline had stopped crying and listened intently. She sat up straighter and strength seemed to flow back into her. "You sound like you are speaking from experience." He looked her straight in the eyes. "I am." She gave him a kind-hearted smile. "Jim told me that he was going to be home late today after work because he had some errands to run. He didn't say what but he told me not to wait up. He did mention something about the stars but I can't remember exactly what was and it didn't make much sense to me. He had been drinking, even that early in the morning, so I dismissed it." Mulder squeezed her knee. "Thank you." He stood and walked over to Brenner. "Which one is his room?" The older man glanced up from his notebook where he had been writing down Caroline's statement. "Two doors down, on the left." Mulder went down the hallway and into the room Brenner had directed. Roberts was there along with two other agents and it was quickly becoming crowded. Roberts had refused to acknowledge the other profiler ever since the meeting earlier, so it was no surprise that the man continued to ignore him. Agent Gordon and Agent Hartburg nodded and proceeded with what they were doing. He went through the same procedure he had in the victims' rooms - try to imagine what kind of person Talbain was, how he lived, what he thought. He had to figure out where the man had taken Katie, what his next move would be. If they could cut him off at the pass, they might be able to stop him before he harmed the child. But he couldn't think, his mind was muddled with pain, he was unable to focus on any specific thought. He could almost grasp one when it fluttered away, leaving him as clueless as before. He dug his fingernails into his palms and took slow cleansing breaths. For a split second the pain seemed to disappear and he was grateful for the respite. Then it came crashing down on him full force, causing him to stumble into the bed and he grasped blindly for the bedpost. He felt the smooth wood under his hands and he held onto it like a man on a sinking ship clings to a lifesaver. **************** Anthony Roberts was an insightful man; he had to be in his profession. He considered himself to be excellent at his job, exceeding all those who came before him. Except one. He didn't hate Mulder, he hated what the other profiler stood for - the fact that he, Tony, was not the absolute best. Yes, he knew that he could be considered egotistical, but if that's what someone who knows that they are right because they are more often than not proved correct was called, then he was proud to bear the title. He had despised the reality that Mulder had been right all this time. Tony had tried his damnedest to get the other agents in the VCS and also the Cincinnati office to see Mulder as he did - an alien-hunting outcast who lost the profiling skills he had all those years ago and those were just gained from thinking too much like a psychopath. In Tony's mind Mulder was nothing more than an insane showoff with good credentials and a knack for not getting caught. He had no idea how Mulder had managed to stay in the Bureau so long without ever being thrown out on grounds of mental instability. As Tony watched the other profiler move around the room, a haunted look on his face, he realized that the reason he had such a problem with the man was because Mulder had shown that he wasn't insane. It was hard for Tony to come to grips with the fact that Mulder actually was as good as they said and not because he was crazy, but because he was insightful. Just like himself. So absorbed in his own musings, he was caught by surprise when Mulder gasped and lurched into the end of the bed. The man grabbed onto the bedpost and stayed there as if it was the only thing keeping him from falling to the ground. Tony could see Mulder's muscles shudder and clench as waves of inconceivable pain rolled through him, his breath harsh and ragged. His head dropped to his chest and it seemed as though he might collapse but then, as suddenly as it had come, it was over, leaving the other agents in the room at a loss. Tony stared as Mulder took several large gulps of air before pushing himself away from the bed to walk stiffly, and what was obviously painfully, out of the room. Gordon turned to Hartburg and said in a stage whisper, "He looks really bad, I wonder if he's gonna make it through this case." The other agent shrugged noncommittally and they both went about their business, following Mulder out into the hallway. Tony stayed where he was, reflecting on the past few minutes. Gordon's comment had struck a chord inside of him. Was Mulder going to make it through this case? It was evident that the man was in constant discomfort and it was only getting worse. Why was he even working if he was in such bad condition? Suddenly Tony Roberts had an epiphany. He blinked rapidly and searched for somewhere to sit down. He found a chair in the corner of the room and dropped into it, his thoughts whirling. Mulder wasn't here to prove that he was better, to gloat about being the premier profiler. He wasn't even here because it was his job. Fox Mulder was here because he wanted to save that little girl. He didn't care about how much effort it took, how hard and frustrating it was, or if he got the credit. All Mulder cared about was whether or not one victim came back alive. He hunched over and stared at his hands limply dangling in-between his knees. For the first time in a long time, Anthony Roberts was ashamed. ************** "Hartburg, I want you to stay here with Ms. Talbain. He might see her as the enemy now that she's spoken with us and I don't want to take any chances. I doubt he'll want to hurt her, but who knows. Gordon, Basque, set up surveillance outside, I want to know the second the bastard comes back." Brenner finished giving assignments and turned to the rest of his team. "All right, let's get back to the command center and figure out our next move." Caroline opened the door for the agents, her eyes downcast in sorrow. "Agent Mulder," she called as the men moved out the door, catching his hand as he passed. He turned and raised his brows questioningly. "I hope your void is filled someday." He smiled sadly down at her and nodded his thanks. **************** Cincinnati Office 4:37 p.m. "Moon and stars. Moon and stars, moon and stars, moon n' stars, moon'nstars, moonstars, monstars, monsters..." The words were repeated so fast that they became a garbled one line sentence. Mulder knew it was important, Talbain had mentioned the stars to his sister before he left that morning. He was going to look at the stars. Where did someone go to look at stars? An observatory? No, that didn't feel right. A solarium? Yes, that would be just the place. They weren't often frequented and some closed early in the afternoon. Or he could pose as an employee of wherever the solarium was located, close the place down without raising suspicion and then take his time to do whatever he wanted to the girl. Could it really be that simple? He had to find out. Heads turned as Mulder practically ran through the hallways, his coat flapping behind him. He rounded a corner and found himself right where he wanted to be - the computer lab. He picked the nearest agent and told the woman that he needed her to do a search right away. "Well, SAC Hallowell is having us do a search for Agent Mulder, Sir. I'm afraid you're going to have to wait," the female agent replied. "I *am* Agent Mulder and I want you to do a new search." He didn't have time to be nice; the need to know was overpowering. He saw her hesitate a moment but she must have decided it wasn't worth a fight because she stopped what she was doing and pulled up a new search page on her screen. "Thank you. All right, I need to know if there are any solariums in Portsmouth. Public parks, hotels, zoos, anyplace that has one is suspect. If one's closed temporarily put it at the top of the list." She was typing as fast as he was speaking and he was glad that he didn't need to repeat anything. She got the results quickly, as there weren't that many solariums in the Portsmouth area. She printed it out and handed it to him, a wispy smile on her face. He gave her one of his best grins and thanked her again, making sure he noted her name. Then he was whirling around and bounding off the way he came. He never heard the lovelorn sigh behind him. He almost knocked down another agent in his haste to reach Bear's office. He skidded to a halt in front of it and shoved open the door without even a warning knock. Apologizing brusquely to the SAC, he launched into an explanation of where their killer would take the girl. "Sir, he's going to take her to a solarium, where he can kill her under the stars, which is prominently mentioned in the poem relating to this child and also has connections to Caroline Talbain's statement. I had Agent Brisby print up a list of solariums in Portsmouth and we have a choice of five." Mulder slammed the piece of paper on the desk and grabbed a red pen from the cup next to it. He circled the second set of words decisively, pointing at it with emphasis. "He's there." Bear leaned over and scrutinized the document before him then looked up at Mulder. "How do you know it's this one?" "Look at the name," Mulder stated as though it would explain everything. Bear read it again. Virginia Park Solarium. The SAC shook his head and raised it to meet Mulder's impatient gaze. "It's not saying anything to me, Mulder. What's so important about the name?" Mulder smiled ferally, like a wolf who had scented his prey. Or a fox. "Virginia, Sir. Virginia was the name of Edgar Allan Poe's wife." ************** end part 7/9 Date: Tue, 08 Feb 2000 00:09:26 PST Subject: xfc: NEW: Closer to Fine 8 of 9 Source: xfc From: "XScout --" summary and disclaimer in part 1 ********* Virginia Park Portsmouth, Ohio 5:23 p.m. The night was already encroaching on the park, gray shadows growing longer as the setting sun turned the greens of the grass and trees a muted orange. There were a few joggers making their rounds through the grounds, another man bicycling down a well-worn path. A man sitting on a bench reading the paper ducked his head and whispered into his coat, "No sign of the suspect." In a van stationed at the far end of the park filled with video cameras trained on each of the persons within the park area, the message was received with some disappointment. Scully noticed the tense set of Bear's shoulders and turned to her partner. "Are you sure this is the right one?" "Yeah, I'm sure." He frowned and leaned closer to one of the monitors. He grabbed a headset and switched a button on the console. "Hicks, are you certain that no one has entered the building?" The man reading his paper bent his head again. "Negative, no one has gone in." Mulder chewed on his lip thoughtfully. "Weissburger, make another pass around the building, double check that there's nobody inside." A jogger who had been stretching next to a tree finished her routine and began to stride towards the solarium at an easy pace. She made a large circle around the building, glancing at it occasionally. "No movement inside," she huffed quietly. "Janet, wait!" Mulder ordered as he listened to her radio communication. To the woman's credit, she did not jerk to a stop, she slowed down to a halt and bent over, placing her hands on her knees as if to take a breather. "What?" she hissed into her hidden microphone. "What's that noise in the background?" Janet stood straight and looked to her right. "Looks like a press conference at the opening of a new store or something." Mulder adjusted the camera so that they could see a little past the corner of the solarium. Outside of the park there were reporters gathered around the steps of a large building, all of them focused on the man cutting an enormous ribbon with a pair of scissors. "Okay. Now, do you see a van or car from the Portsmouth Gazette?" It took a moment for Weissburger to respond. "Yeah, parked next to a bunch of other news vans." "Damn it!" Mulder exploded. "He's already inside!" "What??" Bear's expression was one of bottled fury. "How the hell did he get inside?" "I don't know," Mulder muttered, moving over next to Scully to search through schematics of the building they were surveilling. "What's this?" He stabbed the paper with his index finger. Bear peered over the edge of the plans. "It's an old access tunnel to the sewer. But it was supposed to have been sealed when the sewer tunnels were refurbished back in 1994." "Well, apparently they left a hole big enough for our rat to get through." "Shit, shit, shit," Bear ranted and he paced in the confines of the van. He picked up his headset. "All teams, hold your positions. Suspect is inside." He flipped off a switch and turned to Mulder. "Okay, what do we do? Do we assume the girl's dead and go in there, guns blazing? Or do we negotiate? Is this guy going to talk and what are the chances that the girl's alive? I want to know what Talbain's next move is going to be and you're the man who knows the most about him." "She's alive, don't send the assault team. He's been here since that press conference started and is waiting underground until the solarium closes at five-thirty. Then he'll bring her up and kill her in there. It has to be under the stars. Our best bet is to announce our presence to him as quietly as possible, keep it low key. He'll be threatened by us, he thinks we're here to take away his 'Lenore', which we are, so he's going to react defensively, not offensively. I suggest you send in a negotiator. Wait until we see movement inside and then send Roberts in." Tony Roberts had been sitting in the corner of the van, quiet until then. "Me? Why me? You know more about him than I do." Everyone was too focused on the situation to realize how much that statement cost the older profiler, but Mulder filed it away in his memory for later consideration. "I don't have field agent status, I can't go in there. But I can advise you over the radio." Roberts nodded as he accepted that there really was no other way. Bear turned away from the two profilers and held the radio closer to his ear. "We've got a visual," he announced. "All teams, the suspect is now inside the building and an agent is being sent in to negotiate. Keep alert and do not, I repeat, do not antagonize the suspect in any way. We want to keep him as calm as possible." Finished with his orders, the SAC reached over and picked up a Kevlar vest, tossing it over to Roberts. "It's time. Suit up." ************ Everyone watched with their breaths held as Roberts approached the glass doors of the solarium. The dusk was quickly turning into night and the park lights were coming on one by one, reflecting off the glass walls of the building. Then he was inside and they couldn't see anything, just hear the harsh breathing of the negotiator. "James Talbain?" Roberts said loudly. Everyone strained their ears at the silence. Then there was a high pitched sound like the whimper of a child and a deep male voice shouted, "Stay away from us!" "Mr. Talbain, my name is Tony Roberts, I'm with the FBI." "You can't have her! I've lost her once, I refuse to lose her again!!" Mulder flinched at the hysterical note in Talbain's voice. "If he's sitting, you should sit down as well, make sure you're not standing over him. And get him to work on a first name basis, bring it to a personal level," he instructed. They heard a scuffling as Roberts sat down on the concrete floor. "Mr. Talbain, may I call you Jim?" The man must have nodded because Roberts spoke again. "Then why don't you call me Tony. Now, I was hoping that you could show me Katie. We need to know that she's okay." "You don't care whether or not she's okay, you just want to take her away from me and make me forget about her!" Mulder sighed and closed his eyes. Talbain actually saw the children as embodiments of his wife Melanie. This was going to take some finagling. He wracked his brain for the right quote that would reach Talbain. He found it momentarily and murmured into the radio, "Tell him there's balm in Gilead." "What?" was Tony's whispered reply. "Gilead. Tell him there's balm in Gilead." Mulder stressed each word carefully. "Jim, there is balm in Gilead," Roberts repeated. Silence filled the air for a few tense moments. Then Talbain spoke. "There is?" "Yes, Jim, there is." "Then tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn, it shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore." Roberts didn't answer, obviously waiting for Mulder's cue. Mulder's mind was racing. "Okay, repeat after me. By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore - thou shalt clasp a rare and radiant maiden who the angels name Lenore." They heard Roberts repeating Mulder's lines word for word, his speech slightly halting in his effort to get it all correct. This must have given them away, because Talbain's next words were completely unexpected. "Who are you talking to?" Tony obviously decided to tell the truth. "To another FBI agent. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that-" "I want to talk to him." "I, uh, I'm afraid that..." Roberts paused as he listened to Mulder instruct him to hand the radio over to Talbain. "Well, certainly, Jim. Here, take my radio and you can talk to him yourself." "No. I want him here, I want to talk to him in person." "That's not possible, he's..." No one in the van heard the rest of Roberts' explanation, they were occupied with the hopeless task of persuading Mulder not to meet Talbain. "Mulder, you are not cleared to go into the field, I can't allow it," Bear said, not much authority lacing his voice. "You and I both know that this may be our only chance of getting the girl out alive. You've got the park crawling with agents and a SWAT team ready to go in on your signal. Give me a chance." Bear closed his eyes, knowing he only had one choice. "All right." Mulder was in motion instantly, pulling on a vest and grabbing a radio headset. He turned around, ready to head out the door, when he saw Scully staring at him sadly. He knelt down in front of her and took her hands in his. "Dana, I'm sorry, I have to do this." "I know." She tried to smile. He kissed her quickly on the cheek and pushed open the van's back doors. "Mulder," Scully called as he was about to exit into the open air. He looked back at her. "Please come back to me." He smiled, love and trust shining in his eyes, then whirled around and jogged off into the night. He hesitated at the doors of the solarium, stealing himself for the ordeal he knew was about to take place. He took a long deep breath, tamping down on the persistent ache of his body and pushed the doors open. The solarium was a large glass building in the shape of a half-globe. Flowering plants and trees rimmed the windows and decorative concrete paths lined with more greenery led to the center, where a large circular space was graced with a few benches. It was in this center space that he found the other two men. Roberts had his back to Mulder, sitting on the ground so as to be eye-level with the suspect. Talbain was kneeling approximately fifteen feet away, Katie Bittner sitting next to him, her tiny wrists bound securely behind her. Talbain held a gun point blank at the child, his eyes wide and the hand that held the weapon trembling. "You Mulder?" the man asked. Mulder nodded, making brief eye contact with Roberts who had turned around at Talbain's question. "Jim, I'm here now, do you think Tony should go?" He was leaving the ball in Talbain's court, letting him think he had control. "Yeah, we don't need him." Talbain shrugged as though it was an unimportant issue. Roberts slowly got to his feet and moved towards the exit. He shot Mulder a look that said 'good luck' and headed on his way. Mulder stayed where he was, not making any unnecessary movements. "Jim, why don't we sit on the benches, make everyone a little more comfortable?" Mulder was almost certain that Talbain would object but he suddenly stood, pulling the girl up with him and keeping the gun trained on her. He backed up a few feet and sat down on the nearest bench. He used his armed hand to wave Mulder to the bench on his right. The profiler gratefully sank down onto the hard wood, hoping that Talbain didn't notice the tremors running through his body. He smiled down at Katie, his eyes flicking over her to make sure that she was unharmed. For a brief second his heart fluttered at the sight of the girl. She looked so much like Samantha. But that wasn't important right now, so he shoved the grief away and embraced the impassivity of his job. He wasn't able to discern any visible damage to the child, so he moved on to his next priority. His eyes, glowing green in the light of the solarium, met Talbain's and he knew that his next words would be extremely important. "Thy God hath lent me - by these angels he hath sent me, to ask that ye repent thee and release this lost Lenore." *************** Scully was fidgeting in her seat, her heart screaming to her as she listened to Mulder and Talbain converse. They were tossing quotes by Poe back and forth as though it were some sort of foreign language or code understood by only them. And in essence, it was. The only thing that could distract her from the dialogue between the two men was the noisy and abrupt entry of Keith into the van. The youth was panting, apparently having run all the way from across the park. "Sir, I've got some bad news. The press has somehow found out what's going on and they're on their way." The string of curses that tumbled from Bear's mouth was enough to make a sailor blush. "How the hell did they get wind of it? Never mind, it's not important. Right now we have to figure out how to keep them as uninvolved as possible. Mulder said to keep this low key and we're going to do our damn best to do just that." He picked up his radio and started issuing new orders to team members, relocating some of them to intercept the press. Gopher turned to Dana. "Speaking of which, where's Mulder?" Scully was confused for a moment but then realized that the young man wasn't wearing a headset and was therefore not privy to the information on her partner's whereabouts. "He's inside talking to Talbain." "In the condition he's in??" Gopher blurted. Dana's head snapped around and she pierced him with her gaze. "What do you mean, 'the condition he's in'?" "Um... well," Gopher ducked his head, his face turning crimson. "Mulder hasn't exactly been one hundred percent since his seizure this morning." Puzzlement formed on Scully's face. She thought back to all the times she had seen her partner since his attack earlier that morning. He seemed focused and determined, his mind completely set on catching Talbain. She thought harder, visualizing every detail. His movements had been stiff and there were lines at the corners of his mouth that usually meant he was in pain but not letting it show. Then, like lightning, it came to her. "Oh God, he's getting worse." "I'm sorry, Dana, he told me not to tell you because you'd make him get off this case and he couldn't let that happen." Gopher was talking fast in his haste to apologize. "Not your fault," she said absently. "I should have known that something was wrong." "I'm sure he'll be fine," Gopher tried to console her. Scully's eyes were filled with sorrow. "That's what I'm afraid of." ************ "Lift your soul from out that shadow," Mulder implored. "I can't!" Talbain shouted. "Don't you understand? I can't just quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore." "Yes, I do understand, more than you realize. My sister was taken from my family when she was eight. I was twelve and I never forgave myself for letting it happen. It tore my family apart, my mother passing her days in a numbing cloud of Valium and my father drowning his grief in alcohol. I have spent more than twenty-five years trying to find my sister, to make the pain disappear, to fill the hole that was left inside me the night she disappeared. So I have tried to keep others from feeling the same suffering my family and I had to endure, just like you. "But you're going about it the wrong way. You can't save anyone from heartache by causing heartache for others. Think about the families of those little girls. Their lives are changed forever, a missing piece in their hearts that can never be filled because the piece that filled it is gone forever. Think, Jim. Think of all the people who now feel as you do because their loved ones are dead." Talbain seemed to be wavering, his expression becoming less angry and his grip on the gun loosening. "But it hurts so much." Mulder couldn't help but feel sorry for the man beside him. "Yes, it does. It hurts so much that some days you feel like you don't have the strength to get out of bed. You hardly eat or sleep, figuring that if you should die, then all the better because you have no real reason to live. Then you fight the guilt. You fight so hard to prove that there was nothing you could do to prevent it. And Jim, there was no way you could have kept Melanie from dying. She had lung cancer, nothing could have saved her. It is *not* your fault." "But..." Talbain trailed off, his response lacking surety. "Did you and Melanie want to have children?" Talbain looked as though he was surprised at the sudden change in subject. "Yes. We tried for seven years, until she got sick, but it never took." A soft smile lit up his features. "Mellie loved kids." "And what would she have thought about what you're doing to these girls?" Silence reigned for several heartbeats. Then Talbain seemed to cave in on himself. His chin dropped to his chest and sobs wracked his thin form. He released his hold on Katie and used his free hand to wipe his face. Mulder shifted in his seat, a mixture of pain and impatience forcing him to move. Talbain's head snapped up and for a second Mulder thought he was going to shoot. But instead the man pushed the girl away from him. "Go, go back to your family," he said to the frightened child. The girl looked from her captor to Mulder, her eyes wide with fear. Then, before anyone could change their minds, she bolted for the door, leaving ferns bouncing in her wake. ************* Scully was right outside, waiting for the girl. Katie burst through the doors and tumbled straight into Dana's arms. "Shhh, it's okay, I'm with the FBI." She picked up the crying child and carried her over to the surveillance van. There she set the girl down and did a quick examination as she murmured soothing words. "No damage," she reported to Bear. "I want the paramedics to check her out anyhow and then we can release her into her parents' custody." The SAC waved the waiting EMTs over and then addressed his agent again. "SWAT informs me that they don't have any clears shots because of all the foliage, so their going to have to go through the ceiling if anything goes wrong." Despite a sense of foreboding that resided in the pit of her stomach, Dana tried to be positive. "We've got the girl out safe and Mulder should have no problems talking Talbain into surrendering. What could go wrong?" *************** "Agent Mulder, have you ever loved someone so much that you're incomplete without them?" "Yes, Jim, I have. In fact, I almost lost her to cancer." Mulder kept his answers short, focusing half his mind on the conversation and the other half on holding the pain at bay. "Almost?" "Yeah. We were lucky; it went into remission." He paused and took a long breath. "But I remember how much it hurt to watch her wasting away until she was only a shadow... of the woman I knew. And I am grateful every time that I look at her that she is... alive and with me today." He was gritting his teeth now. "Together we've beaten impossible odds and come out of it with hope." He locked gazes with Talbain. "Jim, there *is* balm in Gilead." Talbain slowly nodded, his eyes brimming with tears. He set his weapon down on the bench next to him. "Then show me." Mulder was trying his utmost to stay with the conversation, but the pain had grown to such an intense level that he missed Talbain's last words. He shook his head to clear it, his eyes clenched tight and his fists pressed against his thighs. "I..." It was all he got out. The seizure hit with a force that he had never experienced before, his body jerking into a hunched position, his arms encircling his torso automatically. The movement so surprised Talbain that the man jumped up, knocking the gun onto the floor. The weapon fired, the noise rattling the glass of the solarium and it skidded to a halt next to Mulder, who had collapsed over onto the concrete. **************** Everyone outside jumped at the sound of gunfire. Bear pressed his radio to his ear, listening to the SWAT team. "Shots fired! Agent down! Move in!!" They all watched in horror as a helicopter appeared from nowhere and a SWAT member dressed entirely in black jumped out of the chopper. The man was attached to the helicopter by a cable and he swung down to the ceiling of the solarium, shattering the glass as he broke through the top. **************** Mulder was writhing on the ground, waves of pain coursing through his tortured body. He heard the breaking of glass and managed to force his eyes open. He watched as the world moved in slow motion around him. A black shape had torn through the ceiling and was hurtling towards them. Talbain, who had been kneeling over Mulder, attempting to help but confused as what to do, saw the black form and panicked. He scrambled forward and grabbed the dropped gun, twisting around to point it at the approaching shape. "No!" he screamed. "Not you! You can't make me forget! Not Nevermore!!" And then the silhouette coalesced into the figure of a man, an automatic weapon dangling from his shoulder. Mulder tried to shout at him to stop, but he couldn't force the words up through his throat. Then the man was firing and Talbain's body was jerking as bullets ripped through him. He fell back next to Mulder, his head flopping loosely to the side, his face directly opposite Mulder's. Another surge of pain hit and suddenly. Mulder couldn't see through the black film that was floating across his eyes. But he could hear Talbain's voice, wet with blood. "In me didst thou exist-." Then everything - sight, sound, and pain, disappeared. ******************* Vandever Hospital Portsmouth, Ohio Friday 7:14 a.m. "No... no, not me, s'not me..." Dana leaned closer to the sleeping from of her partner. He had moved from unconsciousness to sleep a little after midnight and she had been hoping that it would be restful. Apparently her hopes were in vain. Mulder was tossing his head back and forth, muttering incoherently. "Shh, it's okay," she cooed as she rubbed her fingers up and down his forearm in a soothing motion. "It's all right, you're safe." "No!" he cried, his body jerking awake. His eyes flitted about the room until they came to rest on her and her heart constricted at the sight of tears cascading from the corners of his eyes. "Dana?" "I'm here, Sweetheart." She placed a warm hand on his pale cheek. He gasped and reached out with both arms, pulling her into an awkward embrace. "I was lost and you were gone, you were gone because I was a murderer and you didn't love me, so you left." He sniffled a bit and ran the back of his hand under his nose in a boyish gesture. Scully couldn't help the tiny smile that crossed her face. Then she grew serious. "Mulder, I'm not gone, I'm here and I still love you with all my heart." She kissed him gently and pushed back on his chest so that he was lying back down. "How do you feel?" "Fine. Nothing hurts really, though my right shoulder is a bit sore. I think I bruised it when I hit the ground. "Talbain?" "Dead." Mulder let out a sigh of sadness mixed with relief. "It wasn't supposed to end that way. He was going to give himself up; no one should have gotten hurt. But I am sort of relieved, because that means that he can't get to me anymore." "Get to you?" Dana was confused. "Yeah. In my dreams." His eyes glazed over slightly and his breathing became hitched as he remembered his nightmare. "Mulder, I'm here," she reassured him. "I want you to take a few deep breaths and tell me what you dreamt." He did as was told, inhaling long and slow several times. "I killed little girls, just like Talbain, and I couldn't stop myself. Everything else was gone, it was like I was drowning in darkness with voices screaming in my ears." "Mulder, the case is over; you saved Katie Bittner, Talbain is dead, and Bear even put you in for a commendation." "I know, but even though he's dead, he's still there, in my mind." He looked at her with a pained expression. "It's what he said to me before he died." Scully raised an eyebrow and Mulder continued, "He said, 'In me didst thou exist." "What does that mean?" "It's from one of Poe's stories. 'In me didst thou exist and, in my death, see by this image, which is thine own, how utterly thou has murdered thyself." Understanding dawned on her. "Mulder, you are nothing like that man, or any of the other monsters that you have profiled. Do you hear me? You are *not* like them. You are the most caring, compassionate, brilliant, moral, honest, and trustworthy man I have ever known. You could never be even remotely compared to the killers you profile. Understanding is not the same as being." Mulder eyes turned from black to a golden green and he smiled lightly. He repeated her words to himself, "Understanding is not being." ********** 11:33 a.m. "I see here that his previous doctor diagnosed paroxysmal tachycardia. Well, it appears to have progressed at an alarming rate. Agent Mulder now suffers from cardiomyopathy. Dilated cardiomyopathy to be exact." Dana nodded, not really surprised at the news. She knew that Mulder had strained his heart, that nothing could be found as the cause. She thanked the doctor and returned to the small room she had spent the last fifteen or so hours in. Mulder was sitting up in bed talking to Assistant Director Skinner. "So you see, Talbain thought that the SWAT guy was the raven, swooping down from above to steal away the last remnants of the memory of his wife," Mulder explained. Skinner was listening intently to his agent's narrative. He noticed Scully standing in the doorway and acknowledged her with an inclination of his head. "What news?" he asked. Dana heaved a sigh and moved in to drop in the chair by Mulder's bedside. "Doctor Davidovich diagnoses dilated cardiomyopathy." "Dilated what?" Mulder interrupted. "Cardiomyopathy. It's when there is a dilation and impaired contraction of the ventricles. The cavity of the heart is enlarged and stretched. This means that the heart is weaker and does not pump blood as efficiently, leading to decreased heart function that affects the lungs, liver, and other body systems." She related it in a clinical voice, trying to distance herself from the hopelessness of the situation. "I take it the doctors found no sign of the black cancer?" Skinner raised his eyebrows in askance. "Nothing in the x-rays, ultrasound, blood tests, and everything other examination they performed. Just like before. But cardiomyopathy usually has no known cause and is common in middle aged men, so the doctors are working off of that diagnosis." Scully's tone related the fact that she felt the doctors in this hospital had been less than agreeable when it came to her explanation of her partner's condition. Skinner's mouth pressed into a thin line. "Well, Mulder, looks like you're on medical leave again." "Sir, no!" Mulder replied emphatically. Skinner actually seemed surprised at his agent's tone. "Mulder, you have to realize how serious your condition is." "It's not so serious that I can't work." Dana placed a hand on his arm, forestalling his argument. "Mulder, Skinner's right. As the heart begins to fail, blood pressure changes lead to an accumulation of fluid in the chest, making it increasingly difficult to breathe, and thus reducing stamina. Other blood pressure changes may lead to enlargement of the liver and spleen, and the accumulation of fluid in the abdomen. Add to that your having to constantly deal with the seizures and they aren't exactly the best conditions to be working under." "But I'm not displaying any of those symptoms now, so there's no reason to think that I'm going to drop dead at any second." Dana flinched at his words and he squeezed her hand. "I am not going to spend the rest of my life afraid of what may happen. This thing, whatever it is I have, is not caused by any earthly element and I see no point in assuming that it will act like one. Okay, my heart is a bit weaker than before, we knew that was an eventuality." Mulder turned to the AD. "Sir, didn't you say that you would allow me to work until my condition dictated otherwise?" Skinner gave a hesitant nod, unsure as to where this line of questioning was going. "And Scully, did the doctor say that my chances of surviving more than a few months were slim?" "No, but-" "Then I see no logic in not allowing me to return to work, sans field agent status of course. I feel perfectly fine." He sat back in the bed, folding his arms and looking like he had just stated the most obvious answer in the world. Skinner looked at Dana, sure that she would be able to pull something out of her hat to convince her partner that he needed to put his health before his work. But she amazed him by doing just the opposite. "I suppose the ISU is as safe a place as any for you to work, as long as you don't have any more excursions into the field like last night." Mulder held up his right hand, index and middle finger extended toward the sky. "Scout's honor." "Then it's settled. Sir?" Scully turned to Skinner for approval. He was too shocked to do anything but agree. "Scully, can I talk to you outside for a moment?" She stood and leaned over to place a kiss on Mulder's cheek before following the AD out of the room. "Yes?" He placed his hands on his hips and stared down at the diminutive woman. "What are you doing? Don't you think it would be better for Mulder to take the medical leave?" Scully bristled at his words. "Of course I think he should take it!" "Then why-" "Because Mulder would rather die this very instant than spend however long he has stuck at home writing articles for magazines. Forcing him to take medical leave would be a death sentence. And while having him go back to work at the ISU is not an encouraging idea, it is better than watching him waste away at home or in a hospital. You know as well as I do that Mulder never gives up without a fight and this is one fight that we are going to lose." ********** end part 8/9 Date: Tue, 08 Feb 2000 00:09:34 PST Subject: xfc: NEW: Closer to Fine 9 of 9 Source: xfc From: "XScout --" Summary and disclaimer in part 1 ****************** Investigative Support Unit Quantico, Virginia Two Weeks Later Tuesday 3:10 p.m. "Mulder, we got another e-mail from Keith. It says that he was given recognition for his part in solving another case. He wanted to thank us for teaching him how to be a real agent." "We didn't do much, he just needed a little coaxing to fully develop his skills," Mulder observed, glancing up from the papers in front of him. "He works with a good group of agents, I'm sure he has learned something from all of them." "Well, he certainly didn't get much from Roberts." "Mulder!" Scully admonished. "Tony Roberts has been nothing but nice to you since we got back, I think you should give him a break." Mulder pursed his lips in distaste. "I don't know, he's got to be up to something." "Mmm," Dana answered, busy reading the next message in her in-box. Her face paled and her lip trembled slightly. "Scully? What's wrong?" Mulder was up and moving to her side. She simply pointed at the screen: Agents Mulder and Scully, We have just been made aware of a procedure that may reverse the effects of the black cancer. As Agent Mulder is instrumental to the success of the project, we are willing to make a deal. If you choose to bargain with us, simply reply to this message and further instructions will be sent. If not, then there is nothing on this planet that can save Agent Mulder. Think carefully. She turned to him, her eyes brimming with tears. "What if they're telling the truth?" Mulder pulled at his lower lip in thought. "There's only one way to find out." Dana blanched at the thought. "I don't know. It's not like they're trustworthy and we haven't exactly had much luck when it comes to making deals with them. We have no guarantee that they'll keep they're word." "No, but if they wanted me dead, they certainly wouldn't volunteer a cure, so there's no need to worry on that point. I suppose they could always rewire my brain or something, but it's not like they've never had the opportunity. I don't really see how they could renege on their offer." "I guess it all depends on what they want in return," Scully reasoned. "We have a bargaining chip at least. If I'm really as important as they say, then they stand to lose if they don't make the deal. Whatever it is they want in return, we'll find a way to turn it to our advantage." Mulder took her hands in his. "As long as we're together, we can find a way." Dana smiled and squeezed his hands back. "Then let's do it." Just then there was a knock at the door and the partners jumped at the sound. They turned to find Rick Davis everything was going." The head of the ISU paused and took in the expressions on the two agents' faces. "Are you two all right?" They grinned at each other and looked at their boss, saying simultaneously, "We're fine." *************** End... To Be Continued