Insomniac 
By San aka Humbuggie 
san@sv-tales.com 
http://www.sv-tales.com

Story:  A case brings Mulder and Scully on the trail of a serial 
killer, out there looking for his next victim. When both FBI and the 
killer are looking for the same woman, a race against time begins to 
find her and bring her to safety. At the same time, Mulder suffers one 
of the worst fates possible: Insomnia.

Note: In previous stories ('The Game', 'Sins of our children' and 
recently 'The Darkness and The Light') I have introduced the character 
of Terence Davis, Mulder's former boss at the VCS. There are several 
references to my previous story 'The Darkness and The Light', but it's 
not necessary to read that story if you don't want to. This isn't a 
follow-up, but the story takes place a few weeks after 'The Darkness 
and The Light'.J

Type: MTA with lots and lots of UST Rated R for some explicit word-use 
and graphic scenes

Spoilers: Several general spoilers for 'Paper Hearts', the 
Samantha-abduction, but nothing in particular. The story takes place 
during the season seven timeline, situated after 'Je Souhaite'. In my 
X-Files-Universe season eight and 'Requiem' have never taken place.

A special thanks to Mairéad, for giving me permission to use her name 
in this story. (That name actually gave me the basic idea for this 
story), so please accept my gratitude! Mairéad, as promised, you're 
one of the good guys J 

All lyrics that appear in this story, come from Faithless' 'Insomnia'. 





I need to get some sleep 
I can't get no sleep



Before that day 

So he wanted her. It was written in his books. She had been on his 
mind from the very first day he saw her, when she strolled through the 
streets with the spring sunlight falling on her face. She had settled 
into his mind and would stay there until she died. 

He had experienced this feeling so many times before and had always 
given in to his urges. It was in his nature to do so. He was born to 
be a killer, just like his brother had been. For years he had denied 
himself this pleasure, but now that he was given the opportunity to 
act towards it, he did. 

So he watched her as she left her office that Friday evening and took 
a cab to Lane Street downtown, where she lived in a small yet spacious 
house that she had bought after her divorce with her husband's 
settlement. She was only twenty-six when she got that divorce, and now 
she pretended to be eighteen again. She was so determined to forget 
that faltered marriage, that she could actually convince herself she 
was young, vivid and very eligible. 

He had been in her house several times. He had wandered in, feeling 
the soft fabrics of her couch and carefully selected chairs that went 
perfect with the expensive marble table. He had been standing outside 
as well, watching her several times while she worked out on her home 
trainer in the study. He had looked at her while she watched TV at 
night, staring at her from behind the blinds that were supposed to 
hide her from the outside world. She never bothered to completely 
close them, believing that no one would dare to come this close to 
her. After all, she thought she had the world in her pocket.

She liked comedies and the so-called quality TV-shows. She was a 
sucker for ER and hated all the other hospital clones. She knew all 
the medical terms inside and out and spoke out loud when she 
disagreed. She liked The Practice and had a weak spot for tall men 
with dark hair. Those were her kind of heroes. She dreamed of having a 
man like Dylan McDermott in her bed and life.

Instead, she had him in her life, even though she didn't know it yet. 
She didn't like him. That much he knew. She had told him so two weeks 
ago when he asked to go out with her on a date. She had laughed in his 
face and told him he was too chubby, too short and too poor to her 
liking. She liked men with money. They paid for what she couldn't 
afford with her office salary. They made sure she didn't have to work 
too hard. Why be manager when you could earn more fucking a man on 
occasion? 

That's the trap her ex-husband had fallen into. He still paid dearly 
for his mistake. He had thought that the age difference didn't matter. 
He was wrong. She had plucked him until there was nothing left, 
claiming to be mentally abused. She was a good actress.

The home trainer she had gotten from her last lover. She had done him 
in three times a week, every night after his work, while his wife 
thought he was doing overtime. Afterwards he went home to her and his 
kids and didn't feel like having sex anymore. When he told her he had 
enough, she told him she wanted that home trainer. And she always got 
what she wanted. 

The world would be happy if she died. She was a bitch.

When he had done his first kill, he had figured out a plan that got 
him off the hook every time. He would use the same plan now. He knew 
she would fall into the trap. They always did that. She would walk 
into his hands and never see the daylight again.

The fun part was that he would take her in broad daylight, with 
hundreds - thousands of people around them. The fun part was that no 
one ever knew she was dying while they were enjoying themselves. He 
got a kick of hearing their excited voices outside his carefully 
selected shelter. And it was more fun to hear her beg and scream, 
while not a single soul could hear her.

He would keep her for three nights. Then he would kill her and get rid 
of her body like he did the others. He would hear about the murders in 
the papers and on television. And the world would wonder who this new 
serial killer on the loose was. 

After he would dump her body, he would be out there again, looking for 
his next victim. He had the new one's address and telephone number in 
his pocket. He had spotted her by chance, just like all the others. 
And she would step into his trap with her eyes open, just like they 
all had done.

And finally, he would kill her too with all the pleasures of the 
world.



Part One

I only smoke weed when I need to, and I need to get some rest, I 
confess. I burned a hole in the mattress, yes yes. It was me, I plead 
guilty.



Morning bliss 

The morning came as bliss after a night of sleeplessness. Mulder 
sighed when he turned off the alarm, slid out of bed and opened the 
curtains to let the sunlight in. Usually the waterbed got him to sleep 
quite comfortably but this night it had seemed as if every second 
lasted an hour. 

Finally he had slipped out of bed and gave the couch to try and get 
some sleep. As if the devil himself was involved, sleep simply 
wouldn't come. Finally, after watching "Planet of the Apes" for the 
twentieth time or so, he managed to take a nap. By that time it was 
five in the morning. 

But sleep wouldn't come easily. He was haunted by several weird 
dreams. In one of them he heard the constant sound of a moving freight 
train. In another one he was in his father's backyard and watched a 
concert of "The Barenaked Ladies" with thousands of screaming and 
shouting men and women around him. 

In yet another one, Faithless came on stage and he stood centred, 
watching them as Maxi Jazz got the crowd to move. When he looked 
aside, Scully stood next to him and said something he couldn't hear. 
Her lips moved but no sound came out. He couldn't hear her for the 
love of god. 

He woke up finally around five thirty, bathing in sweat after merely 
half an hour of sleep. He was awake and alert, angry with himself for 
eating that last slice of pizza last night. That must have been the 
reason for his lack of sleep now. His stomach was too upset and kept 
on reminding him that he had been a bad boy. Needles to say it were 
not one of his best nights. 

Just out of the shower, the doorbell went. Scully was too early to 
pick him up but she wouldn't mind the wait. He remembered vaguely 
something about a short meeting with Terence Davis this morning at 
Skinner's request. He had been surprised by Skinner's late call last 
night, asking to meet with Davis in his office first thing in the 
morning. 

He had wondered why Davis had wanted to see the both of them. After 
what happened in New York and Mulder's recovery, Davis had decided to 
give Mulder a break. A few years ago Mulder had helped Davis out on 
several cases as well, returning on occasion to the VCS. 

A few weeks ago Davis had taken Mulder out to lunch, discussing the 
possibility of returning to the VCS on a part-time basis. They were 
short of profilers. Mulder had actually considered it, but when 
Skinner found out, he had friendly yet forcefully requested his pal 
Davis not to do this. Mulder never knew what the two discussed, but he 
knew that both Directors were worried about him. It was true that he 
always got in too deep, but that was exactly what a profiler had to 
do. When someone's life depended on it, to Mulder it didn't matter 
what happened. 

After that talk between the two Directors, Terence had kept his 
promise to Skinner and backed away. Despite the fact they lost a 
profiler just recently, Terry had kept his promise.

Until, apparently, last night. And Skinner had gone along. That could 
only mean there was something serious going on, and they wanted him in 
on the journey. He was glad with the change of pace. Truthfully, after 
New York, Mulder had seriously considered going back to the VCS on his 
own terms. Right after he found out the truth about Samantha, he had 
believed that The X-Files had served its purpose and that he could 
move on. In truth, he knew he couldn't. He had been angry at Scully 
when she believably convinced him she had quit The X-Files. Then how 
could he even consider the same thing? 

He simply couldn't bear not working with his partner anymore. It was 
an unthinkable thought. If it ever happened to turn out that way, he 
would quit the Bureau immediately and take her with him. Somehow - how 
selfish as it might seem - he would persuade her to join his quest. 

Right now, Davis needed a hand however, and he was planning to give it 
to him, even though he didn't seem physically fit right now to do so. 

'You look like hell,' Scully remarked when he opened the door. 'Good 
morning to you too,' Mulder mumbled, drying his hair with a towel that 
was supposed to look white but had ended up in a machine with blacks. 
'Take a seat, I'll be right there.'

Mulder could feel his partner's eyes pierce in his back when he 
returned to the bedroom and left the door half open so he could talk 
to her. He saw her glance, and smiled as he got changed out of her 
sight. He knew she had seen him naked many times before, but that 
usually happened when he was lying butt naked in some hospital with 
her hovering over him. Right now, that was as far as he wanted to go.

'Why does Davis want to talk to us?' Scully asked as she sat down on 
the leather couch, and glared at the rest of Mulder's living room. The 
place looked a mess. A blanket lay beside her. The couch still felt 
warm. Mulder had obviously slept here, but she wasn't going to ask him 
about it until he offered to explain. She knew he hated it when she 
hovered over him like a mother hen.

'Beats me,' Mulder said from the bedroom. 'I'm sure he's got a case 
for us.' 'An X-File?'

'Not likely. Davis only believes in down-to-earth serial killer-cases. 
He's good at what he does, so I'm sure he's not going to change his MO 
right now. It's probably a serial killer-case or something. I know he 
loves to put me through the wringer.'

'And get you emotionally fucked up again?' 

Curiously Mulder glared at her from behind the door and smiled. 'My, 
my, Agent Scully, what forceful language.' 

'I'm sorry, Mulder,' she said, not smiling back, 'I don't like the 
Davis-cases and you know it. You always end up in trouble. This is not 
good for you and you know it.'

'I'm a big boy, Scully. I can take care of myself.'

'That's just it,' she sighed. 'When you're working on a case like 
that, you forget everything. Sometimes you're so mixed up in them, 
that you just ignore the rest of your life. I don't want that - not 
this time. So you better get used to the fact that I will be hovering 
over you until we catch whoever it is we're catching.'

Mulder returned to the living room, dressed in a business-suit with 
his hair still sticking in all directions. He looks adorable, Agent 
Scully thought, not even trying to ignore the feelings inside of her 
any longer. 

He could have been any woman's dream hadn't he been working full-time 
on cases that other people just laughed at and she worked with him 
every day. She had this incredible urge inside of her to protect him 
at all cost, knowing what happened to him during previous cases. She 
remembered the kiss they had shared after New York. She remembered the 
long talk after that. They had fallen asleep together on this very 
couch. But they both knew they wouldn't go beyond that step. 

She sighed. They were so different yet she wanted so much to be with 
him. She found him interesting even though she loved to go against all 
that he believed in. She knew he expected that from her. Why couldn't 
she just keep this partner-wise and forget all about the fact they 
both were in need of  something more than friendship? It would make 
things so easier.

It just didn't become any simpler, with everything they had been 
through. All that they had done and seen had lead them to a life where 
they needed each other more than anyone or anything else in the world. 
They were like drugs to one another. Without the daily fix, there was 
nothing left. 

'Planet of the Apes calling Agent Scully,' Mulder grinned, waving his 
hand before his partner's eyes. Scully looked up shocked, trying to 
figure out where in the world she had been with her thoughts. Then she 
smiled, despite her worries, and got up so that she could face her 
partner. 

Carelessly the male agent stuffed his badge and wallet in his jacket 
pockets, strapped his gun and ruffled through his hair. 'Ready to go,' 
he said, saluting her as if he was a soldier.

She laughed, looking at the funny faces he pulled on her. 'Your hair 
is sticking out, Soldier Mulder.' 'Oh yeah -' Mulder grabbed a comb 
from the coffee table and went quickly through his hair, ignoring the 
stubbles on his chin. He had obviously not been awake when he shaved. 
He had a day-old beard. Perhaps he hadn't even shaven at all. He 
couldn't actually remember.

'You okay Mulder?' his partner asked worried, standing next to him as 
he stared at his familiar face in the mirror, rubbing his chin as if 
he was seeing someone else. He turned towards her. 'I've been dreaming 
about trains and rock concerts whenever I fell asleep last night. Can 
you believe that? Hell, I even sang and danced along.' 

'What band?' she asked, biting her lip in order not to laugh. 
'Barenaked Ladies first, then Faithless.' 'Then it couldn't have been 
a bad dream. Come on, partner, we're late as it is.' 



Mulder sighed, closing the door behind him as they left and walked 
beside his partner to the elevator. He felt a bit light-headed like he 
always did when the night had been too short. 

If he had known his problems were just beginning to see the light of 
day, he wouldn't have gone to see Davis.



Seeing Davis

Seeing Terence Davis again, was like seeing an old friend. The 
Director didn't seem to age one little bit. Even though they had first 
met over ten years ago, the man still seemed to be exactly the same 
person. Mulder remembered they first reunion a couple of years ago. 
Davis had been out to test and tempt him. Now they were on the best 
terms possible.

'Mulder,' Davis said, shaking the agent's hand, 'it's good to see that 
you're doing well.'

'As always, sir,' Mulder responded, nodding towards Skinner who was in 
the office as well. That surprised both Mulder and Scully. This really 
must have been something serious for both Directors to be there. 

'Take a seat,' Davis said, pointing at the chairs before his desk. He 
had shut the door of his spacious office and offered them coffee. As 
they sat, Davis looked serious and folded his hands under his chin as 
if he was thinking. It was a gesture that Mulder had gotten so used to 
fear in the past, when Davis was still his Director and bossing him 
around. 

'I can't even say that it's been a long time, Mulder,' Davis said, 
sipping his warm coffee and adjusting his glasses. 'But I can't 
consider New York a case you worked on under my jurisdiction. Of 
course I'm very happy that it got resolved, thanks to you and Agent 
Scully.' 

The AD stopped and glanced at Skinner. 'You know that I contacted you 
a few weeks ago about a possible co-operation between our two 
divisions. I was serious about my offer, realizing afterwards though 
that it wouldn't be realistic to assume we could work things through. 
You cannot possibly divide your time between two departments and 
expect the both of them to run perfectly.' 

Davis took his time, emptying his coffee before he came to the point. 
'But I had an agreement with Walter that I wasn't going to bother you 
again unless it was an emergency. Walter knows that we are short of 
profilers and after the loss of Agent Jones I unfortunately was forced 
to seek a new profiler on short-term basis. Agent Grayson wrote the 
initial report, by the way. She's an ex-cop and was recruited about 
four years ago. I asked her to join our team because I feel she's an 
excellent asset. You know that it takes a lot of time to work your way 
in, Mulder, so I cannot ask my new Agent to take the lead on this case 
for me. Therefore I called in a favour on Walter and asked him to 
allow your participation.'

Mulder looked at Skinner who looked at Davis. He realized both AD's 
were concerned. It was true that in the past he had done a few cases 
that nearly got him killed, but every single case they investigated 
brought him in danger. He lived with it. Every field agent did.

Now, all of that seemed to be forgotten as Davis took a file from a 
drawer and placed it on the table, tapping his hand on it. 'I want to 
ask you, Mulder, if you're up to this. I know that New York shook you 
up. You saw the psychologist a few times. Walter tells me you're back 
at your old games, but I want to hear it from you.' 

Mulder swallowed away the dryness in his throat and the sudden knot in 
his stomach as he stared at the file beneath Davis' hand. In truth, he 
had not discussed his fears with the psych. They had told him he had 
to go, but he had not spoken about his sudden seclusion and worst 
dreams come true. That, he kept to himself. 

'I have to be honest,' he finally said, as Scully's image caught the 
corner of his eye and he glanced outside, at the warm sun that seemed 
to brighten the world. 'I haven't - we haven't been able to put it all 
behind us yet. But I need a good, solid case. I'm not afraid of doing 
cases like this. I want to go back in the game, sir.' 

Davis smiled as he glanced at Skinner who didn't seem too happy with 
this answer but didn't respond or give input. In fact, looking 
objectively at it, adding profiler cases to his list, was a perfect 
way to strengthen the agent's credibility, thus allowing him to defend 
his work on The X-Files. They all knew how to play these political 
games. 

Scully knew she wasn't able to argue about this with her partner. She 
had seen his determination before. She knew now what he felt when they 
were after serial killers. Had she not been on the trail of one 
herself? This was no different than finding out the truth about an 
X-File. The only thing missing was the paranormal tint that seemed to 
make it more unbelievable when they handed in their case files. But 
wasn't a human being, murdering more human beings just as incredible? 
Why else could someone murder the innocent and claim that he did it 
because he had been "chosen"? 

'Scully?' Mulder said as he looked aside and tapped her hand. She 
blinked her eyelids, realizing that once again she had been far gone 
in her thoughts. Her partner looked at her with care and worry and 
said, 'I'm not doing this without you. If you say no, it's no.' 

She stared at him shocked. Was he really going to refuse cases on her 
behalf, even though these might be the most satisfying ones? 

She looked nervously at the others, waiting for a reply. 'I can't say 
no,' she said, 'even if I wanted to. But I don't want to. I know now 
what it's like. I can only support you in what you're doing.' 

He smiled at her, taking in her approval. That was so important to him 
- more than anything in the world. She knew and smiled back, albeit 
nervous. 

'I have taken the liberty of freeing your time for this case, Agents,' 
Skinner said. 'Officially you are working under my jurisdiction. 
Unofficially, you will work in unison with AD Davis. We're doing this 
because rumours have it that Kersh is up for Deputy Director. You know 
what it's like.' 

'That's right,' Terence agreed, finally opening the file that he 
shoved towards the agents.  

Several photos and newspaper clippings were spread out on the table. 
They had already heard of this case. It had been all over the news. 
'They call him 'The Concert-Killer',' Davis said, tapping his right 
index finger on an LA-Times article. 'Several police units from 
different states and cities have been working together to nail this 
guy, but he's smart, clever and fast.' 

'I read about him,' Mulder said hesitant as he glanced at the autopsy 
report and pictures that he gave to Scully. 'Several women disappeared 
without a trace during rock concerts and were found three days later 
with their throat slit. No one knows how he does it.'

'That's right,' Davis said. 'The FBI has been keeping a low profile in 
this case for several reasons. Main reason is that the daughter of 
Police Chief Brandon with the Chicago PD was one of the casualties. It 
became a police prestige case after that. We're six weeks and six 
murders later. Our killer selects one victim per week. With the 
festival- and concert summer ahead of us, we fear that he might be 
upgrading soon.' 

'What kind of concerts does he select, sir?'

'Several different ones. There's no link between the bands or the 
arenas they perform at. He always picks out large stadiums that hold 
up to 20,000 people. That seems to be our only reference. We've 
sharpened security at every concert, but we can't keep that up. I had 
a meeting with Brandon yesterday and promised him to put my best 
profiler on it. I thought of you.' 

'How did they disappear?' Mulder asked, ignoring the side compliment. 

'All victims got separated from the groups of people they were with. 
No one saw them leave the arena. In fact, in most cases a person that 
leaves the arena is not allowed back in. There's usually such a large 
crowd there, that security becomes tight once the concert starts.' 

'And all victims vanished from within the arenas?' Scully asked.

'Yes. Chief Brandon believes that someone from the inside working at 
those concerts, is responsible for their disappearances. The only 
problem is that there are so many people walking around there, that it 
could be anyone. It could have been one of the concertgoers as well. 
But we can't trace anyone. A lot of the tickets are purchased 
anonymous, at the spot. Only for high-profiled concerts most tickets 
are bought upfront. Brandon actually had someone going through the 
list to track down criminal records but that only led to dead ends.'

Scully gave the autopsy photos to Mulder. They were taken from up 
close and clearly showed that the cause of death was strangulation 
with a piano wire. According to the report there was never sexual 
assault. The victims seemed to be in perfectly good shape until the 
moment they were murdered. 

They were all found within hours after their death, usually dumped in 
an alley in the same city they had been taken. 

'All we can do right now,' Mulder said, 'is profile our John Doe and 
see what ticks him off. It's obviously a man that loves to take risks. 
He toys with his victims and us. He doesn't kill them straight away. 
He likes to keep them for a while before he does them in. But he 
doesn't do it for the sexual thrill of it. If he did, he wouldn't 
leave them alone.'

'Go on,' Terence said, looking at Mulder as his brain started to work 
at full speed, putting the pieces together.

'I think you were right about our man working at those concerts, but I 
believe he's always there on a temporary basis. Most security guards 
have fulltime jobs. They can't account for missing hours. We're 
looking for someone here that has the flexibility of freedom and 
uncounted hours. He needs to be with his victims during the abduction 
period. For that, we're looking for someone that knows these arenas 
inside out and has easy access to information.'

'Do you think he selects his victims casually?' Skinner asked. 

'Not likely. They never do. He has a basic reason for taking these 
women specifically. Looking at this file, I would say at first sight 
they don't have anything in common, except for their features. They 
couldn't be more Irish or British.' 

Davis smiled. 'You're absolutely right. I caught the same impression.'

'Are you saying he's targeting specifically Irish women?' Scully 
asked.

'Or British,' Mulder said, 'but some of the family lines might go back 
hundreds of years. Don't forget that basically, most of us have 
English roots. It's not a good place to start, but it's something.' 

'How's he selecting them then?' Scully asked. 

'It's not so difficult these days to look up one's history,' Mulder 
said. 'The moment you've got a name and age, you can go on the 
Internet and run one of those family tree-programs. He might be 
searching on a specific name or family.' 



'We can't guard every woman in the US with English roots,' Davis said. 
'We'd be putting everyone in small cages and hope nothing happens, so 
to speak.'

'Right now I agree that's too little to go on,' Mulder agreed, 'but 
there are other ways.' He rose up from his seat and took the file, 
turning as he walked to the door. There he stopped as if he remembered 
something, turned and said confused, 'Sorry, can I please be excused?' 

Davis nodded with a smile on his face. When Mulder left, he turned to 
Skinner and said, 'Our boy's back.' 

'It's your responsibility to see that he pulls it off, Terry,' Skinner 
said hard, glancing at Scully as if he didn't want her to be there. 
Scully understood the message and excused herself, leaving the room as 
well. 

Terry got up from his seat and walked to the window, glancing outside 
as he sighed. Suddenly he seemed to look ten years older even though 
he had started out at the FBI alongside Skinner so many years ago. So 
many things had happened ever since. They had both become AD. But 
Terence had declined an offer to become Deputy Director. For ten years 
now he had been in charge of the VCS and he wasn't about to let his 
baby go. 

'You're tired, Terry,' Skinner said as he leaned on the edge of the 
desk. 'Isn't it about time that you consider that offer? You know it 
still stands.' 

'No.' Terence shook his head. 'There's too much going on out there to 
quit now. I don't want to be pushing papers in a bigger office just 
yet, Walter. I want to be out there, in the field. I want to watch my 
agents do their job. I've got good men out there, and I'm not about to 
stop helping them now. They need me too, you know.'

'I know,' Skinner said, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder. 'It 
always works out, Terry.' 

'I'm worried,' Terence admitted as he glanced outside. 'When Robert 
Jones died, I thought my world had come to an end. The investigation 
was so hard, and with good reason. I shouldn't have let him handle 
that case on his own, but I had no choice. All my good profilers are 
working in other cities. Brandt's in New York, Jenkins in LA. Here in 
Washington I have eight people working fulltime for me, and it's not 
enough. It seems that the crime rate has never been higher.' 

'No,' Skinner said, 'it's just changed, that's all. Years ago a serial 
killer-case made the news. If a woman disappeared, you could be sure 
that woman was taken by the one creating havoc at the time. Look at 
Ted Bundy or The Boston Strangler. Now someone gets a kick out of 
destroying human lives for fun and he doesn't even make the news. We 
are becoming oblivious to what is out there.' 

'That doesn't make it easier,' Terence said, pointing at passing 
people on the streets below them. 'Anyone of those men or women out 
there can be our next suspect. I grew up with trust and faith until I 
winded up at the FBI and realized everyone could be a killer. We all 
have that inside of us, even the people working for us right now. The 
reason why Mulder is such a good profiler is because he lives in that 
dark world. He allows himself in. He switches the button that gives 
him access to their world but doesn't always know how to get back. 
That's what worries me. What if one day he doesn't know how to get 
back?'

'Isn't that what you feared more yourself?' Skinner said as he turned 
and looked at the framed awards that decorated Davis' office. 'That 
one day you won't be able to distinguish right from wrong, like 
Patterson did?' 

Davis frowned when hearing that name. Patterson was the school example 
of an exccellent man gone wrong; a fate that could lie ahead for all 
of them. 

'You're right,' Davis said. 'One shouldn't dwell on these things. We 
cannot allow ourselves to think about the abyss. We should move up and 
about and try to forget that every single case leaves behind its 
casualties.'

'If you want to keep sane, that's exactly what you need to do,' 
Skinner said, leaving his friend alone in his comfortable office with 
something to think about.







The arena

He walked around the arena, looking at the huge amount of seats and 
foot space. In a few days all of this would be filled with thousands 
of people, all coming here for the same thing. He closed his eyes and 
breathed in the fresh air, stretching his arms as he did. 

'Hey!' a dark male voice shouted behind him, 'you're here to work, not 
to waste time!' He turned, angry that someone had dared to disturb his 
most inner thoughts. Then he forced a smile and an apology from his 
lips, and went back to work. He couldn't give up his cover now, even 
though he felt a sudden urge to strangle his temp boss with a piano 
wire.

But even while working he dreamed about the next one in his arms that 
would wriggle as they tried to escape his grip. Just like the others 
she would not be able to get away from him and she would be his to 
play with for three days.

He had carelessly bumped into her the day before, muttering an apology 
as he did. She had turned and smiled and then someone said, 'Come on, 
Mag, let's go.' He had stopped and listened to the use of that name. 
It sounded so soft, so gentle, and so beautiful that he wanted to 
weep. Soon Margaret would be his, and then he would forget all about 
her, just like all the others, and move on to the next one. Every new 
woman in his arms seemed more important than the previous one. They 
all became more and more important to him. 

He would never get enough. In fact, the knowledge that summer was up 
and about made him almost giddy. Perhaps he shouldn't be stopping 
this, ever. He was having fun killing. Yeah, he could consider making 
a career out of it.

And so at night, he hid himself in his little shelter, taking out his 
most precious possession. Her golden hair that he kept in the sniff 
box that his mother had given him fifteen years ago. He smelled her 
hair and recalled her taste. And he knew that soon they would see each 
other again and she would be forever his. 

He would find her again one day. Soon her golden hair would twist 
around his index finger again, and she would kiss him and tell him she 
loved him, like she had done in his dreams so many times before.



Agent Grayson

Agitated because he wasn't able to take a nap on the flight despite 
his fatigue, Mulder was happy when the plane touched down in Miami 
where they would be awaited.

It all had to be arranged fast. Scully called to arrange the tickets 
and motels while Mulder made a quick listing of sights and places he 
wanted to check. Even though they could extract a lot of info on the 
thorough report made by Agent Grayson and the different police 
departments, there was still a lot of work to be done. 

Mulder had insisted on flying out to Miami himself. Scully knew he 
wanted to get a feel of the places where the women disappeared, hoping 
to catch a glimpse of the killer. Even though their John Doe was long 
gone by now, the agent needed an impression on his MO. 

Before they left, Skinner had walked in on them and told them that all 
police departments gave their full cooperation. Chief Brandon was 
waiting for them once they arrived in Chicago where his own daughter 
had vanished. It would be a tight schedule but a necessary one. They 
had no idea how long it would take for the next victim to disappear. 
Concert season meant that just about every city pushed two to four big 
gigs a week. 

At the exit terminal, a woman clad in business suit walked over to 
them. She seemed to recognize them immediately and smiled widely as 
she offered her hand. 'I'm Agent Grayson from the Miami Field Office. 
I'm glad to see that AD Davis convinced you to come over.' 

Mulder looked over the younger agent who didn't seem a day older than 
thirty, and shook her hand. 'You wrote the initial report, didn't 
you?' he asked, recalling the thoroughness of the file they had 
received earlier that day. 

'Yes, I did. AD Davis asked me to write a report about a week ago. He 
had a hunch then that we would be requested by Chief Brandon to take 
over to the case. I worked under Davis' supervision on this. AD Davis 
asked to assist you on this case. He said you wouldn't mind.' 

'AD Skinner already informed us,' Scully said as she accepted the 
offered hand and smiled friendly. The younger woman seemed very eager 
to start to work properly on the case. She had tried to create an 
image on 'The Concert-Killer' in her mind but never came further than 
the classic image of a regular guy doing irregular things. That's what 
they learned during their first course. Anyone could be a murderer. 

'Is there a possibility of seeing the last victim?' Scully asked as 
she walked beside the younger agent outside. Mulder followed behind 
them, covering a yawn with the palm of his hand. 'From my 
understanding she died about four days ago?'

'That's right,' Mairéad Grayson said as they walked towards a waiting 
car. 'It was a shock, I can tell you that much. I was working out in 
Washington when the call came, trying to gather evidence to make the 
report, and then suddenly a murder takes place in my own hometown, 
sending me back here. That's the downfall to this case. We never see 
it coming.'

'And the victim?' Mulder asked as he slipped into the backseat of the 
car, watching the two women upfront. He had difficulty putting his 
long legs in place. Scully couldn't help but smile when she saw him 
struggle with his seatbelt and big feet, groaning several times before 
he was able to fit into the relatively small vehicle. 

Grayson started the vehicle and took off taking sharp turns and curves 
as she drove her vehicle to the Field Office. It was a hot day and the 
air-conditioning blew air in their faces. Still it didn't seem to help 
much. Scully felt her blouse stick to her chest, tempted to take off 
her jacket. When she glanced aside, she saw that her partner had 
already removed his tie and was working on getting his jacket off his 
tall body. 

Grayson glanced in the mirror, wondering what was going on in the back 
of her car. Her eyes met Mulder's and she flushed, noticing he was 
examining her without discretion. She knew Mulder had difficulty 
working with younger agents and wasn't a very patient man. At least, 
that's what they said. But he had been polite and friendly to her, 
albeit impersonal. 

Somehow she could see the man was somewhere else with his thoughts. 
Wherever it was, it sure wasn't with them in this car. He seemed to be 
far-gone. Davis had told her about him. During Academy she had read 
many profiles and cases he had done. He intrigued her. 

'Pearl Jennings was our sixth victim,' Mairéad said as she drove 
through the busy streets, driving like a New York-cop that had been on 
the streets for too long. 'She vanished during a Barenaked 
Ladies-concert. She was found three days later, strangled with a piano 
wire, like all the others. Chief Brandon was very reluctant at first 
to call in the FBI. Said that doing so would be admitting that they 
couldn't handle it. But at least he got Davis to start working on the 
case.' 

The car stopped abruptly at the Miami Field Office. They followed her 
into a white, crowded building where ventilators hung on the ceilings 
and blew in constant fresh air. The agents had left their belongings 
in the trunk of the car, just taking a small case with them. Despite 
the fact it was after eight p.m. there was still a lot of activity 
going on. 

'Most people here like working at night when it's cooler,' Mairéad 
said as she showed them into a small two-desk private office. 'During 
the day you won't find many people here. It can be unbearable, believe 
me.'

The three sat down. Without asking them what they wanted, Grayson left 
and came back with glasses of ice-tea. Scully took a sip, realizing 
this self-brewed cold drank was the best thirst-quencher they could 
possibly find. Mulder didn't touch his glass while he started up his 
laptop and automatically selected the first desk. 

'We're going after a hunch our John Doe might be interested in English 
or Irish women,' Mulder said as he handed Mairéad a copy of notes he 
had typed in the morning, after leaving the meeting. 'Could you do me 
a favour and run a check on these women's backgrounds to verify that?'

'Sure,' the agent said, flushing as she jotted a note on a small 
notepad. She smiled. 'I hope you're wrong about that part though - I'm 
Irish myself. At least, my mother was.' The agent seemed nervous when 
she looked up at the agents, simply saying, 'I'm sorry if I might 
sound inexperienced. This is my third case at the Bureau and -' 



Mulder smiled reassuringly, stopping her apologies. 'You've done more 
than okay so far. Your report is thorough and detailed, and better 
than a lot of work I've read. I'm able to pick out a number of things 
to set up a preliminary profile. I'm sure it must be strange for you 
too to work with us. After all, they say I'm spooky.'

Grayson laughed out loud. 'I don't believe in reputations,' she said. 
'All I'm interested in is solving this case.' 

Instantly both Mulder and Scully were thrown back to the past, 
remembering what Scully had said during their first case together 
after Mulder accused her of double cross. She too only wanted to solve 
that case. It was like looking in a mirror. 

Grayson seemed aware of the fact she had struck a sensitive cord and 
said, 'Sorry, did I say something wrong?'

'Not at all,' Scully assured her. 'We're happy with your help. I 
assure you that we're very pleased with your assistance.'

Mairéad responded to her smile and said, 'Well, let me check that out 
and get back to you on it. A part of me hopes that you're wrong, Agent 
Mulder. I have Irish roots myself. In fact, I think just about half 
the people living in this country have.' 

Mulder smiled. 'I know. Let's hope that is not the basis that our 
killer uses to track down his victims. It would make our task more 
difficult. I'm hoping for something more juicy that helps him select 
them.' Mulder got up and put all the photos up to the white board. 
Grayson and Scully watched as he set three steps back, his hands on 
his hips as he watched them. The top two buttons of his shirt were 
opened. Mairéad couldn't help but stare at his features as her heart 
jumped. 

Then she noticed the same stare coming from Scully and realized she 
was already too late to try and make a move. 

'He doesn't want them for his sexual pleasure,' the agent said. 'That, 
we can be very sure of. I don't think this guy had a bad childhood. 
Most victims are beaten and battered before they are killed. This one 
does it with one streak, as if he's a hit man. It's like he wants 
something from them and questions them. Afterwards, he kills them. And 
he always gets what he wants.' 

'What makes you say that?' Scully said.

'He kills them within a certain period of time. Perhaps he uses 
old-fashioned torture to taunt them. He might be keeping them awake 
with sounds and lights. He might want to terrify them so badly that 
they say what he wants to hear within a few days time. None of them 
has been able to hold on. He tells them he's looking for that 
particular thing and promises them they will be released afterwards. 
But they never are. In fact, the sooner they tell him, the sooner 
they're sentenced to death.'

'What's he looking for?' Scully asked.

'I don't know. Anything goes right now. It could be a person he's 
trying to find; a girlfriend, a childhood fantasy, someone he could 
not reach when he was a pimpled teenager. Or it could be a thing - 
something he thinks they have.' 

'What are our next moves?' Mairéad asked as she jotted down Mulder's 
remarks. Scully nearly smiled at the sight of adoration the girl 
seemed to have for Mulder. And the funny thing was that her partner 
didn't even spot it himself. Every time he looked at her, he seemed to 
be seeing something else. 

'We need to determine both our John Doe's profile as a victim's 
sketch. These women look alike. They're in their late twenties, 
varying a few years in age. They have slim, bright features. They have 
green or blue eyes and hair that varies shades of colour going from 
blonde to dark red. They're all naturals - which might be important to 
him. Their backgrounds are very different, so we can't assume that 
he's selecting them on that basis. They all purchased their tickets 
beforehand, paying with credit cards. They like different styles of 
music; he doesn't make his selection on that. They come from different 
cities, but all lived in houses - no apartments.' 

'Is that important?' Scully asked who read the same thing in the file 
on the flight out. 

'It is, assuming that he's been stalking them. He wouldn't select 
apartments. He would stand a greater risk of being caught.' 

Mairéad nodded in agreement. 'Can we assume he might have spoken to 
these women before he took them?' she asked. 'He could have been in 
deliberate contact with them.'

'A valid assumption,' Mulder agreed. 'He might want to be sure what 
kind of person he's taking. He might take his final call 
character-based.' 

'How will we know in what city he strikes next, Mulder?' Scully asked. 
'He's been to Miami and LA twice, Chicago and New York. He could take 
any place next.'

'All large arenas and stadiums have been warned. All we can do for now 
is distribute a victim-sketch but that still includes hundreds of 
women. We're asking the impossible at this very moment. I would like 
to go to the arena where the last victim was taken and get a feel of 
the place. I think right now that's my best shot to get in contact 
with our killer.' 

Mulder sank down on his chair behind the desk and started typing away, 
seemingly unaware of the fact the two women watched him as his brain 
worked at full speed, ordering his fingers what letters to type in. It 
happened so automatically that it was nearly scary. It was like 
watching a writer write his next best seller, not able to explain to 
others how he came up with the story idea and how he was going to 
proceed. It rested in his head alone. 

'Do you want to see the body today or tomorrow morning?' Mairéad asked 
as she glanced at her watch. She was hungry but didn't dare say. She 
wanted to spend as much time as possible with these two agents, eager 
to learn what she could. 

'Actually,' Scully said to her great relief, 'I'm quite tired. Do you 
think you could wait 'til the morning? When is the funeral set?'

'In three days. We still have time. The body will be released tomorrow 
night. The coroner's probably finishing his last report right now,' 
Mairéad explained. 'He had to wait for the results of the other 
autopsies to make his final conclusions, as requested by AD Davis. Now 
that the FBI's handling the case, we want to bring all the files 
together and compare notes.'

'Good,' Scully said. It was nearly nine and they hadn't eaten properly 
since the small tasteless sandwich on the flight out. 'Do you know of 
some good places in town?' 

'Sure,' Mairéad said, 'I could guide you to a great Italian place.' 

'What about joining us? If you want to, that is,' Scully said, 
wondering if the woman was married or had a family to go to. Mairéad 
seemed flattered with the invitation and said, 'I'd love to. Let me 
just grab my things.' 

The agent slipped out of the office to another shared office where she 
shared a desk with three other agents working on forensics. They had 
been the ones helping her to put together the file but were now moving 
on to other cases.

'So, what's that spooky really like? Has he found our victims yet?' 
her male colleague asked as she put on a jacket and grabbed her bag. 

She glanced aside, hurt by the stupid remark. Funny, even though she 
had only met him two hours ago, she already felt like defending the 
Washington-agent. 'He's a nice guy,' she said. 'He could teach you a 
trick or two.' 

The other agent flushed, realizing she took the remark personally as 
if she was forced to be working with the man against her will. 
'Sorry,' he said, 'I didn't mean it that way. But you know what it's 
like. Our reputations precede us.' 

'I know, Shorty,' she said, grinning as if to show him she didn't take 
it at heart. 'But mark my words: In three days he's got our John Doe.' 

Her colleague watched her as she left with self-confidence of agents 
that had been on the job for years and knew what they were doing. 
There was something different about her, as if working with the two 
Washington-agents boosted her confidence and abilities. Perhaps they 
were exactly what she needed after all she'd been through. 



Scully put her hand on her partner's wrist and stopped him from typing 
away forcefully. From the look in his eyes she knew he was far-gone, 
lively imagining the murders as he went along. 'Mulder, pack your 
things.'

'What?' he looked up, staring at her as if she were a stranger. 

'We're leaving. Pack your things and we're out of here.'

'No,' he mumbled, 'I have to finish this.' He ignored her and 
continued his work as hundreds of thoughts rushed through his mind. 
Bluntly she moved past the desk so that she could slide the laptop in 
her direction. 

'Hey!' he objected but she ignored his remarks and shut down the 
program, turning off the computer afterwards. He blinked his eyelids, 
seeing her for the first time now as she gently looked back at him and 
said, 'this is exactly what you're not supposed to do. If you don't 
have dinner with us now, I'm calling Skinner and I'll tell him to take 
you off this case. You don't want him to come and bring you back home 
like he planned to do in New York.' 

Her partner seemed upset but she ignored the angry look in his eyes. 
He wasn't so much angry with her as confused with her actions. Then he 
glanced at his watch, realizing it was after nine. He had lost minutes 
like he always did when he was working on that what seemed more 
important than anything. She was right, but he wasn't ready to give in 
yet. 

'I'm not hungry,' he protested. 'Can't you guys go now? I promise to 
come afterwards. Just let me -' '- No,' she said strict, interrupting 
him. 'You're going with us now for a bite to eat, or the deal's off. 
Don't let me pull ranks on you.' 

'Theoretically I outrank you,' he mumbled as she turned around, 
shoving the laptop in its case. 

'I heard that,' she said by the door. 'Practically I'm your medical 
doctor and I can even declare you insane with the right papers. So 
don't push me.' 

He couldn't help but laugh when she left him alone. Quickly he grabbed 
his jacket and put it on. It had cooled down a bit by now but he was 
still feeling uncomfortable and warm. It never felt this hot in 
Washington. 

Mairéad waited for them by the elevators and used her badge to get 
access. Mulder didn't feel like using Mairéad's car again, but they 
hadn't had the chance to rent their own vehicle yet. That would be the 
first thing he'd arrange in the morning though. Riding along with 
Grayson was like a roller coaster ride at Disneyland. 

He was barely seated in the backseat of the car when she took off. She 
drove fast but self-assured, bringing them to an Italian place by the 
beach. Because it was a weekday they were in luck. It wasn't that 
crowded and service came fast and perfectly arranged. Within twenty 
minutes they were staring at their pasta. 

Mairéad spoke about the city, explaining a bit why she had moved here 
at her free will. She was a New Yorker, born and raised in Manhattan, 
where she followed into the footsteps of her father. He was a cop 
until his retirement and then moved to Dallas where he grew up. He was 
still living there with his second wife, a woman she couldn't stand. 
Out of friendship's sake, she only saw her father once a year. 

When he left New York, she saw no reason to stay there anymore. She 
had enough of being a cop, and when the FBI recruited her and she had 
the chance to work at the VCS two years after, she took it. By that 
time she had met someone in Miami. He offered her a place to stay and 
she moved in. 

When the relationship ended, she stuck around. Her ex-boyfriend 
didn't. She bought a great place with a low mortgage that she loved. 
Davis had no problem with her working from the Miami Field Office, but 
she came to Washington just about every week. She had a hectic life, 
she explained, but she loved every bit of it. 

Mairéad still pondered over her past decisions when Mulder put down 
his fork and spoon and said, 'I feel like we're missing something 
here. This guy wants us to catch him. He takes great risks taking 
those women in public. He wants to make a point but I don't believe he 
wants to make it to us. He directs it at one person in particular - 
the one he's looking for.'

'Who do you think that might be?' Mairéad asked. 'You don't know where 
this man's from. You can't just put up signs everywhere asking a woman 
in her late twenties to respond to a vague description like that.' 

Mulder emptied his glass of water. 'Did you know that 80% of our 
serial killers pulled out wings of butterflies when they were six 
years old? You can compare every case with that act that happened when 
they were little. Only, this time these butterflies became human 
beings. When they were in their teens they might have killed off 
animals. When they were nineteen going on twenty, their butterfly 
could have been the girl next door, or the woman across the street. If 
we find this butterfly - the catalysts - we find him.'

'But he or she doesn't know she's the catalyst.'

'That's what we'll find out. Writing a profile is nothing more than 
gathering all the pieces and adding them to the basic things we 
already know of serial killers. Have you ever seen a photo of Ted 
Bundy, Mairéad?' 

'Yes, I have.'

'If you were a young woman that met him, would you suspect him of 
killing off women at night?'

'Of course not. No one did. That's why he had the chance to kill so 
many.' 

'Have you ever met a killer in person?' 

'Yes, I have.' 

'Did you believe he was capable of murder?'

'No. He was a young man in his early twenties. He had killed off eight 
young boys.'

'Why?' 

'They reminded him of his best friend in high school he had a crush 
on. When that best friend got involved with a girl, he realized the 
love wasn't mutual. He felt betrayed and changed. And he started 
killing.' 

'Exactly,' Mulder said, staring at the remaining pasta and tomato 
sauce. He had hardly touched his plate but at least - so Scully 
thought - he had eaten something. He was making improvements. Her 
partner's eyes changed as he looked at that plate as if he saw things 
no one was supposed to see. Then he glanced at Mairéad and said, 'what 
would you do if you felt you were in danger? If they told you that you 
were eligible to become a victim, would you still go to the concert 
you had planned on going to?' 

'I don't know,' she said slowly. 'Perhaps. But I would probably think 
this would never happen to me. And I would proceed with what I had 
planned.' 

'That's what I fear,' the agent said dark as he excused himself and 
left for the men's room. Mairéad stared in shock at Scully. The 
redhead smiled reassuringly and said softly, 'He's already in his 
head. He just doesn't know it yet.' 

'Is that why you are so worried?' Grayson asked, putting her napkin on 
the table. 'AD Davis said that he would be lost without you. You're 
his keeper, he claimed, even though I had a hard time believing Agent 
Mulder needs anyone to take care of him.'

'Did Davis say that?' Scully asked with a smile, recalling the 
arguments she'd had with the AD in the past. He had told her once to 
back off claiming Mulder was better off without her interfering. He 
had said that she shouldn't be hovering over her partner like that. He 
could take care of his own. 

It was true that Mulder had been working as a profiler before she came 
in the picture. But in the past it had been Patterson that took care 
of him, and before that Reggie Purdue. Mulder needed someone, even if 
he didn't know it himself, and she wasn't planning on backing away 
that easily. This was her rightful spot and she would take up the 
right she earned over the past years. 

'Agent Scully?' Mairéad said, trying to get the agent's attention. 
Scully blinked her eyes and focused on the woman opposite her. Then 
the blonde agent said friendly, 'it's going to work out, Agent Scully. 
It really will.' 

Scully shivered, as she remembered when she had almost lost her 
partner. There seemed to have been so many occasions now, and she 
wasn't willing to step into another adventure like that. On the other 
hand, wasn't she supposed to think positive, instead of believing the 
worst would happen?



Reminisce the night

In the middle of the night he found himself staring at the ceiling, 
recalling what it was like to kill. He needed to fulfil his urge 
again, to satisfy that need in him that only the feeling of life being 
taken could fulfil. 

In the morning he would take her when she took her spot within the 
arena. He knew where she would be. She would meet with a couple of 
friends, and they would go for a spot at the stage. Even if she wasn't 
there, there was always plan B to track her down. Fortunately he had 
never had to use that. 

She had an account at the ticket service agency. He had selected this 
concert in particular because he knew the arena by heart. He knew 
where he would take her, and his spot was already sealed off so no one 
would find her. He knew the place so well that every attending guard 
was on his shortlist. He knew their habits. He knew how to get them 
away from their spot so that he could take her down. 

Tomorrow night, around this time, he would have her to play with, and 
his night would be filled with joyful dreams and sentiments. 



Cruel night

In the middle of the night Mulder found himself staring at the ceiling 
of his hotelroom. He knew every crack and inch by now as he had 
explored it for several hours. He was so tired he thought he would not 
be able to stand the next day. Thoughts ran through his mind like a 
high-speed train that wouldn't come to an end. 

Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered moments and events of the 
past day, and the faces of the murdered women danced before his eyes. 
Pearl Jennings, Ellen Brandon, Margaret Tilly and the others ... He 
tried to envision what went through their minds. He tried to grasp 
their connection but couldn't find it. 

Eventually, around three, he turned up the sound of the playing 
television and watched reruns of Star Trek until the morning finally 
came, and he took a shower to freshen up. This was the third night in 
a row he hadn't slept a wink. Even for the insomniac he was, this 
wasn't normal. 

Before all, he had to admit that to himself. 



The body

Scully knocked on her partner's door, picking him up for dinner. She 
saw instantly he hadn't slept. His eyes were small and fatigued. His 
chin had more stubbles than the night before. He seemed to be ready to 
doze off at any time. 

'Have you tried sleeping pills?' she asked as he explained to her he 
hadn't slept. He knew it was no use to lie. She knew from the second 
she saw him what the situation was. 

'I don't like those things. They make me dizzy.'

'That's the idea,' she said, smiling despite everything. 'You're 
supposed to feel dizzy and sleep. Otherwise they don't work. I'll pick 
some up this afternoon and I don't want any 'buts' from you, Mulder.' 

'As long as you don't stick a needle in my butt,' he mumbled, closing 
the door behind him. At the breakfast table Mulder took two croissants 
and nibbled on them, taking much longer to eat than usual. He ignored 
Scully's glances as they sat quietly opposite each other. 

Mairéad came to pick them up around eight, instantly noticing the male 
agent wasn't well. She didn't ask any questions, and offered them a 
ride to the morgue. Mulder didn't move when Scully got up and dropped 
her napkin on the breakfast table. 

'Are you coming with me, Mulder?' she asked as she grabbed her coat. 
'No, you go ahead,' he said, 'I'll pop in later on. I'm going to 
arrange for a rental car first, and drive over to the office. I'll 
come later. I just need to verify some things.' 

'Okay, we'll see you later then,' Scully said, as they left.

Mairéad seemed nervous when they drove over to the coroner's office, 
making Scully wonder what went through the agent's head. Only later, 
the young woman confessed that she had never seen an autopsied body 
before. Sure, she had seen some horrific things, but to actually see a 
body after it had been sliced and diced, was something completely new 
to her. 

During the Academy she had been confronted with many gruesome photos. 
Her past as a cop had taught her to objectively look at crimes, yet 
keep that human touch to it. As a profiler she hadn't been in touch 
with the other side of the medal just yet. She had been the 
administrative agent, the one making the reports.

The coroner's office was only three blocks away. The main lobby was 
large, and didn't remind Scully of a morgue at all. In fact, it seemed 
almost inviting, as if they were trying to put people at ease. Yet, no 
one went to a morgue without a reason, and that reason was always 
death. 

The coroner was already waiting for them and showed them to a smaller 
room where a body lay on the slab, only covered with a sheet. 

'To be honest, I was waiting for you guys to put her body back,' he 
said, 'I'm not sure what it is with this body, but there's an awful 
smell to it, as if she has been dumped in a sewage. Yet she was found 
in an alley. I don't get it.' 

Scully glanced at Mairéad, realizing the agent heard this bit of news 
for the first time as well. Yet it could lead them closer to the 
truth. She made a mental note to call Mulder about it later. 

Grayson didn't stand too close to the slab, not interesting in 
glancing at the body. Yet she knew she had to. The younger agent bit 
her lip, trying to ignore the stench that came from underneath that 
sheet, and watched as the coroner pulled away the sheet. 

On the table lay the naked body of Pearl Jennings, age twenty-eight. 
She must have been a beauty before her death. Her hair had been blonde 
with a reddish taint but now looked grey. Her face was still as pretty 
as ever, but a large red cut on her throat showed her vocal cords and 
muscles. Her tongue protruded her mouth slightly as always happened 
with strangulation victims. 

Her body was slim and had been petite. Now it was still slim but 
un-pretty in death. Her eyes were closed. The rest of her naked body 
was untouched and undamaged. There were no signs of rape of physical 
violence.  

Her chest had been cut open and was sowed up again with rough 
stitches. Her intestines had been weighed and examined. Her body had 
been violated even worse after her death than before, leaving nothing 
to coincidence.

Scully put her hand before her nose, ignoring the smell. She had seen 
worse than this but it still remained gruesome and sad. Why did a 
young woman have to die like that, while she still had so many dreams 
to fulfil? It seemed so senseless - so useless, as if her death was 
unimportant. 

She turned to look at Mairéad, only to see the younger agent faint. 
She had stared at the woman's chest, where the chest had been cut open 
and her ribcage cracked for easier access to the organs. Then she had 
simply passed out. It could happen to them all. 

'She'll be fine,' Scully said, rushing towards the woman that was 
already coming to. Mairéad opened her eyes, held firmly by Scully as 
she lay on the cold floor. 'Take it easy,' Scully said, helping her 
slowly sitting up. 'Put your head between your knees and take deep 
breaths. It's over.'

The coroner quickly put the sheet back over the body and said, 'Let's 
get her out of here into some fresh air.' Supported by Scully and the 
coroner, Mairéad was brought outside to sit down on a chair in the 
more comfortable office. The coroner had opened the window, giving her 
the chance to inhale the fresh air. 

'Here,' Scully said, giving her a glass of water. 'It's okay.' 
Embarrassed more than anything else, the young agent drank from the 
glass and refused to look at Scully.

'I'm so sorry,' she mumbled, resting her head on her hand. 'I'm such 
an idiot.' 

'It was the smell,' Scully said. 'The combination of the smell in that 
uncomfortable would be enough to drive anyone crazy.' 

'It shouldn't happen to me.'

Scully couldn't help but smile, remembering the very first time she 
had to perform an autopsy. She too had passed out, so long ago, 
feeling just as embarrassed afterwards. She felt sympathy for the 
young woman. Somehow it looked like the girl needed some protection. 
She looked barely twenty years old even though she was in her late 
twenties and obviously could take care of herself.

'I feel like an idiot,' Mairéad sighed. Slowly the younger agent was 
starting to feel better. Soon she had some colour back on her cheeks. 

'Don't worry,' Scully smiled reassuringly. 'I won't tell Mulder.' 

Mairéad got up and looked around as if she was surprised not to be 
standing near the body any longer. She hardly remembered them bringing 
her to the office. 'Why don't you wait here while I go over the 
details of the autopsy with the coroner,' Scully said. 'It will only 
take a minute.'

'No,' Mairéad said forcefully. 'I need to go get through this again.'

'No, you don't,' Scully said, placing her hand gently on the woman's 
arm. 

Mairéad smiled, realizing she would rather prefer to stay here than to 
see the woman's body again. But the professional in her said that she 
needed to work her way through this. In future she was bound to deal 
with a lot of bodies, and there was no time like the present to get 
over that ridiculous fear and disgust she had. 

She took a deep breath and stopped Scully from closing the door, 
stepping inside the room with her. She didn't notice that Scully 
smiled, happy with the decision the other woman made for herself. 



Her coming

He prepared everything for her coming. He cleaned the place up as much 
as he could, realizing she would be very much afraid. He wanted to 
make her feel at ease, to make her feel wanted. And by tonight, she 
would be in his shelter and watch him as he proceeded. 

He would ask her the question. And then he would kill her. 

He put fresh sheets on the improvised bed, checked the cuffs that 
would hold her and looked through the dirty single window he had to 
the outside world. No one could see him from the outside. Her prison 
would become the last place she would ever be at. 

Now all he had to do was wait until the evening came. And then she 
would be his. 







The find

The arena was empty as if no one ever came there. The gates had been 
locked. He had to pull strings earlier that morning to get them to 
unlock the place so he could get a feel of the place. Finally the 
security guard had let him in, showing him the entrances and exits. He 
also provided him with a map of the place, even though he didn't 
understand why Mulder had asked for it. 

During the morning Mulder had gone through the details of the 
abductions meticulously, trying to gather as much information that his 
mind could process. Apart from the fact every woman had vanished 
within the arena, there was one thing that struck the agent as odd. 
Until now, the cops had always assumed the victim had left the arena 
with her abductor. No one had ever tried to figure out if the victim 
had been kept inside the arena for a while before being transferred. 
They had always assumed John Doe had taken off with his victim, 
somehow forcing her to go with him. But what if she had never left the 
arena? 

Putting the details together, Mulder was startled by a phone call from 
Scully telling about the autopsy findings and the strange stench the 
victim had on her. The agent couldn't make sense of the stench, 
wondering if it was related somehow to the victim's whereabouts during 
the past week. Somehow it didn't add up to the other victims. This was 
the one point where the cases were different. 

Unless ... 

Mulder glanced at the map he had been given of the complex, noticing 
that there was only a map of the arena itself. But a place like this 
had backstage entries, safe ways, and above all emergency exits that 
had to lead somewhere. 

The agent stopped in the middle of the arena, suddenly aware of the 
fact someone was watching him. He looked up and about, until he saw a 
small figure on one of the tribunes all the way up there. With the 
place empty, Mulder felt small and exposed, and above all vulnerable.

The figure up there noticed he was looking at him, turned and left in 
a hurry. Mulder knew it would be useless to run after the man. By the 
time he would reach the top row, the man would be long gone. Instead, 
the agent returned to the security officer that waited annoyed in his 
room, glaring at the cameras that kept an eye on the agent. In the 
room, Mulder laid down the map, asking, 'Do you have a map of the 
underground area as well?'

The security officer looked even more annoyed. 'No one is allowed in 
there. Backstage is forbidden to anyone.'

'This is not exactly a packed arena right now,' Mulder said. 'I have 
to insist on checking down there.'

'Why? There's nothing to see down there. Except for the backstage 
entrances used by the artists and security, no one ever comes down 
there.'

'Let's just say I'm following a hunch.'

The security officer got up from his seat, and handed over a chain of 
keys to the agent, refusing to go with him. Mulder knew the man would 
be keeping an eye on him anyhow, through the cameras that explored the 
entire area.

Following the officer's directions, the agent walked back to the 
arena. There were twenty emergency exits to cover the entire indoors. 
Most of them lead outside, except for four. Two of them, Mulder 
excluded for now. One - right behind the stage, lead - according to 
the map - backstage. This was the way the artists went when they came 
up or left. 

The last one left lead from the left of the stage to a hallway that 
was supposed to bring the audience to the lobby of the huge arena. But 
according to the map there were several passageways in that corridor 
that weren't pointed out. 

Mulder pushed open the emergency doors and stood in the darkness. 
There weren't any lights to guide him, except for a small, lit sign 
that pointed to the second emergency door. Mulder blocked the doors so 
a bit of light shone in. He could hardly see where he was walking, and 
touched the walls until his fingers reached for a handle that seemed 
nearly hidden. That was what he was looking for. 

With the keychain in his hands, he tried every key until the door was 
unlocked; bringing him into another dark hallway that seemed hardly 
used. It was damp and uncomfortable to walk through. The agent's hands 
touched the wall until he found another unlocked door that stopped 
before a set of stairs. This time he saw it because there was a faint 
light shining in, coming from a nearly completely hidden window. 

Mulder realized he was in some area of the arena that was hardly ever 
used. But he sensed with every step that this would bring him closer 
to the truth. He could tell by the way the stairs lead down, 
underneath the actual arena, until they suddenly stopped again before 
yet another, unlocked door. 

Mulder's fingers touched the door, pushing it open. A horrible stench 
came towards him, as if he was standing in a sewer. Suddenly he 
realized he was indeed right next to the sewage system underneath the 
arena. In surprise Mulder looked at the small room with mattress and 
chair. That was all there was. 

Mulder knelt down by the mattress and touched the fabric, closing his 
eyes. He knew Pearl Jennings had been here. He could feel it. He was 
sure. This place had her scent on it. He closed his eyes and turned 
away from the mattress, jerking his head as his eyes caught sight of 
the table, turned around and tried to keep his breakfast down. 

On the table before him, lay a finger. 



The room

Instantly they were all over the place after he made the call in the 
huge arena, sucking in the air after escaping the darkness. He waited 
as he tried to keep his posture, explaining briefly to the security 
officer that he had found something. 

When they arrived, there were at least four cars, cluttering the 
entrance and exit. Scully found her partner sitting on one of the 
seats, staring before him. 

'Mulder,' she said, placing her hand on his shoulder, 'what's wrong?'

He turned towards her and smiled, 'Hey. I think we've got ourselves a 
lead.' His reaction terrified her. His pupils seemed dilated, as if he 
had taken something. But she knew it was his reaction to what he had 
seen. He hadn't told her what it was. 

He guided them through the dark corridors. Their flashlights lit the 
walls. Without the underground map, no one could have possibly found 
his or her way through these tunnels. The entire place was so well 
sealed off, that one could have easily missed the door that lead to 
the area underneath. 

The smell inside the room was so intense it took them minutes to 
adjust. As a reflex, Scully put her hand under her nose, trying to 
keep the stench out of her nostrils. It was pretty bad. Her flashlight 
rested on the neatly cut-off finger on the table. It was bloody yet 
already decaying. It felt cold and stiff when she touched it carefully 
with her gloved fingers. She didn't want to pick it up, but it was a 
piece of evidence that could lead them to the killer. 

'It's a woman's finger,' Mulder said as the urge to puke out his guts 
passed. 

'But it's not Pearl's,' Scully said. 'She had all her fingers intact.' 

'Then whose is it?' Mairéad asked from the doorway, trying to force 
back the urge to pass out. That stench that she had smelled on the 
corps was here again - so bad that it would remind her for days about 
this very moment. 

'If we know that, we know who our killer is,' Mulder said softly. 'He 
left it here for a reason.' 

'As a hint towards us?' 

'Not likely. I don't think he believed we would track him down this 
quickly. This hideout was a brilliant find.'

'Then why did he leave that finger here?' Scully said convulsed. 'Do 
you think he left more human body parts somewhere else?'

Mulder didn't respond but turned and left the room. There was 
something so cold in here that he didn't want to stay. Now he knew 
their killer was one of the coldest men he had ever tracked down. What 
Monty Props and the others had done with their victims was bad. But 
this coldness could be even worse. 

The agent hurried through the long corridors, passing two agents that 
looked at him surprised. Quickly Mulder hurried through one of the 
emergency exits to the fresh air outside the arena. The world tumbled 
before his eyes. He closed them, leaning tired against the wall, 
placing his head against it. They were close now, and he knew it. Now 
that they had found a first hideout, it would be easy to discover the 
others. Now they knew how he did it. He hid them inside the arena, 
using knowledge perhaps he alone had. 

Slowly the agent made his way back inside, finding the security 
officer in argument with Mairéad and Scully. He came back just in time 
to listen to the question of why no one had ever bothered to check 
underneath the arena. 

'No one knew about that room,' the officer argued, 'if they had, they 
would have found out. I'm telling you that the cops and Feds were 
already all over this place. It took a miracle in itself to find that 
room like your agent did. We did all we could when that woman 
disappeared. No one ever figured out that she was here all that time.'

'He must have had a passageway in and out,' Mulder interrupted softly. 
'If he alone knew about that room, he must have had a map, or know 
this place inside out.'

'Look, all I can say is that years ago this place got renovated. The 
corridors that you used were completely sealed off. No one ever used 
them. I had no idea about that place. Hell, I had to blow the dust off 
the maps I gave your colleague.' 

Mulder turned towards his partner, saying tired, 'Can you get in touch 
with the other Field Offices and ask them to check for older maps of 
the arenas that might lead to spaces or rooms like that? I've got this 
feeling our John is using the same MO over and over again.'

'Sure,' Scully nodded. 

'We have to keep this from the press,' Mulder continued. 'If he knows 
we're on to him, he'll change his methods. We weren't supposed to 
track him down just yet. He didn't leave that piece to lead us to him. 
He left it for another reason - perhaps to scare off his victim. Or 
perhaps ...' 

Mulder's eyes lit as he looked at Mairéad. 'Can you do me a favor and 
run a check on female bodies that have been found over the past few 
years with missing fingers and other body parts?'

Mairéad nodded and grabbed her cell phone. Scully reached for her 
partner's arm and touched him. He glared at her. 'You believe he's 
leaving pieces of one of his earlier victims behind?' 

'We'll only know that when we found out where he left the others,' 
Mulder said softly. 'In meantime, we should try and figure out who 
that finger belonged to, and what it means.' 

'It's like looking for a needle in a haystack,' Scully mumbled, as she 
decided she'd seen enough of this place and wanted to get out of the 
sour feeling that stuck to the arena. 



Part Two

And on the count of three I pull back the duvet, Make my way to the 
refrigerator, One dry potato inside, no lie... Not even bread, jam, 
When the light above my head went bam!



Fatigue 

In the morning they would head back to Washington, putting all the 
bits and pieces together they had literally found. It had taken the 
entire afternoon, but finally calls came in from New York, Chicago and 
LA, reporting they had found human body parts in small rooms 
underneath the arenas where the women had vanished. 

The rooms were similar the one in Miami. It was small, damp, and very 
secure - almost impossible to find. They had to go through piles of 
junk and dust, using an old map stuffed in the back of the owner's 
locker to find the doorway. But when they did, they ended up in a 
small room with one single mattress, a table and a chair. 

Listening to the report, Scully knew it sounded like all the rooms 
were similar. And when she heard an ear had been found in Chicago, and 
another two fingers in LA, she knew they were on the right track. 

As gruesome as it sounded, Mulder was satisfied with the find. More 
than ever he was sure that all the parts belonged to the same person, 
but it would take some time for the labs to go through these details. 
At first sight the fingers seemed to belong to the same person. Both 
fingernails were manicured and painted. Even in death and mutilation, 
that particular detail was vivid, convincing Mulder the killer had 
painted the nails after he cut off the fingers. Yet he had kept them 
bloody and as they were until he could use them. 

Chances were the body of the victim was still missing. With these many 
parts missing, it was most unlikely he hadn't dumped it somewhere. 

Fatigued Mulder explained his theory to the agents in the meeting 
room. With so many clues found in such short time, Davis had pulled 
some strings and gathered about ten men and women, now full-time 
occupied with the search. 

But listening to Mulder's findings, they all knew it would take 
another bit of great luck to find the killer, especially with the doom 
image that he might be anywhere at that very moment looking for his 
next victim. 

It was after ten when they sat down and listened to Mulder's theory 
that the killer had murdered his first victim by accident, and was now 
looking for her again. 

'Our murderer has cut off pieces of his first female victim, 
presumably after he murdered her. For what purpose he's leaving them 
behind right now, we do not know. Perhaps he doesn't even know it 
himself. But I do believe that the first murder was an accident and 
set something in motion that can only be stopped until he finds her 
again. Since he has killed her, he must have blocked that out of his 
mind somehow. We might be dealing with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. One 
doesn't know that the other has killed, and believes that the one he 
loves is still out there. He might be looking for her, yet not 
realizing he has already killed her.' 

'So he's chasing some delusional image?' an agent in the back asked. 
Mulder turned his attention towards him and nodded. 

'If that's the case,' another agent added, 'he might not stop unless 
we do.' 

'Or he might find her again in someone he's tracing, and stop. He 
might already have found her, tracking her down as we speak.' 

'There are a lot of 'might's' in your story, Agent Mulder,' the first 
agent said. 'What are we basing ourselves on right now?'

'On good old-fashioned police work and a lot of hunches, Agent,' 
Mulder replied. 'We have a lot to go on right now. We need to track 
down the first body. With the lab work we can determine when this 
victim died. That will narrow down a lot of possibilities. Secondly, 
our boy definitely works at those arenas. He has access to the sites 
and knows these places inside out. We're looking for a security guard, 
a worker, someone who works at one of the ticket agencies. He knows 
where to find his victims and will be following them days before.' 

Mulder stopped talking and looked at them seriously. He felt faint as 
his body reminded him he hadn't eaten properly in some time. But he 
ignored the fatigue and said seriously, 'the fact that this man can 
kill anywhere in the country doesn't simplify our case. I need agents 
in every site that can help us go through this information. Anything 
else is not of importance right now. Every second can count. I need 
you to work in teams around the clock until we find this guy. Agent 
Scully and I will be returning to Washington in the morning and 
coordinate this case from there.'

The agent paused again as his eyes seriously took in the scene and the 
agents listening to him. He looked aside at Scully, catching the 
expression on her face. He stumbled backwards, grabbing the edge of 
the table, ignoring Scully's sudden expression of surprise. 

'What was I -' Mulder began, stopping because he didn't remember what 
in the world he was going to say. 'That's it,' he finally said. 'Thank 
you.' 

He turned and left the room, leaning his hand against the wall outside 
the meeting room. The world danced before his eyes. He closed them and 
sighed, rubbing his eyes with his hand. 

'Mulder?' Quickly he turned, smiling reassuringly as Scully put her 
hand on his shoulder. 

'Yeah,' he said tired. 'You're deadbeat. I'll drive you back to the 
hotel. You'll get some food in you and then some rest.' 

He sighed. 'I wish.' 'We'll pick up that sedative on the way back. 
You'll sleep like a baby.'

He nodded his head slowly, staring outside at the palm trees before 
the building. 'I'm not supposed to sleep, Scully. I realize that now. 
I -' he stopped, realizing he sounded like a fool. But he couldn't 
stop himself from thinking it. He knew he was right. Somehow, when he 
was in that small room surrounded by that horrible stench, he had 
known. 

Because the night before - while lying awake in bed - he had detected 
that same stench. He had sensed it the moment he closed his eyes and 
drifted off for just a wee second. He had thought it was his mind 
playing tricks on him. He hadn't realized it had been a part of his 
dreamscape until the moment he looked up and was awake again. 

Two nights before he had dreamt about rock concerts. It couldn't have 
been a coincidence. He knew that now. Somehow he picked up parts from 
this case before it became his, and then dreamt about parts he didn't 
know anything about just yet. He couldn't possibly have known about 
the stench. 

Mulder shook his head, not willing to share his thoughts - not before 
he could grasp the truth himself. He had been an insomniac, yes, but 
never before like this. In fact, the only time he hadn't slept for 
days was the time around Scully's abduction. Then he had lived on 
adrenaline, neglecting everything that was sanity. He had voluntarily 
gone that direction then.

Now, he didn't want to. Never before had a case forced him to stay 
awake. He had always slept, even if it were merely four to five hours 
a night. He didn't need more. Now sleep just wouldn't come as if he 
wasn't supposed to. 

He turned towards Scully. 'You said something about the victims being 
kept awake earlier.' 

'I didn't. It was in the coroner's report. There were signs of mental 
and physical abuse leading down that track. But we have no proof. Why 
do you ask, Mulder?' 

He smiled a weak smile. 'I guess I'm feeling sympathetic.' 

She placed her hand on his upper right arm again and said gently, 
'Let's get some rest, Mulder. It's been a long day.' 

'No, one of us should stay here.'

'They've got it under control for now. You won't do them any good by 
collapsing on the spot. We need you in the morning. You need to be 
fit.' 

He nodded. 'I guess you're right.' Scully offered him his coat and 
glanced over her shoulder at Mairéad who was sitting at a desk with 
another agent. She was scrolling through police records to find the 
missing woman. Scully said goodbye and left with her partner. 

She drove the rental car back to the hotel, glancing occasionally at 
her partner who rested with closed eyes, leaning with his head on his 
hand. He didn't speak a single word on the way back to the hotel. He 
didn't have to. She stopped at a drugstore and bought a legal sleeping 
aid that didn't need prescription. When they got back to the hotel, 
her partner opened his eyes and looked disoriented. 

He opened the door to his room, refusing when she offered to order 
room service. She ignored his denial and ordered a light meal for the 
two of them. Mulder took off to the bathroom. She heard the water tap 
run, and waited patiently until he returned in jeans and T-shirt. He 
looked even more tired if that was at all possible. 

'How long has it been since you slept?' she asked, watching him as he 
got down on the bed and rested his head on the pillows. 

'I don't know. Three, four days. I can't remember.' 

'You're becoming delusional, Mulder. Your body is reacting to the lack 
of sleep. You have moments that you don't even know where you are. 
Don't deny it. I can see it by the way you act. I've never seen you 
like this before.'

He grinned painfully. 'A human body can go days without sleep, Scully. 
You, as a medical doctor, should know that.' 

'I know that we are not made to stay awake for this long. There is a 
reason our body tells us to rest. You know what it's like not being 
able to shut down your mind.' Scully sat down on the side of the bed 
and tried not to remember Mulder's grave illness. But she had to. 
There were so many things to remember. 

'This is not the same,' he said weak. 'I've been there before. I'm 
just downright tired. I'm sure that this sleeping pill of yours is 
going to help me. It has to. When I get some sleep, I'll be fine.' 

'Of course you will,' she said. 'That's just the point. Since this 
case started, you haven't been sleeping. You worry too much about 
this. It's exactly what I feared when you were asked to investigate. 
We both know you cannot afford this fatigue right now, and I'm going 
to help you to snap out of this.' 

'Yes, doctor,' her partner said tired. 

A short knock on the door startled them. Scully got off the bed and 
opened the door, giving the waiter a tip as he put the tray on the 
table. Scully turned as she shut the door, only to find her partner 
turned on his side and asleep. His eyes had closed when she walked 
over to the door and he had just fallen asleep. 

She smiled as she picked up a plate, left the drug on the tray besides 
the other plate, and left her partner alone. The moment she shut the 
door, Mulder startled and looked up. 

Shocked his body heaved, his stomach turning into a knot. During the 
few moments of sleep, his dreamscape had become a huge arena, where he 
stood with thousands of people. And beside him, as she was singing to 
the music, stood his partner. Her hands had been cut off. 



The crowd is moving

When the doors opened, the crowd gathered at the arena. There were 
thousands of them, all coming for the same band. She almost lost track 
of them as they were pushed forward automatically. There was hardly 
any effort to get all the way up front, towards the gates that held 
the first rows from the back ones. The seats filled just as easily.

Then the wait began. She looked at her watch. Another hour before the 
concert started. Her friends were joking and fooling around, smiling 
at her. There were ten of them, all just as eager to see the band 
perform as she was. It seemed silly perhaps, looking forward to 
something that lasted only two hours, but this had been on her mind. 

'We shouldn't be going, Mar,' her boyfriend had joked when they heard 
the description being spread on the news bulletin about women that 
were potential victims for 'The Concert-killer'. 'That description 
could be you!'

She had laughed, yet shivered at the same time. Then she laughed away 
her fears. She was surrounded in a crowd of ten thousand people. 
Nothing could happen to her. She would not let her friends out of her 
sight. 

Suddenly, before they knew it, the concert started and everyone was 
pushed forward, including her. She stretched out her hands, just in 
time stopping herself from being shoved into the gate. A man grabbed 
her upper arm, preventing the same thing from happening. 

'Thanks,' she muttered as she looked briefly at the security guard 
that stood behind the gates. He smiled and turned his back on her. She 
looked at the stage and concentrated on the band, enjoying every 
second of it.

A few moments later her boyfriend lost her out of sight. When he 
looked back up, she was gone.



Another one

Just after midnight his phone rang. He picked it up instantly, 
listening to what the voice on the other side said. He hung up, 
sighing deeply as he heard the news. 

He put on his shoes and left the room, knocking on her door. She 
opened after a while, her hair tussled and her body clad in silk 
pyjamas. 'What is it?' she asked, alert immediately as she saw his 
serious face. 

'There's been another one. Right here in Miami.'





Finding Margaret

The arena was packed with people, all wanting the same thing: Margaret 
Spencer. The rental car stopped before the entrance of the Eastern 
Arena. When they got there, several police cars were already there. 

This time the killer had used an open arena, holding over ten thousand 
people. The one they had explored the day before was small in 
comparison to this one. And here, a young woman had disappeared before 
the eyes of her boyfriend. 

'This might become an X-File after all,' Mulder muttered as they went 
through the details of the disappearance with her boyfriend, Mark. The 
young, upset man explained how they had been standing near the gates. 
Margaret had been standing next to him all this time. And then she was 
gone. 

'At first I thought she had pushed herself forward a bit to see more 
of the stage,' Mark explained. 'We had agreed on a meeting point 
should we get lost. When the concert was over, I walked over but she 
never showed up. I called her mother. She never showed up at home.' 

'Did you see her talking to anyone?' Mulder asked. 'No,' Mark said 
desperately. His friends shook their heads. It was needless to say 
everyone was worried.

Mulder frowned as he glanced around. This was a much larger arena with 
a lot more hideouts. If the killer was still here, watching them right 
now, he knew they were on his track. They had to act as normal, not 
letting out they knew. If they betrayed themselves now, Margaret would 
be lost. 

'We have to go,' Mulder said as he explained to the others why. They 
all agreed that the best way to surprise their man was to catch him on 
his way out. If he pursued his previous actions, he would still be 
inside the arena, guarding his victim. But how great was the chance of 
him leaving his shelter? How would they be able to track him down 
without him tracking them? 

The agent that had argued with Mulder before stepped forward and 
proposed to do a surprise attack. Track down all the possible 
shelters, he said, and catch the guy before he has the chance to kill 
the girl. Mulder disagreed, as it would endanger the life of the 
hostage. One of the FBI's most important policies was that hostages 
should never be endangered and kept out of the line of fire. 

But Agent Oates disagreed. They had to do something.

'No,' Mulder said, shaking his head forcefully as he tried to argument 
his case. 'You can't do this. Margaret will not stand a chance if he 
realizes we're onto him. We have to leave the arena and give him that 
sense of security he's had with the other cases. We cannot jeopardize 
her life like that.' 

'Look,' the stubborn Agent Oates said, proposing the search, 'no 
matter how you turn it - this woman doesn't have a chance whatsoever. 
You cannot do a surprise attack. You said it yourself: This man has 
foreseen everything. We must use all the forces we have and step in 
before he has the chance to kill her.' 

'No,' Mulder said, forcefully stopping Agent Oates when he wanted to 
turn and order the attack. 'I'm ordering you to back off. This is my 
case, and I've decided against it.'

Agent Oates looked back angrily. 'In the state you are in you're not 
likely to make the right decisions.'

'What the hell is that supposed to mean?' Mulder replied angrily. 

'Look at you - you can hardly stand on your feet. Why don't you let 
this case over to us, Agent Mulder, and get some rest.'

'You don't have to tell me what to do, Agent Oates,' Mulder shot back. 
'I outrank you on this case, and I'm saying that we're not going for 
the search. You can take it up with AD Davis if you want, but he'll 
agree with me. I'm ordering you to get out of here. We're going for 
the surprise, and that's the end of it.' 

Oates opened his mouth to bite back, but was stopped by his partner 
who shot a glance at him. Oates finally nodded and turned, ordering 
the others to get in their cars and leave the premises. Finally, after 
nearly half an hour, the called-in force had left the arena. But they 
weren't far away. 

At the Field Office, only three miles away, the group gathered in the 
huge meeting room on the fourth floor where the maps of the arena were 
spread out.  The owner, manager and chief of security were in the room 
as well, going through the details with the agents. 

'It's very simple,' the manager finally said, pointing at the second, 
older map that gave away the details they sought out. 'If your boy is 
still in there, he can only be on the sublevel that has been shut down 
three years ago. Before we used to have security quarters there. There 
are corridors running underneath the entire building that give quick 
access to all sides of the arena. However, we shut it down after the 
renewing the entire building. No one uses those corridors anymore.'

'Is there a way he could have gotten access to those corridors?' 
Scully asked, frowning as she realized they had a lot of passageways 
and smaller rooms to cover. That didn't look too good. The more 
possibilities, the more ways out their John Doe had. 

'I don't know,' the manager said. 'There were a few sets of keys that 
were locked away. If he has gotten a set or copies, he must have had 
access on security level as well.' 

'I need a list of all the employees that you hired or worked here 
temporarily over the past few weeks, sir,' Mulder said. 'I also need 
you to contact the people you've worked with for years, and ask them 
if they spotted any irregularities.' 

'Are you saying I hired him?' the manager said in disbelief. 

'You might not even have known that you did, sir,' Mulder said 
quickly, reassuring the man that it wasn't his fault. 

The manager nodded and took off. It was after three when he did. For 
all parties involved it would become a very long night. Mulder sighed 
and rubbed his eyes, taking off the reading glasses he had used to 
concentrate on the maps. This was the fourth night he went through 
sleepless. He needed to find their guy quickly, before he too would 
suffer physical consequences. 



The link

Suddenly the doors of the meeting room opened and Mairéad stepped in, 
waving with papers in her hands. 'I think I've got something,' she 
said, handing them over to Mulder. 

'What is it?' Scully asked, glancing over her partner's shoulder at 
the list of names that she had printed out. 

'You were right when you said he was looking for something,' Mairéad 
continued, 'and I think I know what it is.' 

The others stared at her in anticipation as she placed the photo of a 
young woman on the table. They glanced at a woman that matched the 
description of the other women. She was a dark blonde, slim, beautiful 
woman that smiled daringly at the camera when the photo was taken. She 
couldn't have been more than eighteen years old. Her smile was forever 
put on paper. But the fact that they had a printout of her photo could 
only mean that she was dead. 

'Megan Nome was an eighteen-year-old grad student who was stalked, 
disappeared and finally was found murdered, after she filed a 
complaint against one of her fellow students, a man named John Willis. 
She vanished - get this - during a concert. Willis was questioned but 
had an alibi. He claimed to be at home, sleeping upstairs in his bed, 
while his mother watched television. When questioned, his mother 
claimed to have checked up on him. He was lying in bed, asleep. 
However, Megan's murderer was never found.' 

'And let me guess,' Mulder said, 'she was missing body parts?' 

'That's right. In fact, the only things they found of her were her 
torso and head. Her limbs were gone. Her face was mutilated beyond 
recognition. Her parents were not allowed to see her again. She was so 
carved up in pieces that they identified her using dental records and 
blood tests. The missing limbs were never found.' 

Mulder stared at the report the police had made six years ago, when 
the young woman was found dead. They never had a chance finding her 
killer. She had been extremely popular and loved by her friends. She 
had no enemies. All they had was the report on her stalker. 

'Dig up all you can about this man,' Mulder ordered. 'We need records. 
If it's him, we're dealing with an extremely violent figure. We cannot 
stand to lose another second.' 

'What are you going to do?' Agent Oates asked. Mulder frowned for a 
second when he saw them, blinked his eyelids and concentrated on what 
he was doing. 

Mulder sighed. 'Using these maps, we can access the arena through 
those sealed corridors. We need to set up teams that cover inch by 
inch of that area. We'll move by first dawn. He won't expect us then. 
He'll be on his guard tonight, but in the morning he'll think he's 
okay down there. Agent Oates, please set up those teams. Agent 
Grayson, I want you to cover all the facts on our John Willis. We 
still have about three hours before dawn. I want all of you to get 
some rest now, and get back here at six a.m. sharp.' 

Mulder turned at Scully, clutching the side of the table as he tried 
to hide his fatigue. Scully looked worried, remembering all too well 
that her partner hadn't slept for so long. And somehow he still seemed 
more alert than most of the agents on the room. 

'That's it for now,' he said, sighing deeply. 'Thanks.' 

Mulder dismissed the group, just as the arena manager stepped back in 
with a list of names of people he had temporarily hired. Quickly he 
explained he knew most of them by heart, because they had assisted 
during concerts before. There were three new ones he couldn't account 
for. 

'That's our guy,' he suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the name John 
Nome. 'He's using her name as a cover.' 

The manager glared at the name, remembering the man vaguely. He had 
been a dark-haired, chubby guy - no one that stood out. And that was a 
killer? 

'What does he do?' Scully asked. 

'He's a security guard.'

'For which company?' 

'Grand Security. I always work with them. It was the first time I saw 
him but they often work with interims. He seemed decent enough, kind 
of a dreamer. I caught him once standing in the middle of the arena, 
doing nothing. He looked very angry with me when I told him to get 
back to work. But he seemed okay enough.' 

'Can you give us the name of your contact at this security agency?' 
Mulder asked, glancing at Scully. She understood instantly, realizing 
that this might be the link they were looking for. But they knew there 
was only a small chance Willis would use the same company as a cover 
every time. 

Mairéad had ignored Mulder's request to get some rest and returned 
with a photo of John Willis when he was eighteen. She had called the 
dean of his high school out of bed, requesting to fax the photo from 
the yearbook immediately. A young man smiled at them innocently. His 
hair was blonde. 

'Is this John Nome, sir?' Mulder asked, showing the manager the photo.

The man looked almost relieved when he shook his head and said, 'No, 
that's not him. He doesn't even look like him. You must be looking for 
someone else.' 

Mulder nodded, placing the photo on the table, as he frowned. The 
manager excused himself and left, leaving his phone number in case he 
could still help them. At dawn they would use the chief security 
officer as guide throughout the building. 

'Mulder,' Scully said softly. 'Your order to the others to get some 
rest counts for yourself too. Look at yourself, you can barely stand 
on your feet.'

'I'm fine,' he said, waving away her remarks as he focused on the case 
at hand. What was he missing? There was something not there that they 
were all seeing over. He just couldn't grasp at what it was. He nodded 
slowly. 'Perhaps I should try,' he mumbled, looking at her. He had 
woken her up too. But she seemed very alert and awake. Her face faded 
before his eyes and he turned away from her, refusing to let on his 
tiredness. 

'I'll just take a nap on the couch,' he said, walking away from her. 
She watched as he opened the door to an adjoined office. He didn't 
care whose office it was. The couch seemed very appealing to him right 
now. He lay down and closed his eyes, moving his arm over them so the 
light was shut out. 

Within a few seconds he was asleep, in a zone between deep sleep and 
awareness. He was standing in the middle of the arena, glancing at the 
side doors. They were open. A chubby, short man stood there, looking 
at him. He held something in his hands. Mulder walked closer, glancing 
at what it was, but he couldn't tell.

Then the man laughed loud and turned, going inside the corridors, 
shutting out the light. Next thing he knew, Mulder stood before the 
podium and watched a band perform. And everywhere around him where 
women that resembled Margaret's face. 

Mulder startled, moving up from the couch as he stared into the 
surprised eyes of AD Davis, who had entered the room. 

'Rest easy, Mulder,' the AD said, pushing the agent's shoulder gently 
so that he could lean back on the couch. 'You're fine. It was just a 
dream.' 

Mulder swallowed the lump in his throat, recalling the dream. He knew 
what it meant. Somehow Willis - or whoever their killer was - knew 
they were on to him. And he was freaking out. 

'No,' Mulder said, moving so that he could move up and about, leaning 
heavily against the AD's shoulder when he nearly fell back on the 
couch. 'We have to go. What time is it?' 

'Nearly five. Just relax. Scully said you haven't slept for quite some 
time. She's a bit worried that you might be overdoing it. There's 
still some time before dawn.'

Mulder shook his head. 'No, not much time left. Gotta go. He's going 
to kill her.' 

Davis stared in shock as the agent hurried out of the room, forgetting 
his jacket in the process as he went on his search for Scully. He 
found her and Grayson in the other room, talking. There were a few 
other agents gathered as well. 

'We have to go,' Mulder repeated. 'He knows we're onto him. We don't 
have much time.'

'What -?' Scully asked. 'Mulder, what's wrong?'

'Gotta go,' Mulder repeated, 'now!'

The agents that were there packed their things and followed him 
outside. It was still dark but slowly the first dawn was rising. It 
was already warm, damp. They knew it was going to be a hot day. Mulder 
felt frustrated as they drove off towards the stadium, with the maps 
as their only guide.

He closed his eyes as Scully drove, focusing on what he had seen 
resting in the palm of the man's hand. If he knew that, he knew the 
actual cause of all of this. His tired mind told him so.




The killer

She had slept and woken with a startle, when he started rattling the 
bed. Instantly she was on her guard, realizing that she was still 
bound and gagged to the bed. Her eyelids blinked a few times. Her eyes 
were tired and still needed adjustment to the shades in the room. She 
was terrified. He didn't allow her to sleep, despite the fact she was 
deadbeat. He was hard to her. 

But during the few moments she had slept, she had seen a man that was 
out there looking for her. He had been kept awake too as his mind 
wouldn't allow him to rest. He had not seen her even though she had 
been standing right before him. She had called out to him, not knowing 
his name. 

And then her abductor took her by the arm and pulled her inside this 
room, tying her up the bed so that she wouldn't lie comfortable. And 
he looked her in the eyes and told her he was going to kill her.

And when he woke her up roughly, the first seconds she had believed it 
was all a bad dream. But here she was, tied up to that bed with the 
dirty old mattress in the smelly room. With her eyes open, she dreamt 
of being at home in her own cosy bed and Mark. She would give her 
right arm to be at home right now. 

But she was in a dark room with a man that smelled horrible and was 
all around her, as if he consisted of different personas that were 
cluttering the room. She didn't want to be here at all. 

Finally he took off the rag, now keeping her awake with strong light 
that he shone in her eyes. She wasn't allowed to sleep. It felt like 
one of those old-fashioned interrogations where one would keep its 
victim awake in order to brainwash him. 

He gave her something to drink and eat, resting his hand in her neck 
so she could sit up a bit in order not to spill. She was very much 
afraid when those same fingers touched her hair, and he kissed her and 
called her his little pearl. She didn't know what he was on about. She 
had never met him, even though he had looked vaguely familiar to her. 

But all she could remember was feeling faint when the crowd started 
pushing her forward, and then a sharp pain in her upper right arm made 
her loosen her grip on the gate. She had slumped forward and someone 
had grabbed her and pulled her over the fence, bringing her quickly 
through some door. There she had passed out. The last thing she had 
remembered was being carried away from the noise on the stage. 

Now he walked around nervously as he glanced outside. She had lost all 
track of time. She had no idea where she was, how late it was or if 
anyone was looking for her. But they had to be. She couldn't imagine 
them dumping her like that. She had friends and family that would be 
worried sick about her.

Suddenly he got up from his hidden darkness and looked around, walking 
over to the door that shut them away from the outside world. He 
stopped and listened as sounds were heard in the back. Then there was 
a rummaging and the sounds stopped. And it was gone. 

Even in the darkness she could see the panic in his eyes. He was 
afraid of something. Perhaps his shelter hadn't been as safe as he 
thought. 

He moved forward, unwrapping something that he took from a bag. He 
placed it on the table. Her mouth felt extremely dry, and she was 
barely able to speak. But when she saw what he put there, she felt her 
breath choke and her body seemed to convulse as it reacted against the 
nausea his little gift brought up. 

He moved towards her, lifting her up so that she could heave without 
the chance of choking. She convulsed when his hands were all over her 
chest, but he didn't get aroused. He wasn't sexually interested in 
her. Whatever it was he wanted, it was different. 

'My little pearl,' he finally spoke, his voice so soft that she had to 
strain herself to hear it. 'Why did you run off?'

'I'm not your pearl,' she said, louder than she had expected. 'I don't 
know what you want, but I'm not the one you're looking for.' 

His eyes locked onto hers as his hands touched her and he smiled. 'I 
found you again. You don't have to hide from me. I know who you are. 
The chase is over.' 

'It's not,' she said, forcefully shaking her head. 'Let me go.' 

His eyes shifted and he kissed her softly. But still he wasn't 
sexually interested in her. She could tell by his moves and reactions. 
He didn't want her body. He just wanted her soul. And that frightened 
her even more. 

'You'll tell me who you are,' he said. 'It takes time, I know. But 
you'll tell me.'

'My name is Margaret,' she said hoarse. 'I'm living right here in 
Miami. I've never met you. What more do you want to know?'

He didn't give an answer. He just looked at her. Then finally, he 
spoke again and his voice sounded as cold as ice.  'You're my pearl, 
aren't you? You might have changed the way you look and your voice, 
but you're still her.'

'We've never met,' she said in fear. 'I don't know who you are! 
Whoever you're looking for, it's not me! You have to believe me, and 
let me go.'

And then, outside the door, they heard that same noise again. She 
opened her mouth to scream, but he had foreseen it, gagging her so 
fast she hardly knew what happened. Her tongue stuck to the cloth he 
used. She tried to move, to escape from his grip. 

He stood still, pressing his ear against the door as the noises 
returned and came back. Then they were gone again. But he knew they 
were onto him. And he couldn't wait much longer to do what he had to 
do. 

He sat down on his knees beside her, glaring at her. His eyes examined 
her face. He knew she wasn't the one, but somehow it didn't matter. 
The visions he'd had about killing her came back stronger now, and he 
realized that he had murdered her. 

He turned to see the mutilated hand he had placed on the table. Two 
fingers were missing. He had left them behind before, when he killed 
the others. He blinked as he remembered what he had done to her. Then 
he blinked again, and the vision was gone, and he knew he just 
couldn't stop killing. He had become a hunter looking for a prey, and 
he enjoyed the hunt. He enjoyed the fear in his victim's eyes. He 
relished the fact he was going to kill her soon. 

The urge to stop was over. He had to move on, until they would stop 
him. And they never would. But then the sounds behind those doors came 
back, and he stood in silence as he watched. 

When he met her eyes again, she knew he was going to kill her. She 
wasn't the one he searched, and now he was going to get rid of her.



Mulder vs. the killer

'He's not here,' Agent Oates said hard as they gathered in the 
security officer's booth. They didn't dare to turn on the lights. 
Working with flashlights, they could barely see each other. There were 
five groups of two in that small room, all scanning a part of the 
tunnels that ran underneath the arena. 

'That's impossible,' Mulder replied hard, as he rolled out the maps on 
the table once again, going with his flashlight over every inch of it. 
'He has to be here. He had no way of knowing we were onto him. He 
wouldn't change his MO.'

'I'm telling you he's not here,' Oates repeated, glaring at Davis for 
support. But the AD hardly looked at the agent, realizing that they 
might have made a grave mistake. Then he looked at Mulder and knew 
they hadn't been mistaken. The killer was here, and his profiler felt 
it.

'Let's go over this again,' Davis said, asking the chief to help him 
out. 'You are very sure that we've covered all areas?'

'We must have,' the security officer said. 'We've followed the map 
thoroughly, as it were.'

'Is there a chance that there were older maps?' Mulder asked. 'There 
might have been closed-up rooms before.' 

'This is the only one I've got. The one that you're holding should 
tell you everything.' 

Mulder frowned as he focused on the entire area underneath the stage, 
running from left to right. All the other shelters had been found in 
that area. But here, there was just one underground corridor running 
to two small rooms that had been used as dressing rooms in the past. 
With the new layout, the artists had more privacy using the new 
dressing rooms they had set-up to the right of the stage. 

Mulder blinked as his eyes hurt from the flashlights. He put his 
finger on the map as he tapped on the two small squares. 'There's 
something there that doesn't add up. There should have been more 
rooms.'

'Not to my knowledge,' the chief security officer said. 'If there 
were, they're hidden behind cardboard walls.' 

'Perhaps that's exactly what we're looking for,' Mulder said, as he 
looked at Davis. The AD nodded. 'Let's go over this again. Light's 
come up by now. We have to move fast. Every team covers his area 
again. Look for fake walls, things that aren't in place. Don't use the 
arena area. With the sunlight coming in, he might see you. Use the 
corridors.'

Some of the agents mumbled something. Oates looked even angrier when 
he removed himself from the security room. Mulder grabbed his 
flashlight and gun, being stopped by Skinner who asked him where he 
was heading. 

'I'm going down there myself, sir,' he said. 'There's something I need 
to check out.' 

'You're not going anywhere, Agent Mulder. You're in no shape to do 
this.' 

'Of course I am,' Mulder said hard, opening the door. 'Don't even 
think of stopping me, sir. This is my case, or have you forgotten 
that?'

'Terence will get you off. He's your supervisor at this time. Or have 
you forgotten that?' 

Mulder stopped. 'You wouldn't dare. If you take me off, I'll quit the 
Bureau and do the investigation on my own. I haven't forgotten that 
you and Scully were eager enough to put me in this position before. 
Don't think that I will be stopped now.' 

Suddenly the room became very quiet, as Scully and Skinner held their 
breaths and watched Mulder. The agent blinked his eyelids as he 
scanned past their expressions. Terence Davis sighed deeply, realizing 
he had put the agent under more pressure than ever before. 

'I'm sorry,' Mulder said, rubbing his eyelids. 'I didn't mean that. I 
just want to find this guy before he kills the girl. Is that too much 
to ask?'

'Alright,' Davis said friendly, putting his hand on Mulder's shoulder. 
'Let's compromise. We go through the arena once again. If we can't 
find her, you're going to your hotelroom, get some rest and come back 
when you see fit. Okay?' 

Mulder smiled, despite everything as his eyes met Scully's. 'Okay,' he 
finally said. 'I agree.' 

'Good. Let's go then.' 

Mulder lead the way to the stage, using the map to find his way 
through the corridors and areas that would keep them out of sight. 
Davis and Skinner walked after them. None of them said a word as 
Scully took over the map and guided them through a door that brought 
them down the stairs. Now they were behind the stage. 

Again a set of doors lead them further down. This time they had to use 
the keychain to open the locked up doors. The air began to smell 
stale, as if no one had been here for some time. Suddenly Scully 
stopped, pointing at the door to the right that seemed hidden in the 
décor. 

'That's one room,' she said. 'Oates covered that one. It was empty.' 

Mulder tried the door and opened it. It was unlocked. The room was 
empty and seemed perfectly normal. It smelt just as damp. 

They walked down further. Davis and Skinner used the other corridors 
that lead them to another area that had been covered before. There 
they met the other team that was going through the motions. Scully 
watched as her partner opened the second door to the other small room 
that was pointed out on the map. It was just as empty. 

Mulder stopped in his tracks, frowning as his flashlight made figures 
on the wall. 'What is it?' Scully asked, lowering the map. 

'There's something wrong here, Scully. This area is much smaller than 
it should be. Look, if you take the map, you can see that this entire 
area belongs to the backstage area. We're right underneath that now. 
But it's too small if you consider all the odds and ends.'

'Are you saying there is another area behind all of this?'

'Yeah.' Mulder moved to the wall, touching it with his left hand as he 
tried to manoeuvre his flashlight with the right one. The gun was 
tucked back in its holster. When he tapped on the wall, they heard a 
hollow sound. Scully bit her lip as she looked at her partner. 

'That's it,' Mulder said. 'Get the others here quickly.' 

'Don't go in there by yourself, Mulder. Wait until I get back.' 

He barely listened to her, focusing on what might be behind those 
walls.

Scully turned and left. He could hear the tapping of her heels as she 
hurried through the corridors for the others. Suddenly the agent 
touched something sharp. It felt like steel, like an old handle that 
was hardly noticeable. He pushed it but it didn't budge. 

Then he gave it a hard yank and the hidden, light door flew open, 
banging against the cardboard wall that had been put up years before 
to hide this area. There were boxes all over the place with relics no 
one had remembered. Everyone that worked here now, was too young to 
remember that in the early days, this place had been used as a storage 
facility. 

Mulder stopped in his tracks as he heard noises in the room. Yet there 
was no on here. He was alone - or so it seemed. He turned off his 
flashlight, instantly noticing the stroke of light that came from 
behind one of the walls. He moved towards it, touching the wall. Then 
he heard a muffled sound, as if someone was being hurt. 

Mulder's hands in panic searched for that same handle that would allow 
him access to the room. He took his gun back out, working the 
flashlight so that he could switch it on as a surprise attack. He 
heard sounds behind him, and the same muffled sound from within that 
room. 

Suddenly his fingers touched the handle. With the same strong movement 
he had made before, Mulder pushed open the door, shining his 
flashlight in at the same time as he held up his gun. 

'FBI!' he said sharp. 

The first thing he saw in the darkness was her form lying on the 
mattress. There was blood on her neck and throat. Her face looked 
deadly pale. Even in the darkness he could see that. And he was 
nowhere in sight. Mulder's flashlight scanned the room, but he found 
nothing but the mutilated hand on the table, and the body on the bed 
that was still breathing. 

But it didn't take an expert to see that she was dying. He had slit 
her throat with the piano wire that was still strangled around her 
throat. She couldn't breath. She opened and closed her mouth as if to 
get in the air. 

'Oh no,' Mulder muttered, lowering his gun as he rushed forward to 
help her. His fingers touched the wire, gently removing it from her 
throat. Suddenly it ran through his mind. She was alive. Why was she 
still alive? 

At the same time, something moved beside him. And the door, through 
which he came in, was shut in its lock. He turned around, aiming his 
gun at the assailant before him in the utter darkness. The flashlight 
that rested beside him was gone. He was alone in the darkness, with 
Margaret losing her fight for life beside him. 

He closed his eyes, aiming the gun at the sounds that he hoped to 
hear. But there weren't any. All he could hear was Margaret's 
shattered breath. 

'Stop this right now,' Mulder said, 'you know you can't get out of 
here. We're all over the place.' 

The man didn't respond to his words. The silence remained as it were. 

Suddenly something hard knocked the gun out of his hand, setting him 
off balance at the same time. Mulder shifted from his kneeling 
position, stretching out his hands to grab a hold of the assailant. 
From behind the door, there were footsteps and sounds, and he heard 
Scully banging on the door, shouting to get in. 

Mulder grabbed a hold of his attacker, shoving him away. Something 
broke and fell on the floor. Then the attacker was back, while Mulder 
tried to adjust to the darkness. He couldn't see a thing. Then 
something was shoved over his mouth and nose. It had a horrible scent 
to it, trying to send him into oblivion. But the agent wouldn't budge. 

Mulder hit the man's hand, sending the piece of fabric to the ground. 
As it fell, its scent fled. Mulder shook his head, forcing himself to 
stay alert. He wasn't going to be put off like that. 

'Mulder!' he heard Scully shout from behind the door, and suddenly he 
realized why they couldn't get in. It was barricaded with a chair, 
keeping them out. Suddenly a flashlight went on, shining straight into 
his eyes. Mulder shouted in pain as the light hit his eyes, forcing 
him to back away. 

His attacker moved forward, shoving him to the ground as the two men 
hit the ground. Something sharp entered his skin and flesh, piercing 
into him from the side. As skin and flesh tore, Mulder stayed on the 
floor. He saw his attacker move, and knew this would be the end. 

But a sound came from Mulder's left, and a door was opened, blinding 
both Mulder and the attacker with another flashlight. His attacker 
screamed as he tried to cover his eyes. In a flash he was up and 
about, pushing aside the woman that kept her light and gun on him. 

From his lying position, Mulder heard the footsteps as they moved 
through the room. Then there was a gunshot and a lot of silence. 
Running footsteps were heard, and then they came back. Mulder saw it 
was Mairéad, who had found the other entrance to the small room. 

Mulder moved his hand to his side, trying to figure out what hurt him. 
Something stuck into his side. His fingers moved until he felt a large 
piece of glass sticking into his side. The agent crawled up on hands 
and knees, listening to the shallow breath of Margaret to concentrate 
on his position. Was the attacker still there? No, he had taken off 
probably using another exit they didn't know anything about. 

'Agent Mulder,' Mairéad said, kneeling down. 'Are you all right? He's 
gone. He was too fast. There are so many corridors and ways in and out 
- I -' 

'The woman,' Mulder interrupted her as she tried to get him up and 
about. Mairéad turned her attention to the woman on the bed. Mulder 
got up on his knees, supporting himself against the wall until he 
managed to open the barricaded door.

'Mulder,' Scully said, looking at her partner's pale form. He leaned 
heavily against the door as the others walked in. Someone turned on 
the switch that sent a sharp light into the dark room. Several agents 
stood in the doorway, trying to figure out what went wrong. 

'He's still in the building,' Mulder whispered hoarsely, as he pointed 
to Mairéad and Margaret. 'Help her, Scully.' 

'We will,' his partner promised. 'And you.' 

Gently Scully took her partner's arm, believing that he was merely 
deadly tired and ready to drop on cue. She put him on the edge of the 
bed, ordering Skinner to watch him. 'Call 911!' she said sharp to 
Oates, who had already taken out his cell phone. There was confusion 
all around at the sight of the woman on the bed and the agents that 
tried to help her. 

Mairéad backed away when Scully took over, realizing she could do 
nothing but watch. Mulder didn't speak to anyone. He didn't respond to 
Davis' questions or Skinner's urgent requests. He kept his eyes 
focused on Margaret, the woman he knew they could have saved. Now it 
was too late. 

'She's still alive,' Scully said, touching the woman's neck, trying 
not to glance at the way the piano wire had nearly slit her throat. 
Quickly the agent ripped off pieces of the sheet that covered the 
mattress and used them to make a temporary bandage. 

Mulder stared at them as they moved about, trying to make the woman as 
comfortable as possible while they waited. Skinner stood by his side, 
watching the procedures. They seemed to be in another reality, 
powerless to do anything but watch.

They still had a chance. They all knew it. But it seemed a hopeless 
task. The blood that covered her throat already found its way past the 
fabric that covered her throat. Her eyes were closed, as she, deadly 
pale, didn't budge. There seemed to be nothing they could do. But 
Scully wasn't ready to give up yet. 

When the paramedics came in to take over, the woman was breathing. 
They quickly bagged her and lifted her on a gurney. When they 
transferred her out of that small room, Scully caught a glance of the 
mutilated hand and sighed, rubbing her forehead with her left hand as 
she leaned tired against the wall. 

Mairéad followed the gurney outside, promising the others she would go 
to the hospital with her and not leave her out of sight. The others 
stayed inside the damp room.

'The lab is already here,' Davis said, catching a glimpse of the men 
that were waiting with their equipment. 'Let's get out of here.'

'Come on, Mulder,' Scully said, grabbing her partner's arm. The agent 
stared at her as if she was a stranger. Scully watched him, as he 
seemed unable to talk to her. He had been so quiet since they walked 
in; so deadly still. He looked so strange now, the way he sat on the 
side of that bed, still looking at the mattress as if Margaret's body 
was still on it.

Then her eyes caught the white shirt he wore underneath his jacket. 
His hand still lay there even though he wasn't even aware of doing 
that small gesture himself. There was blood dripping between his 
fingers. The shirt was cut open and soaked with blood but she had 
thought it was Margaret's. She hadn't stopped to think it might have 
been his. 

'Mulder?' Scully said gently, trying to get him to look at her.

Her partner stared dazed at her, and got up. When she touched him, he 
slumped backwards, going through his knees that wouldn't carry the 
weight anymore. His hand finally let go of his side, and she held her 
breath as she saw the glass sticking out like a knife.

'Scully?' he said, losing his balance. He would have dropped like a 
ton of bricks, hitting the back of his head on the wooden side of the 
bed, hadn't Skinner grabbed him. Scully was on his other side in a 
second, supporting her partner as they gently moved him to the floor. 

'Get those paramedics back in here!' she heard Davis shout. 'We've got 
an agent down!'

'Careful,' Scully whispered, helping the AD settle her partner on the 
floor. Skinner took off jacket and put it under Mulder's head. There 
was no way they could place him on the mattress. They had to try and 
make the situation as comfortable as possible. 

Mulder was far away. She could tell by the way he saw right through 
her. His skin seemed as pale as Margaret's had been. She didn't know 
he was wondering why he felt so numb. His side felt like a bullet had 
hit it with shock settling in soon after. And he was so damned tired. 

'Oh god,' Scully muttered, lifting the shirt that concealed a deep 
entry wound with a sharp and large piece of a drinking glass embedded 
in it. Only then she saw the other pieces of the glass lying on the 
floor. It must have fallen during the struggle.  

'He's cut bad,' she said towards Skinner, somehow knowing her partner 
wouldn't understand a word she was saying. He didn't react when she 
focused on Skinner and Davis who watched her nervously.

'Internal damage?' Davis asked. 

'Don't know. If his kidney is bleeding -' She stopped herself from 
saying it. 'They'll determine that at the ER. There's no way of -' 

'No!' her partner said so hard it startled everyone in the room. He 
fought back as Skinner held him to the ground. 'I'm not going back 
there!' 

Scully stared at her partner in shock, as he sobbed and moved his face 
away from her. He was in much pain now as he forced his body to move. 
Skinner had to make a serious effort to keep him calm. 

'You're not taking me back there,' Mulder argued. 'I'm not going! You 
can't make me. I refuse to go back there. Not on your life!'

'Go where, Mulder?' Scully asked softly. 

'That place. They'll finish their business. I'm not letting them stick 
their knifes and needles in me. I want to go home! Scully, please, 
just take me home.' Mulder grabbed her hand, pulling her so close to 
him that it hurt. 'Please, Scully,' he begged as she watched in 
despair. 'Take me home.' 

She leaned forward, stroking his hair out of his face. It felt sticky. 
The boyish look to it was gone. He was panicking, and she didn't want 
the others to notice. It could jeopardize his credibility and 
abilities as special agent. But she couldn't care less right now about 
all the others that were waiting and watching. 

'I can't, Mulder,' she said gently, trying to relax his features. 
'You're hurt. We need to make sure you're fine. You are wounded 
badly.'

'Hurt?' he asked, frowning as he glared beside her at Skinner. Then 
Davis moved in sight and knelt down with worry as well. Somehow his 
presence seemed to comfort Mulder.   

'We need to take you to a hospital, Mulder,' Davis said. 'You've 
fallen on a piece of a glass. It's embedded in your side. We have to 
get it out.' 

'No. Just pull it out. I'm fine. We need to find her ...'

'You already found her,' Terence said gently. 'She's fine thanks to 
you.' 

'She is?' the agent asked in surprise as he blinked his eyelids. 
Scully noticed the agitated look in her partner's eyes. Why in the 
world didn't he just pass out and allow his body to rest? Right now, 
that was all he needed. For once she would be grateful if he passed 
out. But he wasn't supposed to. Somehow she knew he was right. 

Scully moved her body so he alone could see her. 'I won't leave your 
side,' she swore, 'but we have to help you. Can you understand that, 
Mulder?'

Her partner nodded, not letting go of her hand. Then he turned his 
face away from her and closed his eyes. Wherever he was, it wasn't in 
this room. She bit her lip, hoping and praying that he would stand the 
pain until they got that piece of glass out of him. And then all they 
could do is hope that it hadn't caused irreparable damage.



Part Three

But there's no relief, I'm wide awake in my kitchen, It's dark and I'm 
lonely, Oh, if I could only get some sleep, Creaky noises make my skin 
creep, I need to get some sleep, I can't get no sleep...



The ordeal

But the ordeal had only just begun. Mulder was awake during the trip 
to the hospital. He was awake at the ER when they examined him, made 
X-Rays and was prepared for a transfer to the OR. The piece of glass 
was embedded so deep in his flesh that they couldn't get it out at the 
ER. The X-Rays showed it came dangerously close to his kidney. In 
order to play it save, the piece had to be cut out surgically. 

The transfer to the OR happened fast. A team was gathered quickly to 
help him. An anaesthesiologist walked in quickly to put Mulder under. 
Most of the medical staff present in the room was surprised Mulder had 
been awake throughout the process. In a way he had been cut by a 
knife, so deep it might have killed him. But he was alive and alert 
and knew very well what was going on.

He watched numb as they talked to him assuring, telling him he would 
be put to sleep so they repair the damage to his internal organs. When 
the first injection was emptied in his arm, he felt dizzy, but not 
sleepy.  He just felt a little numb at most, not even realizing they 
were injecting him with sedatives.

His eyes closed as he remembered New York. He had been awake through 
the experience of being cut open. They had stopped him from talking or 
reacting. He had been powerless. Would they do the same thing here as 
well? 

It was enough to cause him to panic once again, and he pulled away his 
hand when they prepared to give him another injection. With the back 
of his hand he knocked the syringe out of the man's hand. 

From behind their masks they all looked the same. He couldn't 
distinguish their faces. In a flash he was back at that other OR, 
where they prepared to cut him open while being awake throughout the 
process. He didn't want to remember those details. Never before had he 
been so frightened. 

Suddenly he relaxed and didn't move when the nurse took him by the 
wrist and spoke to him. He saw right through her. He just wanted it to 
be over. If they wanted to proceed, let them. He couldn't care less 
anymore. 

The anaesthesiologist looked at the surgeon when the second syringe 
was emptied into Mulder's system and said, 'I don't understand this. 
He should be asleep by now. Why is he resisting this?'

The surgeon lifted his shoulders. A mask was placed over Mulder's 
mouth and nose, forcing sleeping gas in his nostrils. He felt dizzy 
again and everything seemed to tumble. But when the mask was removed, 
he opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, praying for the ordeal 
to be over. 

'Do a local,' the surgeon ordered as they became nervous. 'If we don't 
get that piece of glass out, we stand to risk much more damage than 
ripped flesh and skin. And get someone in here to calm Agent Mulder 
down. He needs a familiar face.' 

A nurse left the room. The anaesthesiologist asked for assistance to 
roll Mulder's body and sedate him with an epidural. The agent felt 
their hands as they disinfected his back to stick the needle in, and 
closed his eyes. He moaned when the sharp needle entered his back, 
sending him back into the world of pain. 



'I'm sorry, Mr. Mulder,' the doctor said, looking at him from beyond 
the mask that concealed his mouth and nose. 'We need to do this to 
help you.'

Mulder nodded as they rolled him back, biting his lip as the pain 
slowly ebbed away. He wanted Scully to be there. As if she had heard 
his prayers, she stepped in, scrubbed up and ready to help. A mask 
covered her nose and mouth, but at least he could see her eyes.

'Hey partner,' she said, leaning forward so she could see her 
partner's pale face. He didn't smile. In fact, he looked very scared 
when he responded. 'Hey.' 

She made sure he felt the grip on his hand. 'Why can't you let the 
drugs do their work? You need to relax, Mulder. The only reason why 
you're not asleep right now is because your body is fighting back. 
You're fine here. You're in good hands. This is not New York.

'Believe me, Scully,' he said softly, 'if there was one time in my 
life that I would have been happy to pass out, it's this. I just want 
this to be over with. But I'm not allowed to sleep. I can't sleep 
until I find this guy.' 

'You haven't slept in four days. Your body cannot keep up this pace. 
You're in surgery. They need to help you. How can I help you?' she 
asked desperately. 

'I don't know. I simply don't know.' His hand still rested in hers. 
She knew he was terrified. But at least he seemed to be back and able 
to talk to her. He knew exactly what was happening to him. 

Finally they performed surgery, not speaking at all during the 
process. Mulder moaned when he felt a pressure to his side, as if 
someone was pushing him. But the feeling was bearable. He bit his lip, 
resisting the urge to scream. His legs were numbed up, as was 
everything from his ribcage down. 

Scully touched her partner's hair, trying to soothe him and get his 
mind off things. He answered her questions, but she knew he wasn't 
there anymore. He had gone back into that special place in his mind 
where he always went when his body needed to cope with pain or hurt. 
She saw the change in his eyes, and knew it would take some time for 
the wounds to heal. He was back in New York, reliving the whole 
ordeal.

'Can't you give him more pain medication or something?' she asked 
desperately, trying to stop this ordeal. 'He's hurting.'

'I've already given him the maximum,' the anaesthesiologist said. 'If 
I give him more, his body will not be able to take it. I've never seen 
anything like this before. I don't know what else I can do for him, 
but try and make him as comfortable as possible.' 

Scully turned her attention to her partner and said comforting while 
she glanced at the surgeon at work, 'It's nearly over, I promise.' 

Mulder didn't respond. Suddenly his eyelids blinked, his eyes closed 
and the monitors in the room went haywire. 'What the hell,' the 
anaesthesiologist said, watching the heart monitor as it beeped and 
then showed a flat line. 

'We struck a bleeder,' the surgeon exclaimed, working his way in to 
stop the artery from bleeding. When he pulled back his hands, they 
were covered in blood. The surgical team moved swiftly, stopping the 
bleeding.

'Patches!' Scully ordered, preparing her partner so that they could 
easily access his chest. The green covers were pulled back. The 
surgeon handled the resuscitation, sighing deeply in relief when the 
monitor showed a heartbeat again.

'Let's work through this thing before he wakes up again,' he said, 
concentrating on stopping the bleeding and cleaning the wound. 
Fortunately they were in luck. Despite the blood loss, the kidney 
remained undamaged. 

A few moments later it was over. Scully walked by her partner's side 
as they transferred the bed into the recovery room, pulling off the 
green cap as they walked out of the OR.

Even before they had him hooked up on the monitors, Mulder opened his 
eyes in confusion. He had passed out long enough for them to finish up 
surgery. His eyes just stared at the white ceiling, as if his mind was 
still out there, buried in that safe haven. 

In silence she sat by her partner's side until he was to a 
semi-guarded room, still hooked up on the monitors. They were worried 
about the bleeder and wanted to make sure his heart hadn't suffered 
during the process. 

'Mulder?' Scully said as she sat down beside her partner, watching as 
the clock struck noon. She realized she was deadbeat. She too hadn't 
slept for so long now, and it felt like she would not be able to do so 
for some time still. 

He didn't look at her. He hadn't spoken a word since he woke up. He 
was in a place she couldn't reach him. She shivered as she realized 
she had seen him like this before - when his brain was going haywire. 
She didn't want to go back there. 

'Mulder,' she spoke, kissing his fingers. 'Talk to me, please. I need 
you to respond. You have to know. Margaret is fine. She's okay Mulder. 
It will be a while before she wakes up, but you saved her. You stuck 
to your guns and got her out of there. You need to know that.' 

He didn't respond to her but she knew he understood. Finally he 
blinked his eyelids and shed a tear that trickled down his left cheek. 
She moved forward and rubbed it away with her index finger. 'Oh 
Mulder,' she whispered, sitting down and putting her head on her arm. 

Finally he whispered, 'He's going for another one. There's not much 
time left.' 

She looked up as he glanced at her. 'I know where he's going to do 
it.'





 


The fury

The fury struck him as hard as a sledgehammer. He was angry as hell, 
realizing it was over. Now that they knew about his set-up, he 
wouldn't be able to keep this up. But would he really stop? Could he 
stop? He didn't know.

Now that he had seen her and found her, he knew it would be impossible 
to stop. She was the one. He was as sure of it as anything that had 
ever happened to him. He held his own destiny in hands, and he knew he 
couldn't stop. 

In a few days he would set the trap, and she would be there. He had 
set his mind on it. He smiled. The thought of it even pushed aside the 
anger for not being able to kill Margaret. He would move on and enjoy 
things to come. 

He knew who she was. Her name was Mairéad. And to his joy, she was to 
be by his side once again. 



The reason for it

Mulder sat up straight, leaning heavily against the pillows that 
supported his neck and head. The monitors were gone by now. He was 
making a very fast improvement. The wound was healing nicely. He hurt 
only when he moved too fast, straining his body. 

'Christ, Mulder,' Skinner said, folding his arms before his chest as 
he stood angrily in the room. 'If I knew you were suffering from 
sleeplessness, I would have dragged your ass back to Washington two 
days ago. Why the hell didn't you tell us how bad it was?' 

'Scully knew,' Mulder said, receiving an angry glance from his 
partner. 'Besides, there is a reason for this insomnia.' 

'Scully told me about your theory. Are you saying that your insomnia 
is caused by this case?'

'Yes, sir.'

'You had it before you were put on this case!'

'I must have known instinctively that I was going to get it. Sir, I 
know it sounds crazy but all the details add up. I dreamt of a 
Barenaked Ladies-concert, thus related to the disappearance of Pearl 
Jennings -'

'- You could have read that in a newspaper and remembered it.' 

'- All the women held in captive were kept awake during the process. I 
dreamt of them. I dreamt of Margaret before we found her. I knew she 
was in danger. If we had gotten there an hour later, like we 
originally planned, she wouldn't be alive right now.' 

'So you say that you are connected to your killer somehow?'

'It has happened before. Roche has been in my mind - I have been in 
his.' 

'This is not Roche we're dealing with, Mulder. It's a killer that 
doesn't even know you. How do you explain this?'

'I'm not connected to the killer, sir. I'm connected to the victims. 
Or at least, to the solution to all of this. I am supposed to solve 
this case, sir. I can't explain how, but I have a connection that has 
to do with this sleeplessness.'

'Calm down, Mulder,' Scully said, as she sat down and placed a hand on 
her partner's. 'Explain it calmly.' 

Mulder sighed deeply, realizing he only had one shot at convincing the 
others. Someone else's life could depend on it. 'During the few 
moments that I'm allowed to sleep, I've seen a lot of things, sir. I 
saw a concert by a band called Faithless. I saw something in the 
killer's hand. In my dreams he held something that I couldn't 
identify. I only realized what it was this morning. When I passed out 
during surgery, I saw it again, more clearly now.'

'What did you see?' Skinner asked. 

'Pearls. There were several pearls lying in his hand.  Megan Nome, the 
young grad student that was found murdered, was missing body parts. 
Scully told me this morning that the lab work showed all the parts 
came from her. John Willis, the one suspect, had the perfect alibi. 
Yet someone, using the name John Nome, worked at the Miami arena and 
all the others that had missing women. Our killer had a connection to 
both John Willis and Megan Nome. I'm thinking a friend or contact of 
both of them, probably from the same year.' 

'Go on,' Skinner said. 

Mulder moved agitated, trying to sum up everything he wanted to say. 
'We have one man that can identify our boy because he had an argument 
with him. All the other managers didn't seem to know him. We 
unfortunately only have a vague description that could match just 
about anyone. Agent Grayson and myself have seen this man in a flash. 
It could have been anyone. We cannot go that direction and hope that 
we might stumble into him. Our guy is going to use another name from 
now on to reach the same goal.'

'So you believe he's going through with it?'

'Yes, sir,' Mulder said firmly, 'his desire for blood has become too 
great to stop. He wanted Margaret to suffer slowly. I believe that's 
why she was still alive when I got there. He never believed I had 
enough time to get in there and help her.' 

'What about those pearls then?' Scully asked curiously. 'What's up 
with that?' 

'It took me some time to figure that one out,' Mulder said. 'I called 
Agent Oates this morning and asked him to run a check for me. He 
confirmed it. The pearls weren't a clue to the whereabouts of the 
girls. It regards their names. That's how he picks them out. Their 
names all have the same meaning. Oates ran a check on the Internet. 
Margaret, Megan, Pearl, ... all the others had variations of these 
names. He selects them by that, and I'm thinking that's what he's 
looking for ... someone who can replace the first pearl he killed: 
Megan Nome.' 

'We cannot verify this with Margaret, Agent Mulder,' Skinner said. 
'She's still heavily sedated. Yet we need to know what he told her, 
and hope that we can get a clue from there.' 

'Agent Oates ran another check for me, sir,' Mulder said, as he handed 
a faxed copy of a list to his partner. 'I never figured out why I 
dreamt of Faithless, so I ran a check once again. This band is 
finishing up a tour in the US before they'll return to the UK. Their 
last performance is in tomorrow, in New York. I know he's going to be 
there too. I can feel it.' 

Suddenly Mulder laughed bitterly. 'It's been some time since New York, 
but these past few days I've been going through the motions of those 
events again. Now at least I know why. It - this - was meant to be.' 

'I cannot justify this, Mulder,' Skinner said. 'I can't use your hunch 
to move the troops to New York. I need something more solid than 
that.' 

'Make up a story,' Mulder said. 'But don't ask me to lie about this. 
Sir, so far my hunches have been right. I know I'm right on this one 
as well. We need to move fast. We need to know who is going to attend 
that concert. We need a list of names. Every female name needs to be 
checked thoroughly. We need to warn these women. If there are a lot of 
possible victims, we need to make sure that there is someone watching 
each and every one of them.' 

'In meantime,' Scully continued, 'we need to go over the list of 
interim security guards that are being used by that concert. Acting as 
a guard is a great cover.' 

'Ask Mairéad to do that,' Mulder said. 'Get Oates to check connections 
between John Willis and Megan Nome. He can do that from Miami. He's 
going to stay here and coordinate the search from here.' 

'And what are you going to do?' Skinner asked.

'What do you think?' Mulder said. 'You're going to book us tickets on 
the first flight out to Philadelphia.'

'Not a chance,' Mulder and Skinner said in unison. Scully got up from 
her seat. 'Mulder, for once, listen to me. You have to rest. You can't 
do this anymore.' 

'I'm the one shot you've got and you know it,' Mulder said. 'I've seen 
this guy. I've sensed him. You need me and you're not going to stop 
me. Afterwards you can do whatever you like, but right now I'm going 
with you. There's a flight out this afternoon and we're going to be on 
it. I've already talked to Agent Grayson about arranging the tickets. 
She's coming with us. She knows the city and will be able to guide us 
through.' 

'No, Mulder,' Scully said. 'I'm discharging myself, Scully. I'm not 
critically wounded.'

'You flatlined in the OR!'

'That was yesterday. This is today. Now, are you going to get me some 
clothes or do I have to get them myself?'

Skinner and Scully both knew there was no stopping him. In surprise 
Scully glared at her partner as he shifted his long legs out of the 
bed, swaying on his legs. Instinctively Skinner reached out to grab 
him. 

'No!' Mulder's strength seemed to return as he lifted his arm, 
stopping the A.D. from touching him. 'Don't!' Slowly the agent lifted 
himself up, returning to the tall, strong man he was. 'I'm doing this. 
If you don't like it, get lost!'

Skinner seemed shocked but not as shocked as Mulder, who realized he 
had uttered his thoughts. He didn't want to talk like this to the man 
that had become his friend, but there were more important things in 
life. He didn't have time for good behaviour right now, not while 
being so frustrated with the situation.

'All right,' Skinner said, standing clear from the agent. 'Have it 
your way. But one wrong move and I'm sending you to DC. Got it?' 

Mulder nodded obedient, admitting his weakness. 'Agreed.'

A few hours later the afternoon flight brought a group of FBI-agents 
and AD's to New York. 





Breathing down his neck

He could feel them breathing down his neck yet he didn't want to call 
it quits. There was still too much to do - too much that he still 
wanted to accomplish. It wasn't even that difficult this time to find 
her. She was an FBI-agent after all. One quick call and he knew where 
she lived. 

He went to her house that night with Margaret's blood still on his 
hands. He watched when she came home in the middle of the night. She 
closed all the curtains but he could see dancing shadows as she made 
her way to the bathroom. He envisioned her as she showered. In his 
dreams his hands were over her throat, and he was slowly strangling 
her. He kissed her when she died, and her fear was what fed him after 
all these years. He could finally have her to himself once again and 
get rid of the demons that started years ago.

What good fortune that he had found her. What luck that she was there. 
She was the one. He knew it, as much as he knew now that he had once 
killed her before. 





Her phone

At the Miami Field Office the phone on Mairéad's desk rang for minutes 
before another agent finally picked it up, and told the man on the 
other side that she had left for New York on a case. 

Surprised he put down the phone, wondering if she was off his case. 
Was she no longer looking for her? Furiously he called the airlines 
and reserved a ticket on the first flight out to New York. If she were 
neglecting him, he would go after her. He wanted her to know it was he 
that would kill her. 



Another favour

Before long he booked a hotel room in the city. He was frustrated as 
he realized that she had interfered with his plans. In Miami he could 
have used his knowledge on the arenas to get to her. Now he had to 
settle for another solution. He could no longer take her the way he 
had taken the others. Or could he? 

He reached for his cell phone and called the one that had always 
helped him out. If he knew anything that might help tracking her down, 
he would tell him.

'It's me,' he said. 'I need another favour.' 

'I'm tired of these favours,' the man on the other side said. 'You do 
realize that the FBI's been here looking for you? I want out of your 
activities.'

'Really? What did they ask?' 

'They think you'll be at some concert in New York. Please tell me 
you're not in New York.' 

The killer laughed. 'What do you think?' 

'Please let this one go. They'll be all over you. If you want to track 
her down, don't do it now. She's not worth the effort. Hell, what am I 
saying? Just stop doing this! You're putting their lives in my hands 
and I don't like it.'

The killer paled as his hand clawed around the cell phone. 'It's too 
late to back out now. You're doing this for me, or I'll kill your 
daughter and then your wife. I'll make you watch. You know I'll do 
it.'

After a long silence on the other side, the man said, 'Just promise me 
this will be the last time. I'm afraid.'

'After tomorrow, I'll have what I need,' he said. 

'Where can I deliver it to you?'

'I'm staying at the Centre Holiday Inn. Have the package delivered 
there by tonight, and tell them I'll report first thing in the 
morning.' 

'Agreed.' The man hung up, not wanting to hear his 'old friend's' 
voice any longer. 

The killer smiled as he looked at himself in the mirror. Would she 
recognize him? Of course not. She would pretend that she didn't know 
who he was. But he knew who she was, and for now that would suit him 
just fine. Tomorrow night she would be his, and he could retire. 



Exhaustion

Exhausted Scully had fallen asleep on the bed. He watched her as she 
slept. She had given him a sleeping pill to catch a nap as well, but 
it hadn't taken. When she finally closed her eyes and slept, he placed 
a blanket over her body and lay down beside her. She seemed so tired. 
She needed the rest. 

And the irony of the facts was that she had come into his room to make 
sure he could sleep. But he couldn't. He hadn't slept for so many 
nights now that he hardly remembered what it felt like to close his 
eyes and nap. 

He wanted to sleep. Of course he did. He had never felt this exhausted 
in his life. But nothing seemed to work. Even when he drifted off, his 
body was in full alert, ready to jump up at any sound or movement. And 
now even that wouldn't come anymore.

When he looked in the mirror, he saw a deadbeat man with eyes that 
hardly seemed to focus on anything anymore. He hadn't shaved properly 
for days. Somehow that only added to his fatigued features. When he 
walked about, it felt like everything about him was ready to fall 
apart. 

And when the morning came and first sunlight poured into the room, the 
only one sleeping, was his partner. 





Tension

The day grew tenser when the first results of the ticketing agency 
came in. Going on Mulder's advice, out of the 9,000 sold tickets, 
twenty-three women were potential subjects. And that only included the 
named tickets. There were still a lot of potential "candidates" left 
that they didn't know about. 

Mairéad took it upon her to contact all the women and inform them 
about the potential danger. Most of them waved away the danger, saying 
they were in company. Talking to them by phone, it was impossible to 
know what they looked like. Mulder insisted that the killer wasn't 
about to select just anyone. He wanted someone with the particular 
features that Megan Nome had. 

The day became more and more hectic when Mulder and Scully drove to 
the arena and talked to the manager, informing him as well of the 
potential risks. Of course they couldn't cancel the concert. It was 
too risky. The killer would simply move on and pick out another 
concert. He wouldn't stop. 

When they sat inside the manager's office, drinking coffee while 
waiting for a list of security guards, Scully leaned to Mulder. 'I 
hope you're right about this, Mulder,' she said softly. 'If he picked 
out another concert, we're screwed.'

'I know we're right about this one. I can feel it in my bones.' 

Mulder refused to look at her as he focused on the list of employees 
that were hired for tonight's concert. John Nome was nowhere in sight. 
Yet Mulder knew he was amongst them. 

'Can we talk to them?' Mulder said.  

'Most of them come in tonight.'

'Are there men on this list you don't know?' 

The manager glared at the list and frowned. 'I don't know all of them 
by heart. You should know that there are a lot of security guards 
during a concert like this. I can't pinpoint them all out to you. But 
I can tell you that we always work with the same agency. I have no 
reason to distrust them.'

'Grand Security?' Scully asked.

'That's right.'

'Who is your contact there?' 

'Tim Johnson. He's been my contact for years.' 

Scully and Mulder shared a glance. They had heard the name before. The 
one link they thought that would never lead to the killer, turned out 
to be more than valid. Could it be that simple after all? 

'Can you tell me where Mr. Johnson works, sir?' Mulder asked. 

'He's got an office right here in New York, but he travels around 
quite a bit. To be honest, I've never even seen him. He became my 
contact when the last one died of a heart attack a couple of months 
ago. I can give you the address and his phone number.' 

'That would help us a lot, sir,' Scully said, jotting down the data on 
her notepad. A few moments later the agents were on their way to the 
offices of Grand Security, that worked nationwide. Mulder knew they 
would find Tim Johnson there. And he probably had an interesting story 
to tell. 

On the way out, Agent Oates called and told them he had a list of 
people that were in Megan Nome's graduation year. There were about 
four men that matched the description of John Nome. And two of them 
were unaccounted for. 



Fear

The young woman shivered when she talked to the FBI-agent on the 
phone. The explanation of how she could be a potential victim struck 
her. She had read in the newspapers about this case. She had seen 
photos of the victims on the Internet, where some serial killer-search 
site had all the gory details. She had been repulsed by what she had 
seen, yet at the same time she had known all along she could be a 
victim as well. 

'Miss Weatherby,' the friendly agent said, 'you have nothing to fear, 
but I do have to ask you if you have seen anything out of the ordinary 
lately. Do you believe you might have been followed? Have you noticed 
men that you haven't seen before?'

'Agent Grayson,' the woman said patiently, 'I live in New York. Every 
single day there are people passing by I've never seen before. I don't 
know. But if you feel that I'm in danger, I'm not going.' 

'Can I ask you what you look like, Miss Weatherby?' Mairéad asked, 
jotting down notes on a large pad before her. 

'I look just like those other victims,' the woman said. 'I'm Irish. 
And to be honest - I'm very much afraid.' 

'Would you mind if I came down to talk to you?' 

'Sure. I'm at home right now. I'm sure you've got my address.' 

'I do,' Mairéad said. 'Thank you.' The agent hung up and left a 
message for Scully before she took off. If there were just a remote 
chance that this woman was their victim, she would have to do anything 
to help her. 

When she arrived at the woman's house, the clock struck two. The hours 
were passing too fast, and she didn't like it. 





Changing features

He knew now she was staying at the Regency. The FBI could afford a 
decent hotel. But he wouldn't take her there. The night before the 
package had arrived at the hotel, sent to him by courier. It didn't 
take too long this time to arrive. After all, it just had to come 
across town. 

When he had opened it, a copy of a map dropped on the table. He looked 
at it, going over the old corridors and hallways that were used in the 
past. There was nothing he could use, except for a small room. It 
would be too dangerous to use this time. He needed time with Mairéad, 
to make sure she was the one. No, this time he would take her outside, 
even if it meant taking some risks. And looking at the map, he knew 
exactly how to go about it.

He glanced at his watch. It was after three. In a few hours he would 
have to go to the arena. He would dye his hair first, and get rid of 
the black moustache he'd had for months. He knew he looked completely 
different without it. They wouldn't recognize him for sure. 

In the package a new badge had been placed. All he had to do was place 
a fake photo between the plastic flap and he was all set. 

He took his jacket and went out to buy colour shampoo and a shaving 
kit. Two hours later he looked nothing like the man he had been for 
years. Not even his old classmates would recognize him now. He smiled 
as he grabbed his 'Grand Security' outfit and left for the arena. In a 
few hours he would see her again. 



Johnson

Tim Johnson, a man in his late forties with wife and child, sat 
nervously behind his desk as the agents took a seat before him and 
started asking him questions about the schedules of his security 
guards that were used for concerts. 

'Look,' Johnson said as he played with his pen, 'I've responded to all 
these questions a few days ago. One of your colleagues came here and 
asked me exactly the same things. I am responsible nationwide for the 
ticketing service, yes. I travel around the country and meet with the 
local offices on occasion. I have a lot of people working for me. 
There's no way I can keep a watch on everything. It takes up too much 
of my time.' 

'But you do know that one of your guards might be a serial killer?' 
Mulder said. 'Or haven't they told you?'

'It's nonsense. I know it is. Whoever this person is, he's there 
without me knowing about it.'

'Would it be that easy to infiltrate your group, sir?' Scully asked. 
'Someone on a high level that can manipulate personnel files must know 
about this. This man cannot have done this by himself. He cannot put 
himself on those lists, unless he breaks into your systems and puts 
his name there. You do realize that your name has been under all the 
contracts and approvals?' 

'Are you implying that I'm involved?' Johnson asked as his face turned 
a bright red and his hands started fidgeting with the pen even more. 

'Can you tell us you're not?' 

'If you think I did it, why don't you arrest me then?' Johnson got up 
from his seat. 'Go on, arrest me. But you don't know for sure, do you? 
How dare you enter this office and accuse me of such horrible things?' 

'Who is John Nome, Mr. Johnson?' Mulder asked. 'Can you go through 
your files and show us a photo of this man?'

'Of course I can.' Johnson relaxed and sat down, typing away on his pc 
until he found the personnel file. He turned his screen so they could 
see the same photo they had tracked down in Miami. It was a photo of 
John Willis. Yet in Miami, the manager had clearly stated this was not 
John Nome. The personnel files were doctored with. 

'This is not John Nome,' Mulder said. 'If you cannot tell us who hired 
this man, we have no reason than to suspect you, sir.'

Johnson again flushed. 'I've got nothing to do with this. Arrest me if 
you will.' 

Mulder got up and looked at the closed cabinet behind the man. They 
knew they needed a search warrant to go through his things, but 
something told him he would find a lot of evidence in that cabinet. 

'Do you mind, sir?' Mulder said, as he stepped behind the desk. 
Johnson got up and said furiously, 'That's private property!'

'You've got nothing to hide, do you sir? After all, you're innocent.' 
Mulder quickly opened the cabinet doors before Johnson could utter 
another word. On the shelves lay several maps of arenas and concert 
halls. Most of them were quite old and dusty. But it didn't take an 
expert to see that they shouldn't have been there.

'How did you get these maps, sir?' Scully asked as she moved forward. 
Johnson looked more nervous now. 

'I collect them,' he said. 'My father used to work at a concert hall 
and started this little hobby. He gave them to me after he retired. 
That was the reason I stepped into this branch.'

'We are going to have to place you under arrest, sir,' Scully said, as 
she grabbed Johnson's hand and pulled it behind his back. 'You are 
suspected of conspiracy to kill. You have the right to remain silent. 
Anything -'

'I know my rights,' Johnson said, as he lowered his head. He knew it 
was over but he just wouldn't believe it. His eyes focused on his 
daughter, the girl he was so proud of. What would she think if she 
knew he had helped to kill after what had happened to Megan? 

Tim Johnson sighed deeply and turned towards them. 'I'll tell you what 
I know,' he said. 'It's no use for me to keep on lying. I've grown so 
tired of it. I know what I've done and what I'm guilty of.' 

'What are you guilty of, sir?' Mulder asked. 'You helped him find his 
shelters, haven't you?'

'Yes.' 

'Why?' 

Johnson took a deep breath. 'He threatened to kill my daughter like he 
had done Megan. And I knew he wasn't kidding. I know what he's capable 
of, and I know what he's done.' 

Mulder stared at the man in surprise, suddenly realizing they had been 
so close all this time, yet so far away from the truth. And when it 
came down to it, all trails lead to Megan Nome. 



The confession

Mairéad felt that she had struck the right cord after talking to 
Laurie. Everything about her reminded her of the ways of lives of the 
other victims. She had their looks in common and of course the name. 
She could be the one. 

After requesting Laurie to drive downtown with her, the woman 
reluctantly agreed. At the New York Field Office, both women were 
overwhelmed by the busy activity. In an interrogation room she saw 
Mulder and Scully talking to an older man.

'Wait here, Laurie,' she said, pointing the girl to a seat near a 
desk. AD Skinner stood before the window and watched. The sound was 
turned up, and they could hear everything that was being said. AD 
Davis was on the phone with DC. 

'Is that him?' Mairéad asked tense.

'No,' Skinner said. 'It's his snitch.' 

The AD turned his glance back to the window and listened attentively 
as Mulder questioned the man. But there was no need to force the truth 
out of him. Johnson was talking by himself. 

'I knew Megan Nome,' the man said. 'And I knew him. My daughter 
graduated with him. There was a bunch of them - a group of friends 
that were very close. John Willis was in that group as well. 
Everything went fine for years until Willis started developing a crush 
on Megan. My daughter told me about it, and said that Megan felt 
flattered but wasn't interested. Then Megan got murdered. We all 
thought Willis had done it, but he had the perfect alibi. My daughter 
never believed he was the one and started asking questions. Then she 
noticed that he was acting strange as well, even though he tried to 
hide it. She told me about her suspicions and found herself being 
silly. But I too noticed it. And one night, when he was at our home, I 
caught him looking at my daughter the way he had looked at Megan. And 
so I confronted him with it.' 

'What's his name, sir?' Scully asked. 

'Morris. Morris Aldham. He was one of Megan's best friends. Yet he 
slaughtered her like an animal, and I knew he was going to do the same 
with my daughter if she kept on questioning the facts. They talked to 
him. He too had an alibi, provided by someone he no doubt paid off. 
But he was never under real suspicion. Willis had the stamina of 
killer written all over him.' 

'What happened when you talked to him?'

'He just smiled and said I was nuts. Then he leaned forward and I'll 
never forget what he said. His eyes - god almighty - I've never seen 
such cold eyes. They looked into mine and he just smiled and said that 
he was going to cut off my daughter's hands as well, like he had done 
Megan's. He said that he kept parts of Megan in a freezer, just as a 
memento, and that he liked to take them out and just look at them.' 

'And he threatened your daughter?' Scully asked.

'Yes, of course he did. He knew how far to go to scare me. And it 
succeeded. For years I kept my mouth shut, fearing that my daughter 
might some day disappear as well. But she never did. And then a few 
months ago he knocked on my door and said he needed my help.' 

'Did you know what he was planning to do?'

'No. He asked me for the maps. My daughter had told them once that I 
collected them. And now he wanted copies of them. I didn't ask why. I 
just gave them. And when I read about the first murder, I knew it was 
him. It wasn't a coincidence. By then I was in head over heels.' 

'Why didn't you call the cops? They could have protected you.'

'He's like a chameleon,' Johnson sighed. 'I was too afraid for my 
daughter.'

'Yet you stood aside and watched him kill the others. You knew you 
could have saved a lot of lives, but you did nothing. You bargained 
your daughter's life against his, knowing that he wouldn't stop. Have 
you helped him now too?'

'Yes.'

'What name is he using?'

'Morris Peters. I provided him the badge but I don't know what 
disguise he's using or what he looks like.' 

Mulder glanced at Scully who nodded and left the room. Then the 
FBI-agent leaned forward and whispered, 'Do you think your daughter 
will be proud of you, sir?' 

Johnson didn't give an answer and leaned forward, hiding his face with 
his hands. Mulder got up and left the room, closing the door behind 
him. Now they had a name. But did they have their killer? 



Morris Aldham

Agent Oates received a call around five to investigate the past of 
Morris Aldham, one of the graduate students that were now under 
official suspicion of Megan Nome's murder. A check on the man revealed 
he was a salesman, travelling around the country on an independent 
basis. He sold life insurances. And no one had ever noticed that he 
sometimes disappeared for two or three days in a row. No one had ever 
seen he was at the cities where the murders took place. 

He brought in his travelling expenses and somehow managed to sell 
insurance between the kills. He was a normal, decent guy with black 
hair and a moustache. There was nothing extraordinary about him. He 
seemed perfectly normal. 

Yet he had slaughtered several women and enjoyed every second of it. 
He had done it in a public place, relishing the fact the world was 
looking for him. 

And no one had noticed. Until today. And the most frustrating thing 
was that all this time someone had known who he was, and hadn't done 
anything to prevent it. All these deaths seemed so useless. 

Frustrated Mulder rummaged through the file, reading about the man's 
past. He regretted not having this information sooner. But what could 
he have done about it? This was always what happened. Through research 
and the gathering of bits and pieces the truth came out. At the end 
that was their job.






Running out of time

Time passed quickly. They were running out of it. Before long the 
doors would open and the crowd would step in to listen to the band. 
And they couldn't postpone or cancel the concert.

Mulder listened in silence as Mairéad explained about Laurie's fears, 
stating that it could be a chance for them to catch the killer in the 
act. If indeed he was after her, they couldn't afford not having her 
there. But how could they have her play a victim? Their first priority 
was not to jeopardize the woman's life. Yet using her to set up a trap 
seemed logical and straightforward. 

Mairéad took it upon her to talk to the woman and ask her what she 
wanted to do. She had planned on going to the concert by herself. She 
was still new in town and hardly knew anyone that could have gone with 
her. But now she wouldn't have to go by herself. An agent would be by 
her side at all times, keeping a watch on her while they searched for 
their killer. 

Hopefully, Mairéad thought, it wouldn't be necessary. She thought of 
Mulder and Scully who were on their way to the arena right now to talk 
to all the hired guards. As soon as they found Morris, they would 
prevent the danger from happening during the concert. 

She shivered when she remembered the photo they had shown of this man. 
His expression had seemed so cold, even when he was eighteen years 
old. In just a few years he had become a gruesome murderer that 
wouldn't stop until they stopped him. She had seen Margaret and 
remembered the blood. He had tried to strange her without remorse, 
cutting her skin and flesh so deep that it had left a large mark that 
would forever remind her of what she had been through. 

Even now she was still kept unconscious, to give her body and mind the 
time to heal. They all knew that she would not be able to give them 
sensible information, and now she didn't need to. 

Just get him, Mulder, Mairéad thought as she waited tense for news. If 
nothing positive came, they would have to head out to the arena 
themselves and try to make the best of an impossible situation. She 
didn't want it to come that far. 

Instinctively she knew it would. 



The ID's 

Before long the guards that were already there showed their ID's. 
Mulder talked to all of them, taking his time as he tried to figure 
out if one of them was the man he was looking for. But none of them 
wore a badge with the name of Morris Peters. He wasn't there yet. 

Frustrated Mulder glanced at the entry and exit-doors of the empty 
arena. In a few hours this place would be packed with people. How 
would they be able to go through the motions with so many people 
inside? They couldn't check everybody, could they? 

Mulder looked around as the guards became impatient and were dismissed 
to go back to work. At the same time they were sent back, Morris stood 
behind the exit-doors and glanced at the agents inside. He recognized 
the man he had stepped.

Morris cursed under his breath. When the agent fell, he had hoped he 
was a goner, but here he was - alive and kicking. And he could ID him. 

'Hey,' Morris said, grabbing another guard by the arm, 'what's up with 
these folks?'

'Don't know. They're looking for someone.' 

'Are they?' Morris said softly, glaring at the guard before him. They 
looked a bit alike. Morris turned around and said, 'I was wondering if 
you could help me out. I've got a bit of an issue back there.' 

'Sure,' the guard said, walking with him through the doors that lead 
to a shut room. Morris delivered the key chain he had stolen from the 
security guard's office and opened the door to a small storage 
facility. 

The other guard tried to switch on the light but it didn't work. 'The 
lights don't work,' he remarked.

Morris smiled in the darkness. 'I know.' 



Big trouble

Mulder walked through the building and looked at the blonde guard that 
walked to the middle and seemed to be checking out the safety 
measures. He was wearing a 'Grand Security'-outfit. Quickly the agent 
came over and flashed his badge. 'FBI,' he said. 'Can I see your ID, 
sir?' 

'Sure,' the guard said, showing his ID. 

Mulder's eyes examined the guard's calm features. 'Thank you.'

'Is there something wrong?' the guard asked.

'We're looking for someone named Morris Peters.' 

'I'm sorry - never heard of him,' the guard said. 'Excuse me if you 
please, we have to get everything ready.' 

'Sure.' Mulder watched as the guard turned and walked away. This man 
looked nothing like Morris Aldham, yet at the same time there was 
something vaguely familiar about him. But the man walked about as if 
nothing was wrong and continued to do his work. 

Mulder shook his head and walked away. 

Less than an hour later the doors opened and the first concertgoers 
were let in. Within an hour the place was packed. And Mulder knew they 
were in for trouble. Big trouble.





Part Four

I can't sleep, something's all over me, Greasy, insomnia please 
release me, And let me dream about making mad love on the heath, 
Tearing off tights with my teeth.



The Concert

Mulder felt a sting in his side as he joined the group of agents 
gathered at the entrance of the concert hall. They watched as hundreds 
of people moved forward, showing their ticket and receiving a stamp 
before coming in. There was laughter and joy in the air. No one seemed 
to care about anything but the music they were about to hear. 

'Anything?' he asked in anticipation as Scully frowned and bit her lip 
the way she always did when she was nervous. She shook her head. 'This 
is hopeless. We have to get him when he gets to Laurie.'

'If he gets to Laurie.'

'She's our best shot right now. Grayson is coming over with her. She 
agreed to play the decoy.' 

Mulder felt warm in the sticky heat of the arena. The fact that the 
concert was indoors only added to the claustrophobic feeling. 

'Morris Peters didn't show up,' he finally said, taking off his 
jacket. He was still wearing a tie that he loosened with the thumb of 
his right hand. He was painfully aware of the fact his gun was in 
sight. Several concertgoers glanced at him before passing through. 
Fortunately they probably thought he was part of the security. 

'He didn't?'

'All security guards had to check in before seven. He wasn't amongst 
them.'

'Do you think he knows we're here?'

'Probably. But that won't stop him from coming. He's enjoying the game 
too much.'

'So he's probably amongst the crowd then. He could be anyone.' 

'He always took his girls from the front. Somehow he knew they were 
there. He had to be checking their habits for some time. He must have 
had details on particular habits in their lives - including the 
concerts he went to. If he's after Laurie, he must have done the same 
with her. So he knows she likes to stand near the gates in case she 
feels faint. All of his victims did that.' 

'It would make it easier for him to take them away. The safety gates 
lead straight to the emergency exits, and thus to the other 
corridors,' Scully said, glancing at the busy crowd. They all knew the 
place was going to be packed. 

Before long Laurie stood before them. Mairéad was walking beside her. 
Laurie looked very nervous. 'You're going to be fine,' Scully said 
reassuringly. 'There will be three agents near you. You'll be safe all 
the time.'

'I know,' Laurie said with a pale smile. 'Thank you for your efforts.' 

'Thank you for wanting to do this,' Mulder answered, smiling back as 
he put a hand on her shoulder. Laurie nodded and looked at the agents 
that were there to protect her. Mairéad watched as they took off in 
the crowd. Now all they could do was hope that this was the woman he 
was after. 

The concert didn't start for another hour. As the warming-up act 
started, the crowd was up and about, swinging and dancing as the band 
brought the best of them. There were still groups of people gathered 
in the lobby. Mulder walked past them and dropped his jacket off in 
the security office where all the guards were monitored. 

'Bob, have you seen Jack?' the chief officer asked. 

'Negative,' a voice responded. 'He was supposed to be here about an 
hour ago. I haven't seen him since this afternoon.' 

'Thanks. Ask the others if you will and report back to me.'

'Sure.' The voice cut off as the chief officer sighed and frowned. 

'What's wrong?' Mulder asked. 'Who's Jack?' 

'One of my regulars. I wonder where he is. It's not like him to bail 
out on us. I know his wife is pregnant but he would have called me if 
he had to go.'

'What does he look like?'

The chief officer looked surprised. 'Blonde, tall, regular guy.' 

'I've seen him,' Mulder remembered. 'We talked briefly. He showed me 
his ID. He wore glasses.'

'Jack doesn't wear glasses.' 

'Yes, he did - he -' Mulder stopped, slowly recalling the feeling he'd 
had when he spoke to 'Jack'. It wasn't so difficult to disguise 
yourself. Change the colour of your hair and get rid of the moustache, 
and you would be a completely different person. 

'What is it?' the security officer asked agitated.

'Search this place. If my hunch is correct, Jack is still here and he 
might be in trouble. Search all closed up storage facilities, booths, 
whatever -,' Mulder said, recalling very clearly the ID of the 
security guard he had spoken to before. If he was correct, Morris 
Aldham/Peters was now walking around with the ID of Jack Smyth. 

'I can't alarm the other guards without alarming the fake Jack too. 
He'll hear.'

'Can you use an alternative frequency?'

'I would still have to alert the others. There's no way.'

'Locate the guards that you trust and inform them. They'll locate him. 
We're looking for a short, blonde man wearing a fake ID. He'll most 
likely hang around the safety gates. He has a map of this arena. He 
can be anywhere.' 

Mulder rushed outside where he met Grayson, Skinner and Scully. Davis 
was coordinating the search from the other side, monitoring all the 
emergency exits. 'He's here,' Mulder said. 'He probably killed one of 
the guards and took his place. There's one man missing. Let's go.' 

Mulder pushed himself a way through the crowd, just as the main act 
started to perform. Faithless instantly started off with a bang, 
moving the fans up and about as they began a rhythmic tune. 

Scully grabbed her partner's arm, stopping him in his tracks. 'There 
are too many people here, Mulder!' she shouted over the noise. 'We'll 
never find him like this!'

'We don't need to find him. We need to find Laurie before he does!' 

'I know where she is,' Mairéad said. 'Follow me.' 

'Check all regular exits,' Skinner ordered the agents that stayed 
behind. 'Make sure that no one leaves without a thorough check-up. 
Compare every woman with the picture you have. The rest of you, come 
with me. Agent Mulder, you stay here.'

'Not on your life,' Mulder simply said. 

Mulder swayed on his feet as he pushed himself into the crowd, feeling 
too hot in the business suit, even without the jacket. His tie felt 
choking. The crowd was already swarmed with dancing people, all 
getting in the mood as the second song started and caused a shout of 
recognition and joy.

They moved through the crowd, using the safety gates as a reference 
not to get lost. They held back most of the people. Several thuds and 
thumps later, Mulder thought he couldn't go on any longer. Someone had 
hit him hard in the side, causing him to sway on his feet again. He 
could feel a sharp pain going through his side where the stitches 
reminded him that he was still wounded. 

The others followed behind him. Suddenly, as the next song started, 
Mulder got a hard push as a woman screamed that this was her favourite 
sing and jumped up and down to prove it. He turned to move back to the 
gates, and then realized he had lost the others. 

They were all gone. Scully was no longer behind him. Just a second 
before she had been right after him. He had felt her touch when she 
had put her hand on the back of his neck, as if to show him she was 
still there. He turned to find her, seeing nothing but blurry faces. 
It hadn't been a good idea to move through the crowd. He felt dizzy 
and unstable. 

Quickly he lost the tie, simply dropping it to the ground. As it 
dropped he remembered that Scully had bought it for Christmas once. A 
sting of sadness passed through his system. Then he shrugged and moved 
on.

He pushed forward again, ignoring the shouts and protests of people 
while doing so. They didn't like intruders in their carefully 
sealed-off area. They had fought hard for this privileged spot so 
close to the stage and weren't about to let go of it.

'Sorry,' he muttered several times, carefully keep his hand on his gun 
that was still strapped to his clothes. If someone noticed it, panic 
would arise and he wanted to avoid that at all cost. He didn't feel 
like causing a mortal incident.

Finally he reached the front area where the biggest fans gathered to 
wait for their band to perform. By then everything just swayed. He 
could hardly make out the faces. He grabbed onto someone, trying to 
keep on his feet.

'Get off me, drunk!' he heard a woman shout and she pushed him away. 
Her hands pushed hard in his side, and he shouted as the pain struck 
him. Then he realized he was bleeding underneath his white shirt. Damn 
it, another shirt gone to hell, he thought as he turned away from her. 

Where the hell was Scully? Why couldn't he find Skinner? And where 
were those damned gates?

Suddenly he saw a guard and realized he was closer to the gates than 
he thought. Quickly he pushed himself forward, flashing his badge to 
make way. Now they all passed and ignored him as a calmer song 
started, and excited people shouted to each other how much they 
enjoyed the concert. 

'Mulder, FBI,' he shouted against to the guard that stood behind the 
gate. The man looked at him curiously, examining him. He was 
African-American. At least one guard that couldn't be Aldham, Mulder 
thought wry. 

'Did you see this woman?' Mulder held up the photo of Laurie they had 
received before in case of emergency. He had held the photo in his 
pant's pocket. It was torn and wrinkled.

The guard first shook no, then looked curiously at the photo again and 
said, 'Two of yours - both women - picked her up and brought her to 
the emergency exit. One of my colleagues helped them over the gates 
and is bringing them to safety.' The guard pointed towards the small 
exit area created in the midst of the gates. 

Mulder felt relief, realizing that Laurie was safe by now. It was 
over. Now, all they had to do was find the fake 'Jack' and bring him 
in for justice. 

Mulder crawled over the gates, nearly losing his gun as he did. His 
shirt was soaked with blood by now. He felt the guard's eyes on him 
but ignored him. A few people stared at the weapon that was clearly 
visible, but turned their faces to the podium again, hoping not to 
miss a single thing. With the guard behind him, Mulder hurried through 
the passageway, towards the emergency exit. 

When he pushed open the door, the first thing he saw, was another 
guard that looked at them curiously. In the darkness it was difficult 
to tell who it was. He was talking to Mairéad who stood in the 
darkness, looking much more relaxed than she had done for some time.

'Agent Mulder,' she said. 'Laurie is okay. Agent Scully and AD Skinner 
brought her away.' 

Mulder nodded relieved. 'Are you okay, Agent Grayson?'

'Yeah, I'm fine. I'm just glad that she's okay. I just wish we could 
nail that bastard.' Mairéad turned her attention to him, spotting the 
blood. 'You're hurt. Are you okay?'

Mulder nodded. 'I'm fine. Let's go.' His eyes caught the guard in the 
shadows, suddenly realizing it was the same guy he had seen before. 
The badge was gone. He wasn't wearing any. And the others hadn't 
recognized him. Mairéad had brushed by him and didn't know it was 
Morris. His eyes stared deadpan at them, waiting for them to make the 
connection. For he knew they would.

Suddenly, within a few seconds, they all realized what was going on. 
The African-American guard glared curiously at the man standing in the 
shadows and said, 'wait a minute. Who -?' 

Mulder pulled out his gun, reacting already too late when the blonde 
guard got out a gun and shot his colleague. With his other hand he 
grabbed Mairéad, pulling her so close to him that she gasped for 
breath. 

His hand was inside her jacket, and dropped her gun on the floor. He 
kicked it to the far wall with the tip of his right shoe. 

Mulder aimed his gun at the killer. His fingers trembled as he tried 
to get a good shot in the darkness. But he knew he couldn't get a 
clean shot - not in the state he was in. From the corner of his eye he 
stared at the dead guard on the floor. No one had even heard the shot. 
It had been tempered by the music and noise outside. 

All help would come too late. He was dead. His eyes stared into 
nothingness. 

'Let her go, Morris,' Mulder said.

Morris Aldham smiled. 'Finally you know my real name. It was about 
time, Agent. Now, why don't you drop that gun? You know I'll enjoy 
killing her.' 

Mulder was surprised by the softness of the man's voice. Before they 
had hardly spoken. He had expected a hard voice, just as hard as the 
dead look in his eyes. Instead the man seemed to keep his head tilted 
a bit, as if he couldn't hear that well. There was nothing dangerous 
in his features, except of course for the fact he held a gun on 
Mairéad. 

'You didn't get Laurie,' Mulder said. 'Agent Grayson is not your means 
to get out of here. Not one FBI-agent in the country will allow for 
you to pursue this.'

'Laurie?' Morris smiled softly. 'Whom are you talking about?' 

Mulder stopped in his tracks as his eyes met Mairéad's. Then he knew 
she had known all along she was a possible casualty. It was written 
all over her face. Hadn't she told him she had Irish blood running in 
her veins? 

The woman swallowed as she closed her eyes and bitter tears dripped 
down her cheeks. 'My father used to call me Margaret,' she spoke 
softly. 'I'm sorry, Agent Mulder. It was the only way.' 

'She lied to you,' Morris remarked with surprise in his voice. 'You 
knew I was coming after you, didn't you?'

The woman swallowed away the lump in her throat. 'I felt it the moment 
we brushed against each other in that damned hell that you created.' 

Mulder bit his lip, angry with himself for not making the connection. 
Why hadn't he realized it? He had seen Mairéad in his dream. He had 
seen her as a victim. But he had waved it away, too busy putting his 
theory together. And Mairéad had become a willing victim in order to 
help others survive. She would become an excellent agent one day. If 
she lived to see the day. 

Morris pointed his gun at Mulder's head now, still using the female 
agent as a shield. 'It's up to you, Agent. Shoot to save yourself. 
Kill her in order to live. You know you won't get a clean shot. So why 
don't you shoot her and then me and get it over with? Just one 
casualty more or less - what the hell does it matter anymore?' 

Mairéad's scared eyes found his. He had remembered how she had done 
everything she could to help him out. She had put herself beyond and 
above the call of duty. He couldn't do this to her, not even when it 
meant being killed himself.

Suddenly the abyss leaned towards him. He had the choice between life 
and death right here and now. And he chose death above murder. 

'No,' Mulder said, lowering his gun as Mairéad tried to hold back her 
frustration. 'I'm not killing her.' 

'Fine,' Morris said, pointing his gun at the male agent. 'Have it your 
way.' 

'Don't!' Mairéad screamed, pushing herself so hard against her 
attacker that they both swung against the brick wall behind them. 
Morris shouted but didn't let go of his gun and her as the shot went 
off and hit the opposite wall. It passed Mulder's ear within an inch. 

The second shot struck the agent's shoulder, sending him hard against 
the wall. Mulder fell, dropping the gun before him as he leaned 
heavily on his knees, heaving as his exhausted body tried to gather 
its strength. 

Tremendous pain shot through his shoulder, but it wasn't as bad as the 
exhaustion that simply took over, refusing to allow him to stay on his 
feet for another second. 

Not now, Mulder prayed. Don't let it be over now. I don't want to die 
a useless death. 

Morris shouted something that he couldn't hear. Then Mulder felt a 
rough hand grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, and then he was 
shoved inside a small room, hidden behind a heavy door. They were on 
the move but Mulder was hardly aware of it. 

Someone supported him gently. This time the rough hand was gone. He 
heard Morris' voice behind him speak, and then they were inside 
another room and the doors were locked. 

Morris sighed deeply as he glared at his two hostages. The footsteps 
had sounded hard. He had known they were coming. And now his chances 
of getting out of here with her were gone. But he still had them, and 
he wasn't going to let them go. They were his ticket out. In order to 
have the woman do what he said, he had to keep the man alive for now. 
But as soon as they were outside, he would kill and dump his body. 

Then he put his attention to the woman leaning over her colleague and 
smiled as he grabbed her by the arm. 'I've waited quite some time for 
this moment, my little pearl, and now you're mine.' 





The hunt

Scully knew her partner was in trouble. His blood was all over the 
place when they rushed back after Mairéad's and Mulder's sudden 
absence. Everyone was accounted for, except for the two of them. And 
Mairéad had stayed behind to find Mulder. 

Laurie was brought home by one of the agents. The concert was coming 
to an end. Everyone was taking off. But there were guards missing. 
Scully remembered the guard with the black cap that was pulled widely 
over his eyes. She hadn't known him. And he hadn't been wearing a 
badge.

'Damn it,' she muttered under her breath, realizing she had been too 
busy minding Laurie's safety. That had been her first priority. And 
now she might have delivered her colleagues in the hands of a killer. 

She rushed back to the spot with Skinner and other agents behind her. 
The guards were making sure everyone left calmly. The place would be 
deserted soon. The search for the missing guard was still ongoing.

Blood was on the wall and floor. The traces lead to a locked door. And 
there were the guns. Mairéad's and Mulder's both lay on the floor. It 
was a token of their imprisonment. 'Does anyone have the key to this 
room?' she shouted. The chief security officer had followed them and 
used his key chain to open the door. They were in a small room. Scully 
realized she had been in the same situation before. She wasn't about 
to find Mulder in danger again. They had to move faster than that. But 
she knew she wouldn't like what she was going to find. The blood trail 
seemed to be everywhere. 

And then it just stopped. The agents looked around, trying to figure 
out where they could have gone, until Skinner discovered a small 
doorway that lead to a storage room. There the blood trail started 
again. 



The shelter

Morris laughed as the male agent moved his body. He spoke to him yet 
he seemed to be somewhere else. His shoulder wasn't even that bad. A 
through and through had caused some bleeding perhaps, but he had been 
lucky. 

Mairéad rested in Morris' hands, listening to his senseless words. Yet 
at the same time everything seemed to make sense as well. The pieces 
finally fell together. 

'I've missed you for so long,' he whispered in her ear, keeping an eye 
on Mulder who sat on the floor, leaning with his head against the 
wall. 'I knew I would find you one day though. But you shouldn't have 
messed around with Willis, darling. You knew I had a crush on you. Why 
did you fuck me and him at the same time?'

Mairéad listened in shock as Morris was dragged back to the past. 
Suddenly it didn't seem to matter anymore that there were people 
outside these doors trying to find them. Time had come to a stop and 
there was nothing else but the past, leaning heavily as a blanket over 
them all. They were forced to go back in to the past with him, and 
accept what it had brought them.

'You knew I wanted to marry you, but no - you went out and fucked him 
instead, and left me alone in the darkness. But I gave you your 
darkness too, didn't I? I punished you for what you did, and left 
pieces of you all scattered all over the country. You guided me to 
find you again and now that I have, you will be mine forever.'

She looked straight into his eyes and her look seemed very confident 
when she smiled. 'You're right,' she said. 'I have been denying it, 
but here I am. You can do whatever you want with me.' 

His eyes changed as she willingly took her place into the past. 'You 
won't fight me anymore?'

'I won't.' 

He kissed her. His tongue was on her lips and inside of her mouth and 
he grabbed her so tight that she could feel the barrel of the gun 
sticking in her back. If he moved his finger now, the gun would go 
off. She let him kiss her. She closed her eyes and accepted what he 
wanted to do with her. There was more to consider than reality. There 
was more to do than protect her own life. She was responsible for 
Mulder's condition. She had to get him out of here. 

She stopped him. 'They'll be here soon. You have to tell them that you 
want us to leave. But leave Agent Mulder here. He's hurt. He won't do 
you any good.' 

Morris let go of her. 'I'm going to kill him. He tried to stop us.' 

'He's not worth it. If you kill him now, you'll get everyone to come 
after us,' she said softly and sensual. 'I'll come with you, I swear. 
But you have to leave him behind.'

'No.' Morris said, aiming his gun at the agent's head. Mairéad shoved 
him hard. With one hard kick he sent her against the far wall where 
she hit her head and dropped like a log. She was out like a light. 
Mulder moved from his position, crawling towards her. 

Morris laughed out loud, looking at the agent crawling on the floor on 
all fours. Was this the FBI-agent that had tracked him down? He was 
nothing but a scrubby man, someone who didn't look like he was able to 
think straight. He seemed like a madman, the way he crawled there 
pathetically. 

The killer kicked him in the ribs with the tip of his shoe, sending 
the agent rolling on the floor. Mulder moaned as he rolled on his back 
and again on his belly, biting the dust. His shoulder was burning like 
hell. His body seemed to be at the end of its rope. He shook his head 
softly, trying to gather his thoughts. 

He ended up on his back again, trying to focus on reality. He needed 
to stay awake. If he didn't, it would all be over. Mairéad would die. 
 

'No,' Mulder moaned, protecting his ribs as he tried to get up. 'Leave 
her alone -' 'Not on your life,' Morris said, walking slowly towards 
the agent, making circles around his body. 'She's a bitch, just like 
Megan was. I know now that I'm meant to do this. I'm chosen to kill 
women like her. All they do is lie and cheat and feed us what we want 
to hear.' 

'You're a coward, Morris,' Mulder said, opening his eyes slowly. 'You 
feed on innocent women because you can't stand it that you killed the 
one you loved. You're nothing more than a pathetic bastard. Mairéad's 
done nothing to you. None of them have. You pick them out on looks. 
You think you control life and death. But you're nothing more than a 
coward and a loser.' 

Morris turned towards Mairéad who lay on the floor. 'I'll show you 
what a loser I am,' he said, turning his back towards Mulder. 'I'll 
kill her before your eyes and you'll stay alive with the knowledge it 
was your words that drove me to it.' 

The moment Morris turned his back towards the agent and attempted to 
kneel down beside Mairéad; a shot went off, striking Morris Aldham in 
the side. Morris' surprised glance was turned down as he spotted the 
trickle of blood that slowly became a pool. And then it just poured 
out. 

Morris turned and saw the strapped ankle holster, now visible. And he 
saw the small handgun in Mulder's hand. Morris mumbled something, the 
gun still in his hand. A second shot filled the room. Morris fell flat 
forward, his hand stretched out and finally losing the gun. 

Mulder sighed deeply as he stared at the man's dead eyes. Mairéad's 
eyes opened. The female agent seemed out of it. The back of her head 
bled where she had hit the wall. Her eyes caught Morris' body. Then 
she stared at Mulder. 

They both felt the same regret.






Safety

'Mulder,' Scully said, hurrying towards her partner who sat with his 
back against the wall again, awaiting their next moves. At first he 
hardly seemed to notice her. His eyes sought out Mairéad's. She seemed 
fine on the outside, but he knew she needed mending on the inside. 

Then he looked up curiously to see who was touching him. His partner 
held her fingers against his throat to check his pulse. She frowned 
when she saw the damaged shoulder and the bloody shirt. From the 
corner of her eye she saw that Mairéad was talking to Davis. Someone 
took a look at the back of her head. She was cared for. 

'Hey ... Scully,' her partner said with a faint smile. 'Fancy seeing 
you here.' 'You're delirious, Mulder. What the hell have you done to 
yourself?' 'Me?' he said with a grin, 'nothing. I'm fine, can't you 
tell?' 'Like hell you are,' she said. 

'How did you find us?' 'That wasn't so difficult. We just had to 
follow the blood trail you left behind. If I didn't know better, I 
would say he was trying to lead us to his shelter this time.' 

'I think he was,' Mulder said softly. 'He wanted it to be over with.' 
Scully thought her answer over for a second and then smiled to 
reassure her partner. 'I guess so.' 

Mulder's eyes drooped as she worked on stopping the bleeding. He bit 
his lip in pain when her experienced hands moved. He had been shot on 
exactly the same spot she had shot him so long ago. She knew he would 
heal quickly. 

But his reactions worried her. 'Stay with me, partner,' she said. 
'Don't pass out on me now.'

She glanced behind her to find Skinner's worried look. But Mulder's 
eyes closed as if they were finally allowed to do so. He slid aside, 
losing his balance against the wall, and slumped slightly forward, 
into her arms. 

Skinner helped her to put her partner on the floor in a more 
comfortable position. Frantically she felt Mulder's pulse again. Then 
she looked at Skinner and Mairéad in surprise, as she said, 'He's 
asleep.' 

'You mean passed out,' Mairéad said. 

'No. I mean asleep.' As if to support her words, Mulder opened his 
eyes briefly, glanced at them, mumbled something, and closed his 
eyelids again, trying to slide on his side as if to take a nap. 

Scully remembered what Mulder had said before. Once I get this case 
solved, I'll be allowed to sleep. Somehow, he managed to do just that. 
After nights of sleeplessness, his body was finally resting. 

How he did that, kept on surprising her. 



Sleep



Mulder slept for over twenty-four hours before finally opening his 
eyes, wondering where in the world he was. He wasn't so happy that he 
woke up in a hospital though. Scully found him arguing with the doctor 
over it. 

They both had to convince her partner he had been shot and had managed 
to rip open the stitches to his side again. This time Skinner and 
Scully were not as easy as they had been before. There was no way out 
of a recovery period. 

That, Mulder had to find out for himself when he was ordered to stay 
for at least three days. Despite his protests - proving to Scully he 
was fully alert and feeling much better - he was ordered the rest by 
Skinner, and he knew his boss would live up to his promise. 

And so he slept. 



Concluding

'Did you know that this band - Faithless - has a song called 
'Insomnia', Mulder?' Scully asked as she put the roses sent by the 
security guards in a vase. 

'Yeah, I do,' Mulder said. 'Why?' 'I don't know. It kind of suits you 
right now. You couldn't get any sleep. Basically, you do realize that 
you have made an X-File out of this case?' 'Because of my dreams?'

'Because of the fact you wouldn't sleep, not even drugged and filled 
up with medication. That in itself is an X-File.' 

'We've seen cases before where people were having trouble sleeping,' 
Mulder said. 'There were medical reasons for that - unnatural causes. 
I cannot explain why I wasn't able to sleep during this time. I just 
know that somehow I was connected to this case. Perhaps, in a way, my 
mind was preparing for this case - already going into that world 
Morris had created. I don't know how else to explain it.'

The day before, Scully had told him that the real Jack Smyth had been 
found badly wounded in a small storage facility near the lobby of the 
arena, stabbed in the back with a sharp object. But he survived. He 
had lost a pile of blood, but at least he was able to pull through. At 
least there was one survivor out of this ordeal.

Mairéad had not been admitted to the hospital. She had needed stitches 
and had been thoroughly checked but except for a bad headache, she was 
fine. Mulder wondered why she hadn't come to see him though. He had 
wanted to talk to her about the events, but she had radically refused 
to do so.

Scully sat down on the side of the bed. 'Do you know that Mairéad has 
given her resignation?'

'What?' Mulder said. 'You're kidding me.'

'Don't worry. Davis refused to accept it. She's going to talk to an 
FBI-counsellor about this case. I guess she learned the hard way that 
an FBI-agent's first task is to keep herself and her colleagues out of 
harm's ways.' 

'She did just that,' Mulder objected. 

'She should have told us her suspicions. She jeopardized you and 
herself.'

'Doesn't anyone of us do that, every single day, Scully?' her partner 
asked. 'Let's be honest. Every time we go out on the streets, we know 
that it can be over. I encourage her for trying to find her own way. 
She knew instinctively that she was a potential victim. She crawled 
inside Morris' head and wasn't afraid to face the danger. She's going 
to be an excellent profiler.' 

'Are you planning on mentoring her?'

Mulder sighed. It was a discussion he didn't want to have. 'I don't 
belong to the VCS.'

'But next time Davis asks you, you're going to be there again. You 
can't say no to these cases, can you?'

Mulder looked at her seriously, realizing she was afraid that he would 
leave her and The X-Files some day. 'I can't say no,' he said slowly, 
'because it's a part of who I am. Scully, I studied psychology because 
I knew that some day I would be doing this line of work. If Samantha 
hadn't been there ... I guess I wouldn't have worked on The X-Files in 
the first place. But she was there, and I don't regret my decision. I 
just want to find a way of combining my work. I know I have a value 
here. I can't just turn my back towards it.'

Scully looked sad, yet at the same time there was a pride in her eyes 
he hadn't seen before. He grabbed her hand. 'I'm not leaving you,' he 
said forcefully. 

She smiled and touched his face. 'I know. I'm just afraid that one day 
I won't be visiting you at a hospital anymore, but at a morgue, 
staring down on your body. I can't bear it if that should happen. I 
can't go on without you.'

'I promise you here and now that will never happen,' he said. 'I 
cannot guarantee it, but I'll try. Don't ask for anything more. And 
please don't ask me to make a choice.'

'I'm not,' she said as she kissed him. 

He smiled. 'Now then, when are you going to let me out of here?'

She laughed and waved her finger like a schoolteacher would. 'Don't 
push your luck, buster.' 



Insomnia

They were pleased about her. They didn't hold the events in New York 
against her. Mairéad realized that the moment Davis called her up and 
told her she was getting a new case. This time she would be the main 
profiler. She would still be able to count on the support of her more 
experienced colleagues, but they were certain she could handle it. 

She didn't sleep that night. She kept on revisiting that night, with 
Mulder's life in her hands. She knew she could not change the past. 
She could only work on her future. 

And when she got to work the next morning, she was setting up the 
profile, putting the pieces together as if she had never done anything 
else. She had learned from the best after all.

She found their killer. She found the victims. And she became good at 
her job. The next case was already lining up.

But at night, she found herself staring into the abyss, realizing 
there was merely a thin line between sanity and insanity. She didn't 
know where to draw the border between what was right and wrong 
anymore. She found herself distrusting everyone. She sold her house in 
Miami and moved back to New York.

She didn't want to walk that line between good and wrong. Yet at the 
same time she knew she was already doing it. She couldn't stop 
herself.  

She looked into the abyss. And there was no one to drag her out. 

She dreamt of the kiss she had shared with Morris when she was trying 
to get them out of that room in one piece. She dreamt that he was 
still alive and near her. In her next dream he was strangling her. And 
his mind and thoughts was passing on to her. She had become him and he 
had become her. 

She woke up startled from those dreams. She looked at her hands and 
noticed there were still in one piece. He hadn't cut them off and left 
pieces of her body all over the globe. 

During the days she saved people. During the nights she killed them. 

One day she would contact Mulder and tell him about it. He would 
understand. But she wouldn't do that just now. Right now she had to 
deal with her past and present. She would have to cope with the 
future. 

And she knew she could only count on herself in this hard, cruel 
world.  



- The End -



-- 

Happy is the heart of him who writes; he is young each day." -- 
Ptahotpe, c. 2350 B.C.

Find San's Columns and The X-Files at http://www.sv-tales.com 

Nooooo Chris, Mulder LIVES!