Here is my latest story, hope some of you enjoy it. 
Summary:Mulder does a favor for a friend and finds the X-files team
embroiled in                                                       
        the aftermath of an old case and a new one. No romance, only friendship.
        Not too violent.

Disclaimer: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Walter Skinner, Cancerman and the Lone 
        Gunmen are the property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions and
        Fox Television. The rest are mine. I don't mind if anyone wants to 
                    
        repost this, but plese ask me first.



Itch (1/?)

by J. Millington 
varmstro@zipcon.net

FBI headquarters

        "So you see, I think that this guy is staging these killings to
look like cult rituals." John Bolton was a young and promising FBI analyst
of the criminal mind, but he had a Mulder-sized problem. "The evidence
points to a single, organized killer. He only takes victims who pose little
risk to him, homeless men or individuals who work alone late at night, like
the convenience store clerk and the night watchman. He takes them to an
unknown location. Rapes and tortures them for several days and then dumps
them at another site. He's careful to leave behind no evidence. It has to
be a single individual. A group of religious fanatics would not be this
organized."
        Mulder looked over the case files that Bolton brought with him. "I
agree with you, it's obvious if you know what to look for. What's the
problem?"
        Bolton hesitated a minute, unsure just how to phrase his response.
"Well, the AIC is Dan Packer and he got this cult idea in his head and just
won't budge. I thought that if an expert in unusual serial killing. . ."
        Scully finished for him, "You thought that if the expert in the
bizarre agreed that it was not  some bizarre cult slaying, the AIC would
have to pay attention."
        "Why don't you leave us the file, we can look over the evidence and
call you back." Mulder wanted to help this guy, but he wondered just how
much he could do without pissing off the AIC. If Packer had requested a
consult, that would have been great. But Bolton was new and unsure of
himself.   Which was too bad, because in this case Mulder was sure that the
new guy was also right.

        There was no doubt that this killer had a perverse pleasure in
inflicting pain upon his victims while they were still alive. Each one had
been subjected to numerous injuries to the extremities, which while quite
painful would not have been life threatening.
        Then Mulder came to the part of the report that almost made him
cross his legs in an involuntary response. 
        "Ow." 
        Scully glanced over at her partner. "You must be reading the
autopsy report. The emasculation?"
        "While they were still alive."
        "By the looks of the tissue damage to that area, I'm sure they were
at that point, but not long afterward. Shock and loss of blood contributed
to a fairly rapid end. The carving of occult symbols on the face and
abdomen came after death."
        "The final mutilations were just staging, window dressing  to throw
the police off track."
        "And he may have a medical background of some kind. He really knows
how to torment the victim and keep them alive for as long as possible. Is
there anything else in the physical evidence that you can use to help
Bolton?"
        "Maybe in the reports given by the witnesses. In three out of the
seven cases a white van was seen cruising in the last known location of the
victim before the abductions. At each of these locations the clothing and
personal effects of the victims were found neatly piled. This means two
things, each one is significant. First, he wants to make it hard to
identify the bodies when they are eventually found. And second, the white
van probably is his means of transportation. It would give him the privacy
he needed to overpower each victim and remove their clothes."

1 p.m.

        Packer surprised everyone by calling for a meeting that afternoon.
Seven victims in two months put a lot of pressure on the investigation. He
was willing to look at fresh ideas, even if they did come from Spooky
Mulder.
        Packer had assembled his team along with Mulder and Detective Hal
Brown  from the D.C. police department. He made sure that everyone present
had the latest information and then asked for suggestions. 
        After an awkward silence Mulder spoke up. "Have you turned up
anything on the white van, checked doctors and medical facilities that
have-"
        Before he could finish Packer cut him off. "Of course we have, and
do you have any idea how many vans fit that description in the area,
especially when you look at the adjacent areas in Virginia and Maryland?"
He took a deep breath and continued. "Look, no offense, Mulder, but we do
know how to conduct an investigation. What I hoped you could do for us, if
you're still convinced the cult thing is off base-" Mulder nodded his
agreement. "Okay, then can you give us some help what kind of wacko we're
looking at here?"
        "One thing is certain, this guy is definitely looking for a sexual
thrill. He will be revisiting the dump sites, sort of reliving the
excitement of the moment. That white van is going to show up again."
        Brown spoke up for the first time. "I can organize surveillance for
each of those sites. We're looking for a white van lingering in the area?"
        "Yeah," Packer agreed. "That'd be great. Why you get with Bolton on
that. Besides that, Mulder, have you got any other brilliant ideas?" 
        "I'm not sure. What I'd like to do is visit the crime scenes and
have a look around."
        Bolton offered to show him around. "As soon as I get through with
Brown. I'll give you the tour."

        There had never been much evidence left at any of the dump sites,
isolated spots that were deserted at night, although they were busy during
the daytime. Two of the victims had been left literally at dumps, their
bodies apparently dragged out of the vehicle and left at the entrance of a
local landfill. Three more had been dropped off at the back entrance of a
waste disposal company, one of those bodies had been discovered by the
driver of a garbage truck, just after he had run over it.       Made a mess
of the forensic evidence. The other two had been left in dumpsters
in quiet allies in a rather elegant shopping mall. 
        "Jeez, Bolton, how did Packer ever fall for that occult angle. I
mean, the message is so clear. This guy is so sure of himself and his
superiority to the police. He's saying that the victims are just garbage.
Use them and throw them away. This cold-blooded asshole scares the shit out
of me."
        The two men were trudging down a dirt road toward the gate of the
landfill. Normally it would have been open on weekday afternoon, so
occasionally a truck drove by and slowed down at the entrance before
noticing the yellow crime scene tape and the 'closed until further notice'
sign. 
        Mulder bent down and looked at the hard-packed dirt road. It was
far too long after the last victim had been deposited in this
out-of-the-way spot for him to hope to find any new evidence. He just
needed to try and get a feel for where the act had taken place. Maybe an
inkling of why this particular dumping ground. As he leaned over traced his
fingers through the dust his phone chirped at him.
        "Mulder." 
         "How's it going?"
        Mulder smiled briefly. "Not too bad. I think I can help Bolton
finish his profile this evening. At least they'll be looking in the right
direction this time." He paused as Bolton waved to get his attention. 
        "Hey, my pager just went off. I need to run down the road to use a
phone."
        "Why don't you join the twentieth century and get a cell phone?
Want to borrow mine, I can call Scully right back.?"
        "That's okay. I need to find a john anyway. Are you ready to go?"
        "I need to look around a little more. That store's just three
blocks away. I'll wait here for you."
        "Are you sure?"
        "Yeah."
        As the younger man got in his car and drove off, Mulder turned his
attention back to his partner.  "Are you still there?"
        "Where else would I be? Look, Skinner sent a case down to us this
afternoon. Two separate incidents of tourists being mauled and killed by a
rather large animal. You might find it interesting."
        "What, you're not going to tell me it was just a bear gone berserk?"
        "Not in the middle of downtown Milwaukee. Unless of course the
circus was in town."
        He laughed and was about to answer he back, when a vehicle driving
slowly down the road caught his eye. "Scully, I need to call you right
back. I want to check something out."
        "Mulder. Mulder!" But the phone went dead.  

        Ten minutes later Bolton drove back to the gate, parked his car and
looked around. He was just about to call out, when the sound of a phone
caught his attention. He found to the abandoned phone lying in the dust,
picked it up and answered hesitantly, "Hello?"
        "Who is this? Where is Agent Mulder?"
        "Agent Scully, that's what I would like to ask you. I left him here
only twenty minutes ago. Oh, God!" He broke off the conversation.
        "What? Bolton, tell me what's going on?" Scully was worried, and
felt edge of panic creeping over her.
        "I found his stuff. His guns, his clothes, his wallet, his
credentials, all lying in a pile."


End part 1


Summary and disclaimer in part 1.

Itch (2/?)


        The first sensation he felt was the vibration of the road through
the floor of the van. He was lying on his side on the floor of a van.
Vibrations which began to echo in the throbbing pain in his head.  Oh,
yeah. The blue van. When it had first driven by the landfill he hadn't
given it much thought, they were, after all, looking for a white vehicle,
not a blue one. But the driver of the pulled over and parked just in front
of the spot where the body had been dumped at this site. Mulder had hung up
the phone and walked over to talk to the driver. The windows had been
heavily tinted, he hadn't gotten a good look at the driver.  Just as he had
reached out to tap on the window and get the guy's attention, the driver
shoved the door into him, knocking him off his feet. Before he had a chance
to draw his gun, he felt a heavy blow to the back and his head and sunk
into oblivion.
        He tried to move and discovered that his arms were tied behind his
back and his feet tied at the ankles. He laid his head down and tried to
think. This was not good, not good at all. He glanced around the van and
his eyes came to rest on the side door. The interior of the van was dark,
maybe dark enough to hide any movement he might make. If the door wasn't
locked, and if he could scoot himself close enough to it undetected, he
just might be able to open it up. 
        Mulder squirmed, bit by bit until he was right next to the door. It
was not locked. If he could lift up his foot and get his toes under the
door handle, he was sure that he could open it. The van was traveling
slowly, they must be in a residential area.He tried to control his
breathing, to stay calm. The van slowed and almost came to a stop. Mulder
threw his legs up, worked his toes under the handle and managed to pop the
door open. 
        The noise of the opening door drew the attention of his captor. The
man was enraged, yelled, "NO!" and accelerated sharply in to the oncoming
traffic. He had to swerve to miss a car and the force of the sharp turn
through Mulder out the door.
        He landed hard on his left hip and shoulder and slid across the
pavement, onto the shoulder of the road and rolled down the embankment. His
skin was on fire from the road burn. He got tangled up in the brushy growth
beside the road and panicked. What if the guy came looking for him? He
struggled and rolled free of the shrubs. He finally stopped when he smashed
up against a chain-link fence.   
        He lay there panting, in pain. His hip hurt so bad, he was sure
that  it was broken from the impact of landing on the road. He was scraped,
cut and bruised, but alive. He opened up his eyes and looked up to see the
fence post inches in front of his face. On the other side of the fence
stood a middle-aged man, barbecue apron tied around his waist and a stunned
look on his face.

        One of the great benefits of living in affluent suburbia is
outstanding access to first-rate health care. The 911 call brought an
ambulance to the scene within five minutes of Mulder's abrupt appearance at
the barbecue. Fifteen minutes later the ambulance pulled up in front of the
trauma center. 

        Dr. Jerry Howard walked into  a waiting room where three men and a
women, all dressed in conservative suits,  waited nervously. They all
looked up at him when he entered the room. "I'm looking for Fox Mulder's
next of kin"
        The woman stood, "I'm Dana Scully, I'm his partner and his next of
kin. How is he?"
        "Extremely lucky. I'm still waiting on the x-ray of his hip, but I
believe it is just very badly bruised, not broken. He suffered a mild
concussion, but he is fully awake and responsive at this time. Mostly he
has a lot of cuts, bruises and abrasions. The most serious injury is to his
left side, from his hip to just below the armpit. There's quite a large
strip of skin missing. That's going to require skin grafts.I'm going to get
a surgical consult on that tomorrow. All in all, he's going to be just
fine, but he will need to be admitted for a while. I am most concerned
about the development of infection, there was an awful lot of dirt ground
into those cuts and abrasions."
        The balding man sitting next to Scully spoke up, "I'm Assistant
Director Skinner with the FBI and these gentlemen are with the Bureau and
the D.C. police. We really need to question him about his kidnapping as
soon as possible."
        "Well, the nurses are just finishing cleaning him up. As soon as
they come out, I don't see any reason  why he can't be questioned then. Go
easy on him, though, he's been through quite an ordeal." 

        
        After the nurses left, Scully, Skinner, Brown, and Bolton filed
into the room.  
        "Agent Mulder, you've always demonstrated a tendency to become a
little too personally involved in your cases, but do you really think it
was necessary to be abducted by the kidnapper in order to get a better idea
of his identity?" 
        Mulder looked closely at Skinner's face, saw the trace of concern
hidden under the facade of brusque humor. Before he could answer, Brown
began asking him for details about the perpetrator.
        "I didn't get a good look at him, the windows of the van were too
heavily tinted. Aand he's either had the white van painted or got a new
vehicle, this one was blue, not white. But I did get a good look at the
license plate."
        "At least that's something."

        Brown left to call in the license plate number, followed by
Skinner. Through all this Scully had been standing back and watching her
partner, trying to get see how he really felt. He was putting up a good
front but she could see the exhaustion that lay just beneath the surface. 
        She walked up to the bed and ran her fingers lightly over his hair.
" You know, Mulder, if you didn't want to come to Milwaukee with me, you
should have just said so."
        As he laughed he reached down and scratched absently at an annoying
itch on his leg. "Busted. Now you know how far I'll go to get out of an
assignment.  How soon do you think I can get out of here?"
        "Maybe you haven't noticed, but you seem to be missing a huge strip
of skin down your side. With the skin grafts they're going to want to keep
you still, immobile until they're sure it's going to take. Face it, you're
going to be here for a while."
        "What are you going to do?"
        "I talked it over with Skinner. I'm going to go ahead and go. They
want a second opinion on the autopsy anyway. I'm sure you'll keep out of
trouble here, a guard is being posted outside your door."
        "What?"
        "You are the only surviving victim of a vicious kidnapper. Your own
workup of this individual posits the theory that he may have a medical
background--"
        "And you think that he might come after me here." He sighed and
laid back against the pillow. "I'm so tired."
        She paused for a second before she approached the next subject.
"Each of the other victims. . . Mulder there's no easy way to ask this, but
Dr. Howard thought maybe I should be the one to bring it up--"
        "No. He didn't touch me after he knocked me out and tied me up."
        "But you don't know that fo sure, you were unconscious."
        "Exactly the point. He gets his pleasure from the pain he inflicts.
He wouldn't have raped an unconscious victim."
        "You need to be examined just in case. There might be some DNA
evidence to recover."
        "Shit."

        Scully and Skinner both looked up sharply when they heard Dr.
Howard exit the room. "It's okay. There is no evidence of sexual assault. 
But we have another problem" He held his hand up at the worried look that
crossed Scully's face. "No, it's not serious. But it does complicate the
matter of finding a suitable location for the skin graft." The man and
woman in front of him stared, uncomprehending. "I mean, it's been several
hours since his escape, but it takes poison ivy a little while to manifest
itself."
        "You don't mean-"
        "Yeah, this is going to been the worst case of poison ivy I think
I've ever seen. 
Both legs, buttocks, abdomen, back, chest, and portions of both arms. Agent
Mulder has got to be the first patient I ever had to roll around naked in a
patch of poison ivy."
        The FBI agents exchanged a look. Scully gave her boss a wry smile,
"You know, Milwaukee is beginning to sounnd better all the time."

End Part 2


See part 1 for summary and disclaimer.

Itch (3/?)




        By the time Scully made her way back to her hotel, after her first
day in Milwaukee, she was exhausted. No one at the Milwaukee police
department knew who had called in the FBI to assist their investigation.
And after finally persuading the detective in charge of the investigation
to let her go over their reports, she had a sinking feeling that there was
nothing unusual about this case. From the appearance of the victims in the
crime scene photos, she strongly suspected that the animal responsible for
the deaths was a large cat, possibly a lion, an illegal and exotic pet that
had either escaped or been turned loose. In either case, the owner would
have been reluctant to go the authorities. So a frightened and dangerous
carnivore was roaming the streets. She would know more the next day. She
had meetings scheduled with the coroner and a veterinarian. 
        Dropping her keys on the table in her room, she reahced for the
phone. It was strange to not have Mulder there to bounce ideas off of. She
called the nurse's station to check on his condition  before trying his
room and was glad that she did. The charge nurse sounded at once
exasperated and sympathetic toward her most problematic patient.
        "The pain from his road injuries overshadowed the poison ivy today."
        "How extensive is the rash now?"  
        "It's starting to appear from head to toe and *every place* in
between. He never asked for painkillers, but he didn't refuse them either.
And it's not going to get any better for a while. I don't think he's not
asleep yet, want me to ring his room?"
        "Please."
        Mulder's phone was answered by June McGuire, the agent on guard
duty for the evening. Scully could hear her partner in the background
demanding to talk on the phone.
        "It's about time you called." It really was. He wasn't sure if he
could stay awake much longer and he didn't want to to pass out for the
night without finding out about the case in Milwaukee. He felt guilty for
not being there with Scully.
        "It's good to hear your voice, too. I've had a long boring day."
She suspected that the case was a pretext to get them out of Washington for
a few days, but he didn't need to hear that right now. "There's not much
happening here yet. How was your day?"
        "Painful, at least for the brief time I was awake. I feel like
trained Mafia hit men have worked over every inch of my body. What ever
isn't in pain or stiff, itches. They're talking about doing grafts with
skin harvested from a cadaver Is that normal?"
        " Normally they would take a graft from elsewhere on your body-"
        "But I don't think I nave an inch of skin that isn't bruised,
scraped or breaking out into a rash." He was quiet for a moment. She almost
thought maybe the painkillers had lulled him into sleep when he spoke
again. "Bolton came by today. The plates on the van were stolen. I guess
I'm still the best bet that they have to catch this guy."
        Scully knew him well enough to know that he was scared. She also
knew him well enough to know he would not admit it. 

        In a darkened room, elsewhere in the nation's capital, an angry man
hung up his telephone and reached for a cigarette. Whenever things appeared
to getting out of hand, this little ritual of lighting up and calmly
allowing himself a cigarette helped him to pause and think through the
situation, to get control of his thoughts. He would not regain control of
the situation until he brought his own emotions into control.
        They were supposed to out of town this week. That bungled
investigation in Milwaukee should have occupied Mulder and his partner
while his project was under way. He took a long drag off of his cigarette
and released the smoke slowly. Okay. It appeared Mulder was fairly
incapacitated. His contact at the hospital would just have to keep tabs on
him and make sure that he didn't make a nuisance of himself. And if he did
get in the way, well, he knew how to handle a nuisance. This project would
be carried out without complications      



        The next morning Scully called just from her hotel room before she
left for the police station. Mulder was still asleep, and Ron Scharf, the
agent assigned to guard his room during the day, answered the phone in
slightly hushed tones. Scharf had heard a lot of stories about Mulder. He
was a little in awe of the man.
         "He's still asleep, Agent Scully. Do you need me to wake him for you?"
        "No that's okay. Just tell him that I called. I'll call him back later."


        She wanted to scream. By the end of the morning she wanted to stand
in the middle of the police department and shout at the top of her lungs
that this was the most incompetent bunch of would-be law enforcement
officers in the country. But deep down, she was really beginning to suspect
that all the foul ups were beyond there control. 
        God. She was getting as paranoid as her partner. The most
frustrating part of the morning came when she met with the coroner.  No
autopsy reports had been forwarded to her because there no autopsy reports
to be found. Sure, the autopsies had been performed, the tapes sent off for
transcription and the various tissue and fluid samples sent for laboratory
evaluation, but the tapes and finished transcripts seemed to have vanished
off the face of the earth and only half of the samples made it to the lab.
        The coroner had been apologetic. He had his staff turning the
office upside down searching for the missing tapes and reports. But Scully
doubted they would find anything.



        For Mulder the day started out bad and quickly slid downhill. He
felt hot and stiff and itchy and his side was on fire. A smiling nurse came
in to take his vital signs first thing in the morning. She pulled the
covers back up over him, he had kicked them off during the course of the
night. As she looked at the thermometer her smile faded. 
        "How high is it?" Mulder had not been fooled by the forced smile
that followed her frown.
        "101. Let me take a look the dressing on your hip."
        He tried to turn over a little onto his side to help her. This time
she made no attempt to cover up the bad news. "It looks like you might have
an infection setting in here."
        "Well that's what I get for rolling around in the dirt. So you'll
just get Dr. Howard to change the antibiotic. Right?'
        "We'll see."
        The morning was not going well at all. Breakfast hadn't actually
looked that bad, but he just didn't have any appetite. And the news of his
fever brought not only a change in his medication but a three visits from
the phlebotomist for blood cultures and other assorted lab tests. And the
blisters that were sprouting every where were almost enough to gross out
Spooky Mulder himself. 
        Dr. Howard broke the worst news himself. 
        "Surgery? What for?"
        "It's fairly routine, Mr. Mulder. We just need to debride the dead
tissue from the infected area. That will help it heal faster. It's a good
thing you didn't find breakfast very appealing. Anethesia and a full
stomach are never a good combination."
        "So let me get this straight. You're going to take a sharp scalpel
and scrape it across the most tender spot of my skin. Skin, I might add,
which is one mass of of pain and tenderness from head to toe."
        "That's not exactly how I would put it, but yes, that's essentially
right. "
        "When do you want to get this torture session under way?"
        "I've got the consent  forms for you to sign. I can get you in and
out before lunch."
        "Your lunch, that is."
        Dr. Howard laughed. Mulder didn't really think it was that funny.

        Scharf accompanied him on his way to surgery. Mulder knew it was
really going to be a minor surgery. But it was just one more indignity
forced on him. He always felt so out of place in a hospital, so out of
control. He didn't want to tell Scharf, but it did feel reassuring to have
him around. Not that he was afraid of the kidnapper coming back. No, it was
just nice to have someone nearby who wasn't a doctor, who wasn't a nurse.
An ally, that's what it was. Scharf was another hospital civilian by his
side against the ranks of evil pain causers. Whoa, his mind was really
wandering. That pre-op shop was starting to kick in.
        As the orderly wheeled Mulder into the elevator, another orderly
approached and wheeled his charge into the elevator beside Mulder.  He
glanced over at the occupant of the other gurney. And looked back again
more closely.  The other patient was a thin young man with stringy blond
hair, Mulder recognized him right away  and saw the glimmer of recognition
in the other's eyes as well. Shit. He turned and grabbed at Scharf's sleeve
in his right hand.
        "Get a look at that guy's chart for me. Find out who he is." 
        Scharf, puzzled by the urgency in Mulder's voice, nevertheless
pulled out his badge. "FBI, I need to see some identification." 
        Oddly enough, at first the man looked he might refuse. Then he
shrugged and pulled out his hospital ID which was covered by his lab coat.
Scharf gave it a cursory glance and then reached for the patient's chart as
well, glancing at the names of the patient and his doctor. He handed it
back just as the elevator reached their floor.
        Mulder had somehow infused the situation with an aura of urgency.
Scharf leaned down and said softly, "Woods, the guy's name is Tom Woods."
        This time Mulder swore out loud, "Shit."  
        Scharf waited for him to fill him in, but Mulder was silent, his
face creased in worried thought until the medication drew him down into
unconsciousness.
        The procedure was short, they were back in Mulder's room well
before noon. Scharf tried to read as Mulder continued to sleep. The young
agent was just beginning to get bored when he heard footsteps in the
hallway approaching the room. He stood up to find out who it was and was
surprised to see Assistant Director Skinner stride into the room.
        "Well, how's he doing today?"
        "Fine. You heard about the surgery today?" If the AD was taking a
personal interest in this case, Scharf was sure that he would have kept
himself briefed on the man's medical condition.
        "Debridement of the infected area." Skinner walked over to the bed
and stared at the sleeping man. "Anything thing else you need to report?"
        Scharf hesitated and then continued, "Well there was a strange
incident on the elevator." He had Skinner's full attention as he related
Mulder's odd reaction to the other patient. The name had a startling affect
on Skinner, as well.
        "Tom Woods? Young, blond man in his early twenties?"
        "Yes sir. Is there some danger to Agent Mulder? Frankly I don't see
how this connects to the kidnapping."
        "It doesn't, Agent Scharf. And it is nothing for you to be
concerned about. It's just a strange coincidence, that Woods should be
here."   Skinner stood deep in thought for  few moments, then turned
abruptly and left saying, "Tell Agent Mulder I came by when he wakes up."


See part 1 for summary and disclaimer. Portion sent out as part 4 is really
4b. The following is part 4a.


Itch (4a/?)


        When Scully called Washington just after noon, she was worried to
find out that Mulder had been taken to surgery. Finally she got Dr. Howard
on the phone and he put her mind at ease, at least in part.
        "Don't worry," he told her. "That abraded area on his hip has
become infected. We've done a culture and switched his antibiotics and we
had to do a debridement to get rid of  the necrotized tissue. We can't do
the graft until we're sure that the infection is resolved completely."
        "How did it go?"
        "Fine. Really, he's going to be fine. Why don't you call back early
this evening. The sedative should have worn off completely by then. I'll
let the nurses know to hold back his night-time sedative until you call."
        "Thanks. And when he wakes up, tell him that I called."
        "Sure." 
        Scully spent the afternoon trying to piece together the evidence
for the botched investigation. The large-animal veterinarian she consulted
confirmed her suspicions that the animal could very likely be an adult
tiger or lion.       
        He pointed at the claw marks on the crime scene photos. "A large
cat might have done it. It does look as if the bodies have been partially
devoured and judging by the depth and spacing of these gouges, it could
easily be a mature male lion or possibly a tiger. The autopsy report would
give me a better ideas of the exact spacing between the claws. Did you
bring it with you?"
        Scully couldn't help from letting out a disgusted sigh. "It seems
as if the autopsy report has disappeared for this victim and the three
others that are related to it."
        "How could they loose four autopsy reports?"
        "That's what I want to find out. So, since there have no reported
escaped from big cats from zoos or circuses, do you think that this is
probably an exotic pet? "
        "You would be amazed at the number of private owners of these
animals there are. The truly surprising thing is that more of these deaths
don't occur. People get a cute little cub and find that it grows into
something large, wild, and deadly. It's not unknown for them to just turn
the animal loose when they can't control it any longer."

        The coroner, Dr. Metzger, was apologetic when they met that
afternoon that Scully found herself trying to convince the poor guy that
none of this was his fault.
        "Look, in the end it doesn't matter who is at fault. What we need
to concentrate on now is reconstructing the evidence. I know all but one of
the victims has already been turned over to the families for burial. Is
there any way we can exhume them to repeat the autopsy?"
        Metzger let out a heavy sigh and raked his fingers through his
hair. "Two of them were cremated and the family of the third will fight us.
We already tried to talk them into it. They were furious. Hell, they're
even talking about suing my office for medical malpractice in losing the
samples and reports. That just leaves us with the John Doe. By the look of
his clothing, I'm pretty sure he's one of the homeless who lived on the
fringes of the area."
        "Okay, then let's just take another look at him. Is there any
chance we can get to it tonight?"
        "I'm sorry. It's going to have to wait until morning. We've had a
string of bad luck lately. There was a power outage, a blown transformer or
something, and the back up generator failed as well. All of the remains in
my morgue have been transferred out of town."
        "Tomorrow then. And try to make it as early as possible."

        She stopped to grab a bite to eat on the way back to the hotel. The
waitress had just taken her order when her phone rang.
        "Scully."
        "Agent Scully, this is AD Skinner's office. Can you hold for his call?"
        "Sure, Kimberly, put him through."
        After a brief pause the no-nonsense voice of her boss came on.
"Agent Scully, how is you investigation going?"
        "Not at all well, sir." She proceeded to relate to him the endless
string of foul-ups and snafus that seemed to be geared to delay the
investigation. "And on top of it all, I don't understand why Agent Mulder
and I were assigned to the case in the first place. It is strange, I mean,
wild animals don't normally appear in urban areas. But there is nothing
really unexplainable about this case. It is not an x-file, that has been
rather certain from the beginning."
        "I don't need to remind you that occasionally the assistance of
your department is requested from authority above me. These requests are
not subject to questions on my part. You do understand what I am saying
don't you, Agent Scully?"
        This was not something he felt like freely discussing on his office
phone. And that disturbed her as much as all the suspicions which had been
growing in the back of her mind.
        "I strongly urge you to wrap your investigation as soon as
possible. How soon do you expect to be finished there?"
        "It will probably take at least two more days."
        "Very well. Call me if there are any further developments. And give
my regards to your partner when you call him this evening."
        "I will. Thank you." As she hung up, Scully immediately began
dialing the hospital. But she hesitated. If something was going on that
Skinner didn't want to discuss over the phone, she wasn't sure that the
line to Mulder's room would be free from unwanted listeners either. She
looked in her purse and found the schedule of guards who were to be posted
outside Mulder's room. Good. June McGuire should be there, and McGuire
never went anywhere without her cellular phone.
        "McGuire."
        "June, this is Dana Scully. Is my partner awake? I'd like to talk
with him a if he is."
        McGuire was surprised that Scully hadn't just dialed through to the
room.  But then, maybe she hadn't wanted to wake him if he was asleep. She
poked her head in the room. He was awake and fidgeting, trying to find some
position which would be moderately comfortable. She went up to his bed and
handed him the phone. "Call for you, Mulder."
        He was delighted to hear from her and glad for the distraction.
"So, how is the big game hunt in Milwaukee?"
        "Mulder, I think this has to be the most fouled up investigation in
the history of law enforcement." She proceeded to relate the details of the
missing reports and samples. "I think the clincher was the power outage in
the morgue. There is no way coincidence or simple incompetence could
account for this mess. The only way this resembles the usual x-file is in
the cover-up of evidence."
        "You might think that someone wanted us out of town for a while and
made sure that we would stayed there. What would you say if I told you that
I saw Tom Woods here in the hospital?"
        Scully was shocked. Woods was an out-of-work actor who believed
that he was the victim of alien abduction and mind control experiments by
the government. The Lone Gunmen met him through NICAP and referred him to
Mulder.  After several interviews and a great deal of investigation Mulder
found no evidence to back up his claims. On top of that the man had a long
history of mental illness and was clearly delusional,  most likely paranoid
schizophrenic. After having his claims of abduction and manipulation were
rejected, Woods became convinced that Mulder was part of the conspiracy. He
stalked the agent for several weeks. The incident culminated in a bungled
attempt on  Mulder's life. The idea of Woods in the same hospital as her
incapacitated partner made Scully uneasy. "I thought he was in an
institution for the criminally insane in Virginia?" 
        "So did I. But I saw him here. Today. And he didn't seem like
himself, I mean he was docile and even though I'm sure he recognized me, he
acted as if I meant nothing to him."
        "That type of behavioral change could be attributed to medication." 
        "That's true, but the Gunmen are coming to visit this evening and
I'm going to get them to work on it."
        "Skinner called me today. He never said anything directly, but he
implied that he was suspicious about this assignment . You need to be
careful."
        "How much trouble can I get into here. I'm banged up, bandaged and
bedridden."
        "Which brings us to the main reason I called. How are you feeling.?
I talked to Howard earlier and he told about the infection."
        "I really think the antibiotics are starting to knock back the
infection. But God, Scully, I've had poison ivy before and it was nothing
like this. The blisters are huge and they're everywhere. It's a good thing
the fever is going down because sweat really makes it itch."
        "Mulder, you may have had poison ivy before but you've never rolled
around in it stark naked. The corticosteroids should start drying up the
vesicles soon."
        "Great, then I'll just have that crusty, itchy stuff everywhere."
        Scully could just picture the crabby look on his face. As fond as
she was of her partner, she was sorry for the nurses who were going to have
to put up with him. 

        Just after he hung up the phone McGuire stuck her head back in the
room. 
        "There are two strange characters out here who say there names are
Roger Corman and Joey Ramone. They refuse to show any ID, but said that you
were expecting them."
        Mulder burst out laughing as Frohike and Langley pushed there way
into the room. McGuire started to panic, she hadn't searched their bags
yet. Mulder just laughed harder.
        "It's okay, McGuire. I know these guys."
        She left the room, but kept glancing back in as if she expected the
long- hair or the balding nerd to try something dangerous.
        "Joey Ramone? Roger Corman?"
        You didn't expect us to give our real names, did you? This place is
crawling with feds." Frohike glanced nervously at the door.
        "Relax. Did you bring everything."
        Langly set the bags on the bed. "Everything's here. Frohike threw
in a half dozen of his favorite magazines, there's a pound bag of sunflower
seeds, and the latest issue of our fine publication. You know you really
shouldn't scratch that."
        "Christ, don't you start. It itches so bad it hurts.  He pulled the
sheet back to get at a particularly annoying spot on the sole of his foot
and Frohike whistled at the sight of his legs, 
        "You know, Mulder, you never do things halfway.That looks
positively nasty. I didn't know you could get poison ivy on the bottoms of
your feet."
        Mulder gave him a stern look and abruptly changed the subject. He
was going to scream if one more person told him how bad it looked and, by
the way, didn't he know any better to than to scratch.
        "I'm sure you guys remember Tom Woods."
        That took the smirk off Frohike's face.
        "Come on Mulder, how many times do we have to apologize for getting
you into that mess? Why bring it up now?" 
        "Because he's here in this hospital."
        "What?" Both the Gunmen leaned in closer.
        "I want you to do a little checking into his medical records. All I
could find out from the front of his chart was that he's here as a patient
of a Dr. George Conway. You think you can hack into Conway's records?"
        "That might be hard, it depends on how serious Conway is about
medical confidentiality. He might keep it all on paper. What's going on?"
Frohike loved a challenge almost as much as he liked unraveling a puzzle.
        "I ran into him on the elevator this morning. I'm sure that he
recognized me but he acted as if he just didn't care. I need to find out
what's going on."
        "I'll get back to you later on this. We'll see what we can do." 
        The three men talked until the end of visiting hours. Mulder was
glad to see them leave. He tried not to show it, but he felt sick and
exhausted and wanted to do nothing more than to go to sleep. He didn't even
object to the sedative. Unconsciousness without pain or itching was just
too inviting.

End part 4a


See part 1 for summary and disclaimer


Itch (4/?)


        His hip would not tolerate any weight at all. He knew because he
had tried to get up. He was sick and tired with using the lying flat on his
back and using the damn urinal. All he wanted to do was make his way to the
bathroom, instead he ended up flat on his back on the floor. 
        Scharf came running in the room. "Are you all right?"
        Mulder scowled, "Just help me get back up in bed. "
        The young agent hesitated. He tried to get a grasp on the prostrate
man without touching him any more than necessary. During the night the
fluid had oozed out of the blisters. Even where there were bandages, the
sticky discharge leaked through. He was afraid of getting it on him.
        "For God's sake, its not contagious."
        "But my mother always said that poison ivy was spread by contact with--"
        "She was wrong."
        By this time the nurse had come to investigate the commotion. She
scolded Scharf and helped Mulder back into bed. "The call button is there
for a reason. You are not to get out of bed for any reason. Is that clear?"
        She marched out of the room and Scharf scooted out in her wake.  
        Just before breakfast Dr. Howard appeared on his morning rounds. As
he proceeded with his examination he made the kind made typical small talk
which is meant to reassure the patient, but just set Mulder's nerves on
edge. The doctor lifted back the sheets to look at the patient's legs and
feet and paused with a frown on his face. He pressed his forefinger into
the flesh of Mulder's ankle and his frown deepened. "Mr. Mulder, there
seems to be a little edema in you feet and ankles."
        Mulder followed his doctor's gaze and took a good look at his feet.
They did look a little bit swollen.
        "Did you get a urine specimen for the nurses this morning?"
        "Why?"
        "It may be a little early to say, I need to have a look at the test
results. But one of the complications that can arise from a severe
generalized case of poison ivy is called nephrotic syndrome."
        "You're saying poison ivy is screwing up my kidneys?"
        "It's really nothing to be alarmed about, it should resolve along
with the dermatitis. Meanwhile you'll need bed rest, a special diet, and
we'll need to monitor the protein levels in your urine. The only medication
you'll need are the corticosteroids which you're already getting. Oh, and
I'll send the lab in to get some more blood tests. We'll need to monitor
your renal functions." 
           God, he hated hospitals. You check in with one problem only of
find complications breeding like rabbits. And he missed Scully. She always
knew what to say or do to make staying in the hospital bearable. It was
also nice to have a doctor for a partner, it was like having a built-in
source of second opinions. Even a good doctor could be wrong, it was
reassuring to hear a diagnosis from someone he trusted.

        A solitary figure mulled over the situation at hospital. Woods and
Mulder should never have bumped into each other, but what's done is done.
His contact assured him that Mulder's condition was deteriorating slightly.
Good. There had been a time when he could have taken the agent's life with
impunity. He should have acted then. Now, the Consortium scrutinized his
every move. He picked up the phone. If complications in the nosy agent's
condition kept him out of trouble, it might be best for everyone involved.
Without his partner there, Mulder would be impotent to follow up on any
suspicions he might have. If only the infuriating man would just stay sick
enough for the next few days, the project could move on, unhindered.  

        Scully's spent her morning on setting up a network of uniformed
officers and detectives to interview the city's homeless. It was entirely
possible that someone had seen something and felt that if they came
forward, the police would only discount their stories as drunken
hallucinations. In fact, it might be a bit difficult to coherent stories
out of some of the park's residents. Like any large city, a portion of
Milwaukee's mentally ill found no other refuge than the streets .
        After hours of interviews, one thing was clear. Fear was strong
among those who lived on the street. The shelter's were overflowing and no
one who could avoid it slept outside. The timing of the panic among the
homeless coincided with the bodies that had been clawed and eaten in the
park. But no eye witness came forward. No one claimed to have actually seen
the animal responsible. If this was a nocturnal hunter, like a lion or
tiger, perhaps that explained the lack of sightings. An animal hunting at
night could find cover in the shadows. 

        
        By suppertime, Scully was exhausted, there was no tangible progress
in her case. She also had to admit that she missed Mulder's insight. His
theories might frequently border on lunacy, but his investigative skills
were as good as they were unorthodox. More than anything, she missed his
presence.  She needed to hear the sound of his voice. Scully's call found
Mulder recovering from the ministrations of his nurse.
        "Quit calling her a nurse, Scully. The woman is a trained and
skilled torture artist, with a mean and sadistic personality."
        "Won't let you scratch, will she?"
        "No. And she threatened to put me in restraints."
        "Besides the rash, how are you doing, really?"
        "I've been better,  I've been worse. The infection is a lot
better." If he told her about the latest complications or told her how bad
he really felt or how much he missed her, it would just make her feel
guilty for being out of town. There wasn't anything she could do and she
would just until she got back. He changed the subject. "How's the case
going?"
        "It looks more and more like a large cat, a lion or tiger, perhaps."
        "Running loose in the city?"
        "Think about it. Someone adopts a cuddly little cub that grows up
into an unmanageable and dangerous animal. If it got loose it wouldn't be
reported to the authorities, after all, owning the pet was illegal in the
first place."
        "So when do you think you might be back?"
        "Not for a couple of days, at least. The park where the attack
occurred is also home to a sizable homeless population this time of year.
I'm working with some of the local detectives to interview  them."
        "It's hard to believe they hadn't already followed up that angle.
What kind of screwed up investigation has Skinner gotten you into anyway?"
It felt like he was letting her down, not being there to help.  
        She was hesitant to fill him in on her suspicions. She was sure the
local police had been manipulated by forces far beyond their control. "It's
not his fault, there's something strange going on. I was never a great
believer in coincidence." She heard snort at the truth of that statement.
"And there have just been too many things going wrong at the same time. Has
Bolton made any progress on your kidnapping case?"
        It was her turn to change the subject. There was nothing they could
do to alleviate their apprehensions, further discussion would just make him
feel guilty for not being there with her.
        "He called earlier and talked for ten minutes trying to find an
easy way to  say  that they're just spinning their wheels right now."   
        Mulder looked up the nurse came into his room with the things she
needed to finish changing his dressings. At least the steroids seemed to be
drying up the blisters a little bit.. "Look Scully, I've got to go, Attila
just came back."
        "Sure. I'll call you from the hotel when I get done tonight." He
paused before he answered.
        "If it's too late, just call me in the morning. I'm letting them
give me something to sleep."
        Now she was really worried.


        In an isolated wing of the hospital a lonely figure lay on his bed
staring at the ceiling and thinking about the past. It was strange, seeing
Agent Mulder in the elevator. He remembered a time when he was so angry
with the man that he wanted to kill him. That was a real memory. He
recalled thinking those things, feeling those emotions, reacting with such
vehemence. But it was so beyond him now. He felt totally incapable of
reacting like that, of being that man. 


        Business had been slow for Derek Johnson. For almost a year he had
made a living selling crack at the corner of the park. He wasn't proud of
how he made his money, but he made no apologies, either. Even if he he
didn't have much hope for the future, he made sure he enjoyed the here and
now. 
        But lately most of his regular customers had heard about the brutal
killings in the park. He was confident that people would forget, fear of
some unseen threat would eventually fade in the face of other needs. Derek
didn't admit to being afraid, himself, but he had started spending the slow
evenings with some of his friends, safety in numbers. Bravado covered up
the fears that none of them would acknowledge, and they passed they time in
 that age-old adolescent male ritual of  bragging about their sexual
exploits.
        Whatever might be killing people in the park had not shown itself
to Derek, he was beginning to think that the whole thing had been blown out
of proportion by the cops. His best friend had just begun a particularly
outrageous story, when a low growl from the bushes nearby startled them all
into silence. That's when Derek remembered Rubio, his sister's oldest son.
He had promised Rubio he could come with them tonight but the ten-year-old
had gotten bored and wandered over to the edge of the park.
        Derek ran for the boy, screaming his name and pulling out his gun
at the same time. In the blink of an eye a huge tawny shape plunged
straight out of the bushes at the child. Four guns, pistols and
semi-automatics, fired almost at the same time and the huge beast went
down. Rubio stood there frozen, wide-eyed, as the lion twitched out its
last breath right in front of him.

        Scully had just crawled into bed when the phone rang. 
        An anonymous tip lead the police to what remained the animal. The
urban hunters had removed the claws and part of the mane as trophies, but
most of the it remained intact. Scully sighed in relief as she stood from
examining the body. Finally this weird case was closed. She could get back
home and check up on her partner.
        She would never tell him directly, but it made her uneasy for him
to be sick when she wsn't there to watch over him. And she had an
uncomfortable conviction that something was definitely wrong back in
Washington.  If she could catch the first flight out in the morning she
could surprise him.

End Part 4


See part 1 for summary and disclaimer

Itch (5/?)




        Just as Scully was boarding her flight back home, Mulder woke up to
yet another unpleasant discovery. The fluid-filled blsters which had begun
drying up the day before had blossomed once again. This was ridiculous.
Each day he spent in this place a new complication arose. 
        Breakfast was predictably mediocre and the monotony of daytime
television wore thin very quickly. He wondered why Scully hadn't called. He
wondered if the Lone Gunmen had made any progress in finding Woods'
records. In fact, he was bored. He felt like crap. He had all the reading
material that Frohike had brought, but he just couldn't keep his thoughts
focused on the printed page.
        Pull it together, he told himself, you sound like a whiny three
year-old. When Dr. Howard came in for morning rounds he got the full blast
of Mulder's irritation.
        "Not feeling very well today, Mr. Mulder?" The doctor took Mulder's
outburst in stride; frustration was a common reaction in hospitalized
patients. The bland look on Howard's face was soon as dark as his
patient's. "I don't understand this. These vesicles were drying nicely
yesterday and the increased dosage of prednisone should have continued that
improvement. It looks almost asif the dose had been discontinued abruptly,
instead. Excuse me while I check this out."
        As soon as he was in the hallway, the doctor walked briskly to the
nurse's station and slammed his hand down on the counter, demanding
attention.
        "Who is the med nurse today, and where is she?"
        The staff within earshot groaned inwardly, mad doctor on the
rampage. Mrs. Humphrey, the charge nurse came out of her office to
intercept the trouble before it got out of hand. 
        "Dr. Howard, how may I help you?"
        "I want to now who fouled up my orders for Fox Mulder?"
        "And just what seems to be the problem?"
        After ten minutes of investigation, Mrs. Humphrey managed to
diffuse the situation. Apparently the pharmacy had mislabeled the
prescription and no one had caught it. 


        Mulder's morning brightened when Byers stopped by. 
        "Conway was a stickler for keeping all his records as confidential
as possible, kept it all on paper. We did get into his computer, but there
was no patient information there. " Mulder frowned, but Langley continued.
"What he may not be aware of, though, is that his secretary and his medical
records clerk aren't quite as circumspect. We got his appointment schedule
for here at the hospital and in his office in Virginia. But the mother lode
came from the transcription records. It seems that the clerk keeps a rough
draft of every tape he sends her on her hard drive, probably to make it
easier to make corrections after he reviews it. We got a transcript of all
Woods' visits."
        Mulder eagerly picked up the file and began leafing through it. 
"So what did you find out from the transcript?"
        "Nothing in the report could be overtly construed as pertaining to
illegal testing, but certain key words and phrases appear to be
significant, if you know what to look for. In particular, there is a
discussion about organic changes in the brain chemistry proceeding 'as
expected' and 'according to projected parameters.'"

          
        Few people intimidated Dr. Howard, but the man sitting in front of
him now scared him shitless. The figure in the chair lit yet another
cigarette and fixed his gaze on the nervous physician.
        "So, I hear that Mr. Mulder's condition has taken yet another turn
for the worse. Do I have you to thank for that? I asked you to be subtle."
        Howard swallowed before he could answer. "No, sir. This appears to
be an honest mistake in the pharmacy."
        "Good. You do understand that he is not to be permanently harmed in
any way. You can manage to keep him incapacitated without harming him or
throwing suspicion on yourself, can you not? If you can't, I'm sure some
other arrangements can be made."
        "No. No, that's fine. I can do it. I believe the infection is
resolved to the point that we can go forward with the skin grafts. That
should keep him flat on his back and out of trouble for a while."
        "Good. See to it."
        
        Tom Woods looked up placidly as his doctor came into the room.
        "Well, Tom, it looks like the latest tests have been progressing as
expected. A few more days and you should be able to return to your room at
the institution. I'm sure you'll feel better in more familiar
surroundings."
        Tom started past the white-coated man, deeply engrossed in his own
thoughts. The doctor stepped up closer to the bed and put his hand on Tom's
arm to get his attention. "How have you been feeling today?"
        The patient lifted his head up and gave him a piercing stare. "Dr.
Howard, who am I really? Or who was I before?"
        Dr. Howard stood there in shock. What the hell was going on in this
man's mind. He had a chilling thought, maybe the encounter with Mulder in
the elevator was more upsetting to Woods than they had anticipated. Grimly
he decided to keep this development from that smoking bastard.  The money
from this project was too good to jeopardize it. Whatever it took, he had
to keep these two patients from seeing each other again. He picked up the
phone to call the MRI lab. They would just have to speed things up.

        Just after one in the afternoon, Scully called Skinner from the
airport. After relating a preliminary report on Milwaukee she asked about
the search for Mulder's kidnapper. Still no progress.
        She was not prepared for what she saw when she walked into Mulder's
room. When she left for Wisconsin, there had barely been any rash at all.
Now, except for part of his face and a portion of his torso, every part
that wasn't covered with bandages was covered with large weeping blisters.
that wasn't right. The steroids shoud have at least started drying them up
by now. She decided to let hem sleep a little longer.
         While she waited for Dr. Howard to answer his page, she found
Mulder's chart and began reading. What she found did not ease her mind.
Even flat on his back, Mulder seemed to need back-up.

        Dr. Howard finally appeared just before five that afternoon. He
waited patiently while His patient's partner read him the riot act. It was
true, there were an awful lot of complications in this man's recovery. When
she was done he agreed with her.
        "There have been set backs in Mr. Mulder's progress, but I have do
have some good news this afternoon. As you know the infection is resolving
nicely so I have decided to proceed with the skin grafts. He had their
attention now.
        "With cadaver skin?"
        "No, the abraded area is narrow enough that we will be taking an
adjacent flap of skin and extending it over the wound. If everything goes
well, this will be the only graft you'll need. You will need to stay
immobile, no bending or stretching of that area until the graft has taken,
but until the nephrotic syndrome is fully resolved, you'll still be on bed
rest, anyway. On the up-side, covering the wound will reduce the pain
considerably."
        Progress. Mulder looked at Scully with a look of relief on his
face. Finally something was going his way. 



        Traffic was at an impasse. A three car pile-up had it backed up for
miles.
        There should not be this much traffic at seven in the morning.
Scully resigned herself to the fact that she was not going to make it to
the hospital before Mulder's surgery. Although the surgery was not that
serious, she wanted to see Mulder before he was taken up to the operating
room. Realistically, she knew there was no reason for her to feel guilty
for not being there the past few days. After all, she had been working,
doing the job originally asigned to the both of them. It was funny, really.
After getting onto her partner time after time for ditching her, it felt
like the tables were turned, that she had abandoned him. She smiled to
herself. At least he was getting a taste of his own medicine. 
        June McGuire answered the phone in Mulder's room when she called.
        "I'm sorry, Agent Scully, but they just wheeled him up to surgery
five minutes ago."
        "Damn. I got caught up in traffic. I wanted to catch him before he
went up. How did he seem to you?"
         Well, he tried not to show it but just between you and me, I think
he was pretty nervous about the whole thing." She paused for a moment and
added, "He doesn't like hospitals very much does he?"
        "Not at all. I need to check in at the office, but I will
definitely be there when he comes back to his room."

End part 5


Itch (6/7)




        Just after lunch the lab technicians walked into Tom Woods' room to
set up another of the endless series of complicated tests. Their
instructions were to never go in this patient's room alone, but that never
made sense to them. Sure, it was right there in his chart, this guy came
from that institution for the criminally insane, but here at the hospital,
he had always been the most docile patient. That was probably why they were
caught off guard.
        Woods suddenly jumped out of his bed, grabbed a nearby chair and
beat the closest technician over the head. His friend cried out and jumped
to the rescue. Woods faced turned his attention to this new threat, shoved
the man  up against the wall, and growled at him, "I remember who I was.
That's who I'm going to be today. I'm an actor and that's a role I can
play."
        He viciously beat the man's head against the wall, while some part
of mind stayed strangely detached. This wasn't as hard as he thought it
would be. It really was like watching himself in a movie, he was acting out
the part.
        He let go of the man's limp body and watched it slide to the floor.
Then he calmly riffled through the tray of test tubes and removed all of
those with his name on them. After pulling on his bathrobe he placed two of
the tubes of blood in his pocket and smashed the others against the wall.
As an after thought, he upended the entire tray and smashed as many tubes
as he could. Now they wouldn't know how many were missing.
        As hospital staff came to investigate the sound of broken glass,
Woods managed to slip out of the room, unnoticed, in the confusion. The
nurse's station was abondoned, everyonne had gone to see what was going on
down the hall. He sat down at the computer. It only took him a couple of
minutes to get the information he needed.  


        Mulder couldn't quite decide how he felt. His body was telling him
that there were a multitude itches that needed to be scratched. But his
mind just wanted to lie there and float. No effort. No worries. Ignore the
pain and itch and it might go away.
        The balance shifted as fingers gently brushed through his hair,
drawing him closer to wakefulness. He opened his eyes. Of course. Scully.
        "Hey." He was awake, but not yet articulate.
        "Nice to see you, too."
        He tried to shift into a more comfortable position, but there were
bandages wrapped around him so tight that the could barely move. What the
hell?
        "Relax. Hold still." Scully put her hand on his arm to get his
attention. "Remember, Dr. Howard told you they're going to immobilize your
left side for a few days. You need to keep still, so the graft can begin to
heal. You shouldn't bend or twist that area until then."
        "Oh, yeah." He lay back down. "Okay, I remember. But it really
itches right under my hip." He gae her a sad-eyed look and added, "You
could scratch it for me."
        "Mulder, I'm going assume that's the anesthesia talking. You want
me to call a nurse to help? I think Attila is on duty right now. Or maybe
we could get about a half dozen of those giggly student nurses to come in
here."
        "Oh, no." His chuckle was replaced with a groan. "God, that hurts.
Did Howard leave orders for some pain meds. Maybe just a little bit."
        Scully was just reaching to open the door when it swung open almost
catching her in the face. Scharf stumbled into the room, followed by Tom
Woods holding the young agent's gun. He shoved Scharf to the side and ran
up to the bed putting the gun to Mulder's head. "Out. Everyone out, I need
to talk to him alone."
        Scharf stood frozen, not sure how to react. Scully pushed him
towards the door, but stopped short of going through it herself. 
        "No. I'm not going to leave you in here alone with him." Mulder
couldn't defend himself, she wouldn't abandon him.
        Woods stared at her for a second, then shrugged. "Only you, though.
No one else comes in."
        "Scully, no. Get out of here." Mulder struggled to sit up. 
        "Wait a minute, Mr. Mulder, it's all right. I'm not going to hurt
you." Woods lowered the gun. "I'm not the same man, I was. I just want to
show you something, prove that I was right."
        As soon as he lowered the weapon Scully moved to position her body
between the two men. Woods backed up, trying to show  that he really
intended them no harm. 
        "I didn't think the guard at the door would let me just walk on in.
I needed to see you, Mr. Mulder, I had to do something. You didn't believe
me before, but now I have proof." He reached into the pocket of his robe
and pulled out two tubes of blood. "They don't know that I have these."

        Ron Scharf stood in the hallway, stunned, for just a moment before
he sprang into action. The man he had been assigned to protect, a man whose
reputation was both frightening and awe-inspiring, was being held at
gunpoint. With Scharf's own gun.  He made a series of phone calls, to
hospital security and the D.C. police. But the hardest call was to Skinner.
 
        Walter Skinner did not need to raise his voice. One look at his
grim face was enough to inspire quick action in his subordinates. But a
hostage situation called for restraint, wait and see what the demands were,
negotiate with the perpetrator. But Skinner needed an outlet for his
frustration and found one in Ron Scharf.
        "Just what the hell happened here?"
        The young man swallowed. "One of the nurses called me over to the
nurse's station, said I had a phone call. But when I picked it up the line
was dead. That really got me worried, so I ran back to Agent Mulder's room.
Woods must have hidden himself in the supply closet while I was gone. He
jumped me, grabbed my gun and forced me into the room."
        "And then you just let him in, a mental patient with a history of
threats against the man you were supposed to be guarding."
        "No sir, it wasn't like that."
        "Then I suggest you tell me exactly what it was like."
        "My presence in the room seemed to keep this guy agitated. He had
the gun on Agent Mulder, I couldn't get it away from him. And Agent Scully
pushed me out of the door." He paused for a moment, "The strange thing is,
I'm sure he knew who Agent Scully was,  an FBI agent and Mulder's partner,
and he must have known that she was armed. But he made no effort to take
her weapon. "
        That fact puzzled Skinner, as well.  

        Woods laid the tubes of blood and the gun on the bedside table. He
stared at Mulder, but said nothing for a while, just gazed at him with a
detached interest.
        "It's fascinating, you know. I can remember feeling such rage
against you. I didn't care if you were working with them or not, all that
mattered was that you did not believe what I told you and you refused to
help." Woods smiled, "It's like looking back on a role, as if it was a
character in a long-running play. Except I remember that it used to really
be me." His voice trailed off, lost in thought.
        Mulder felt like hell, but his curiosity was began to outweigh his
discomfort and fear. Something or someone had changed the manner in which
Woods' brain processed and reacted to information. He looked the same, his
voice was identical, but this Tom Woods was a very different individual
from the man who had screamed for vengeance as the bailiffs led him from
the courtroom.
        "What do you want from me? If you're not here for revenge, why did
you come?"
        "I want what I have always wanted, to find out what they did to me.
They'll think that I destroyed all the blood samples from this afternoon.
Find out what they've been giving me. I don't want to be who I was, angry
and vindictive, but it's really hazy in my mind who I really was before all
this began. I just want to know, once and for all, why I am who I am now.
Why did they need to change me? How did they do it?"
        While Mulder and Woods discussed the possibilities, Scully picked
up the phone, called the nurse's station and asked to speak to the law
enforcement official in charge. She wasn't surprised to hear Skinner's
voice on the line. 
         "What exactly is the situation in there?"
        "Sir, we have everything under control. Woods just wanted to talk,
he's surrendered the weapon. He's going to come out him in a few minutes
and I'll be right behind him." She didn't mention the blood samples.
Although Skinner could be trusted, there was no telling who else might be
listening. 

        Tom Woods trembled slightly as he stepped out of the room. He knew
he would go back to the institution and there was no way to tell what they
would do to him next. He didn't realize he had stopped until he felt Scully
give him a nudge. Glancing down the hall he saw men, clothed like a SWAT
team on TV, lining the corridor.
        Far down the hall the janitor peered around the corner, trying to
get a closer look at the excitement. He couldn't hear anything interesting
and the cops completely blocked his view. He leaned around the corner,
trying to get a better view. Distracted, he forgot about the mop bucket at
his feet until he kicked it over accidentally.
        Woods jerked to the side, startled by the noise. One of the agents 
panicked and fired, believing that the suspect was making a move for
Scully's gun.
        Woods felt the impact of the bullet, felt his body slide bonelessly
to the floor. 

        Cancerman sat smiled. Sometimes providence really worked in his
favor. That idiot rookie agent had not only eliminated Woods, but he had
also solved a prickly problem. This phase of the program was nearly
complete, the last batch of blood tests would only have confirmed what they
already knew, little had been lost. As for Mulder and Scully, they had
nothing. Secrecy was secure. The next phase of the plan could proceed on
scedule. Sometimes the best action was no action.


        Two days later Scully strode briskly down the hall to Mulder's
room. It was early, she liked to check up on him before she headed in to
work every day. The preliminary tests on Woods' blood were strange enough
to put a gleam in her partner's eye. And if the rash continued to resolve,
the edema and kidney functions kept improving and the skin graft healed as
it should, her partner was going to be discharged in a couple of days. Yes,
it was a pretty good day in Mr. Mulder's neighborhood.  
        At least that's what she thought until she approached his door and
heard the sound of violent retching. June McGuire stopped her before she
walked in.
        "You might want to wait a minute before you go in there."
        "How long has he been vomiting like that?"
        "About half the night. But there's also the diarrhea."
        "What?"
        "I heard the nurse mention food poisoning. She's starting a new IV
right now."
        Scully walked in and watched her partner lying there, looking pale
and worn out. Picking up his chart, she glanced over the latest entries. It
did look like bacterial food poisoning, probably Staphyllococus aureus,
from the symptoms, but they wouldn't know for sure for a couple of days
when the cultures grew out. By then he would be fine. The IV was in, he had
finished being sick  and the nurse was giving him something to rinse the
vile taste out of his mouth.
        He hadn't noticed her come in. As he sunk back, exhausted, into the
pillows, he felt her touch on his arm.
        "Mulder luck running true to form, I see."
        "Oh God, Scully. You've got to get me out of here."
        "Come on, Mulder. It's food poisoning, not the end of the world. It
won't last more than a day or two." 
        "I'm serious and no one will listen to me. Listen, how many other
patients came down with this bug last night? I'm willing to bet that it was
only me." He sighed wearily and rubbed a troublesome itchy spot at the back
of his neck. "Woods was only a distraction. Have you forgotten how I ended
up here in the first place? And what about that medication mix-up?"
        "I'll admit that seems to be quite a coincidence. But you're
talking about a killer, Mulder. These incidents are painful and
troublesome, but in no way lethal."
        "But they fit the profile. He likes to make his victims suffer for
days before he kills them. He's smart, organized and perfectly able to
change his methods as the situation changes. I think he looks at this as a
challenge, and he won't let a victim slip through his grasp. Hell, I would
be safer at home than lying here waiting for his next move."
        Now he was making her feel guilty. It was true, that after all the
frustration working on the case in Milwaukee, after the puzzle of Tom
Woods, the kidnapper had receded in her mind.  She took a good look at her
partner, he was scared, but he was also sick and weak.
        "Be realistic." He started to protest but she held up her hand to
cut him off. "You are right, there is a real threat here and the posting of
guards has proved less than adequate. But do you honestly think you're
ready to go home? Do you have enough energy to walk from that bed to
bathroom?"
        His only reply was a groan of frustration. 
        "Look, I'm meeting with Skinner later today, maybe I can check with
Packer or Bolton and find out where they're at in the investigation. Let's
see what can be done to beef up security in the hospital."

End part 6



Itch (7/7)


        Skinner not only hauled in Packer, Bolton to the meeting, but he
also called in representatives from the hospital administration and Brown
from the DC police investigative team. He demanded that the patients in
rooms nearest to Mulder be moved. He  also ordered screening, not only of
doctors and nurses on that floor, but also of all housekeeping, dietary and
pharmacy staff.   
        Scully, Packer and Bolton squirmed a bit as the hospital
administrator protested. The man must be blind not to see the simmering
fury in the AD's face.
        "Surely, Mr. Skinner, that's a bit extreme. How can I justify these
measures to my Board of Directors. They will  not be happy over the loss of
revenue from those empty hospital beds."
        "And just how happy will they be if my agent is killed while a
patient in your facility." Skinner didn't need to raise his voice, his tone
of voice quelled any opposition. "These measures will be implemented.
Today. With your full cooperation."

        When Scully finally made it back to Mulder's room, she found him
making a half-hearted attempt at his lunch of jello, clear broth and apple
juice. By the look on his face, it might not stay down for long.
        "Hey I never did tell get a chance to tell you the good news. Byers
called early this morning with the preliminary results on Woods' blood."
        "Don't keep me in suspense." He needed a little distraction from
the turmoil in his stomach.
        "The routine blood chemistries were all within normal limits. But
there were some proteins present which looked abnormal."
        "And?"
        "Just think about it for a moment. The central nervous system
involves a pharmacological network of neurotransmitters and receptors.
These networks consist of amino acids-"
        "And proteins are built of amino acids. So these proteins may have
been mimicking neurotransmitters or receptors, literally changing the
biochemistry of his brain."
        "Maybe. It is interesting that when we first met him, Woods
exhibited all the symptoms of a paranoid schizophrenic. There is some
evidence that schizophrenics display a biochemical abnormality with the
dopamine receptors in the brain." 
        "Oh God, Scully what have I done.. He came to me claiming that
someone was altering his brain and I turned him away. My testimony sent
straight into their hands, gave them a legal premise to pump him full
drugs. If he started acting crazier, well he was in an asylum ,after all."
        "Stop it, Mulder. You had no way to know."
        "I could have had you run some tests, or. . or. . .oh, God, I'm
going to be sick."
        She grabbed a basin and held it for him while he lost his meager lunch. 
        When he was done, she got him a glass of water to rinse out his
mouth and helped him lie back down.
        "Don't blame yourself. You didn't know. How could you?"
        "I could have trusted the boys not to send someone to me who didn't
really need help."
        "That's right." Both of them jerked back in surprise, they hadn't
heard Langley come in. "Mulder, you look like shit."
        "That's just about how I feel. Food poisoning last night."
        "You've got to get out of this place before it kills you."
        Mulder started to open his mouth, but Scully cut him off.
        "Look, I'm not going to take this from you, too. He will be
discharged as soon as it's medically advisable."
        "Whoa, I didn't mean to jump in the middle of anything. I just came
to give you the final report on Woods."
        Scully looked confused. "I thought it would be a couple of days
before all the tests were completed."
        He paused, Well, um, some of the more esoteric tests require fairly
large amounts of serum and, um . . ."
        "Don't tell me, they called back to say that the specimen was QNS?"
Langley nodded.
         "QNS?" Mulder wanted to know what they were talking about. Scully
filled him in.
        "Quantity not sufficient. There wasn't enough blood to run all of
the tests. I was afraid of that."
        "So we're stuck again." Mulder sounded weary. "No definitive
results and no way to confirm our suspicions. They just got away with it
again." 
        "Not quite. Neither of you shared this with anyone else at the Bureau?"
        They shook their heads.
        "Well, at least you know more than you did before, and no one else
is aware that you suspect anything. And we'll forward this information to
people we know. We may not have concrete proof, but at least now we know
that something is going on."
        "He's right, Mulder. It gives you a starting place."
        It always amazed him, the wide range of esoteric topics the Gunmen
were familiar with. While Langley and Scully mulled the complexities of
neural biochemistry, Mulder let his mind drift, too tired to follow the
conversation. Just as he dozed off a thought tickled the back of his mind.
It was amazing how the slightest smells seemed so obnoxious when you're
sick. Smoke for instance, he never could stand that smell. Smoke. Smell. He
smelled smoke. He sat up.
        "Don't you smell it?"
        They looked at him, puzzled, for a second before they realized what
it was he smelled. Just as the realization struck, an announcement came
over the hospital loud speakers, "Attention all hospital personnel, this is
a Code Red, repeat, this is a Code Red." 
        Scully sprang into action.
        "Langley, get me a hand." 
        Mulder was already on the edge of the bed. He draped an arm over
each of their shoulder's and stood. He hadn't been out of bed for days,
Scully tried to make him take a moment to catch his balance. He just
growled at her.
        "I'm all right, let's get out of here."
        As they entered the hallway, Scully noticed that Scharf was gone.       
        "Where the hell is Scharf?" 
        Mulder was trying really hard to keep back the panic, the
unreasoning fear of fire that threatened to overtake him. "I don't care,
let's go. Where's the damn stairway?"
         The trio turned toward the exit and immediately ran into a nurse
hurrying back to the nurse's station with a tray of medication. The man
went down dumping little white paper cups full of pills all over the floor.
Langley stepped on the scattered meds and went down, striking his head on
the floor. 
        The nurse was apologetic as he knelt down to help Scully, "I'm so
sorry. Let me help you with him."
        "No, I've got it. Just get Agent Mulder out of here."
        Mulder was stumbling down the hall. He barely noticed who it was
who wrapped a supporting arm around him, he was just grateful for the help.
The pair made their way to the stairs. The nurse opened the door and let
Mulder through first. As the door closed behind him, he stepped up to his
patient, but instead of helping him down the stairs, he punched him in the
stomach and shoved him down to the floor.
        "Now I can finish what I started."
         

        The casual observer would have seen nothing particularly heroic in
the short bespectacled man who was coming up the stairs just before all
hell broke lose. The elevator had been slow and he was in a particularly
good mood, so he decided to take the stairs instead.
         Frohike was a man with a mission that day. He had a laptop
computer wedged under his arm and was whistling softly to himself.  He had
decided that Mulder needed a little cheering up, especially after the whole
Woods affair, so he had downloaded a all of the raunchiest images off the
web, and determined to share him with his friend, who he knew was a
connoisseur of such art.  
        Suddenly he heard what sounded like shouts coming from one floor
above him. And not just shouts, that was Mulder yelling up there. Frohike
took the stairs two at a time, and nearly stumbled on the struggling pair
on the next landing. Mulder was doing a fair job of holding off his
attacker until the man in scrubs gave him a vicious kick to the stomach. 
        As the nurse raised his foot to deliver another blow, he felt the
world crash around his head. Frohike stood over him as the man slowly sunk
to the floor, the remnants of the demolished laptop scattered on the
stairwell.
        "Mulder, are you all right." 
        The limp figure at the bottom of the heap groaned and lifted his
head, "Now that's what I call entrance."


        Ron Scharf was found later, bound and gagged in a supply closet. By
the time he was rescued he had already mentally cataloged the most
unpleasant FBI duty stations, certain that his failure in this simple guard
duty assignment would not be beneficial to his career. He was not
disappointed in his expectations. Alaska in the winter was going to be hard
on a boy from south Florida.
        The actual fire had been set in a linen closet and was easily
contained. When the fire department arrived, all the patients had been
evacuated from Mulder's wing of the hospital. The hospital administrator
stressed to his anxious Board of Directors that because of his foresight in
transferring patients from that area, the panic and confusion had been held
to a minimum. What he failed to mention was his initial resistance to the
idea when Skinner first brought it up.

        The nurse Frohike subdued in the stairway proved to be the
kidnapper. A search of the man's house turned up souvenirs directly linked
to each of the victims. For some strange reason he had chosen Mulder's tie
for a keepsake. 
        Mulder's doctor had examined him after the ordeal and proclaimed
fit enough to be discharged in the morning. Scully believed he just wanted
to get his problem patient out of the hospital before anything else
happened to him. She had asked for a few days off, to make sure her partner
didn't overdo it, and Skinner had agreed.
        Frohike had been the man of the hour. Police, doctors, and even
Skinner had praised the little man for his heroism and quick thinking.
Skinner even promised to replace the smashed computer. But the most
wondrous thing of all was the handful of phone numbers that had been
stuffed in his pocket or discreetly handed to him.
        When he showed them to Byers and Langley, as the latter waited to
be discharged for his mild concussion, the pair had stared in awe.
        Frohike just smiled, "There's nothing like being a hero, when it
comes to being a babe magnet." This might take his mind off of his
unrequited love for Scully for a while.

        Later that evening, after all the excitement was over Mulder and
Scully enjoyed a few minutes of peace and quiet. The television was on but
neither of them was watching. She had pulled her chair up next to his bed,
feeling protective, even though the danger of the moment was gone. Their
conversation dwindled and Mulder drifted off to sleep. 
        As she watched him sleep, Scully felt calm overtake her. The case
was successfully resolved, her partner was not permanently damaged and the
bad guys had lost. The shadow of Tom Woods passed over her thoughts and she
frowned. Well, if it wasn't a victory for the good guys, at least they were
still alive and still a team. There would always be tomorrow.

The end. 

Hope you enjoyed it.