Legally: The interesting characters in this story belong to Chris Carter, 1013 and Fox as brought to life by DD, GA and the XFiles writers. I've borrowed them for fun not profit. This story: I'm happy for the story to be circulated uncommercially, intact and with my name still attached! It is not related to Stop and Start which I posted a couple of weeks ago, except that the nice things people said about that one encouraged me to post this. This talks about a case, but not a XFile. Its a PG for subject matter and for bad words so please don't read it if you don't think DS can swear. Joann ======================================= A week's training. A week too long. At least it would be over in a couple of days. It should have been quite restful really, nice rooms, easy hours, no stress. But restful implied being at ease in some way, relaxed even, not just bored. The morning's were physical, the afternoon's intellectual. Mulder didn't really object to the mornings, his body might have done, but at least he could see the point in the fitness checks, the practise exercises, the sessions on the range. No, it was the afternoons that were getting to him, getting to both of them really. Did Richardson have to be that patronising? Did it come naturally or had he been trained to talk like that. Did the refresher and update sessions have to be quite so trivial. Were they really saying that anyone could get away with being in the field without knowing this stuff? Maybe he and Scully were too clever for their own good. Maybe they knew too much. The irony of this last thought made him smirk 'You still with us, Agent Mulder?' Richardson said ingratiatingly. Mulder suppressed the desire to say 'unfortunately' and simply looked up at Richardson. Richardson followed up, 'good to see you find abnormal mental health reports so amusing.' 'Always have done - in fact I know a little song about them.' Scully winced. He'd been so well behaved up till now. Ok, he'd smuggled in a bunch of case files to read despite them having been told explicitly not to do that - < It is essential that concentration is maintained on the role play and exercises and this is not compatible with study of live cases. > Richardson looked down at his paperwork and tried to think of something witty and original to say about little green men. He looked up armed with his cutting remark and noted Mulder's fixed neutral expression and decided that maybe it wasn't so amusing after all. He decided to reassert his control over the session. 'Perhaps, you need to get more involved. We'll be doing interrogation role plays next. I'd like you to study these case notes. I will be the psychopathic subject. You will be the interviewing officer.' 'Novel twist.' Smirked Mulder. They were only about five minutes into the interrogation when Richardson stopped abruptly to give Mulder a lecture on his poor interview technique and method of handling a suspected psychopath. The other Agents sat nervously. The usual format for these sessions was that they complete the half hour interview, rerun the video tape, discuss the key learning points. It was unusual for an instructor to take an active part, but to have an interview stopped after only a few minutes. Richardson had to be really rattled to do that. Mulder suppressed a smile. 'Its not obvious to me that I need to put up with comments on my interview technique from a psychopath.' The other trainees grinned. 'You're a disruptive influence, you're damaging this course. I will be including that view on the report I send through to AD Skinner on your work here this week.' Mulder's eyes conveyed only derision. 'I'm sorry but I just had difficult seeing you as a psychopath. During the interview, you just seemed like a normal criminal trying to avoid getting sent to jail by acting up.' 'It's a role play Mulder, you are meant to use the case notes and act accordingly.' 'I just got too involved in it I guess. Once we were in interview mode it was you I was interviewing and second hand opinions on the case notes didn't seem as important as the evidence of your actual behaviour and words.' 'It's acting Mulder, I was acting the part.' 'Don't give up the day job.' Another giggle from the onlookers. Richardson took a deep breath and told them it was time for a coffee break. When they returned, Richardson was back at his professional best. No less annoyed with Mulder though. He suggested another case study, another role play, this time he would interview, Mulder would be the killer. Mulder flipped through the case study, he didn't like it, didn't like it at all. It reminded him of all those other case files he'd read from violent crimes. In fact he wasn't at all sure if the profile he was reading wasn't an abbreviated version of one he'd written about five years ago. Not X-File sort of weird, just sick, just not how humans should behave. He didn't want the job. Still Richardson could hardly complain whatever he said. After all he had been told (no, the word used had been 'ordered') to make a good job of it. Maybe he'd find out just how good Richardson's interview technique was. The room looked like any other anonymous interview room. The watching Agents were tucked away behind the screen. The two men sat face to face across the interview table. Agent Hughes sat carefully to one side and back a little, she was to be the second interviewer. Her job to spot comments made by the accused that might have been missed by the lead interviewer and either by interjecting or by passing notes to get the subject in front of the lead again. She didn't expect to get involved. They set the video camera rolling. Mulder smiled warmly, eyes flicking round the room, occasionally coming to rest on Richardson for just long enough for Richardson to be forced look away. Every question was answered with some other question or with some sick joke. 'So are you saying then .... ' Richardson kept using those words and phrases, the ones that are just padding, just there to buy thinking time, except that he wasn't being allowed thinking time. Every time- buying rhetorical question was getting him a rhetorical answer and leaving him further away from his target. Mulder flicked away the smile and replaced it with an expression of cold contempt. Questions were answered in monosyllables. Open questions like 'how would you describe the scene?', answered with, 'I wouldn't.' Suddenly animation, anger. Not even a physical threat like standing up, just a simple shift in body posture that made every onlooker pull back in their seats. A couple of them even finding their hands drifting to check their guns. Then calm and smiling again. Resting back in the chair and smiling. Ice and fire. Scully realised that she was clenching her fists and shuddered. She knew she wasn't looking at Mulder she was looking at one of those weirdoes whose heads he seemed to be able to crawl inside. She'd seen it before on cases when he'd been trying to focus on the profile of some maniac they were chasing. But it still shocked her, that she could actually be scared of him. The other agents shuffled in their seats. During a silence in the conversation one of them muttered 'spooky' and a nervous laugh rippled through the group. Richardson was concentrating hard on looking at the questions he'd prepared. He repeated one of his earlier questions. Mulder feigned surprise, 'You've already asked me that'. He then repeated word for word, intonation for intonation, the response he'd given ten minutes earlier. Richardson's discomfort was becoming increasingly physical, he wouldn't look up, he played with the papers in front of him. Mulder leant back in his chair, preparing to shift the mood again. But, then he sat upright suddenly, 'I think we'd better stop it there'. Scully instantly recognised the change in tone and posture, her Mulder was back and sounding very worried. Mulder got up from the desk and walked over to Agent Hughes, crouched down by her side and said nervously 'Wendy, are you Ok?' Everyone's eyes were now on the young Agent who was sat arms tightly folded, eyes closed, rocking slightly in her chair. Everyone's eyes except Richardson who came out of his own personal trance and told Mulder to get back to the desk. Scully muttered 'game over, Agent Richardson' and walked across to her partner. Hughes continued to shake slightly, but the rocking was becoming less pronounced. They waited for her to come back to normality. The silence only broken by Dana's gentle 'you're Ok, you're with friends.' 'Should I go,' Mulder said to Scully as Dana put her hand on Wendy's shoulder. The reply came from Wendy. 'No, I'm fine now, it was just temporary. I'd prefer it if you stayed.' He continued to crouch by her side. Stay or go, he was pretty sure that when she opened her eyes he shouldn't be towering over her. Scully turned to Richardson and glared. He'd also recovered his composure and took the hint. He suggested the class move to an adjacent training room. The three remaining Agents sat quietly together, relieved when a few minutes later Agent James arrived with some coffee, water and biscuits. She had worked off and on with Wendy for a couple of years and pulled Mulder to one side. 'It's never happened before, I mean I knew she wasn't happy about some things but it never affected her. Not when she's working.' Mulder nodded. The adrenaline of the situation helps a lot when you're trying to act cool and professional. It's not that difficult to train the brain to override the emotions when you've got something else to focus on. After all, he should know. But of course, she hadn't had the warning to get the adrenaline level up to cover this, this was just a bit of training wasn't it. He wished that he hadn't let Richardson get to him. Wendy Hughes wanted to talk. Mulder said quietly that it was Ok, she didn't have to explain anything but that she should go and get professional help when she went back to DC. She nodded but insisted that she really did want to talk, wanted to talk to him. Mulder wished he could be more surprised by the story she told. Unfortunately he wasn't that easy to shock anymore. She's been raped on a date at sixteen and having got through that she'd been attacked by a stranger, some psycho, two years later. She was over it according to the Psychiatrist, well enough adjusted to get a job with the Bureau anyway. She had a degree in Psychology, she'd taken it to understand things better. Certainly, she knew the right answers to convince the people she'd talked to, to convince them she was Ok. Mulder knew all about that as well. -------------------------------- Late that night, back in his room, Mulder reworked the day. Why had he got annoyed with Richardson, he brooded. Stupid thought, he knew why he'd got annoyed. What he was annoyed about right now was why he had been foolish enough to take his revenge on Richardson like that. It wasn't going to be Richardson visiting the psychology unit on Monday. He'd let another innocent bystander get caught in the crossfire. There wasn't a lot of point trying to sleep, he wouldn't like it even if he did fall asleep. He decided just to read the files he'd brought with him. Brilliant idea, the practical part of the brain tried to intervene, reading case files will certainly chase the nightmares away. After all it wasn't as though they were going to make him feel sickened and bewildered by how people can treat one another. It wasn't as if the were going to be like just about every other case file he'd ever read. It wasn't really his fault, he knew that, it was the fault of whoever had hurt her all those years ago. Still he was the one who'd helped dredge it back to the surface. And he knew that he didn't like it when people did that to him. That was bad enough but it wasn't the real problem. The thing that upset him. the thing that always upset him when he got into some psycho's head to try and find them or work out their next move, was how easy it was. He could act the part too well. He didn't like it, if he could get in their heads, maybe that was because he was like them. In some way, at some level. Whatever. Too close for comfort. His brooding stopped as he heard footsteps outside the door. He'd been in the FBI too long, his first thoughts on hearing the footsteps had been to remind himself where his gun was. No wonder Scully told him off for paranoia, he was at the Bureau's training academy. Still, he didn't like it. The only person he wouldn't mind being at the door was Dana and she was polite enough to have phoned if she wanted to come round to chat at this time of night. Someone was trying the door handle, it was locked of course, but he'd better do something. Maybe this was some bizarre new training element designed to tempt the jaded palettes of bored agents. He held his gun to his back, stood out of the line of fire, unlocked the door and waited. Wendy blundered into the room. He started to talk to her, then realised she wasn't really awake. The perfect end to a perfect day. This would look excellent in Richardson's report to Skinner. He makes her hysterical during class that afternoon, has a long emotional talk to her, then she's found screaming in his room at 2 in the morning and doesn't remember how she got there. Better and better. He hit the first memory on his cellular phone. The sleepy voice said hello. 'Scully, I need you.' She recognised the voice instantly of course and politely told him he was delirious and to go back to sleep. 'Please.' She was awake enough now to recognise the tension in his voice, so she quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and wandered down the hall. He pulled her inside, pointing at the figure lying curled up on his bed. Her shoulders arched, 'I didn't think drugging them was your style.' 'She's sleep walking, but as soon as she wakes up she's going to go into a blind panic. I don't think I can handle it on my own.' 'There must have been something more on her mind. Something else she wanted to tell you. She mustn't have been able to get the nerve until she was dreaming.' 'Nice idea, but I don't think it was me she came to see. ' He emphasised the < me >. 'Least, I hope not.' He pointed at the gun that he had removed from Wendy's hand when she walked in. Scully sat beside the bed. Mulder sat at the desk trying not to think about what was going on in Wendy's head. Hughes started to move again, shuddering slightly as she woke. It was like her room, but it was the wrong way round and the lights were on. She looked around and Dana started to whisper gently that it was Ok, she'd been sleep walking but she was Ok. ot to be scared. Wendy froze. Not to be scared. That was good, she was the one who'd fallen off the tightrope today and now this. She'd probably get pensioned off for this. Emotional instability wasn't a good background for a Federal Agent. That was when she noticed Mulder sitting quietly at the desk looking nervously at her. No. No. No. She remembered her nightmare or whatever it was, had she really come to kill him? She leapt to her feet, crying, knocking over the bedside table as she tried to get to the door. The crashes and scrambles brought others into the hall. Mulder cursed the thin walls of the residential unit and the light sleeping of field Agents. It had to be Richardson who came to the door first. Mulder opened the door but said nothing. 'Well I can't say I'm not impressed, didn't know you had it in you, Mulder.' Mulder wondered if he could hospitalise Richardson before the other Agents overpowered him. He didn't need to, Scully's voice shattered the silence 'Why don't you just f**k off back to your own room.' So unexpected, so perfect, Mulder was glad Richardson was still conscious to hear it. In Service Training - End of Part 1 of 2 =========================================================================== Part 2 of 2 Wendy Hughes walked into breakfast a little late. The silence that cut through the restaurant as she appeared made her want to run away, start running and keep running, but she had a job to do. 'Dana. Mulder. I'm sorry about last night, I'm booked to see someone this afternoon but I'd be grateful if we could talk before I go.' Mulder didn't really want to hear this, he hadn't had any sleep and he was pretty sure she didn't mean a five minute chat over the coffee and toast. He pounced on his feeling of self pity before it took hold and told her to sit down and have some breakfast. She knew she'd done nothing wrong. Nothing to justify those assaults those years ago. But, she didn't see why she ended up a victim twice. Lightning doesn't strike twice. So why had this happened twice to her. She wanted to know why that man had singled her out, what had he seen, why her. 'I've read some of the profiles you did for Violent Crimes, you know how they think. You could tell me what was in his head when he picked me out.' 'You shouldn't be doing this, you need a professional to help you through this. I don't think that it's good for you to go through this stuff without someone to support you.' Mulder tried to convince her to back off. The she moved in for the killer punch. 'I don't want to know about me, I know it wasn't my fault. I want to know about him, why he locked on to me. No amount of counselling ever tells you that. I need to get it out in the open so I can get someone to help me. Regular psychologists can't do it, they only talk about me, not about him. I have to know.' Scully told Richardson that they would be skipping the morning tests. He started to huff and puff, but only got a terse 'the tests are all individual exercises today, we can do them anytime, we'll come back next week to finish them.' He glowered but dropped it. Scully sat by Wendy's side, she didn't like the role, it felt too much like being a babysitter or worse, a chaperone. But Mulder had pleaded with her, of course he didn't need to say any words, she'd got used to reading the half looks and interpreting the odd comment. She knew she had to be there for him and that perhaps it would be good for Wendy too. The first story was predictable enough. A date rape. The boy was just about the same age as her. Nice middle class kids both. That he was six inches taller than her, 70 pounds heavier and a lot stronger than her didn't seem to impress the police. They just knew she'd let him take her to the beach to see the sunrise. Not enough bruises either, couldn't have struggled much. In any case, he'd agreed to go into counselling. What else did she expect to happen? She growled, he was in counselling for three months at State expense. Her therapy sessions had gone on for twelve months and took all her parents spare money. Sure she could have got other help for free but her parents were trying to buy her some peace of mind and show they still loved her. Mulder felt the same kind of helplessness he always did when faced with this kind of story. He knew that something could have been done, should have been done and the victim had just been victimised again. It reminded him of all those times when he thought he should have been able to help and had failed. At least he didn't usually fail just because he didn't try, but that wasn't much compensation. 'You already know that it wasn't your fault, I don't need to tell you that.' The softness of his voice emboldened her. She did know it wasn't her fault. She thought she really had got over it. So why two years later was she a victim again? The story she started to tell was bleak. He must have followed her for a week, maybe more. He'd given her a scrap book of the photos he'd taken as he stalked her. She didn't remember seeing him, no one hanging around taking photos but he'd been there. When he grabbed her, it was midday. She was walking home from the library. He took her to an empty factory and raped her. When he left, he padlocked her feet and one arm to a concrete post. But he left her other hand free so she could look at the photos he'd taken of her - so she 'could see why he'd had to have her.' He told her that when he returned he would have to hurt her and that after he hurt her she would have to die because he couldn't leave any witnesses. She had looked at the photos, trying to take it in, but she couldn't see why it was her he'd chosen. Her discovery and rescue had been sheer luck, just some kids breaking into the disused factory for a bit of a party. She was never sure about the police investigation. She got asked remarkably few questions and there was never an identity parade. So far as she knew there weren't even any suspects. Scully sighed with a mixture of exasperation and sympathy. A small town police department. The victim had been raped before. They hadn't even tried. Or maybe they had, but in some sub-conscious way they always had the nagging doubt that she was just a 'natural born victim'. They probably ignored the threats he'd made as just something to shut her up or something she made up. Of course it was ten years ago, maybe things are better now, Dana hoped so. Mulder knew what Dana's shudder meant. They weren't talking psychology here. They had to take evidence and they only had the victim to get it from. No forensics. No scene of crime. Just her memories. He wondered if she really wanted this. 'I have to know', that's what she'd said. He'd heard himself use those words so often before. He had to start by doing the interview that hadn't been done ten years ago. He wished he could see the photos that the attacker had put in that scrapbook. He asked her if she remembered the photos. She remembered them well. She didn't have a lot else she could do in that factory while she waited for him to return and hurt her, kill her. She had studied the photos trying to see why he picked her out, trying to see why she looked like a victim. 'Describe the photo... Where was it taken, indoors or outdoors... Describe the background... Who were you with... What were you wearing, what were they wearing... How would you describe your expression, their expressions... Who looked the oldest... the happiest.... the youngest.... the saddest... How long before the attack do you think the photo was taken... Where would the photo taker have been stood to get that picture... Why wouldn't you see him stood there....' And so on. For every picture. Eighteen photos taken in the week prior to the attack. She'd committed every one of them to memory in those hours alone. They'd been talking solidly for two hours. Mulder needed time to think about what he'd been told. Two pictures stood out in his head, they were there for completely different reasons. He suggested a break. Time for Wendy to compose herself. Time to get some more coffee. Time for him to talk to Scully. Dana spoke first. 'That photo. The blurry black and white one, her in the changing room at that store. The one where she didn't know how he could have got the picture but it was from above her, ceiling height.' 'Yes, Scully, I know.' 'It was a still from an in store security film wasn't it.' 'Yes.' 'So all the investigators had to do was get the list of people with access to the film footage in that store.' 'Yes.' 'Would have made a pretty convincing first pass at a list of suspects. But they never even asked her to an ID parade.' 'I doubt if they even visited the store, never mind got the list of people with access to the film.' Dana didn't reply, just shook her head sadly. 'I can't help but think how many others came after her, I wonder how long it took him before he did start killing.' Dana sighed with frustration and anger and hissed 'amateurs.' Mulder frowned, 'or worse.' No one had tried to help her back then, Ok well he'd better try and help her now. He thought about that other photo. Conjuring the image from her words. Closing his eyes till the details started to appear. She was with four other girls all from the same class at High School. The day was bright and sunny. They looked like they'd come out of a glossy magazine, a parody of middle America. Dressed up to the nines, they'd jokingly declared today 'Formal Picnic Day'. The guys were going to be in bow ties and dinner jackets, the girls had to look like Queens of the May Proms. All of them planned to look suitably incongruous as they sat down to eat pizza on a bench by the beach. It was in honour of a friend's birthday, but even without that excuse, they had other reasons to celebrate, exams over, everybody happy and well. She didn't look like a 'victim'. No lines of worry on her face. Nothing off balance or stooped in her posture. No dressing down to try and make herself invisible. He let the image draw him in. If not a victim, then what? Was she just unlucky, wrong place at the wrong time? No, that didn't make sense, he'd stalked her, chosen her. Coincidence? He knew a lot about coincidences, but didn't think she was going to let him off the hook that easily. He closed his eyes and he could see the picture clearly, like a frame in a video. Now he needed to know what came before it and what appened next. More questions. Wendy sat on the edge of her seat leaning down so he couldn't see her face. Not that he would have done, his eyes were closed. She wondered why he'd fixed onto that picture, of all the photos in the collection it was the least tense, least informing. Scully could hear the changing tones in Mulder's voice before Wendy did. The gentle probing of the earlier session, the occasional comment he'd put in to encourage her, had been left behind. The questioning now was becoming colder, more factual, matter of fact. Dana worried if she should intervene but the look of concentration on her partner's face and the sound of release in Wendy's voice made her wait. 'How was he going to hurt you, what did he tell you? What were the exact words? How was he going to kill you, what was he going to do? Why did he choose you? What was different about you, why did he know you weren't you like your friends?' Scully thought again about stopping the discussion, but realised that she was now as caught up in the emotion as the others were. She wanted to understand as well. Agent Hughes was saying things now that she had never said before. She was talking about how she felt. How she felt that she was above the worries of her friends about their dresses and hairstyles and the effect they might have on the guys on the beach. She knew she looked good, in control and no one else's opinion mattered compared to that. She had smiled as she walked past the shop with the mirrored glass. She wasn't perfect, she wasn't the most attractive of the five in her group, but she didn't have the kind of self doubt about her own value that even the prettiest of them had. It wasn't her who nervously brushed imaginary wisps of hair back into place or smoothed imaginary creases from her dress. She was older than them, maybe not in years but in feelings. She had a strength that came from inside. 'Why do YOU think you were taken?' His voice now sounded callous, almost accusing in tone. She stuttered back another 'I don't know.' 'I think you do know, so why are you asking me to explain it to you?' 'I don't know. I don't know why it wasn't someone else.' 'Why would he have wanted to take one of those others, when you had more to give.' 'I don't know.' 'Don't play around, you know what made you special.' 'I don't' But Mulder did. It was crystal clear. It poured through his head like a torrent. He could see it, see why she was just so desirable, why she was irresistible, why she was just too good to miss. The room stayed silent for a moment. Mulder felt short of breath, his head filled with his own words and someone else's emotions - where had they come from? He felt sick. He'd crawled deep and dark into the head of the attacker, it wasn't the first time it had happened, he always wanted to think it would be the last time. He knew why she'd been chosen, he had to get himself together again so he could tell her. 'Sorry', he said abruptly as he rushed out of the room. 'I'll come back.' He headed back to his room. He stood under the shower till his heart slowed down and his head stopped swimming. He watched his face in the mirror, waiting for his breathing to become less laboured, waiting until he could look himself in the eyes again. He hated how easy it was to get into their heads. He was always scared that when he came back there would be a little bit of them he brought back with him. When he returned to the room, Dana had her arm round Wendy's shoulder. Wendy Hughes sat, quiet but shivering. Dana calm, but within a fingertip touch of crying herself. The words Mulder used were spoken softly but with complete conviction. He talked quietly about the kind of man who had attacked her. The attacker hadn't gone looking for a victim, he'd gone looking for a survivor. He wanted to find someone who'd been wounded once and recovered. Not just to prove he was better, stronger more powerful than his victim. But to prove he was more powerful than both his victim and their old assailant. Better all round. He froze for a moment as the idea hit him that he wasn't just talking about the kind of man who had attacked Wendy but the kind who had attacked Scully. There had been times when Dana had been a victim, attacked because of her strength not her weakness. He wished he hadn't asked Scully to stay. Wendy's eyes cleared as he spoke. The silent, angry tears were pushed away. She was able to look at him. Could she believe him? She certainly wanted to believe. She looked for doubts in his face, in his voice. She saw and heard none. Just tired but clear eyes and gentle but firm words. She started to talk, ask questions. He tried to answer. He told her again that she was a survivor. That there was nothing wrong with being a survivor, that it was a good thing to be. They talked until it came to the time she had to leave for her appointment in Washington. She had a lot more talking to do but she knew it would be Ok now. Then in a voice, little above a whisper, she said 'thankyou' and left. The partners sat quiet, letting her leave alone. Once she'd gone they turned and looked at one another. 'I'm sorry.' They both blurted out the phrase at the same time. That broke the ice, they smiled for the first time in what seemed like ages but was only a day, they smiled and knew they'd be Ok too. 'You first,' said Scully. 'I just wished I hadn't made you stay, some of it reminded me of things that have happened to you.' 'No, that was good, I liked your explanation of why I could get singled out just as much as Wendy did. But, I'm sorry I encouraged you to talk to her, I saw how much you hated it - having to get into that man's head. It must be bad enough doing that to catch them, but you didn't even get that kind of reward.' 'I got a reward.' 'Do you think he did go on to kill?.' 'Don't know, probably. Certainly that MO he'd come up with by the time he attacked her was too elaborate for a first timer. So it wouldn't be surprising if he kept on escalating'. He paused. 'I'm not going to be able to stop myself reopening the file, I'm sorry.' 'I understand.' She paused. 'You know what you said about there being nothing wrong in being a survivor - I may remind you of that some time.' He ignored her remark and took evasive action. 'What's on the agenda for this afternoon's training?' 'Psychological profiling - the evidence needed for the behavioural scientists to operate and the factors affecting the reliability of profiles.' 'Maybe Richardson will fall into a time warp during lunch.' 'Maybe we should go and do the firing range tests and stuff we skipped this morning and delay seeing Richardson until we are feeling a bit ...' 'Sleepier?' 'I was going to say, better prepared.' 'You should go to the class, I'll skip it, I'm already set up for the nasty report to Skinner you don't have to join me in the line.' 'I think you may have forgotten what I said to Richardson last night.' He smiled innocently. How could he possible have forgotten that. 'Care to join me on the shooting range? It'll take your mind off our appointment with AD Skinner.' END In Service Training - Joann - Thanks for reading it.