I've been warned this one may need to carry an ick warning for grossness, so consider yourself warned. Disclaimer: These characters belong to Chris Carter, 10-13, and Fox, not me, I'm just doing this for fun. Mayhem by eponine119 eponine119@att.net Her face was the face of an angel, untouched, unlined, serene in her repose. Her features could have been carved from white marble by the hands of the finest Italian sculptor in his quest to reach God. Blood and other bits of tissue stained nearly everything else in the room. Putrid organs were strewn haphazardly among the pom-poms and prom pictures. Mulder felt his stomach heave and had to turn away. Scully leaned in for a closer look, her latex covered fingers gently probing through what had once been flesh and muscle. But no bones. Her forehead creased in a frown as she looked again, this time searching for shards, granules, anything. She felt Mulder's presence as he returned to stand behind her. Finally Scully located an unscathed string of vertebrae. She could hear Mulder's breath, concentratedly even, behind her and knew that he was waiting to hear her opinion. She released the bones back into the mess and they clung together. The coroner's boys were outside waiting to transport what was left of the body to the local morgue where she would later attempt to do an autopsy. Looks like someone beat me to it, she thought, scanning the room as she got to her feet and peeled back her sodden gloves. Mulder met her eyes, solemn, his mouth pinched. "Most of the bones are missing," she reported as though it were a trivial matter, a hint of weariness in her tone all the betrayed how disturbed by this murder she really was. "The incisions are incredibly precise. Frankly, Mulder, I've never seen anything like it." "She was killed here," Mulder stated, a fact for her to agree with or dispute. Scully's eyes darted around the room's corners again, taking in the blood on the pink flowered wallpaper and the ceiling. "I'd say so," she agreed. Mulder pressed his lips together and nodded grimly. "What is it?" Scully asked. Something beyond the violence of the scene was on his mind, she thought. "Her parents didn't hear anything," he said. Scully's eyes widened slightly, surprised. "Not one sound." "Mulder, that's impossible," Scully said, words she'd uttered so many times they had all but lost their meaning to her. Nothing was truly impossible. Mulder's eyes were dark and burning as he stared down at the girl's perfect, lovely face. "Look at her, Scully," he said. His voice sounded strange so she looked at him instead. "Look," he ordered and Scully forced herself to look into the victim's face. "She didn't feel a thing." This time Scully held the slide show. It was almost always Mulder who shut off the lights in their office and subjected her to transparencies of people who had been living only days before. People whose lives had been lost to countless creatures and sickos whose histories filled several file cabinets on the other side of the room. Scully herself had a file in one of those cabinets. This was not a task she relished. "Alyssa MacFarlane, age seventeen," Scully said, not looking at the image of the happy dark haired honors student that was projected onto the screen. Now she understood Mulder's deadpan delivery of the facts. Information without emotion. She was doing it herself. "Cheerleader, student government, honors society, no enemies. Her mother received an acceptance letter from Stanford in the mail this morning." She glanced at her partner, who was looking unblinking at the scene. What was he thinking? she wondered, trying to remember how she felt when faced with images of victims. Feeling had nothing to do with it, she recalled, she was always searching for clues in the slides. She clicked the button and the slide changed. Upside down, it was a photo of the crime scene they had left not six hours earlier. Scully dug the slide out of the tray and reinserted it the proper way. She let it remain on the screen a moment and then clicked to the next slide, one she'd taken herself. Autopsy photos. She tried to find words to explain the shot, of flesh split open and saturated with blood. The image, not even recognizable as human, drew her in and she stared at it, almost mesmerized by the pattern of color. The room went dark and she jumped as though waking. An instant later, the lights came on. "This isn't telling me anything, Scully," Mulder said impatiently. She faced him. "It confirms what I said at the crime scene - the cuts are finer than I've ever seen. Bone was sliced away, accurately and apparently silently, and then removed from the scene." She met his eyes. "I don't know how they did it, Mulder. The precision is greater than that achieved by lasers and obviously no one brought a laser into that girl's bedroom." "I don't care about how, Scully," Mulder said. "I just want to know why, and how to keep it from happening again." His eyes lingered on her for a silent moment, softening slightly. Something was going on in his head, Scully thought. It would only be a moment now before he offered up some sort of theory. The phone rang and she felt a stab of disappointment. She wanted Mulder to pull his Spooky routine, extract a tiny detail she'd missed that would make the entire case fall neatly into place. It would not bother her a bit if this case was solved quickly. Something about it that she couldn't place her finger on turned her iron stomach. "All right," Mulder said into the phone and replaced the receiver. "There's been another killing," he said. Scully nodded. She'd expected as much. "In Oregon," he said. "What?" Scully got to her feet. "Same m.o?" Mulder nodded. "He's not local, then," she said. "Or there's more than one killer," Mulder said ominously. End of part one. =========================================================================== From: eponine119@att.net (eponine119 ) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW:Mayhem 2/9 Date: 23 Mar 1996 09:10:18 GMT Disclaimed in part one. Mayhem, part 2 by eponine119 eponine119@att.net Scully stared out of the airplane window into the darkness. She sighed lightly and pressed her head against the cool glass, too exhausted even to yawn. She glanced over at Mulder. His eyes were closed. She hoped he was sleeping. Because it didn't look like she would get any rest. They'd be at the airport in another thirty minutes, then the drive to the crime scene, the investigation, the autopsy - she couldn't see being finished before nine a.m. This case left no time to rest. She wondered again why it bothered her so much. Compared to other things she'd seen, this was nothing. She reached for the file and opened it. Just a general feeling of dis-ease, she thought, no doubt because she hadn't slept and because of the nightmare. She remembered awakening in the middle of the night and seeing a shadowy form standing at the foot of her bed. Watching her. She'd been afraid, too afraid to move, even to reach for her gun, so she'd lain there for what felt like a long time. The next thing she knew, the alarm went off and she awoke feeling she hadn't slept at all. So it had been a dream, but one that cast an extra pall of creepiness over the day's events. Dismissing it from her thoughts, she flicked open the file. Their victim was Elisabeth King, a twenty three year old, recent college graduate with a B.A. in physics. She'd been headed to MIT in the fall. Scully looked at the photograph. Young, healthy and beautiful as well as intelligent. The police were holding the boyfriend, who had discovered the body nearly twelve hours ago when he returned home from his graveyard shift job. She looked up from the file. Mulder said it was the same m.o. as the killing in Virginia. That was bound to be a lovely scene, she thought, especially if it had been left sitting, awaiting their arrival. For a moment, she felt strongly for the woman's boyfriend and family - to them it would seem a travesty to leave the body as it had been left by the killer. But she also hoped she wouldn't have to cope with the aftereffects of an amateurish locally performed autopsy. So full of yourself, Dana, she scolded herself mentally. But she couldn't discount the number of times vital evidence had been lost of ignored by local law enforcement. Or covered up. The thought settled in her brain. Mulder hadn't suggested alien involvement yet, even though the case resembled other cases of animal mutilations she'd read about. Of course, by now, Mulder didn't have to suggest aliens to her - she assumed it was his explanation. She looked at her partner again, a small smile relaxing her intense frown as she studied his face, smooth in sleep. For a loner, she thought, he had a lot of friends in odd places. Scully couldn't think of anyone at all who would go out on a limb to get her information. They needed each other's expertise. It was a good partnership. The seat belt sign let out a small beep as it lit up in above the aisle. Scully checked her watch. It was still nearly twenty five minutes before they would reach the airport. Her own belt was still fastened, but Mulder's wasn't. She should wake him, she thought, but didn't really want to disturb his sleep. So she watched him a moment longer, wondering what she should do. Should she just reach over and fasten the belt herself? Then the plane jolted and dropped suddenly, hitting a pocket of turbulence. She grabbed the arms of her seat, a panic reflex. Mulder's eyes opened slowly, clear and innocent as a child's and he looked at her for a long second before raising his eyebrow at her. "Are we there yet?" "Soon," she replied. "Seat belt light just came on." Mulder squirmed in his seat, locating the belt. He fastened it across his hips, then turned to her with a crooked, sleepy grin that made her feel warm inside. "So that's what that look was for." Scully refused to confirm or deny, her mysterious smile all the answer he was going to get. It was enough. He reached out and brushed a lock of hair out of her face so he could see her, his fingers skimming across her skin as lightly as a kiss. "You look tired, did you get some sleep?" he asked, his voice low, his eyes intense on her. She shook her head. His eyes continued to burn into hers for a second and he gave her a brief smile before he turned and leaned out into the aisle, signaling the stewardess. She rushed up to him immediately and Scully his her smirk. The woman had stopped by twice to give Mulder extra peanuts at the beginning of the flight. Scully figured he'd gone to sleep to avoid her. "Two coffees," he said to her and she went meekly on her way. Scully couldn't argue with his manner - the coffee was probably the only thing that would see her through the next hours. Turbulence jostled them again. He turned to her, a new light shining in his eyes. She saw it at the beginning of every case - the determination to solve things quickly and perfectly. "The roller coaster begins," he said. He wasn't far wrong - the melee of landing, orienting themselves and getting to the crime scene was hectic, as was his driving. Scully was too weary to even complain about his recklessness. She just closed her eyes and held on. Entry to the apartment building was guarded. "The coroner said he'd keep this one on ice for you, ma'am," the young officer told Scully when she flashed her badge at him. "I think he just didn't wanna deal with it himself." "Thank you," Scully said blandly and hurried after Mulder, whose long strides quickly closed the distance to the back apartment. Two officers sat just the other side of the police tape, playing cards. They barely glanced up when Mulder made his entry. "Mulder, FBI," he snapped open his badge, but neither of the men looked up from their game. He waited. A card was thrown down, then another. Both were scooped up. War. Mulder stared at them, angry. Slap. Slap. Mulder grabbed the cards and held them. The officers looked up at him then, barely interested. "Mulder. FBI." he repeated, unable to keep the hostility out of his voice. "We know," said the younger of the two officers, who still looked to be about a decade older than Mulder. "Did you dust the place?" Mulder asked, and saw Scully approaching through the open door. "Yep." Mulder waited, but there was no more. "Did you find anything?" "The deceased and her boyfriend, that's all," the older man got to his feet. "We're just babysittin' the scene till you got here - 'at's about all we're good for, right, Fed?" he asked, his tone light but the squint to his eye was bitter. Mulder held his gaze for a moment, asserting himself, before he threw the pair of cards to the floor. "I'll take it from here," he said coldly. The officers retrieved their cards and left. "What was that?" Scully asked from the doorway. "The ever-helpful local law enforcement," Mulder answered and turned away to get to work. The local FBI's absence was a sign. This was an X File and not worth the manhours. Scully joined Mulder. The apartment was untouched, save for the bedroom. Even there, there was no sign of a struggle or forced entry. Mulder walked over and looked out the window. Scully shot him a questioning look. "Bushes about four feet thick. And the window's still locked," he replied and looked at her. "Locked door mystery," she said and took in the room." There were no body parts or flags to indicate that there had been some that were removed. No spattered blood. "Looks like this is all we've got," Scully said. "Mmm," Mulder murmured in agreement. They approached the bed from different angles and stood, looking down at it. The sheet was wrinkled, but the outline of the body was distinctly painted in blood where the sheet had settled, presumably over the butchered body. "Killed elsewhere," Scully ventured. "I don't think so," Mulder said and ripped back the sheet. The mattress was completely soaked. He crouched down and looked under the bed, rising with blood on his fingers, which he held up to show her. "Soaked through." Scully nodded, taking in the puzzle. "She was killed here, in the bed, without dirtying the top sheet until after the act was committed." She glanced around, and up. No blood on the walls or the ceiling. "Mulder, this is insane." He raised his eyebrows in agreement. "Locked door, no prints. Not much to be learned here." "The body's all we have to go on." Mulder's eyes focused on her as he tossed the sheet back over the dried bed. They both looked at it, then he turned to her. "I'll question the boyfriend. You want to come? I doubt he'll have much to add." "You don't think he did it?" "Do you?" "No," Scully replied after a pause. "But I'll come along - you never know. The victims being slaughtered in their beds may have some sexual connotation." "So you think the cases are related?" Mulder caught her. "I'll have to see the body." she hedged. "Right," he said, putting his hand at the small of her back to escort her out. "Let's go." End of part two. =========================================================================== From: eponine119@att.net (eponine119 ) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Mayhem 3/9 Date: 23 Mar 1996 09:10:55 GMT Disclaimed in part one. Mayhem, part 3 by eponine119 eponine119@att.net The victim's boyfriend - Martin Scott - looked terrible. His face was ashen and his eyes were shadowed, staring blankly. Scully put her hand on Mulder's arm to get his attention. He leaned in closer to her and she whispered, "He's in shock." Mulder turned his head and his eyes pierced her as though she'd said something completely insensitive. "Wouldn't you be?" She didn't answer. This case was affecting him as much as it was her. All the more reason to solve it quickly. He walked into the room and sat down at the metal table, facing the suspect. Scully hung back, watching. Mulder had some idea what was going on here that he wasn't sharing, she could sense it. She waited to see how he would handle this. Mulder didn't speak. He watched the man's reaction as time elapsed. His eyes darted nervously around away, bouncing around the room. He fidgeted. He began to shake under Mulder's still gaze, but remained silent. Scully drew closer, watching Mulder. He was doing this purposely, but to what end? Martin Scott grew more agitated. This was cruel; she opened her mouth to intervene. Mulder's voice was incredibly gentle when he finally spoke. "I'm Fox Mulder, with the FBI. I need to ask you about Elisabeth." The man's nervous movements ceased. "I didn't kill her," he offered. Scully's gaze remained on Mulder. He didn't look at her. "I know," he said after a pause. The man twitched, still nervous about something. She didn't think he'd committed the murder, but he was obviously hiding something. And Mulder, for some reason, wasn't pressing him for it. The man looked close to a breakdown. She couldn't let this continue this way. "But you know something, don't you?" Scully asked, approaching. Both men looked at her sharply. "You were the one who discovered her body." Martin Scott was now staring at her instead of Mulder, but he didn't answer. "What did you see that you aren't telling us about?" Panic flickered through the man's dark eyes. She was on the right track. "What did you see?" she demanded. "Scully," Mulder shouted at her and she stopped, glaring at him. He returned her furious look. She widened her eyes in silent communication - you weren't doing anything! The man's head dropped to the tale and he began weeping desperately. Mulder watched Scully turn away uncaringly and it incited anger within him. He seized her arm and puled her out of the interrogation room into the bright hallway. He allowed a pair of uniformed police officers to pass before he turned to her. "That man is a victim of this crime, just as surely as if -" he began in a barely controlled whisper. "He also knows something, Mulder. Something he doesn't want to tell us, and it's our responsibility to find out what it is. So that -" "There is no reason to push that man into a nervous breakdown." Mulder informed her, coldness covering his anger. "He's heading for a breakdown anyway, Mulder, and we have to find out what he knows before he reaches that point," Scully said calmly. "You are victimizing him again with your insensitive interrogation," Mulder informed her. His tone softened as he tried to make her understand. "He just lost someone he loved, and he was the one to discover her body. He has the right to mourn that loss." Scully was startled to realize Mulder identified with the suspect and that was why he was going easy on him. She wondered, not for the first time, how it had been for him after his sister's disappearance. Had he, as he said, been 'revictimized' during questioning? She touched his arm sympathetically, needed to share the contact with his body. She forced herself to speak softly. "We need to know what he knows or more people will die." "Let me handle it," he insisted roughly. She nodded without speaking, holding his eyes with hers, trying to let him know that she understood. "I'll go and do the autopsy," she said. "I'll see you back at the motel." "No," Mulder said, "I need to see the body. This shouldn't take long, so I'll see you there in an hour or so." "Fine," Scully agreed and Mulder went back into the interrogation room. The door closed soundly between them. She looked in through the window and saw Mulder kneel down next to the man's chair. A moment later, Martin Scott raised his head from the table. Maybe he was right, Scully thought, turning away, hoping the body would tell her something she could use. Scully didn't hear the door to the room open. She was replaying one the audio tape she'd made her notes on while performing the autopsy and scribbling down longhand notes from it. Mulder held the door open, looking at her back and the way her hair strayed from her ponytail. He listened to her voice, steady and rhythmical coming from the tape, using words he only vaguely understood, her tone flat and practical. He let the door slam. She jumped and looked at him. "Back to the door?" he said. "I'm not as paranoid as you," she said, quickly shutting off the tape and rising to her feet, shifting her attention to him. "What did the boyfriend say?" Mulder didn't answer her question. He walked over to the body and looked down at it, his face twisting in disgust. "How much of this did you do?" he asked, gesturing. "Not much." His eye glided up to her face. "Cause of death?" "Besides having nearly all of her bone tissue removed?" Scully replied. He moved cautiously around the table. Scully watched him. She remembered her hair was pulled back and reached up to remove the rubber band, rubbing her stiff neck. Mulder looked up and caught her. She dropped her hand. "May I?" he asked. "What?" she asked, feeling jumpy with his eyes on her that way. He nodded to the corpse. She relaxed. "Go ahead," she said, "I'm through. I was just writing up my notes." He pulled on rubber gloves and gingerly parted the mutilated flesh, noting the clean, precise incision. "What could have done this, Scully?" he asked without looking up. "I don't know," she stated and he looked at her in surprise. "Nothing I've ever encountered." Mulder nodded, continuing his survey of the corpse. He stopped when he got to the head, which was again untouched. "Not human," he said and looked up, meeting her eyes. "I was thinking more along the lines of secret human defense or weapons technology," Scully said, as was expected. Mulder shook his head. "Why take the bones?" She clenched her jaw and her eyes turned cynical. "To show that they can." "To show who, Scully?" Mulder asked earnestly. "The press coverage on this has been nil. The only place you'll read about this is the Midnight Inquisitor." "Inquisitive minds want to know," Scully said dryly. "I don't know, Mulder. I don't have any of the answers." Her frustration bled through in her tone. "But I'm certain that whoever's running these tests will relay the results to their intended source. What did the boyfriend say?" Mulder returned his attention to the corpse. "Mulder," Scully said. He ignored her, moving around the table again, his mind working in its mysterious ways. "What did he say that you don't want to tell me? Mulder?" "He felt a presence," Mulder said. "A presence? What kind of presence?" "And he saw a light," Mulder told her. "A light," Scully said, disappointed. Mulder wouldn't meet her eyes. She pursed her lips and returned to the desk where she'd been working. With a little more force than was necessary, she threw her assorted items into her satchel and shouldered it. Mulder's eyes were on her again, as though he was waiting for this to escalate into a full tantrum. Her eyes slid away from his and she started determinedly for the door. "Scully, wait up!" Mulder called, stripping off his rubber gloves and jogging after her. "I can't help what he saw." "The man was in shock. He'd been detained for almost fourteen hours. He doesn't know what he saw." "He would have told you the same thing," Mulder cut to the heart of her argument. "I doubt that, Mulder," she said and increased her pace. He let her go, proceeding to his own rental car. She can't believe, he reminded himself gently, and it did allay his urge to throttle her. End of part three. =========================================================================== From: eponine119@att.net (eponine119 ) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Mayhem 4/9 Date: 23 Mar 1996 09:11:31 GMT Disclaimed in part one Mayhem part 4 by eponine119 eponine119@att.net Scully was aware of Mulder's rental car following her back to the motel, never coming closer than half a block. She heard him enter his neighboring motel room only moments after she entered her own room and she considered going next door to apologize. Martin Scott had seen what he'd seen. Nothing would have changed that. But sometimes, a light was just a light. She opened her bag and began to pull out her notes, to go over than and finish up. That was when she noticed the clock. No wonder it felt so good to sit down on a nice, soft bed - it was nearly seven a.m. She replaced the recorder and her notebook in her bag. She could finish the reports in a few hours, after she got a little sleep. She glanced toward the bathroom but decided she was too tired to move from the bed. She turned off the light and heard the soft sounds of the television coming through the wall from Mulder's room. A moment later, she was asleep. It is dark. She stands in some sort of an open gathering place - she can't think of the word for it, it is a large area of cement. There are buildings on either side, of modest size and modern architecture. Between them, in front of her, is nothing but vast open space. Two teenage boys are rollerblading around her, doing tricks and laughing. The wind is blowing. Where's Mulder? Scully doesn't look for him. The worry in her chest tells her that he is not nearby. The scrape of the rollerblade wheels stops. The wind stops. In the stillness, because of the stillness, Scully looks up. She hears the two boys hurriedly skate away, but she does not move. She is mesmerized by what she sees. Skipping around in the darkness of the night sky is an object, one that Scully recognizes. The sky begins to lighten around the object as it dances and whirls. Scully isn't afraid. Her mouth drops open as she watches the UFO in wonder. She thinks: it looks just like the UFO from Mulder's 'I want to believe' poster. But she is not afraid. It begins to fly in, closer. The sound of a ringing phone flung Scully out of sleep, her eyes wide open, her heart pounding in terror. The phone rang again and she realized it was on the other side of the wall, in Mulder's room. Scully's hands were shaking slightly as she reached over to turn on the light and she stared at the clock. It was nine a.m. She'd been asleep for two hours. It didn't feel like two hours. It felt like five minutes, just long enough to have the dream she refused to think about. But there was one thought she couldn't keep from creeping into her brain. If you're asleep and you lose time, how do you know? There was a harsh knock at the door and Scully jumped out of bed. "Scully, it's me," called Mulder. She fumbled with the lock and finally managed to open it. She was still shaky from the nightmare. Mulder's eyes scanned her face. "Scully, what is it?" he asked. "Nothing," she said and heard the high breathlessness in her voice. "Bad dream. That's all. What's going on?" She met his eyes and knew. "Another murder. Our flight is in half an hour." "Where are we going?" she asked. "Wisconsin." Mulder was making notes. Scully was making notes. the flight attendant hesitated a moment before she interrupted them to ask, "Would you care for a beverage?" "Coffee," Mulder and Scully said at the same times, without looking up. The flight attendant smiled as she moved away. The two agents also exchanged an amused smile. "What're you working on?" Scully asked, looking down at Mulder's notes. "Profile," he answered, putting down his pen. "The killer must need the bone for something. There must be a reason why the head and face are left untouched." "Any ideas?" Scully asked. "I did better with a profile of the victims. The killer knows what he likes." "He?" Scully asked. "You know that nearly all premeditated violent homicides are committed by men. Superior size and strength may be a factor in the method of killing, paired with the victims being killed in bed and -" "I see," said Scully, cutting off his repetition of facts she knew. "Can I look at your autopsy notes when you're done?" asked Mulder. Scully nodded. "The killer has an affinity for young, single, healthy, intelligent women." Mulder said. "Isn't that what all men are looking for?" Scully asked dryly. "I have all the specifics here - the victims match as though they'd been selected from a computer on the basis of their qualities." Mulder slid a page filled with scrawl over to her. "This latest victim in Wisconsin, Susan Small, also fits into the pattern." Scully looked down at the page, skimming over the information. Mulder was right. For some reason, it made her think of her nightmare and a chill went down her spine but she ignored it as superstitious nonsense. "What none of this explains is the distance and the disparity of the locations of the killings," Scully said, dismissing Mulder's characterization of the victims to try to feel like she had some control over this situation, to quell the unexplainable fear she felt lurking within her. "If they were all committed by the same man, there should be some sort of a paper trail." "I put a man on it this morning," Mulder said. Scully didn't know why she was surprised. "It also means he's got to be as tired as we are. Maybe this time he's slipped up," she said. Mulder nodded, but they both knew that possibility was highly unlikely. "The other thing is," he said, "This town in Wisconsin has made quite a name for itself in the last few years as a UFO hotspot." Another chill went through Scully's body. This one she had a harder time ignoring. "This is different, Mulder," Scully said. "I don't like this." He nodded, turning from his supervision of the fingerprinting of the bedroom. "There's no blood and no mess." "He's getting better with practice." "Except." Scully said and pulled the coroner's sheet all the way up, exposing the victim's head. "Uh," Mulder ejected as his stomach heaved. He had to turn away. Scully neatly replaced the sheet and followed him to the other side of the room, feeling an unsettling twinge herself. As though this might happen to her. "The bone has been stripped way," she said, "And she wasn't killed here. He's changed his method, Mulder, and I don't like it." "She wasn't killed here?" Mulder echoed. "Aside from the door being splintered in, no, Mulder, there's no sign that -" "Her father kicked in the door. It was locked from the inside." Mulder said. "Have you interviewed him?" "Yes. He said that she'd just gone into the room and he saw a bright light coming from underneath the door, accompanied by heat. He thought it might be a fire, so he broke down the door. And found her." "You believe that story?" Scully asked incredulously. "The other family members back it up." Scully's voice retrained its skeptical edge. "She was in the room all of, what, two minutes? If that? That's not long enough for someone to have removed the victim, slaughtered her, and returned her." "Exactly what I thought, Scully." Mulder said. "So what are you saying, Mulder that a calcium deficient alien being caused a - a rift in time or something in order to kill this girl?" she demanded. He didn't say anything. Scully stared at him, hard, for a long moment before he looked away. She rolled her eyes. "Agent Mulder?" a small voice came from behind them. Both agents turned to see a tiny, haggard-looking woman in a housedress looking up at them, her eyes pained. "Mrs. Small," Mulder said, his voice soft. "What can we do for you?" The victim's mother looked Scully over before speaking directly to Mulder. "I couldn't help overhearing you and -" "I'm sorry if we disturbed you," Mulder said. Scully looked up at him, a little surprised. "I have some information - we didn't mention it before, to the police, because it seemed silly, but..." The woman's voice trailed off and tears glinted in her eyes. She took a moment to compose herself. "Susan had been abducted. It began almost ten years ago, when she was a child -" Scully felt faint. She could hear a roaring in her ears and her vision started to go staticky at the edges. She swallowed hard and put a hand on Mulder's arm to steady herself as she swayed. Mrs. Small stopped talking and Mulder looked down at Scully. "Are you OK?" he asked her, frowning. She removed her hand from his arm, although she still felt unsteady on her feet. Scully didn't want him to see any sign of weakness in her, especially when she didn't know why it had happened. "I'm going to go. Pick me up at three-thirty," she told him, and walked away, catching up to the coroner as he prepared to leave. Mulder watched her carefully, worried. She hadn't slept, and now she didn't seem well. After a moment, he turned his full attention back to Mrs. Small. End part 4 =========================================================================== From: eponine119@att.net (eponine119 ) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Mayhem 5/9 Date: 23 Mar 1996 09:12:12 GMT Disclaimed in part one Mayhem part 5 by eponine119 eponine119@att.net Everything was as Scully had expected in the autopsy - cleaner, more practiced, but essentially identical to the other two killings. There were no non-body substances even in trace amounts to give any clue to indicate where the victim had been killed or with what. The head, of course, was interesting. Scully couldn't explain how the skull had been removed with only one incision and no trauma to the brain. And she'd found each and every one of the woman's teeth. She didn't want to think about that. Now Scully was going over everything again, since Mulder was late. It figured, she thought, searching again for a clue, focusing on the head since it was the one thing that was different in this case. The light caught a glint of metal. Thank God, she thought, reaching in after it with her tweezers. Now if this would only tell her who was capable of doing such a thing... Scully stopped when she recognized the tiny bit of metal she held up between the tongs of the tweezers. She stared at it in the light and then her hand slipped and it fell to the floor. She got down on her knees to locate the metal. It stuck to her fingertip and she let it remain there, feeling ill. It was a microchip. And it looked identical to the one Scully had once had in her own body, though this one had apparently come from the dead girl's nose. She stared at it, not knowing what to do as she felt that overwhelming, claustrophobic fear creeping up on her again. She heard the door open behind her and jumped. "Didn't mean to startle you," Mulder's voice, amiable, came from the door. Scully scrambled to her feet, her heart pounding, as she raced to the desk to retrieve a small paper envelope. She dropped the implant into it before Mulder could see it. She didn't want him to know about this. He already thought it was aliens killing these girls. "What's that?" he asked. Scully fought to keep the guilt from showing on her face. "Her teeth are still here," she lied, "I thought I'd take a couple of them for analysis." Mulder looked as though he didn't believe her. "What were you doing on the floor?" "I dropped one," Scully said. "Slippery fingers." She held up her gory hand for him to see, knowing he would wince and look away. He did, and for show, she deposited a few of the victim's teeth into the envelope as well. She sealed it and put it with her things, peeling off her gloves. "What did Mrs. Small tell you?" "A typical account of abduction and its aftermath," Mulder said, still looking at Scully as though she was a specimen under his microscope. There was something he wasn't telling her because he didn't think she wanted to hear it, she could tell. It made her angry. "What did the body tell you?" "Not much more than the others," Scully answered. "The killer has very sophisticated technology and he's getting better at this with experience. No signs pointing to where she was killed, or with what, or even why she was the victim." Mulder nodded grimly. "It's damn frustrating, Mulder," she continued, "Especially when you won't tell me what you found out this afternoon." "Not here," Mulder whispered in her ear, his breath hot on her skin. She gave him a questioning look and his lips turned up in a hint of a smile. She picked up her things, still looking up at him as he lightly took her arm and led her to the car. On the ride back to the motel, she waited for him to enlighten her. She waited in the car while he picked up a pizza and more coffee. She held them in her lap while he drove to the motel. What day is it? she wondered, smelling the luscious scent of the coffee, and she wasn't entirely sure of the answer. "Well?" she asked once they were settled over the tiny table in her motel room. "No one is working on anything that can do this. Not medicine, not weapons, not any country of the world. What's happening to these women can not be done," Mulder said and took an enormous bite of pizza. "They're covering it up," Scully argued. "I don't think so." She tilted her head. "Mulder, come on." "I know a cover up when I see one, Scully, and this isn't one." "Are we imagining this, then?" Scully demanded. "No," Mulder said, his eyes lighting up. "There's a paper trail." She exhaled loudly. "Then we know where the killer has gone." "Not yet," Mulder said. "I don't understand," Scully said, "If our guys in DC found a paper trail, then they know who's doing this. So they can find out where he's gone and we can-" Mulder drew out his notebook and handed it to her. "This is an updated profile of the victims." He was trying to distract her. "We don't need a profile of the victims, Mulder." Scully didn't look at it and tried to hand it back. He didn't accept it, letting her sit there with her hand out at him. "I think we do." Mulder insisted, but Scully still didn't look at it. She put the book down on the table. "Female. Americans of varying and mixed heritage. They all had IQ's over 150." "IQ doesn't mean anything, Mulder, it's a hoax. A conspiracy, if you will." Her mouth turned up in a satisfied, but mirthless smile. His eyes lightened playfully. "What's your IQ, Scully?" She shrugged, certain he'd known the answer to that question since the first day she walked into his office. "I don't know, it's up there. What's yours?" "Don't ask," he answered and she smiled. He was right; she probably didn't want to know. "Do you know how few people have IQ's over 150?" "Are you going somewhere with this?" Scully asked. "These factors, and others, such as the fact that none of them had even a hint of genetic disease in their family histories, indicate that the victims could be considered ideal breeding stock." "Breeding stock?" cried Scully. "For alien cultures, I suppose?" He didn't deny it. Scully shut the pizza box firmly. "I think you'd better go." "You're throwing me out because I dared to bring aliens into the discussion? Scully-" She didn't want to fight with him; it was futile. "No," she said, "I'm suggesting you get some sleep while you have the chance. I know I'm exhausted." "OK," Mulder agreed, studying her face. She did look tired. She turned her face away, recognizing the look he was giving her as one she'd seen many times after her abduction. He touched her cheek gently, only for the briefest second, long enough to make her eyes meet his and her stomach turn over. "See you in the morning," he said with a sweet, melancholy smile. Then he was gone. Even after she had a shower and got into her nightclothes, Scully could still feel the whisper of his skin against hers. She fell asleep thinking about him. She was awake. She was almost certain that she was awake because she could remember having dreamed. That same dream again - she stood alone, looking up into the night sky when a flying object appeared. This time, though, she had been afraid. But now Scully thought she was awake. She could hear herself thinking. But it was dark. Her eyes were closed and no matter how much she thought about it, she couldn't seem to make them open. Her limbs felt very very heavy and she couldn't make them move, either. It felt as though something very heavy was pressing down upon her. Restraining her. She struggled to move, or if she was dreaming, to awaken. She was terrified and there was not one thing she could do. Her imagination went as wild as her heartbeat as she pictured herself strapped to a table, with shadowy beings and forms standing all around her, looking down at her, studying her. She heard the sigh of their whispers rustle past her ears and she strained to separate them into words. She couldn't. Something changed. Scully could taste the fear now, burning in her mouth. Suddenly her body no longer felt heavy. She felt light. Weightless. But even stronger than the sensation of floating above the bed was the continued presence of the restraints on her wrists and her ankles, still holding her, drawing her arms away from her body and parting her legs as she floated up. She couldn't breathe, desperately clawing at the restraints, trying to awaken although she was increasing certain that this was not just a dream. She could hear herself gasping for breath. Then she heard a male voice, deep and soothing. "Sleep," he said. She thought she felt the brush of cold, rubbery skin against her closed eyelids, felt herself sinking out of consciousness. "Sleep." End part 5 =========================================================================== From: eponine119@att.net (eponine119 ) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Mayhem 6/9 Date: 23 Mar 1996 09:12:47 GMT Disclaimed in part one Mayhem part 6 by eponine119 eponine119@att.net Mulder sat up straight in bed, his eyes open. He listened, searching for the sound that had brought him out of sleep. The tension did not ease from his body. Scratching. Faint, at the door that connected his room to Scully's. His eyes turned to the door, expecting to see a rat or something similar. He didn't. Without a sound, he reached over and picked up his gun from the bedside table. The scratching intensified for a moment and Mulder identified what it was that really bothered him. It didn't sound like something was trying to get into his room. It sounded like something - someone - was trying to get away. He sat there for a second, wondering what he would find when he opened the door. If anything happened to Scully... Then he heard the cry. It was human, he thought, but it sounded like an injured animal. It raised the hairs on the back of his neck. Within the second, he'd crossed the room and had the door open. He didn't see anything. "Scully?" he said, checking the room with his eyes. Nothing. He took a step back, his gun still trained on the open doorway, and turned on the light in his room. He blinked as it blinded him. His eyes swung back around the motel room. Scully wasn't in the bed, though the covers were rumpled. "Scully?" he said again, this time not able to disguise the raw fear in his tone. Where the hell was she and what had made that sound? He crossed the threshold into her room. And saw her. She was crouched against the wall, next to the doorway, her arms wrapped protectively around her body. Her face was tucked against her knees, her cheek pressed to the wall. "Scully?" Mulder's voice was soft this time as he got down on her level, moving around her till he faced her. Her eyes were closed. Tears streaked her reddened face and she was breathing in great gaspy sobs. Mulder glanced back at the bed, then stared at her in astonishment. She was still asleep. "Scully," he said, touching her gently. Her eyes popped open and her body jerked into wakefulness. It was a moment before she actually saw him there, looking up into his face with terror and confusion clouding her eyes. "I think you were sleepwalking," Mulder told her slowly. Her body relaxed against the wall as she drew in a deep breath. "Are you all right?" he asked. She nodded, biting her lip. "Has this happened before?" His tone was gentle. As though he cared about her. Scully shook her head. It couldn't mean anything. She'd heard him speak to interviewees the same way. She looked away. Mulder touched her arm to reassure her and she pushed him away, scrambling to her feet and crossing the room. He watched her try to be strong and composed and almost succeed. "What happened?" he asked. "I've been having nightmares. That's all." Her voice was low and whispery, but she managed to control it. "About your abduction." Mulder didn't have to say it; they both knew; but he wanted to get it out into the open between them. Her eyes flashed to his face, caught and angry. "I think if you'd talk about it, it might help relieve some of the underlying fear," he said, approaching her cautiously. He was walking in quicksand, but he didn't try to free himself. He tried to remain honest. "I'd be honored if - Scully, you can trust me to listen and not -" "I don't want to talk about it, Mulder. Not to you. Not to anyone." Scully informed him. "I understand your reluctance, and your need to deny what happened to you -" he tried again, concerned because he could see through her toughness. He had to help her. She was suffering. "It was a bad dream. It doesn't mean anything. I don't even remember what it was about." She was lying and they both knew it. "Now if you would please leave -" she ordered. "You can trust me, Dana," he said softly, because she had to be sure she knew it. "-so I can get some sleep," she continued, ignoring him, the use of her first name like a dagger in her heart. She gave him a look that said, see? I'm fine. Mulder nodded once, still watching her intensely. then he turned and left, closing but not locking the door that connected their rooms. Scully sank down on the bed, not able to hold herself together for another moment. She stared at the door as the first tears fell and she wanted to call him back. She didn't, though, and was awake the rest of the night because she couldn't force herself to close her eyes and try to sleep. To her relief, Mulder didn't mention any of it when he knocked on her door early the next morning. "We're going to Ohio," was all he said. He had his carryon bag in his hand. Scully grabbed hers and joined him. "The trail?" she asked. He nodded. She searched for something to say and failed, so they went to the airport in silence. Once they settled on the place, Mulder pulled out his notes and got to work, resting his chin on his left hand so that he faced completely away from her. Scully pulled out her own notes, but couldn't concentrate on them. She hated to feel this distance between herself and Mulder. Especially when she thought it was her fault. She felt she should apologize for the previous night, but refused to bring it up. But since it was all she could think about, she couldn't find anything else to say. Apparently Mulder was too angry or embarrassed or disgusted by her to be conversational. She found herself staring at the back of his head for quite a long time. Mulder could feel her eyes on him and it made it impossible for him to work. He'd decided it would be wise to take his cue from her. She was being quiet, so he matched her silence. But then why was she staring at him? He turned his head to meet her eyes, to share that knowing glance that always made things all right. She immediately looked down at her notes. Mulder continued to look at her for a few more seconds, trying to figure out what was going on in her head. There were deep purple shadows beneath her eyes. He returned to his own work and they didn't speak until Ohio. End part 6 =========================================================================== From: eponine119@att.net (eponine119 ) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Mayhem 7/9 Date: 23 Mar 1996 09:13:24 GMT Disclaimed in part one Mayhem part seven by eponine119 eponine119@att.net Scully stopped at the door of their rented car and turned to face Mulder. "Where are we going?" she asked. "I could use some lunch," said Mulder. "What about the latest victim?" she asked sharply. "There isn't one," he admitted. He'd dreaded this moment. He steeled himself to receive the full force of her fury. "What?" she said. "Then what are we doing in Ohio, Mulder? I thought you said the paper trail you uncovered led here -" she stopped herself. "He's here, but he hasn't killed again," she realized, the thrill that accompanied the culmination of a case welling up within her. "We can stop him, Mulder," she said. He hated to have to say it when her eyes were shining so. "I don't think so." "Sure we can. With your profile - with info on when he arrived and what name he's using, we can -" Scully stopped then she saw that Mulder was shaking his head. "Why not?" she demanded. "I think we should get some lunch, Scully," Mulder said blandly. "Not until you explain to me what you're hiding and why." Mulder let out a heavy breath and shuffled to open his briefcase. He slapped a folder down onto the roof of the car between them, knowing how she would react to his evidence - first with anger, then ridicule for him and his beliefs. A few pages skittered out of the file and she scooped them up with her nails. "that's the paper trail," he said after giving her a moment to look them over. She met his eyes doubtfully. "These are pictures of UFOs, Mulder." "Everywhere that a murder has occurred, there's been a simultaneous sighting corresponding to the time of death. These are confirmed sightings, Scully." "So you're saying that aliens butchered those women? To take their bones, because they were 'good breeding stock'? Because, what, Mulder, their own race is afflicted with a disease and is dying out?" she snapped, throwing the folder back down bad-temperedly. She didn't want to think about aliens. They didn't exist. They couldn't. And they did not abduct people, she had to believe that. "That's a load of crap, Mulder, and you know it." He met the fury in her eyes. It was nothing he hadn't expected. "This has happened before, Scully." She didn't react. "That's why they called us in. There's an X File, from 1947 -" "1947? the same year as the supposed Roswell crash?" demanded Scully. "There's a nice coincidence." Mulder felt a twinge of anger that he couldn't suppress. "How many X Files have you personally found to be inaccurate, Scully?" he challenged. "Enough." She took a breath to try to put the brakes on this conflict. "Look, Mulder. All I'm saying is that maybe whatever those people think they saw is some kind of a causatory precursor to the killings. Or else it means the killer is someone who is familiar with UFO lore, so he strikes where and when there's been a sighting." "A paranoid believer, you mean?" Mulder demanded, leaning heavily on the words. "Someone like me?" "No, Mulder -" She tried to control the fight, and failed. "Or maybe it's someone who's been driven to psychosis, someone acting out their fury and rage because they choose to deny their own abduction experience." Mulder spat the angry words at her. Scully felt as though he'd slapped her. She fought not to display her hurt that he would say such a thing to her. She turned away for a second to be sure she was able to keep this from escalating. They had a case to solve; intentionally hurting each other would not keep more people from dying. "The most likely possibility," she began in a neutral voice that was hard to maintain, "is that these killings have been orchestrated by the government to test a new weapon under the cover of alien abduction, a fallacy conveniently constructed out of the people's distrust of that very government." He clenched his jaw. What would it take to get through to this woman? he thought, though he could see that she was barely able to suppress her feelings. He wondered how she could say such a thing after he'd seen her suffering the night before. His eyes on her were passionate as he demanded, "What about the X File from 1947?" "A plant. Designed to throw you off the track and make you buy into their bizarre cover story, and stop searching for the real killers." "If the government is behind this - if - then we won't find the killer anyway. Why would they need to put us off the track?" "This story can't stay out of the papers forever," Scully stated sadly. Mulder looked grim, still holding her eyes. "What about your nightmares?" "They have nothing to do with this," she said, striving to be professional, though she could feel hot tears prickling her eyes as his question brought back all the desolation and fear she felt - the fear that she would be the next victim, with her skin split and her bones sliced away. She fought to block the very real image from her mind. "Stress," she lied. Mulder's eyes flickered. She turned away and got in the car. A second later, he followed. She cranked the seat forward as far as it would go and fastened her seat belt. As she turned the key in the ignition, Scully looked at Mulder. "Where do you want to go for lunch?" He cracked a smile that he didn't really feel. It made her angry and she stomped on the gas, throwing him back in his seat. He was too busy looking for his seat belt to reply. Scully returned from washing her hands in the ladies room of the tiny cafe to find Mulder squirming in his chair, an anxious look in his eyes. "What?" she asked even before she sat down. She could tell from the look on his face that he was thinking up and discarding lies to tell her. She resented that. She also hated the fact that she'd seen the look enough times to know what it meant. When had this happened, she wondered, waiting for his answer. When had they started lying to each other? Or maybe she should ask herself why they'd never stopped. Did he think she was still a spy and not to be trusted? She felt herself getting angry again. Maybe he didn't really believe she'd lost three months of her life to these people, as well as her sister and...she looked at him across the table. Maybe she should tell him about her dreams. Maybe he could help her. She opened her mouth, trying to find the words to begin. "I just remembered there's someone I have to meet," Mulder said before she had the chance to speak. "Mulder-" she began, not even knowing what she was going to say. He was already on his feet, so she gave up. "Meet me here for dinner," Mulder said and for a second his eyes burned into hers with an unspoken message - understand. Please. He turned and left the cafe, breaking into a run once he cleared the door. What's he hiding? Scully wondered, signaling the waitress for their check. "You're late." "I got here as fast as I could." Mulder was slightly winded from his jog. He waited for the other man to speak, wondering again how he had known where they would be, and how he had managed to slip that note into Mulder's menu. He felt a twinge at having to lie to Scully, again. Silence stretched between the two men. Mulder met the man's cold eyes. "Well?" "Go back to Washington." The slow words were forceful; more than an order. They held a thinly veiled threat. "Why?" Mulder's response was quick. No answer. The other man's eyes flicked away to something in the distance, as though Mulder's questions bored him. "Am I in danger?" he asked antagonistically. If the man standing before him really held as many answers as he pretended to, why did he never tell Mulder everything he needed to know? The man knew exactly how to control Mulder. For a man so complex, it was surprisingly simple. "No. *You're* not in any danger, Mr. Mulder." The mocking emphasis of the words was clear. Mulder felt sick to his stomach, but didn't let it show. "Scully?" "If you remain here, tonight you will be forced into dealing with an entity you don't understand, Mr. Mulder. An entity with powers beyond your wildest whims. And I am prepared to do whatever it takes to stop you from contacting them. But I don't think that will be necessary." With those words, Mr. X stepped backwards into the afternoon shadows. Mulder blinked, staring, as he felt the overwhelming urge to brush his teeth. Scully was already vulnerable. And Mr. X's threats were clear. Well, he was not going to let them take her again. He flashed back onto an image of her, lying weak and unconscious in a hospital bed not even two years ago, only the tiniest thread of hope tying her to life. Mulder started running again, back to the cafe. It didn't matter if they wanted her, or if they just wanted to stop him. He would protect her with his life. If they tried to take her again, they would have to kill him first. End part 7 =========================================================================== From: eponine119@att.net (eponine119 ) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW: Mayhem 8/9 Date: 23 Mar 1996 09:14:03 GMT Disclaimed in part one Mayhem part 8 by eponine119 eponine119@att.net Mulder threw open the door to the cafe with such force that the patrons ceased their conversations and turned to look at him. He didn't notice, or care. His movements were economical and focused as he turned his head and saw that Scully was no longer in the restaurant. Something very small died inside him. Damn! He walked up to the waitress who had served the lunch neither of them had bothered to eat. The girl took two steps back from him, her eyes wide as she thrust the coffeepot she carried out in front of her as though to ward him off. "The woman who was here with me - where did she go?" "She left," said the waitress. "Where did she go?" demanded Mulder. The girl shook her head, her face white. Impatient, he turned and left the restaurant, pausing outside the door to punch her cell phone number into his phone. An elderly couple stared at him openly from the cafe's patio and he glared back, listening to the phone ring. No answer. Damn, Mulder thought again, heading for the rental car, still in its parking space. He opened the door and his heart sank as he heard it. The ringing. She wasn't answering because her phone was in the car. Mulder threw his phone down on the passenger seat in disgust. "Scully, where are you?" he muttered to himself, worry gnawing at him as he pushed the driver's seat back. He remembered that they'd been fighting the last time he'd seen her - so many times recently, they'd disagreed, but this time was different. She'd tried to hide it, but he knew that he'd hurt her. And he'd done it intentionally. He had to find her, and apologize. And keep her safe. That was the only thing. He started the car. Hours later, Mulder skidded around the corner near the cafe, catching sight of Scully walking away from it. He pounded the horn, but she didn't turn. He scanned the street quickly. No parking spaces. Scully was almost out of sight now. He had to get to her - now. The sky was almost black. The afternoon was gone. Mr. X had said tonight. Scully was out there, alone, in trouble, and she didn't even know it. Mulder's foot pressed heavier on the gas. How many women had been abducted from his immediate presence? He saw a bright light, and when he came to, she was gone. Samantha. Scully. Even that damned gorilla Sophie in that zoo in Idaho. And every night in his nightmares. Scully had been returned to him once. Such a thing was unlikely to happen again. He had to get to her. Now. He left the car in a fire lane and ran after her. Scully knew exactly where she was going, and what was going on here. She'd turned up something very interesting at the library. The victims of the killings didn't have much in common, but the locations of the murders did. Scully walked faster, shivering into her jacket, wishing again she hadn't left her coat and gloves in the car. She headed north to the large grey building that housed the Research Institute. Something white and glimmery up in the sky caught the edge of her vision and she stopped, fighting for breath. It's a star, she told herself, looking at the point of light. There are no such things as UFOs and aliens. There is no reason to be afraid of the night. But it felt like someone was following her again. The eerie sensation had been troubling her ever since Mulder left her in the cafe, the nagging feeling like someone was looking over her shoulder. Scully shivered again and ignored it. She turned onto the next street, looking for an entrance to the building, suppressing the urge to break into a run. You're armed, there's nothing to be afraid of, she repeated to herself. Is it possible to shoot an alien? The thought snuck into her brain from nowhere. Stop it, she ordered herself, focus on your work. But she could feel her control of her emotions and fears coming dangerously close to the breaking point. The wind was picking up. It felt like it was going to rain even though there were no clouds in the remarkably clear sky. Scully looked up at it again, its space vast in front of her, in the clearing between the two buildings. Then she heard it. The scrape of rollerblade wheels on cement. She turned and looked and saw two boys, skating around each other in circles, shouting to each other and laughing. Goosebumps rose on her arms. She turned back and for the first time, saw the whole picture. The large building on her right, a smaller one on her left. The cement beneath her feet. And in front of her, nothing but the dark infinity of space. It was almost...calling to her. She heard the boys skate away at the same moment as the wind stopped blowing. Stillness settled over her and she felt calm and afraid at the same time. She stared up at the sky, her heart pounding, an ache in her stomach. Where's Mulder? she wondered, unable to move from the spot. It was starting. Mulder ran after Scully, but she was out of his sight. I can't lose her, he thought, not now, not like this. He turned on his high powered flashlight. "Scully!" he rounded the corner. There she was. "Scully!" He couldn't keep the relief at finding her safe and sound, out of his tone. She didn't turn. He absorbed her stance, palms up, head back, eyes directed at the sky as though she could see something he couldn't. Involuntarily, Mulder stumbled to a stop yards away from her. Is this how it begins, he wondered, looking up into the night sky himself. Scully began to shake. Run! all of her instincts shouted at her, but she was too afraid to move. Just like in the dream, she was powerless. She waited. Someone grabbed her. Rough hands on her body. Her mind started to function again and she fought off her attacker, kicking and clawing blindly at the form. She was not going to let them take her, not without a fight. She would make sure their green blood was spilled all over the pavement. "Scully, it's me! It's me!" She recognized the voice before she could even process the words. She blinked and he came into focus before her eyes. "Mulder," she said, certain she had never been so happy to see another person in her entire life. He was looking down at her, open concern in his eyes, his hands caressing her arms ever so lightly. He'd dropped his flashlight and she could feel it against her foot. Her eyes slid closed and she allowed herself to enjoy the steady comfort of his embrace for what seemed like an eternity. Mulder could feel her shaking and pulled her close to him. She fought her tears, strained to slow her rapid breathing, burying her face against him. So strong, so warm. She felt so safe. This is what is forbidden. She drew back unwillingly from the shelter of his body and felt his hesitancy before he let her go. She looked up at him and their eyes met, hot, for a second as they finally, briefly, acknowledged those feelings. The ones they both worked so hard to ignore and hide. The ones that were forbidden. Another second passed. Scully looked away, feeling strange, needing to break the contact, and then looked back. His eyes had changed. It was as though none of it had ever happened. Did I imagine it, the caring I saw there? she wondered, what would have happened if I'd let the moment go on? "The Research Institute is the key, Mulder." She forced herself to say in a flat, professional tone. They had to concentrate on the case. Her words still came out slightly breathless. "They're supposedly an independent company that performs diagnostic tests on medical equipment. But they're actually bankrolled and controlled by the government. And they have locations in every town where a murder has occurred. And this one." She looked for a reaction, but Mulder had picked up his flashlight and now he just looked antsy. "What?" "Don't you hear that?" She listened. "What?" "That." Suddenly the high pitched whine Mulder had noticed exploded into an almost deafening cacophony. Scully flinched and grimaced. Mulder grabbed her hand. "We have to get out of here," he said and she could barely hear him. They raced back through the deserted streets to the car. Its metal and glass shell did little to mute the sound that filled the air. Scully noticed the cafe across the street was closed and dark even though it should be the middle of the dinner hour. She reached for the clock on the dashboard, her fingers brushing against Mulder's as he, too, sought to light up the display. It was 5:24. There was a blinding burst of pure white light and the ground began to shake and throb. Scully closed her eyes instantly, but she could still see the intensity of the flash, and then nothing. End part 8 - only one more to go! =========================================================================== From: eponine119@att.net (eponine119 ) Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative Subject: NEW; Mayhem 9/9 Date: 23 Mar 1996 09:14:34 GMT Disclaimed in part one Mayhem part 9 by eponine119 eponine119@att.net Scully opened her eyes back into consciousness, blinking a few times. The light and the hum and the shaking were gone. Everything was as normal. She turned her head, feeling a little weak, and looked at Mulder. His eyes were just opened, too. He looked as dazed as she felt. "Six oh two," he said and found that his throat was dry. Scully's eyes flew to the clock. It did, indeed, say that it was 6:02. "Thirty-eight minutes," Mulder said, swallowing with a little difficulty. He sat up and looked at her, his eyes searching her face. "Are you all right?" Scully nodded, not sure how to react to this. The ring of Mulder's cell phone made them both jump nervously. Scully graced him with a slight embarrassed smile as he yanked the phone from his pocket and answered it. "Mulder." "Mulder, where the hell have you been for the last half hour? I've been trying to reach you." Skinner's gruff voice filled his ear. "What is it, sir?" Mulder asked at his most respectful. "You and Agent Scully need to get back here pronto." "Why is that?" asked Mulder, although he knew what the answer would be. Scully shifted beside him with interest. "Your investigation has been called off, Mulder. There's a matter here that needs your attention." "Who ordered the end of our investigation?" asked Mulder. "I'm not at liberty to say," Skinner hedged. Mulder knew. "Tell your cigarette smoking friend that he may think he's won this round, but he can't keep the truth from us forever." he said, his voice raw but intense. There was a long, telling pause. "Goodbye, Agent Mulder," Skinner's voice was pinched. Mulder felt a little better when he hung up the phone and put it away. Scully was watching him, waiting for an explanation. He started the car. "Orders are in. Back to DC," he said, resigned, pulling away from the curb. She didn't say anything. It was late. Scully looked at the blank screen, the blinking cursor on her notebook computer. She'd gone around and around on this for hours and still didn't know what to write in her report. "Although our investigation was halted close to its conclusion..." She stopped, employing the delete key. Conspiracies within the US government? Medical researchers killing innocent citizens to harvest their bones and test new methods? It sounded so farfetched. Almost - but not quite - as bad as something Mulder would come up with. Scully didn't know if her report would be seen by the high-up powers who had ordered their investigation closed; who could command such experiments to take place to begin with. Maybe it would. If she wrote something safe - and untrue - it would be telling them that she was willing to participate in their cover up. And she refused to cover up for the same men who had stolen three months of her life from her. Scully began to type. "Human beings are alone as intelligent beings. It is man's need to believe there are other sentient life forms out there, somewhere, combined with his paradoxical fear of these unknown creatures that lends credibility to stories of alien abduction and experimentation. The agencies responsible for this crime and others are aware of this and easily manipulate the fears and beliefs of the people to cover up their heinous activities. "Although the investigation was closed before any formal conclusion could be reached, it is my belief that three women were killed in order to demonstrate and test new medical technology and that these tests were conducted by the Research Institute, acting on behalf of the United States Government." Mulder knew he wouldn't be able to get to sleep until he finished the report. He turned on his computer and it whirred to life, illuminating the dim room with the bright glow from its screen. He considered only a moment before he began to type. "For human beings to be alone in the universe would require an incredible and highly doubtful set of circumstances. Is it not possible that out there, somewhere, in the vast reaches of space, there exist creatures not so different from ourselves, creatures who live and love and suffer as we do. Perhaps in the face of a great plague, these beings developed the technology to travel great distances in search of a cure. One day humankind might find themselves similarly afflicted. Who is to say whether we, too, would turn our sights to the skies in search of salvation, blind to the suffering our cure might bring to others." The end. So that's all folks, thanks for sticking with it to the end. Uh, wait, is anyone still reading? If you are, let me know what you thought, what worked and what needs changing. And if anyone can think of a better way to ask for comments, let me know - I think my creativity on that front has reached an end. Thanks eponine119 (eponine119@att.net)