TITLE: "Pieces of the Past" AUTHORS: Jen and Lauren EMAILS: JenR13@aol.com (Jen), and JRDG1013@aol.com (Lauren) RATING: R, for language and some violent images SPOILERS: Grotesque, Anasazi (Timeline: this story takes place in the 5th season, after Redux II, but before The End) CLASSIFICATION: XA KEYWORDS: Mulder/Scully UST, Sc/M/Sk Friendship, Muldertorture ARCHIVE: OK, just keep our names on it :-). SUMMARY: While investigating a case for the VCS, Mulder discovers not all pieces of the past die. DISCLAIMER: Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, and Walter Skinner are not ours. If they were, we'd both have millions of dollars and be very happy :-). Instead, they belong to Chris Carter, Fox, and 1013 Productions and we are poor. So please don't sue!? :-) AUTHORS' NOTES: Well, 3rd time's a charm, right? This time we decided to go for a serial murderer case, instead of a straight forward X-File. But it's got a plot! :-) Also, neither of us has been to LA (yes, we have both been deprived of visiting the west coat) so we have no idea if it has a Second Street. But when you read you will notice how important 2nd Street is to the story, so if you live in LA and there is no 2nd Street, we're sorry and please don't get offended! :-) And please don't send us countless letters about it, because we have acknowledged it beforehand. Geography was never one of mine (Jen's) strong suit! Also, remember no movie or sixth season spoilers here, because this story was written to take place before both of them. :-) PS- You can find the other two stories we wrote at our website: http://members.tripod.com/~Jen1121/laurenjen.html "Pieces of the Past" By Jen & Lauren Copyright 1998 Part 01 of 08. "Clang!" The basketball bounced off the basket and landed at Sean Ingber's feet. He swore in frustration, not noticing his little sister had decided to join him. "Mommy says you're not allowed to say that." Sean jumped, not expecting the voice. His eyes narrowed in both annoyance and relief. "Jeez, Samantha, give me a little warning next time." He picked up the basketball and tried for another shot. This time it was dead on, and he smiled. Maybe he would make the basketball team after all. Samantha watched her big brother in awe. Her friends all said brothers were pains, but she and Sean were different. Close. Well, as close as siblings could be. They were pains to each other, but still.... The ball rolled toward Samantha's white Keds (tm) and she picked it up eagerly. "Can I try?" she asked. Sean looked at her. And he did what any twelve-year-old brother does to his little eight-year-old sister. He let her try one shot and then told her to get lost. Of course he didn't mean it literally. But sometimes things just happen. Literally. Outside AD Walter Skinner's office J. Edgar Building Washington, DC 10:28 a.m. "Any idea was this is about?" Fox Mulder directed his question at his partner, Dana Scully, who was currently staring at the wall in front her. "What?" she said .. "Daydreaming at the office?" Mulder teased. "I said, any idea about why Skinner wants to see us." "No, it was just a late night yesterday. I was doing paperwork for hours. Writing a reasonable explanation for our last case was a little more difficult than you might think." She raised a tired hand and pushed some stray hair out of her face. Mulder rubbed the bandage that covered his still sore wrist. Fifteen stitches after having a crazed woman jab at him with a razor. he noted in his mind. "There is no reasonable explanation," he answered shortly and turned his head toward Skinner's secretary, Kim, who was typing away happily at her computer. A radio sat perched next to her, turned to a news channel. Mulder sat and listened to a woman recite the weather, when a news report caught his ear. "An eight-year-old girl has been reported missing from her home, according to police. The girl, Samantha Ingber, apparently did not report home for dinner last night, causing worry in both of her parents. She was last seen by her brother, twelve-year-old Sean Hartman, some time last afternoon. Samantha has brown hair, blue eyes, is about 4' 5". Police are asking that anyone with information please contact...." Mulder listened intently, his own memories stirring up in the back off his mind. Kim noticed Mulder's intent gaze. She shook her head sadly. "Poor girl. Seems a lot of girls have been missing lately. I sure hope they find this one." Mulder nodded, and opened his mouth to respond when Skinner's door opened. "Agents Mulder, Scully. Please come in," Skinner directed and Mulder shut his mouth as he and Scully wordlessly followed Skinner into his office. Skinner sat down and urged the two agents to do the same. He picked up a file off of his desk. He held it in the air for a moment, and Mulder and Scully exchanged a glance. A new case. But there was a catch, they knew. A definite catch. "Agent Mulder, the VCS has requested your help on a case." There was the catch. "Sir..," both Mulder and Scully started, but Skinner went on. "Yours and Agent Scully's. Apparently to keep you in line," he added with a look. Of curiosity or humor, Mulder wasn't sure. Skinner handed the folder to Mulder. Curiosity getting the better of him, Mulder opened it. "It involves a string of serial murders of eight-year-old girls. All from areas near each other, though none of the victims knew each other. This killer has committed 11 murders so far, and the VCS hasn't gotten a lead." Skinner paused, then continued. "I'm assigning you both to this case as of this morning. You are to meet with Agent Mark Chambers at 11:30. He will go into more detail then. You're dismissed, agents." Mulder sighed, but said nothing, and walked out the door. Scully watched him go, and for the first time she was unable to read him. She didn't know exactly how he was when he worked for the VCS, but she had gotten a glimpse of it. And it wasn't something she liked. Scully turned to Skinner. "Sir," she began again. "Agent Scully, you're dismissed," Skinner repeated, and Scully turned toward the door. She had just about reached it when she turned back to Skinner one more time. "Agent Scully," Skinner said carefully. "Off the record, keep an eye on him." Scully was surprised, but recovered. "I will, sir." She stole one more glance at Skinner before she left the room. Location Unknown 11:32 a.m. It was dark. Not even a stream of light shined through, and Samantha wasn't sure if it was day or night. Her head ached and she felt like crying. She tried to remember how she had gotten in her dark prison. She remembered her brother telling her to get lost and how she decided to walk down to the street to her friend Mary's house. How something grabbed her from behind and shoved a damp cloth into her face. She had struggled and tried to scream, but whatever had grabbed her had a strong grip on her. She touched her head and remembered how the cloth smelled sickly sweet and how it gave her a headache. She squinted; she couldn't remember anything after that. After a few minutes her eyes began to get used to the darkness. She noticed a digital clock in the corner, reading 11:36 a.m. Samantha thought. For a eight-year-old, she adapted fast. She was not an easy person to scare, though she was beginning to get frightened now. She was in a basement, she realized, not unlike the one her Aunt Tara had. She wasn't strapped down or anything, either. She could move and get up. Samantha got up and walked around the room, touching things and trying to found out where she was. She ran her small fingers across table tops and dust met her fingertips. She handed came across a flashlight, and she smiled, glad to find something that would give her a clue to where she was. She turned it on and pointed it to a wall. She screamed and begun to cry at what she saw. 16 pictures of little girls, not unlike herself. All covered in blood. Dead. Samantha turned the flashlight away and fell back. She braced herself for the impact, but someone caught her. "Soon you'll have a picture on my wall, too," a voice said from behind her. Samantha screamed again, and ran toward another corner. She wanted a way out. Her small fingers trembled as she realized. There is no way out. "Mommy, Daddy," she sobbed, then crouched to the ground and drew her knees up to her chin. "Sean...anybody?" The voice just laughed, as Samantha's sobs grew louder. The Office of Mark Chambers 11:27 a.m. With a long sigh, Mark let his head drop to the cold surface of his desk. This whole room seemed cold; cold and impersonal. Mark hated the VCS but apparently someone-- someone higher up on the food chain than him-- thought the job suited him well, so he was stuck here for another year, at least. Unfortunately, he had had to sacrifice many a night of sleep to keep up with the strenuous work here and the high expectations of his superiors. "Sleeping on the job, Agent Chambers?" Mark thought. He forced his head off the desk. Spinning around in his well-cushioned desk chair, Mark came face to face with a petite woman, red hair, blue eyes, holding a familiar manila folder in her hands. She extended a hand. "Special Agent Dana Scully." Mark was caught off guard. "Uh.. Agent Scully, I'm... uh, Chambers. But call me Mark. Hey, you have a low voice..." A tall man stepped forward. "No, I'm the accuser." Mark recognized the voice as the one who had caught him "sleeping on the job." Agent Scully cleared her throat. "Mulder, Chambers. Let's go to someplace where we'll be able to spread out." She gestured to the thick folder she was holding. The three agents were sitting at the big table-- Mark and Mulder on one side, Scully on the other-- with papers and forms and photographs spread out all over the marble surface when Stevens came in. Mark, familiar with Stevens and the sound of his heels clicking, noticed his superior's arrival first. Then, Mark elbowed Mulder who kicked Scully under the table and all their heads raised simultaneously to stare into the stormy face of Murphy Stevens. This was a man who you didn't want to deal with, even in his _best_ mood. Mark stood up sharply. "Sir. We're just reviewing the case." "Yes, Chambers, I'm aware of that." Stevens said. He moved over, jerkily, to stand next to Scully and peered down at the table. Mark thought he saw a slight flinch when Stevens caught sight of the gruesome pictures of eight year old girls-- well, former eight year old girls-- their bodies torn and bloody in every way imaginable. "All right, get back to work. I'm going to the airport now, you know my cell number if you need to contact me." "A new case, sir?" Mark asked. "Vacation. The misses is making me." With that, he marched back out of the room. "He's scary," Scully whispered when Stevens was out of sight. "Very perceptive, Scully," Mulder said. "Guys, we can't operate from here. We need to get to California, get close to this case. Who else is working on this? You guys have a VCS team or something prepared? "Actually, its just us," Mark said. "Stevens didn't even want to take this, he thought it was a job for the local police down there, but the LAPD weren't getting anywhere. So they called for us. Don't we feel special?" In the Car outside LAPD office 9:37 p.m. (California time) "Uh, okay, how about I drive?" "There's an idea." Mulder grinned tiredly and tossed Scully the keys. Scully went around the car and into the driver's seat and Mulder dropped into the passenger's seat. Both of them turned around to look at Mark, passed out in the back seat. "Sleeping Beauty, huh?" Mulder said. "Yeah. Poor guy. All right, let's find some half-decent hotel around here. There _are_ some half-decent hotels around here, aren't there, Mulder?" Mulder shrugged. "How'm I supposed to know." Scully sighed dramatically, stuck the key in the ignition and pulled out. The car was silent. She drove around for a while and finally found a Holiday Inn. By the time she had found a parking space, Mark and Mulder were both asleep. Scully sighed again, cursing there was no one around and _awake_ to hear her complaints, and went to the front desk. After getting two rooms (Mark and Mulder seemed to get along well enough. Besides, they weren't around to object, now were they?), Scully went back to the car, sat down in the driver's seat again and, leaning all her weight forward, blasted the horn into the thin night air. Both of her male companions jumped six feet in the air and came down cursing low car ceilings. "I got us rooms, guys," Scully said. Scully held up the two keys in her hand and dangled them in front of them. Mulder rubbed his head and grabbed one. He looked up at Scully with a lop-sided grin. "Guess Chambers and I are roomies?" he asked. "Very perceptive, Mulder. But you both get a key. Come on. I want a good night's sleep before we jump into this case." Mark took his own key. "Sounds like a good idea to me." He immediately got out of the car and started walking toward the hotel. Scully noticed how he shrugged sleep right off and walked as if being exhausted was nothing. Scully could tell that Mark was exhausted(with his boss she wouldn't doubt), but he looked as if he knew how to cope. Scully thought as she and Mulder followed him. Holiday Inn Room 212 10:46 p.m. Mulder sat at the hotel's version of a table with the photographs spread out in front of him. Gory and gruesome pictures, not something you would like to look at before bedtime, but Mulder had a feeling that as soon as he saw them, they were the key. So what if every time he looked at them he wanted to hurl? This killer was going to strike again; if he hadn't already. Mulder thought His cycle of torture. After reviewing the file, Mulder had read Mark Chambers' own profile of the killer. It was detailed and Mulder was very impressed for he had some of same thoughts only after reading the file. "Killer most likely male, middle age and works near or with children," Mulder read. He read on to the cycle of torture. The killer seemed to enjoy putting his victims through. Sixteen days of emotional and physical abuse. Then on the sixteenth day, the kill. Mulder was so wrapped up in reading he didn't notice Mark walk in. Mark just placed a bag of sunflower seeds next to the folder. "Compliments of Agent Scully," he said before going toward the bathroom. Mulder looked up . "Thanks," he said, then returned back to the folders and pictures. Mark looked back at Mulder. He had heard of Fox Mulder before. A great profiler who went "Spooky" and was now currently working the basement in his own pet project, "The X-Files." Unexplained phenomena. Mulder's theories were really out there, he had been told. Of course, until now, he had never met Fox Mulder. Not that he had, he saw some the thing he had heard were true. Mulder had been here less than an hour and he had already thrown himself into the files. And Mark doubted anyone could disturb him now. Mulder's eyes were glued to the table, occasionally looking up toward something else, but then they went straight back down. Mark had heard the Mulder got _really_ into his cases. But, he knew people were talking about something bigger than studying a few files. Mark gave Mulder once last look and then shut the bathroom door. Holiday Inn Room 213 5:56 a.m. "Knock, knock!" Scully groaned and turned over. She sleepily grabbed for her watch to check the time. 5:57 a.m. She sighed. She knew only one person that was up at this time. The knocking continued, and Scully threw the covers off and slowly got out of bed. "Jeez, Mulder, it's 6 a.m.!" she called as she walked toward the door. Sure enough Fox Mulder was standing on the other side. "Haven't you ever heard the saying 'the early bird gets the worm?' " he asked with a smile. He was dressed in his jogging sweats and looked like he had just returned from a run. He also looked like he stayed up all night, Scully noted. "Mulder, even birds sleep. Maybe you should take a few lessons from them." Scully pushed some hair out of her face and shivered a little. The cold air was beginning to give her a chill. "Hey, Chambers didn't seem to care. I left the light on last night and he slept right through it. He's still sleeping now, in fact." Mulder noticed Scully shivering a little. "Cold, Scully?" "Yes! Mulder, it's 45 degrees out!" She began to retreat back into her room. "Hey, it's California! This afternoon you'll be saying how hot is it." Mulder leaned against her door. "We're meeting the LAPD at 9." "Yes, at 9. It's 6 now, Mulder." Mulder gave her a look that said "so?" Scully sighed. "Tell you what, Mulder. I've go get ready. Then you see if Mark's up and we'll go get something to eat." "Ok, Scully." Mulder was gone as soon as he said those words. Scully sighed again, closed her door, and walked her tired feet toward the bathroom. Holiday Inn Dining Room Los Angeles, CA 6:40 a.m. They had had to sit outside and wait until 6:30, when the dining room opened. Then, a groggy waitress with her hair barely combed and her apron on crooked had escorted them to the closest table, dumped some menus on their laps and a little ice water in their cups and retired to the back room. "Are you guys always up this early?" Mark grumbled who was still mad over being woken up at six. "Sorry. And Mulder, I said go _see_ if he's up, not wake him up." Mulder shrugged. "So how do you get some service around here?" "I think our waitress went back to sleep." "I think Mark did too." "Uh uh," Mark said. He was still in shock over how Mulder could possibly go to sleep so late, wake up so early and still be so damn cheerful! "Don't worry about it, Mark," Agent Scully said, reading his thoughts. "My partner's an insomniac." "Oh," Was all he could say before the waitress reappeared and asked their order. After telling the waitress (now looking a little more human) what they wanted and giving her their menus, Mulder reached down to his briefcase and pulled out the case file. "You _brought_ that?" Scully demanded. "Mulder, I can't--" "Relax, I just want to review what we're doing today. I was thinking we could check in with LAPD, make sure we've got all the notes that exist, then maybe go to--" He was cut off by Scully's cell phone ringing. "Hello? ... yes, sir. No, that's okay. Mulder woke me up at six. ... Yes, six. ...Are you sure, sir? ... well, I really can't say, we just started. ...Uh, yes sir. ... All right, we'll pick you up.... Seven, California time, right... Okay, bye, sir." While she was talking, Mark had mouthed a silent "who?" to Mulder and he had answered, silently as well, "Skinner." "Who?" Mark repeated when Scully hung up. "Skinner. Our boss," Mulder explained. "What's he want?" "He's coming here. Apparently Stevens ordered him and, well, I guess even the AD takes orders from that man." Mark grinned. "He'd be crazy not to." The waitress came again, this time with their food. "So, Scully, _anyway_, I was thinking we could go to--" "Not now. First, we're eating, _then_ we'll talk work." LAX Airport Los Angeles, CA 8:12 p.m. (California time) Scully was pissed. Her boss's plane was over an hour late and the boys (as she'd come to call them) had insisted on staying back at the hotel and working, leaving her to wait in the hot, crowded airport, by herself. And, though she hated to admit it, Mulder had been right, she was cursing the heat now. California weather sure was strange.... "Agent Scully." Scully turned towards her boss's familiar voice. "Hello, sir. Can I help you with one of those?" She gestured towards one of his suitcases. she thought. Walking down the long airport corridor, Scully began to expound to Skinner on what they had accomplished so far. That day they had visited LAPD, as Mulder had suggested, and found several more photographs from several more victims they hadn't even known about. Rather than look at them though (Scully knew they would be grotesque) she shoved them in "the boys' " directions and they took them in, eager for more evidence. However, she did catch the green look that crossed both of their faces when they first opened up the envelopes containing the pictures, and then quickly put them away for later inspection. After that, they had gone to the VCS office right outside LA and conferred with Agent Monaco, who had given them the names and addresses of several of the victims; those who hadn't moved out of the area. Scully had finished telling the whole day to Skinner by the time they had reached the parking lot. They somehow managed to hit LA rush hour traffic (which was several hours later than usual) and it took them nearly an hour to make it back to the hotel. Holiday Inn Los Angeles, CA 10:00 p.m. After getting Skinner settled in his own room (Scully was beginning to feel like the owner of the hotel, setting everyone up with a room), Scully retired to her room. She read for a little while, then turned off the lights and lay in the dark, wondering what The Boys were doing. She hadn't checked in on them since before she left to pick up Skinner... Scully realized. And with that, she fell asleep. End Part 01 of 08. From: JenR13 Subject: NEW: "Pieces of the Past" by Jen & Lauren (02/08) Part 02 of 08. Disclaimers in part 1. Holiday Inn Los Angeles, CA 3:31 a.m. Mark had conked out on him around 1 in the morning, but he had been able to keep up the work on his own with minimum difficulty. Mulder was used to the long nights, er, mornings, from his many years, in VCS and then the X-Files, and it wasn't until around three-thirty that he began to see double. Sitting up was harder than he'd expected it to be. His muscles were taut and sore from hours in the exact same position and his eyes burned with exhaustion. From the sitting position, Mulder managed to stand up, cross the room and take a drink from his coffee mug, then put it back down on the table, disgusted at its cold blandness. He then put all the papers back into the folder, returned the photographs to their envelopes and put everything back in his briefcase. Quietly, so as not to disturb Mark, he pulled his laptop out of his bag and plugged it in, then sat cross-legged on the bed and began his letter: Dear you sick bastard, How the hell could you do this? Don't you have any conscience at all? Do you get a kick out of torturing eight year olds? Little girls, loved by their parents and their big brothers. How do you think their families feel? You asshole. Mulder was breathing heavily in his rage. With shaking hands, he typed: Sincerely yours, Fox Mulder Mulder stared at what he had written. Sure, he meant every single word, but why did he write it? He couldn't send it. Even if he wanted too, he had no idea who this person was. No there was only one thing he could do. Mulder rubbed his tired eyes and picked up a file. Vanessa Slate was written on the top, and pictures of her dead body from various angles were paperclip to the folder. She had been the last victim. Mulder took one picture from the top and studied it. Mulder got the urge to throw up from what he saw. This victim seemed even more abused then the rest. She was sliced repeatedly, not one of the wounds was enough to kill her; they were just to add to her suffering. The picture of an eight-year-old girl, on the floor, pleading for her life, while some maniac held a razor in his hands flashed through Mulder's mind. He shuddered and shook it out of his head. He stared back at the photograph. She wasn't naked, not even raped once while she was held captive, but the sight was still something you wouldn't want to see before you went to bed. Vanessa's body was sprawled out, her eyes open and vacant, starring at nothing. Blood covered her body, large clumps of it on her legs and stomach. Her hair was also matted with blood, from the blow that killed her. This killer was very abusive. He slashed them and tortured them repetitively with a razor blade, but didn't kill them with it. After days of torture, he just whacked them over the head. Almost like he was giving them a quick end to all their misery. Almost like a gift. Mulder stared at the picture, knowing that on the table below him were fifteen pictures just like it. He sighed and put the picture down with the others. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he _was_ tired and needed _some_ sleep. He walked slowly over to his bed and plopped down, asleep before he even hit the pillow. ------------------- Mulder was at a crime scene. Another girl had been killed, and he couldn't stop it. Police tape lined the area, and Mulder could see a small limp form on the ground. He ducked under the tape and walked toward the girl. Red stained the ground before he even reached her. As he approached, Mulder noticed no one was around her. In fact everyone seemed far away, even from him. Mulder frowned and walked toward the body. The girl's brown hair was stained with blood, her clothes torn. Mulder winced at the sight, but knew he'd have to look. He bent down and screamed. Samantha's eyes stared back at him, cold, vacant, and dead. Mulder's scream was enough to wake the whole hotel, and Mark jumped when he heard it. He scrambled for the gun he had left on the nightstand, held it ready, when someone turned on the lights. Mark looked up and saw Scully in the doorway. She rushed immediately to Mulder's side, shaking him to wake him up. Mark realized then that the scream was just from a nightmare, and sighed with relief. He placed his gun down and looked at the clock. 4:23 a.m. He looked toward Mulder's bed and realized it must have been one hell of a nightmare to produce a scream like that. Scully's shaking wasn't getting anywhere. Mulder was mumbling something, though Mark wasn't sure what. Scully looked up at him. "Nightmare," she explained, "Could you help?" Mark nodded and walked over, helping Scully shake Mulder awake. ------------------ "Mulder, wake up." Mulder heard the voice, but the picture of Samantha lying dead on the ground didn't want to go away. "No," he murmured and felt a stronger shaking on his shoulders. "Mulder," the voice pleaded, and he recognized it as Scully's. "Scully, make it go away," he muttered, and finally opened his eyes and was able to exit his dream. And he saw two pairs of concerned eyes staring down at him. One was Scully's and the other...... Mulder realized and blinked, his exhaustion threatening to pull back into sleep. But that was the last place he wanted to go. He immediately sat up, a little embarrassed at having woken two people up, and rubbed his eyes. His breaths were still coming in short gasps, and he tried to control his breathing. "It's okay," Scully said and gripped his hands, as to keep them from shaking. "It was so real," Mulder said, forgetting for the moment that Mark was in the room. "What was so real?" Scully asked, and sat down on the bed next to him. "The dream.....Samantha." Mulder looked up and seemed to remember that Mark was in the room. He quickly straightened up. "It was nothing." "It didn't sound like nothing." That voice came from the doorway and Mulder saw AD Skinner standing there. "Is everything all right in here, agents?" The three agents nodded. "Yes, sir, things are fine," Scully said, "Agent Mulder just needs to get some more sleep." Skinner nodded in agreement and left them, with Mark still looking at Mulder. "Are you sure you're all right?" he asked Mulder carefully. Mulder got out of the bed and grabbed his watch off the dresser. "Yes, I'm fine," he said, through he sounded shaken. Scully however was not ready to take that answer to heart. "Mulder, get some sleep, you're exhausted. We have two crime scenes to visit tomorrow and I'd prefer that you didn't collapse on me while we're there." At the mention of sleep, Mulder's face looked shaken, though it only lasted for a second. Mark didn't catch on to it, but he watched with curiosity as Scully walked toward Mulder and gripped her fingers with his. Though Mark was in the room, the two agents seemed not to care. "I can give you something to help you sleep," Scully urged, but Mulder shook his head. "It's 4:30 anyway. I'm up for the day." He grabbed some jogging clothes, and walked toward the bathroom. "I'm just going to go for a jog. I'm fine, Scully. _Really_." Scully seemed doubtful but she went back to her room. Mark watched all of this and then sat back down on his bed. he thought as he decided to catch up on his sleep. The VCS office 10:33 a.m. "There's another girl missing." Mulder watched Mark place the report on the table. "How do we know it's our killer's work?" Mark produced a plastic bag of evidence. A number written on a piece of a girl's dress. 17. "He marks his girls. Leaves a number at the scene where he took them. She's going to be number seventeen in 12 days." Scully picked up the report, while Mulder took the bag from Mark's hands. The girls dress was lavender, and he tell from the material that it was new. He knew it was going to happen, and here it was. Now Mulder was really going to throw up. Mark sat down and continued to explain. "He's gloating. Seventeen is going to be an anniversary of sorts for him. He indicates so with the cloth." Mulder noted that the seventeen was circled, unlike any of the others. "An anniversary of what?" Scully asked, but Mulder just concentrated on the number. Seventeen. There had to be something special about that. He noticed Mark was talking again and turned his attention up toward him. Mark held out a picture. "This is the girl missing. Eight-year-old Samantha Ingber." As soon as he said that name, Mulder's dream returned to his mind. This time, he knew he was going to be sick. Scully saw him and grabbed the garbage can just in time. She sat there and rubbed his back and Mulder continued to retch until nothing else would come up. The VCS Office 10:40 a.m. "Hey, you okay?" Mark asked, trying to lean in to get a better look at Mulder. Scully turned at the waist, her hand still rubbing her partner's back soothingly. "Shh, just give him a minute." Several minutes later, Mulder lifted his head and they could see his pale complexion and bloodshot eyes. "Mark, why don't you keep going over those papers, I'm just going to take him outside for a minute." Scully gently took Mulder's arm and guided him towards the door. "Go back to work, Agent Scully," A voice from the doorway said. "I'll take care of this." Skinner intercepted Mulder halfway across the room and helped him outside. They sat on a bench right outside the door and Skinner gave Mulder another minute to calm down before addressing him. "Mulder, I know about your time at VCS. I know this is going to be hard on you. But you need to understand: Stevens chose you because he knew you're the best. And everybody's counting on you... Okay, this is coming out wrong. What I'm trying to say is that you need to keep a safe distance from this case because we can't have you breaking down. Work on it like you would any other, but don't get too involved. And don't let your health deteriorate. I know you have a tendency to forget about yourself during these cases and only concentrate on catching the killer. _You can't do that this time. We need you_." Skinner studied his agent, and found him squirming and distant, shivering a little, even in the late morning heat, and looking like he'd like nothing more than to bolt. Skinner sighed heavily. "All right, you can go back now. But, Mulder? Be careful." Mulder nodded and, a bit shakily, stood and went back into the room. "You need to be more specific," Scully was saying, agitation lacing her usually calm voice. "What could seventeen _mean_ to the killer? Is it something from his childhood? His mother's birthday, maybe? You need to find these things out." "I don't _know_!" Mark got up and began pacing. "I just need to..." "His sister," Mulder said softly. "What, Mulder?" Scully asked. She hadn't noticed he had returned. "His sister was taken from him when she was seventeen. He was younger than her, thirteen, and he always used to... um, resent her, I guess. She thought he was a pain in the ass but he loved her. Then, when she was seventeen, she disappeared." "Mulder, what the hell are you talking about?" Scully asked. She walked over to her partner and lay a hand on his arm. He immediately shook her off and started pacing with Mark. "Well, all these victims. Look at the first one. Morgan Aaronson, eight, older brother, Anthony, twelve. A four year difference. Then the next one, Tina Zenkle, eight, younger brother, Matthew, four. Then the next one, Hallie Bryant, eight, older brother, twelve. There's a four year difference every time and it alternates, older, younger, older, younger. Number seventeen, circled, is his sister, taken when she was seventeen. Seventeen is an odd number, so she must have a _younger_ brother, age thirteen. And that would be our killer." Mark was gaping at him, mouth wide open. "When did you figure that out?" Mulder gave a half-hearted smile. "After you fell asleep last night." "How late were you up?" Scully demanded. "I don't know. Sometime after... I dunno, maybe around four." "Four?! And then you had that nightmare and... Jesus, Mulder, you couldn't have gotten more than two hours of sleep last night! How can you be up and walking around?" Mulder shrugged and dropped into a chair. "But, wait a minute," Mark said. "Why would he take eight year old girls if his sister was taken when she was seventeen?" "That's what we're here to find out," Mulder told him. Holiday Inn Los Angeles, CA 4:56 p.m. After the little episode that morning, Mulder had refused to eat anything the rest of the day, afraid his stomach wouldn't be able to handle it. By four thirty, the lack of sleep and nutrition to his system caught up with him and he had to struggle to keep his eyes open. Scully, of course, noticed this, but didn't bring it up. She didn't want to embarrass him in front of Skinner and Mark plus she knew he would just deny it, like he always did. "But why does he take them when they're eight? It just doesn't make any sense!" The long hours of sitting in the same room, staring at the same white walls, trying to solve the same problems was getting to Mark. "Mulder, how can you be sure he even _had_ a sister? And, even more, that she was taken when she was seventeen. I mean, that number could mean something else. It could mean _anything_ else," Scully said. Mulder looked up wearily from the papers he was reading. "I know that, Scully. But its just... I just... I just _know_. Please trust me on this one. Now we need to figure out why he takes eight year old girls. It's gotta be something--" "Maybe seventeen year olds put up too much of a struggle," Mark suggested. "No, that's too simple," Mulder said. "This is obviously close to home for the killer, he's got to have some good reason..." "Mulder, I think it's a little close to home for you too," Scully said gently. "Maybe you should take a break." "No!" Mulder slammed his fist down on the table in frustration. "There's gotta be something... lemme..." He grabbed a pad and pencil from across the table and began scribbling numbers on it. "What's he doing?" Mark whispered to Scully. She shrugged. Mulder let out a strange sound, half way between a cough and a whimper. "I can't get it. The only thing I can come up with is... well, two times four is eight." "So?" Mark asked. "The four year difference between siblings and then two is... I don't know what two is. I just don't know." "It's okay," Scully said. "That's good. Something new to work with." She noticed he was squinting against the bright desk lamp and helpfully turned it away from his face. "Headache?" she asked, sympathetically. He nodded minutely and Scully crossed the room and got out two Advil for him. He swallowed them with the last remnants of cold coffee and stared blankly at the dull white wall. "I just can't get it." "It's okay," Scully said reassuringly. She watched Mulder's tired eyes scan the wall, and knew he needed some sleep before he collapsed. "I think we could all use a break," she said, hoping that they would get the hint. Skinner nodded. "That's a good idea." Mark nodded also and left the room quickly, seemingly glad to escape its four walls. Mulder sat down on a bed and rubbed his temples. "I just can't get it," he repeated. Skinner looked at him concerned but decided Scully could take care of it. "How about we meet for dinner at 7?" Scully said as Skinner walked out the door. Skinner knew Mulder hadn't eaten anything all day and Scully was hoping she could get _something_ into him. "I'll tell Agent Chambers," he agreed and exited the room, leaving Mulder and Scully alone. Scully saw Mulder staring back at the pad he had scribbled on. He was staring so intently at it that he didn't notice Scully when Scully sat right next to him. "Mulder," she said gently and laid a hand on his shoulder. He jumped and spun around, dropping his pad on the floor. "Sorry, Scully." He barely glanced at her as he reached for his pad and began scribbling again. Scully had to physically take the pad away from him for him to look up at her again. "Mulder, get some sleep." She held the pad in her hand, and excepted an argument to ensue. It did, though it wasn't one she expected. "No, Scully. It's here, I know it." He grabbed his pad back from her and held it tightly in his hands. For a minute Scully thought he was going to tear it into two, but instead he placed it on his bed, next to him and stared toward the wall. Scully watched him, suddenly both worried and afraid. She remembered the case with Bill Patterson, how he distanced himself, but this was different. This time it was almost........personal. A little too personal. Scully wondered. She sat in silence next to him, wanting to speak, but not knowing what to say. It turned out she didn't have to speak. "Sam could be a pain, sometimes." It was a statement, and Scully wasn't sure why it come up, but he continued in a quiet, yet almost rambling way. "I was the last person to see her, too." Scully moved closer, to put a hand on his shoulder, but he moved away. "Just like this case. Each time the girl disappeared, her brother was the last to see her." "Yes, they were." Another moment of silence. Finally Scully got off the bed. "Mulder, you need to get some sleep. I heard it's the newest thing." That got a small smile out of him. "Well, I was never one for trends." He lifted his pad up again, but Scully took it and placed it on the nightstand. "Sleep," she said forcefully. Mulder sighed, but she could tell he was exhausted and couldn't hide it any longer. He hadn't been sleeping on their last case either, so it was all catching up with him. "You win," he finally agreed. "When do I not?" she teased. "See you in a couple of hours for dinner." She walked toward the door. "I really mean sleep, Mulder. _Not_ pace the room with a notebook in hand. " "Yes, Mom," he answered. Scully took one more long concerned gaze toward him as she walked out. She crossed her fingers and hoped Mulder would survive this case. Holiday Inn 5:35 p.m. Mulder lied. He didn't sleep. The second Scully walked out the door, he grabbed his pad and look at his scribblings. He still wasn't getting anywhere and his exhaustion was getting worse by the second. But he was close. He could _feel_ it. He ran his finger along the numbers, frustrated. he thought, and he walked toward the table and picked up the report on Samantha Ingber. Seeing the photo evoked the same queasy feeling he had that morning. Brown hair. Blue eyes. And a smile that only caused Mulder to look away. There were so many likenesses. He had to save her. But how? He blinked and stared at the file, almost as if it held everything he needed and wanted to know. But it didn't. He glanced at his watch. 5:35. Scully said something about eating at 7. Mark had disappeared, and Mulder had a feeling that Scully might be behind that. he thought as he gathered the files.