From: ac491@FreeNet.Carleton.CA (Patti MacKinnon) Date: Tue, 12 Jul 1994 04:48:23 GMT Foreword Here's the latest DDEB Black Ops contribution to the in-between seasons .creative free-for-all. I couldn't have written this without the help and contributions of fellow DDEB'er Agent Marisa Golini (dialogue tweaking, newspeak writing and all around support during the mid-story freak-out) and Agent Ian Shearer (that walking encyclopedia of classified tech information, who supplied the FBI buzztalk and informed me of the existence of an HRT). I also want to thank Kellie Matthews-Simmons for giving me permission (through Agent Golini) to refer to her character Gemma (one big happy family) and the .net-hussy-cum-goddess Janis Maria Cortese, for making me realize in the first place that writing for the net was not only possible, but damn fun. (kissies). And of course, the ritual thank you to Chris, David and Gillian and the whole darn crew in Hollywood (North and South) for providing us with one of the first interactive television shows (we gather and scream at the TV set once a week). Hi to the GATB; put a scene in just for you... enjoy! Note: Timeline wise, this story occurs after "Gemma" (1 and 2) and before "Sam-I-Am" and the soon to be uploaded "The Fire Eternal". All other stories occur in an alternate time-line in the multiverse. The usual disclaimers apply. ***** "Machine of Intention" by Patti (Tash) MacKinnon ***** He drove sluggishly around the neighbourhood, randomly choosing streets or back alleys when they presented themselves, searching for a remembrance. One of the little stucco houses plucked at a place in his mind - the yellow paint lifting off the walls like burnt, bubbled sugar glaze on a cake. He wondered if you could see the Bakersfield oil derricks pumping from the back porch... he shifted the truck into neutral and kept it running. Threaded his way through the household debris in the weedy back yard and walked quietly as possible up the crumbling steps onto the listing porch. Yup - he could see the massive machines pumping, hear them, almost feel the impact of their rhythm. He twitched slightly as if each downstroke of the piston was a blow on his back. He leaned into one of the rear windows - there was a thirtyish woman sprawled asleep in the bedroom on a frayed mattress, a threadbare quilt twisted around her legs. His eyes rolled up into his head briefly... yesssss.... then he snorted and climbed through the window... ***** Special Agent Fox Mulder rubbed his sore eyes hard with the heels of his hands and blearily surveyed the sea of cardboard cartons loaded with files, evidence bags, and the stray McFood wrapper. There were ten members of his task force crammed into the cinderblock-wall motel room along with their ambient smells. Agents Atkinson and Solaire were smoking outside after Mulder had forbidden them entrance; with the fiery red glow of the New Mexico desert sunset streaming into the room and the stifling heat, the room was already hellish enough. It got worse when someone turned on the television: "I'm Anna Komenya, and this is Headline News...Terror grows in the American southwest as the serial killer known as The Iceman strikes again. CNN report. Another body was discovered this morning in a Tucson area trailer park...." The newscast cut to a sound bite from what looked like the lucky eyewitness. A baseball-capped man with a pendulous stomach was framed by his ramshackle mobile home. "The dawgs been barking at that fridge on the porch fer days. I'd throw mah beer bottle at 'em. Finally, I thought I'd better check it out. Well, damn...the smell from that fridge...the dawgs wouldn't even go near it..." The report cut back to the anchor. "Seven bodies have been found so far - scattered across several states; all were discovered in abandoned refrigerators . Residents in the southwest area say they are terrified by the randomness of the murders. Gun shops report a huge increase in sales following the apparent lack of progress by the authorities in cracking the case. CNN has also learned that the FBI task force in charge of the investigation now has a detailed description of a suspect..." "... a description that exists only in the mind of Fox Mulder" hissed Agent Tennyson under his breath to the task force member next to him. "But old Spooky got 'inside his head' and came up with a complete profile... what next? Is Skinner gonna assign us a psychic to track the perps movements in a crystal ball?" He made a harsh sound with the back of his throat. "C'mon Tennyson... " Agent Solaire replied in normal tones. "Lay off Mulder - he may be weird but he's still good. And since Skinner's assigned him back to violent crimes, he's been brilliant. It's our gain - he was too valuable to waste on those x-files." "Ecchhhkh - he's still a kook." snarled Tennyson. He roughly hauled a couple of the cardboard file boxes out to the car - the task force was on the move to Tucson. Inside, Mulder stood on one of the beds to avoid the crush of sweating agents bustling about the tiny room packing up equipment and boxes. He rubbed the two days worth of stubble on his chin, briefly lamented the state his suit was in, then steadied himself with a couple of deep breaths before returning to the argument with his forensic specialist. "Look, Truman your results must be wrong - this guy is going backwards in time in his head - his victims _must_ be getting younger. Just check the tests again." "Alreddy hef." drawled Agent Truman. "Yer jest gonna hef t'get ya a nuuuuuuu theery." "Acchhhah-hahaaahah..." Mulder slapped the report folder against his thigh a few times while he glowered down at the implacable little elf of a man. Agent Truman stared placidly back at him through his thick round glasses, then crossed his hands over his little round stomach. Stalemate. Abruptly Mulder jumped off the bed and stomped over to the bathroom. Someone was packing up odds and ends in the already crowded and narrow facility so Mulder opted to stand in the bathtub. He held one of the x-rays up to the bare bulb, then balanced on the rim of the tub to get a better view. Truman had to be wrong - he *knew* this maniac was on a downward spiralling journey into the dark places of his own mind - and the age of his victims had so far reflected the milestones in his backward path. But Truman said the last two victims had been older... that broke the pattern. He squinted against the glare of the bulb then rubbed his eyes again. Damn - maybe he did need a new theory... No, what he needed right now was someone who knew their business and who would go toe-to-toe with him but back down when they were wrong - and then throw themselves behind him a thousand percent. Someone who trusted him and his instincts... what he desperately needed was Dana Scully... but she was completely unattainable to him now. Scully had miraculously been chosen as the FBI's White House Liaison to the Secret Service. Rumours said certain old friends of her late father the Admiral had not been pleased at seeing daddy's princess buried in the basement with the FBI's most unwanted... pressure had been applied. There were other rumours too, rumours having to do with a certain Secret Service agent... but Mulder did his best to ignore those... even though Tennyson made a special point of letting him "overhear" whenever he spread a juicy new story. Agent Tennyson - just one more shining problem. He stepped down from the rim into the bathtub and rested his forehead against the cracked, cool tiles. The stabbing ache that accompanied any thought of Scully astonished him. He dropped his gaze to the x-ray still in his hand... was that a *hair* on the film??? "Ooooooohhh Scully, if ever I've needed you...." ***** He cruised the desert roads ceaselessly, stopping for gas in the most isolated roadside stations, eating microwave burritos and junk food, touring the decrepit shells of long abandoned towns. The New Mexico roads shimmered constantly in the heat during the day, and after awhile he began to see figures moving in the heat, entire scenes reenacted from old movies, TV shows, his own life, but mostly commercials... he kept seeing this cola babe beckoning him past the next mesa. It was beginning to bug him. Eventually he came across an abandoned gas stop with an old flaking red and white soda freezer still out front under the rotting stoop. He snorted, smirked at his revelation... flopped out of the cab of the truck and started singing "Have a Coke and a smile" over and over while he moved the body from the camper. It took a few trips to haul the numerous pungent garbage bags to the freezer. His head throbbed behind his eyes when he was finished and he was pretty hot. Heh... could use a COKE... huh heh... huh... uhhhhhhh. He pressed the heels of his hands hard against his eyes. Decided maybe he'd travel by night from now on. ***** Mulder sat hunched over in the uncomfortable orange plastic seat in the lounge of the airport. He had his hands squeezed between his knees as he contemplated the ugly stain resistant pattern of the rug. "So many airports, so little time..." he spoke softly to himself. HQ was flying them directly from Tucson into Washington for a debriefing and press conference. The Air Force had put up a plane, strings had been pulled - the media was making a big deal of the story and certain people high up wanted the case over with quickly. He had practically been given carte blanche, except in his choice of certain agents... He leaned back and idly wondered what poor soul had the job of designing the patterns for the holes in acoustic ceiling tiles. Why was it his fate to get stuck with the command of the task force on this case of all cases.. was it the wrath of the gods or just the punishment of Skinner? He felt like he was just out of the academy having to prove himself again; screw the pooch and wave bye-bye to what was left of his career and any slight chance of someday recovering the x-files. And above all the fate of peoples lives on his head... he never forgot that, not for the briefest minute... all those dark-haired women, soon to be dark-haired girls... eight-year old dark-haired girls. He winced. His stomach hurt. The stabbing ache behind his eyes never let up, only ebbed and flowed in intensity. He *had* to stop this beast before he went any further. For many nights he had been trying to think like him, anticipate him. It had become so intense that he sometimes swore he knew who the next victim would look like... he could pick his type out in a crowd... he scanned the lounge briefly... um... yeah - he'd go for her. He sighed deeply and rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes again. There was a burst of sour laughter from the task force. He raised his head slightly and regarded them from below his lashes. Some of them remembered him from the earlier part of his career and respected him. Some had come to respect him, followed him regardless of his reputation; they seemed surprised that "Spooky" Mulder had enough common sense in his head to run a "real" investigation and run it well. Then there were the others, the ones like Braemer, the little P.R. snot, and Tennyson - who never missed a chance to make a crack or to belittle or undermine him behind his back. He was the worst; every "Spooky" comment made in the field could be traced back to him. A major thorn in his side. Mulder glared at Tennyson's gaunt figure standing in front of the expansive lounge window... and was suddenly engulfed by a brief, graphic vision of the glass exploding and lacerating Tennyson's twitching, bloody body while he laughed euphonically. "Oh my god. Whoa Mulder". He gasped and dropped his head to his knees until the red mist behind his eyes cleared. This was from too many days trying to reason like Iceman... too many nights dealing with his perennial nightmares that had started to worsen in the desert heat. His dark, half-remembered dreams of Samantha crying out to him - merging with visions of bodies in tanks filled with fluid; worms bursting through necks; flashbacks of crawling through a fetal passageway hunting Tooms; everything all jumbled and intermixed in with recent memories of the crime scenes... and of (oh god) the messes they found in the fridges... He exhaled violently. He had been holding his breath without realizing it. God he wished he could talk to Scully, just hear her voice. Was she all right? Was she remembering what he was remembering, reliving the horrors of the x-files... how was she dealing with it all? She hadn't contacted him since they had been split up, had ignored messages, then had changed her number. He backed off, confused and injured; her actions spoke her message. Obviously she wanted no reminders of what they had been through together... she had moved on. But that didn't stop him from vividly imagining her, hearing her lilting voice. "Mulder - snap out of it." A raised eyebrow, a stern look from her hazel eyes... "This is not going to look good on my field report.. get a grip." Then a tiny, sardonic smile on her pouty lips... A little Scully ghost on his shoulder, haunting him. He missed her in ways he wouldn't name. He was jerked from his reverie by Agent Atkinson. The massive black man roused him by poking him none too gently in the shoulder. "Yo, Earth-to-Mulder... planes boarding." He was blustering but underneath it he seemed concerned. "Yeah, right... " Mulder looked up blearily and regarded the assembled task force. "Guess the dog and pony show is hitting the road." ***** Around midnight he travelled the quiet, rutted roads in the older, poorer part of the Oklahoma town out past the decrepit grain silos - the weedy roads with no sidewalks and sometimes no asphalt. Overgrown yards were hemmed in by once-bright picket fences faded in the unpainted decades to match the weather-pounded grey of the houses. He gauged the distance, shifted into neutral, shut off the lights and engine and coasted to a stop just short of the dwelling at the end of the road. Old dark house, far enough out to be a farmhouse - secluded... He hauled the duffle bag with his gear in it from the camper shell and selected what he needed then headed around the back of the house. He had followed her home from the market this morning and cased the house. Right age, right hair, had those gawky legs...figured she had a man around from the groceries she bought, but that was ok, he had his handy-dandy-12-gauge-pump-action-pistol-grip-shotgun- loaded-with-unrifled-deer-slugs-thank-you-ma'am. Snort. He trampled the sad little poppy beds peering in the rear windows until he found the one he wanted. He shined the high powered flashlight through the bedroom window with his left hand and caught the boyfriend in the beam, and shot him with the gun in his right. She was screaming her head off before buddy even hit the grey linoleum. He didn't care; he'd have her out of there before any neighbour reacted, that is if there was anyone else out there on this dirt road to god's end. He clambered through the shattered window into the room, ambled right over to her and grabbed her by the hair - she was so scared she didn't even try to run. *** Scully slowly prepared herself for the White House gala. Clipped on the pearls earring her mother had given her, adjusted one of the tendrils that had escaped from her upswept hairdo. She scrutinized her elaborate makeup in the mirror. She could see the reflection of the rented $7000 Lagerfeld evening gown where it lay foamed all over the bed. She leaned into the dressing table mirror and gave herself a little insincere smile. "Long way from chasing around in the woods after UFO's huh Dana?" A month ago she would never have dreamed of wearing such a thing, would not even have wanted to... but Nathaniel had changed all that. She walked to the bed and fingered the pearls sewn onto the plunging satin bodice of the dress... a long way from the woods indeed. The sound of the phone stunned her. She almost answered "This is Scully", but caught herself. "Hello." She knew who it was. "Hey Dana." Nathaniel's gruff voice came through the receiver. "Are we still on for tonight or am I going to be forced to come over there and vigorously warm up your cold feet?" Dana smiled. She could just picture it. "I'm of two minds still, but the gown isn't - it has a mind of it's own. I think it wants to go without me so it can have a better time." "Oh come on Princess, it'll be alright. There's an outside chance you might even enjoy yourself. I intend to make sure of it. I've got a limo ready to pick you up in an hour, okay?" "Alright, but Nathaniel, I have to stop in at HQ to pick up some documents. There are some things I have to finish up tomorrow." "Workworkworkwork." he grumbled. "Stop grumbling. I'll see you in an hour." She replaced the receiver in its cradle and turned to consider the dress again. Her new life seemed so delicate and unreal, like a soap bubble surrounding a smooth round pebble. Her new offices at HQ and the White House, her new duties... everything had changed so suddenly and inexplicably that it all remained insubstantial, dreamlike. She hadn't touched a scalpel or a read a lab report in a month now. She was losing touch with everything that had made her what she was, but the important thing now was to forget, to move on. Her days were spent interacting gingerly with the high officials she dealt with, while she watched her every step. After the last case with Mulder she suspected everyone of hidden motivations, of watching her, of *knowing*. She didn't dare trust anyone, form any attachments, feel affection. The only things she could feel deeply were the nightmares she had been plagued with for the last few weeks... every horror from the x-files crowding into her nights. Professionally, she could tell herself it was Post Trauma Stress Syndrome - the nightmares, the disassociation. Privately, she felt as if it were Mulder's Curse - nothing after her time with him had any substance to it. She drifted in vague reality. There was no one to trust, to turn to, no one to talk to about this to Mulder... and she refused. She had to stay detached for the sake of her career and her sanity, forget everything she had seen, refuse to get drawn down into Fox Mulder's personal, private little psycho- drama... But she couldn't stop missing him. Not being with him everyday left a gaping hole in her life; no-one else had ever absorbed her so completely. She knew Skinner was punishing him for getting in too deep with the x-files; flying him all over the country, assigning him to the worst of the violent crime division cases. She hadn't had contact with him since the day they had almost wordlessly cleaned out the basement office, throwing Mulder's life into cardboard boxes. That day he had looked devastated, hollow. He had kept staring at her, trying to communicate something, but she had avoided eye contact, hadn't been able to handle what she saw in those eyes. She bit her lip. What would become of Mulder? They had cut out his heart, dangled it in front of him and then told him if he behaved they might give it back a piece at a time... She suddenly broke out of her daze and glared at herself in the mirror. "C'mon Dana. Forget it, forget *him*... forget the whole sorry mess - put it behind you. This reality's calling." Scully carefully worked herself into the dress she and Nathaniel had selected. Thank god for Nathaniel. Thank god he was there to hold her when she woke up crying out from the nightmares too many nights... he was a rock. Maybe it was because of his age that he was so calm, so capable of handling everything. He had moved right into her life when she had desperately needed support; he'd saved her from a few disastrous professional decisions when she was fresh on the job, then saved her from the disastrous personal decision of almost attempting to contact Mulder. She knew she leaned on him more than she should, but she needed his solidity and common sense right now, especially after... She idly wondered what Nathaniel had been like when he was in his thirties. Had he been so sardonic and unflappable? She wished she had known him then. She surveyed the finished product in the full-length mirror; the ecru-lace jacket barely covering the low cut of the creamy bodice, all the flowing chiffon of the underskirt... her style had always been so tailored, almost severe. Now she looked like a damn Barbie. She humphed and pressed her lips together. Ah well, new clothes new life new Scully. How the worm turns - she grimaced at herself... what had gotten into her tonight? Trepidation about this party? Granted, the director of the FBI would be there, and most certainly the Clintons; she could handle that. But if Nathaniel hadn't asked to escort her, she wouldn't have gone. This wasn't her life, she was a doctor, an FBI agent, not a society butterfly... this is not how she used to spend her nights.... She started to heave a deep sigh and gasped sharply as the gown constricted her. She had to laugh at that, but gingerly. What a ridiculous dress. Oh god, what would Mulder say? She tried to imagine... "No. Stop it Dana. Block it out" she leaned to talk to herself in the mirror. "This is your life now, get used to it... It's showtime." ***** Mulder kept his composure until he exited the noisy briefing room, then slumped against the wall in the main hallway rubbing his eyes. Atkinson followed him out and grinned sympathetically. Mulder grinned weakly back. He ran his hands through his hair and took a deep, long breath. "I'd rather go up against Iceman armed with a pointed stick and a smile than face another press conference... this is not what I needed at this stage." "Yeah, keeping your cool with reporters is not your strong suit right now... good thing Braemer took over. At least he won't look so 'luminously pale' on CNN." Atkinson waited for a snipe back or a least a wordlessly mouthed sarcastic ha-ha, but Mulder was suddenly on another world. He was gazing astonished at the elevators at the end of the hall. A delicate woman in a flowing pale gown had appeared like a vision to stand there. Mulder stood transfixed. "Scully". Mulder breathed, astonished at the sight of her. It had to be synchronicity that they were both here, just when he needed so desperately to speak to her. He knew if she saw him face to face she wouldn't cut him out... or at least the old Scully wouldn't. He wasn't sure about the reaction he would get from this ethereal stranger. He was astounded at the transformation. He was even more astounded by the greying, lean, tuxedo-clad man who came up behind her, holding some document folders. The man ran his index finger lightly down Scully's back where it was exposed by the deep plunge of the gown. Mulder inhaled sharply and spoke to Atkinson without taking his eyes off the scene at the elevators. "Atkinson - who's that guy with Scully - you know him?" "Yeah, Nathaniel Harrison, the Secret Service Liaison to the FBI. He's Scully's counterpart you might say..." Atkinson watched Mulder watching Nathaniel as he dangled the folders in front of Scully, then encircled her with his arms. Mulder, already rigid with tension, seemed close to erupting. Then Nathaniel bent his head to plant a little kiss on her neck where some wisps had escaped her hairdo. She giggled - *giggled* ... Uh oh... "Counterpart!" Mulder exploded. "Is *that* what they're calling it now?" "Hold on Mulder, be cool... what is your problem!?" Mulder didn't answer; he was already stalking over to the end of the hall. "Heeeeeyy Scully." He stomped right into her space. Scully turned to him electrified. It had been a long time since she had seen him, and now the sight of him was frankly disturbing. She took in with a glance the less than crisp suit, the askew tie. These were unusual enough, but worse was the glazed, almost deranged cast to his eyes... what was wrong? She forced herself to remain collected while she gauged the situation. "Mulder - oh - how are you? "Oh fine Scully, I'm just great. Skinner's got me heading the Iceman task force; I've been on a non-stop two-week tour of the most exotic locations of abandoned fridges around the country. I've discovered new sights and smells that are unchronicled in the history of mankind and certainly in the history of the Bureau... But hey... it keeps me out of trouble right? Oh life is just damn *peachy*." He flung his arms out expansively... Paused a beat while he eyed her lengthways and sideways, taking in the gleaming pearls, the upswept hair, the flowing cream gown... she looked heartbreakingly beautiful and utterly useless... where was the efficient, cool and competent doctor? This wasn't *his* Scully. Had the whole world gone crazy? He swayed a little, dropped his arms and let them hang at his sides before he swallowed and switched gears. "Long way up from the basement Scully." he said tonelessly. "Well you know, new job, new life, new clothes" She was agitated, speaking too quickly... she tried to gloss over the increasing tenseness in the air until she got a read on Mulder. He was acting erratically to say the least. She placed her hand on Nathaniel's arm. "Mulder, this is Nathaniel Harrison. He's the Secret Service Liaison to the Bureau ... Nathaniel, this is Agent Fox Mulder." Harrison shifted the documents to his left hand and extended his right to Mulder. He was determined to defuse this situation before it got any more out of hand... this Mulder guy was looking like he needed to be sedated. "Agent Mulder, Scully's mentioned you. Pretty eerie stuff you two were working on." Mulder ignored the outstretched hand. "Oh, she *mentioned* me did she," he bit out between clenched teeth. He was starting to get a really crazy grin. He angled himself so that his back was deliberately turned on Harrison and leaned in close to Scully's face. She could see a gleam in his dilated hazel eyes that deeply disturbed her. "So is this the attire required by the Secret Service Liaison for the performance of *night* duties in your new *position* Scul-lee." he hissed. "Mulder!" Scully gasped. This was unbelievable. "Okay Mulder, that's Enough." growled Nathaniel. He put his arm protectively around Scully's waist and pulled her close to him. "Oh right... subject-exhibiting-extreme-signs-of-territorial- behaviour-including-perimeter-marking..." Mulder monotoned while appearing to scrutinize Harrison like a threatening suspect. Then he swayed and switched gears again. "Why don't you just piss on her leg like a dog." he spat. "THAT'S IT MULDER, WE'RE OUT OF HERE!" Scully held up her hand as if to ward him off. Eyes and mouth wide, she regarded him as if he were possessed. She was torn between fury and compassion; Mulder was coming apart. What should she do? Nathaniel solved the dilemma by hustling her protectively into an elevator, muttering into her ear while staring at Mulder. Mulder stood stockstill and looked like a volcano about to erupt. He and Scully never broke eye contact until the elevator doors closed in front of her. ***** He walked in the twilight down the modest suburban street with his trusty duffle bag. He sang to himself softly as he moved - "Meet George Jetson da dada da - daughter Judy heh heh heh - Jane his WIFE na NA nana NA..." The people he passed all looked at him as if he smelled bad... well maybe he did so what fuck them. He rammed the heels of his hands into his eyesockets and waited for his vision to clear... His head throbbed pretty bad all the time now. Couldn't let it interfere... too much to do yet... He strided mechanically for a few yards before quickening his pace to catch up with the skinny dark-haired girl with the pretty panties he had seen at the park. She cut across the immaculate front lawn of one of the houses and he followed her right up the driveway and through the breezeway to the backyard. They were barbecuing, he could smell it. MMmmm... MMmmm "Oh I wish I were an Oscar Meyer Weiner," he hummed as he strolled onto the patio right up to the barbecue, and shot daddy dearest through the dufflebag without bothering to take the shotgun out. Before he scooped up the shrieking girl under one arm he paused to grab a hot dog and then helped himself to daddy's car keys out of his pocket... the camper was beginning to smell pretty rank, even to him. ***** Agent Tennyson ducked his head back into the briefing room after observing the scene in the hallway. He went over to stand by the fax machine and mutter to another agent just as Mulder blew into the room. As usual he raised his voice just loud enough for Mulder to "overhear". "Soooooo, do you think if we can convince Iceman to wear a low-cut Scully-style evening gown we might be able to get Mulder to finally concentrate on the case and zero in on him with his "spooky- senses"...?" Mulder went apocalyptic. He grabbed Tennyson from behind, spun him around by his mundane-grey FBI suit jacket and slammed him into the wall. He clenched the shorter man's shirt and tie and yanked them up around his neck while he leaned close into his face. Tennyson's face was a study in shock and raw fright as Mulder eyes bored into his. "Listen" he hissed "I have taken all I can take of your poison whispers behind my back. I'm just trying to do this goddamn job. I'm trying to catch this psychopath with every means at my disposal and if logical reasoning and hunches look mystical and "spooky" to an 85 IQ like you you're in the wrong goddam career. From now on if you have something to say then you say it to my face and I don't *ever* want to hear Dana Scully's name on your lips again you son- of-a- bitch." Three agents piled on top of them, pulled them apart and untwisted Mulder's hands from his stranglehold grip on Tennyson's shirt and tie. "Okay," Agent Atkinson put his hands in the air and used his best nothing-to-see-here-please-disperse voice. "People, people... everyone just calm down. We're all on edge here... Now Tennyson - just shut the fuck up - Mulder, hey... Mulder?" Agent Atkinson put his hand on his shoulder. Mulder shook it off and continued to glare at Tennyson, breathing through his teeth. Atkinson spoke gently "Why don't you just go sit down for a minute, huh?" Mulder staggered two steps back, spun and walked away. Everyone mulled about and muttered among themselves before returning to their duties. It would be another great Spooky story to circulate. Mulder went over to the window and gripped the ledge hard enough to make his fingers white. He leaned his head against the window and saw Nathaniel Harrison helping Scully into a white stretch limo. She had taken off her lace jacket and her breasts strained momentarily against the creamy low-cut bodice as she hurriedly leaned to enter the car before the thunderstorm hit. She looked incandescent. He knew why that bothered him but he had to push it to the rear of his mind right now. He couldn't deal with this right now. He willed her to look up at him in the window but she was looking only at Nathaniel, laughing at some comment. He stopped breathing and his eyes went wide for a moment before he squeezed them shut into a haze of red. A sudden vivid image came through the mist of Nathaniel Harrison lying twisted and bloody on the sidewalk after he blew his brains out from the window above. He gasped and let his breath out. What was *wrong* with him. Was he losing it so completely? Had he finally gotten so far inside this psychopath's head that he couldn't get out? He tried some calming breath exercises and tried to focus in on what was happening in the room behind him... Someone had put on the testimony tape of the kid who had witnessed the last abduction - the dark-haired nine year old girl. A massive shudder went up his back and coalesced into a spiking pain in his neck and shoulders. For some reason, the perp hadn't casually blown him away - the kid had been in bad shape but had managed to make a statement. The strained, sometimes cracking voice of a boy just entering puberty filled the room. "I... I saw this light in the window, this flashlight I guess, but really bright, and a shape started coming through the window, and I was so scared I was paralysed... I just couldn't move. She was calling out for me but I couldn't help her... I kept telling myself it'll be ok... it'll be ok... he won't hurt her... A crash sounded at one side of the room and everyone reacted on heightened reflexes and spun around almost in unison. The crash was a chair falling over. Mulder had collided with it as he half- ran-half staggered out of the room. "Oh NOW what the fuck" spat Tennyson. "Should we go after him?" Solaire questioned. "Naw, let him walk it off... he's completely strung out on this case... You know his sister disappeared right out of her bed when she was eight?" "Jesus, no. Huh, well, that sure as hell explains a lot." Atkinson left the group and went to the window to look over the street. Mulder was down there; walking aimlessly, starting off in different directions and stopping. He really did look deranged. If he wasn't wearing a suit the cops would probably pick him up on suspicion of substance abuse. "Ah shit, Mulder. Don't be like this" he pleaded under his breath. "Pull it together." Mulder seemed to have made some sort of decision. He started walking purposefully north, paying no attention to the traffic. He strided in a straight line, splashing right through the deep puddles collected from the thunderstorm. More agents had gathered at the window. They watched him disappear as he headed into the deepening gloom and rain. Some shook their heads. Some were sympathetic. Tennyson couldn't stand the reverent silence. "Oh shit ... you know if this keeps up we're going to be assigned a second task force to investigate and apprehend *him*..." ##### Nathaniel walked Scully wordlessly to her door. Scully opened the locks, and then paused and turned to him, troubled.... He gently stroked her naked arm at the bend in her elbow and gave her a little crooked grin. "Hey, Dana, talk to me." She inclined her head back to meet his height and look into his eyes. She gave him a tepid little smile. "Nate, I think tonight you shouldn't stay... I'm feeling a little distracted, I don't know... it's just not a good time." Nathaniel bent his rangy frame down to bring his face close to her. "Distracted? You've been smiling like a game show hostess all evening; full wattage and no-one home. Do you even remember meeting the director?" He leaned his elbow on the wall and his head on his fist. "Yeah, I've noticed you've been quiet since we left HQ... c'mon". He moved closer to her, brushed her scented hair briefly with his face. "Tell Papa Bear... I know what's bothering you... it's Fox Mulder, right?" Scully pulled back, sighed and leaned up against the wall. She studied him for a moment, gauging him for something. Opened her mouth, hesitated, then spoke. "Nathaniel, I have never, even through the worst of cases, seen him like this. You don't know Mulder, he's usually nonchalant, so cool and collected. This case must be beyond any hell I can imagine to put him on the brink... having this situation on top of losing the x-files..." She exhaled abruptly and slumped a little. "Oh god - I'm really worried about him Nate, the way he sounded tonight... the things he *said*, it's not like any side of Mulder I've ever seen." She looked distractedly up at him, but she was seeing something else. Something in the angle where the walls met the ceiling. She spoke softly past him to the air up there. "I think he's slipping off the razor's edge he always walks on. I think he's cracking." Nathaniel sagged deflated against the wall next to her, staring at the bevelled light fixture opposite them, looking at all the dejected little Nathaniel and Dana faces reflected in the glowing crystal facets. Eventually he spoke. "You seem more than a little connected to him here... Dana, tell me... straight up ... how close were you two?" He paused for a brief moment and shifted his weight, looked intently at the carpet. "Baby... where you lovers?" In the silence Scully erupted with brittle, breathless laughter. "Mulder and I... oh my god no... even if we had truly wanted to, it would have been impossible. We were partners, we were a team..." Anything more would have destroyed the whole equilibrium of our relationship... there was no way we could have been..." She swallowed, paused. "...together." She stopped and collected herself and gave him a vexed sideways gaze before she continued. "This conversation is ridiculous. You don't know Mulder, Nathaniel. He lives and breathes his work. He's so driven... incomprehensible, sometimes even *bizarre*... he's MULDER for godsake Nathaniel. Uuuuchh...sleep with Mulder?... it's absurd". She crossed her arms tightly under her breasts and glared at him. He considered her intent upturned face, her disarrayed hair freed from its chignon, hazel eyes wide with exasperation. In those eyes was something that looked like an old ache and some other thing that looked like a plea for understanding... He understood. "Ohhhhh Right..... You thought about it Dana. And I don't think you've stopped." He dug his hands in his tuxedo pockets, tucked his head down and scrutinized every thread in the geometric design of the hall carpet. Then he analyzed the stucco patterns swirled onto the ceiling for a while. He was starting in on the light fixture again when Scully broke the silence. "Nathaniel" she spoke softly, firmly. "I'm going inside now... I need time alone tonight, o.k.?" "Alright baby - you call me tomorrow". She nodded agreement, and when he didn't respond realized he still wasn't looking at her. She was suddenly even more vexed. This is not how they said goodnight and she would not be ignored, even if she didn't want him here tonight. She moved to stand in front of him, put her hands on his chest and pushed a little to force his attention. He dragged his gaze from the wall behind her creamy bare shoulder to the shoulder itself, put two fingers on it and ran his fingers along the sweep of her collarbone. He raised his eyes to her while moving his fingers to drift across the top of her breasts where the low cut of the evening dress left them exposed. They rose up under the back of his hand when Scully's breathing deepened. His fingers meandered around a little longer before coming to rest on the tiny cross she was wearing nestled among her pearls. "Protection against vampires perhaps?" he whispered with a little smirk. Scully's angry pout parted briefly into a wee smile before she pressed her lips together again. Lovely little pouty lips... he kissed them, relished the shape of them before spreading them open with his tongue. She slid her hands from his chest to around his back and abruptly pressed herself against him, melted into the feel of his lanky, muscled frame. He turned her and pushed her firmly against the wall, using the length of his body to pin her there. They kissed languidly, exploring each other's mouths like familiar territory not fully mapped. When their hands finally relaxed after gliding all over each other, Nathaniel pulled away regretfully. He fingered a piece of her auburn hair then abruptly ran both his hands through all of it. He held her face while he searched for some emotion he thought should be there. "Tomorrow" he said quietly. "Okay" she whispered. She stared at him ambiguously until he let her go. She stood at the doorway for a moment, gave him a impenetrable, probing glance over one shoulder, then went inside. ***** Scully checked the clock, tightened the belt of her satin robe about her and went to answer the urgent knock on the door.. She pushed back hair still damp from her bath while she considered ignoring the visitor. Had Nathaniel decided to come back despite the strained conversation earlier? She regarded her discarded underthings and the gown strewn on the sofa... not like her to throw her clothes around ... she must have really hated that dress. Oh hell, Nathaniel would just have to deal with the mess... She suddenly stopped before unlocking the door. Why hadn't Nathaniel used his key? What if it wasn't Nathaniel? Too many x- files... too much paranoia. "Who is it? You better have a good reason for being here at this hour." "Scully... Scully, it's me. Open the door." Scully was astounded. She hauled the door open and regarded the spectacle of Fox Mulder dripping wet from the rain, wild-eyed and obviously in desperate need. He lunged through the door before she could even think of closing it. "Scully, I know you don't want to see me, I know you're cutting me out - but please.. I have to talk to you - you're the only one I can trust to understand..." He breathed through his mouth, hard, and stared with almost vacant eyes...like a man who's scrabbled through a wasteland to reach a destination and can't remember how he got there or why. Scully was infuriated at Mulder showing up at her door in the middle of the night, especially after the ugly scene earlier. How *dare* he come here... But she was so appalled by his appearance... the cool and collected Mulder obviously near the point of completely cracking... there had to be some reason for this... Okay. She had never seen him like this before, and he was acting unacceptably, but he was still Mulder and he needed her. She pulled him into the living room by the sleeve of his soaking suit jacket. "Oh my god Mulder, what is going on ... come here...sit down. She kept talking to him as she steered him by the arm to the sofa. He never took his eyes off her, just moved beside her like a zombie, even bumped into the coffee table. His breathing had grown softer, like a sigh. "Sit down, sit here." She gently pushed him down onto the couch and perched on the coffee table opposite him. "Whatever it is, you can tell me. You've never hesitated before." She gently put a hand on his knee. "Mulder... it's ok." Mulder stared transfixed at her from the couch. He breathed open mouthed for a few moments before speaking. "I didn't want to bother you. I didn't want to come here. I know you don't want any contact with me Scully, especially after I was so... disgusting... tonight. Oh god Dana, I'm sorry. I'm just so sorry. But there's just nowhere else for me to go." Scully sat speechless. She gave Mulder's knee a little reassuring squeeze. Then she sat regarding him, waiting for him to feel ready to speak. But instead Mulder lunged forward and clutched the right arm of her robe, twisted the material in his fist and pulled her close to him. He stared into her eyes distractedly, trying to focus on her, fill his eyes with her to block out something else he was seeing. Then he reached out more gently and grasped her left arm, pulled her close into his face. She could smell him, the smell of days without sleep, the closed air of motel rooms, briefing rooms, the faded smell of his aftershave, his sweat, and underneath it all, the rain-soaked scent of his skin. He put his forehead against hers. "Scully, you're the only one I can talk to now, the only one who understands, the only one who *knows*..." Scully stiffened. This was too close for comfort. She leaned her head back and examined him at an angle while gently disengaging herself from his grasp and his space. They kept eye contact while she firmly backed away to resume her perch on the coffee table. >From her safe ground she spoke. "It's the Iceman, isn't it? This case you're working on? Mulder, we've been through what I thought were the worst situations, and I've never seen you as shaken as this." She tilted her head a little. "I didn't think that after all you've seen that anything could get to you." She pauses. "Talk to me." Mulder pushed both his hands through his wet hair to clear it off his face, and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Scully... Y'know this case I've been working on - the Iceman case - it's bad, really bad. I know you've seen the news reports, heard the Bureau gossip. But the horror is indescribable, we're not even letting the worst stuff out. The state of the bodies... he's an animal Scully." Scully put her right hand back on his knee to steady him. He glanced down at it and covered it with his before continuing. "The worst of it is I've been working so intensely on the case now that I can almost get inside his head, almost think his thoughts. That's why I wanted out of violent crimes division before. It's not just the gore, the horrors these people commit. It's because after awhile I'm in there with them... like I'm *aware* of their emotions, what's driving them on. Almost a member of the club." A private scowl twisted his lips. "This is not what I should be doing... this is keeping me from my work, my *real* work. But there's no chance for me to get the x- files reactivated unless I play ball. Skinner knows they're all I care about, that I'll do almost anything to get them back. Without them, I'm aimless; nothing else matters." "Mulder..." "God I'm sorry to vent on you like this, but there's so much I've been storing up. Sometimes I thought I would explode... I've been having these dreams, vivid dreams of things from the x-files, but they're all mixed in with Samantha, and... other things. I'm afraid to go to sleep - they're so *real*." "Oh my god... the dreams... you've been having them too? They've been driving me half insane. You don't know how many times I've wanted to talk to you but I thought contacting you would make it worse. I've just felt so completely isolated." She astonished them both by collapsing against him, holding him. He encircled her in his arms, returning the embrace silently, gently stroking her back. Solace was what they both wanted right now. There was an unspoken need for this between them. After a time Mulder hesitantly broke the tranquility. "Dana... there's something else I have to tell you... I've started... I'm having visions - violent waking dreams. And a red mist, a kind of haze that occurs around them. Stabbing head pains. This is beyond the stress of heading the task force... this is beyond anything I've experienced. I feel I've developed some sort of psychic link to Iceman - something driving me to visions of blood." The expression on Scully's face changed instantly from contented to icy. Her eyes flew wide open. "That's IT Mulder!" Scully ripped herself free from the comfort of his arms, stood and put her hands on her hips. Viper eyed, she stared at him as she spoke coldly, professionally. "Mulder, you obviously haven't slept in days. The very fact that you came to my door in the middle of the night speaks volumes to me. I believe you're suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome caused by all the things you've been exposed to in the x-files. I've been feeling the same disorientation, been having the same type of dreams, but I'm dealing with it. I've been trying to rebuild some semblance of a normal life and put the insanity of what we've been through behind me. You seem to want to *wallow* in it." She started furiously pacing the room, glaring at him while she stalked on the carpet. "Mulder you Do Not Have some kind of psychic connection to this maniac. You're just reacting to too many days without sleep, too much stress and too much traumatic change in your life. Get a grip Mulder - You Are Not An X-file!" Mulder gaped at her openmouthed, overwhelmed at the intensity of her outburst. He wore the stunned expression of a drowning man whose life preserver has just been snatched away. The pacing opposite him stopped suddenly. Scully put both hands in her hair, pulled it back tightly off her face and regarded Mulder more calmly. "Alright. Ok. My apologies Mulder. I"m more than a little stressed too... Listen. You can't go home in this condition. You can sleep in the spare bedroom and we can talk more in the morning when we're both feeling a little more ourselves... whatever "ourselves" means anymore." she added bitterly. "Why don't you go get in the shower. I'll get you something dry to wear and make up the bed." "Get me something dry to wear?" he cracked weakly. "I don't think your pantyhose will fit me Scully." "Oh, I think there are some sweatpants or something that Nathaniel keeps over here. I'll go dig them up." She left the room and missed the sight of Mulder's eyebrows travelling all over his face. While she raided the linen closet for extra towels and found Nathaniel's sweatpants, Scully had a little time to recover from her latest close encounter with Mulder. This was not the Fox Mulder she knew. This man was unfocused, distracted, even a little frightening. "If you had half a brain you'd never have let him in here, never have let him stay." she chided herself. "Oh god Dana, what have you let yourself in for. He's just going to open up old wounds." She slumped against the dresser for a moment. She didn't feel up to being a crying towel for Mulder... she was so drained herself. Yet... who else could he go to? "There is no one else I would do this for, Mulder" she sighed. "You're going to owe me on this one." She summoned the last of her energy, took a regretful glance at the clock, and made her way down the hall. "Mulder... I've got some towels for you..." She tapped lightly on the bathroom door and tried again. "Mulder... ?" The sound of the shower running was the only thing she could hear. No answer. Considering his state, this was not good. "Mulder... MULDER... ok I'm coming in." She barged into her serene bathroom. She could see the shower stall was occupied through the frosted glass, but it didn't look right. Instead of pale skin she saw the dark outlines of a suit. She dropped the towels and pants, tore over to the shower and yanked the door open. Mulder was standing under the showerhead fully clothed, leaning his forehead against the tiles. His lips moved as he silently spoke to himself. He turned to her gasping, wide-eyed, the water flowing down his face. Eventually he focused in on her. "Scully, it just happened again... the red mist, the visions. But Dana, it was about you this time... It was - I - oh god I can't tell you." He turned back to face the wall and brought his palms up against the tiled stall. His shoulders started to shake. Scully couldn't tell if he was laughing or crying. She snapped. This was the limit... "That's enough Mulder, THAT'S ENOUGH." She turned off the tap and hauled him by his suit jacket out of the freezing water to stand gasping and dripping in the middle of her immaculate bathroom. "Mulder I Have Had It. I just can't take any more of your latest obsessive psychodrama tonight. I'm simply not strong enough to handle it right now. I want you to go to bed and stay there and not-do-anything-else, OK?. I want you to rest. We can talk in the morning, I *promise* you, you'll feel better then. And so will I." She shoved Nathaniel's sweatpants at him and swept out of the room. Mulder turned them over in his hands like they were the Shroud of Turin - as if great secrets had been revealed. Scully lay in her bed and listened stonily to Mulder moving around in the other room. He had worked himself up into this state and she refused to join him in it... The television went on. Oh, of course... She drifted into an exhausted sleep before it went off again. ***** Nathaniel gripped the steering wheel hard while he watched the lights in Scully's windows go out one by one. He had watched Mulder go in, but he hadn't come out. He wasn't sure what he was going to do or say when Mulder finally did emerge, and even more unsure of what he'd do if Mulder didn't. He put the second possibility out of his mind... he trusted Dana... "Oh Right," he told himself in the rear view mirror. "Then why were you driving around her block at three in the morning? Why are you parked across the street watching her place? Nate... you're losing it." Truthfully, he was worried as well as jealous... Mulder had been so damned weird earlier. But Dana could take care of herself... and if he went in to check on her, it would look more like jealousy than concern. Plus, he'd have to admit that he had driven back here despite what she wished, saw Mulder go in and had sat watching her place... Hoooooooo boy. He could just imagine her reaction to THAT. He drummed his fingers on the wheel and checked his watch. One hour since he had seen him stagger up to the door. He let his head fall back hard against the headrest and made a bargain with himself. Twenty minutes more and then he'd have to make a decision: go home to bed and try to forget it ever happened, or let himself in and do something about this damn Mulder character. ######## Scully woke slowly but with growing apprehension. There was a body crushed tightly against the length of her as she lay on her side. A muscled arm held her firmly around her waist. She stopped breathing and kept holding her breath while she tensed to twist around. She was going to give Nathaniel high holy hell for coming back after she'd told him no. Unless... if it was Mulder then God help him... "Scully, no... don't turn around." Mulder had his face pressed against the back of her head. "Mulder, what the hell are you *doing*?" she hissed. "Get off of me NOW!" "Dana, please, no... it's not what you're thinking. Please, I just need to talk. I just need to be with you right now. I...I didn't tell you everything." His voice sounded strained, disjointed. He pushed his face into her hair and spoke with his lips against her neck. "Mulder, this is *not* a bright idea." The muscle-cramping sensations of white hot outrage mingled with the shivers up her neck where Mulder's lips were grazing against her . "No listen Dana, ...you're the only one I can talk to, the only one I don't have to explain to, who won't laugh or look at me like I'm crazy... " He raised himself slightly on one elbow and looked down at her face. The sight of him dissolved her fury... his eyes were drowning and floating away in waters too deep for her to cross. They stared at each other for only a few seconds, bodies pressed tightly together and barely breathing. Mulder swallowed. "Dana... I trust ... you're... you're all I have." He broke their eye contact and dropped back behind her into the pillows behind her. His voice came muffled and hesitant from within his shelter. "It's the case. There was something else, something I couldn't tell you earlier. There was a boy, his sister was abducted by Iceman, but he survived the attack...they made a tape of his testimony, I heard it tonight." Mulder tightened his grip on her waist, took a ragged breath. When he spoke again his voice sounded even more dislocated. "Oh god, Scully, it was me. It sounded like me... everything that happened to him, it was the same... the light, not being able to move. He couldn't move out of fear, he was afraid for himself, he paralysed himself. She called out to him and he didn't help her..." He stopped talking. Scully waited for him to continue, listened to his harsh breathing, holding her own breath. He was trembling slightly, erratically, in waves. His breathing became choked. She realized he was quietly sobbing. Horrified, she struggled to turn to look at him. "No NO, don't look at me... let me finish...I just need to finish. Dana, I'm starting to think everything I've believed all these years is a lie... all my memories fabricated because I couldn't deal with losing Samantha, with not being able to protect her. What if I've got False Memory Syndrome and I've submerged my guilt in wild abduction stories... what if someone just *took* her and I let it happen... didn't call out for help to stop it... I keep going through it over and over and it's all confused and tangled now. Scully, I think I'm seriously disturbed... nothing seems real... I feel like everything I've worked for my whole life is a demented obsession. I can't believe in my own memories, my own mind... Scully.... I think I'm going crazy." Scully broke his grip on her waist and wrenched around to face him. Mulder looked destroyed, empty; searching wildly for something in her eyes. He was waiting to see if he'd be cast out of his last and only shelter. She seized his face in her hands and forced him to look at her as she spoke. "Mulder listen to me. Listen... you're not crazy, none of it is crazy... I know this now, I *know*. I've held the proof in my hands. After all we've seen, all we've been through together... how can you doubt? How can you not believe?" For some time they stared at each other, frozen. Scully desperately searched Mulder's deranged eyes for any sign she had gotten through. Then to her horror Mulder started laughing, wild laughter that didn't sound like it was going to stop. "Mulder stop it. STOP it NOW!". He tapered off and caught his breath, gazing up at her hovering over him from where he had collapsed onto his back. "Oh no Dana Scully... are *you* trying to convince *me* to believe... now I'm convinced I've gone insane..." Dana dropped down into the pillows and took a tiny breath of relief... He was a little better, at least he was cracking jokes and laughing. Granted, it was not completely *sane* laughter... He was on a roller coaster ride of emotions. She had to switch him off somehow. She rolled onto her elbow, cupped his face with her hand and roughly pushed back his still wet hair. After holding his darkened gaze for a few moments she stroked his hair more gently and spoke with the calm, firm voice she used when dealing with disturbed patients. "Shhhhhh - now listen. Fox, you need to sleep - to rest - you need to put some distance between you and this - please - shhhhhh - try to be calm. You've got to sleep. I'm here for you. I'm not going to go away." Mulder gazed from beneath half closed lids. He was still looking wild, but at least now he looked like Mulder looking wild, not a stranger. He locked eyes with her, speaking things he would never tell her, and she saw something settle gently to the bottom of those hazel eyes. He reached up and tentatively touched her cheek with his fingertips. Scully relaxed a little; she had reached him. But now what to do with him? Mulder solved that problem by abruptly rolling over onto her. He threw an arm and leg across her and nestled his head onto her shoulder. Scully was so astonished she didn't move. While she contemplated how to break the unbearable tension, Mulder dropped off into an exhausted sleep. She was so afraid of waking him she barely breathed. Finally she gently put an arm over his smooth, naked back and gave him as much of a hug as she dared before slowly inching her way back onto her side. He groaned softly and worked his face back into her hair. Mulder didn't wake again and she lay in the dim room, listening to his even breathing. She could feel the warm length of his body curled up against her as he slept peacefully in her hair. The rain pounded and streaked against the window and she watched it for hours; wondering why the aftermath of the X-files had taken so long to catch up to him. She wondered how long it would be before all of it caught up to her, and how badly she would crack in turn. Sometimes she even wondered how she should react to having Mulder so close, so open... All she had to do was turn over... just turn over... Eventually around dawn she fell asleep. When she woke up Fox was gone. ***** Everyone was on their third coffee and second doughnut when Mulder entered the briefing room the next morning. He looked crisp and collected in a dark green suit. He exhibited no sign of the high- strung emotions of last week, or of the bizarre behaviour of last night. In fact, he exhibited no emotion at all. He leaned on one of the tables and announced flatly to the room in general. "I'd like to apologize to everyone for my behaviour last night. This is been a horrific case for us all, but I realize now that I've been taking it a little more to heart than is professional. I assure you from now on there will be no more... incidents. Now Atkinson, if you'll fill me in...?" Atkinson looked mightily relieved. He had been nominally heading the task force since Mulder had taken his little walk last night, and a lot had been happening in the wee small hours... Now that Mulder was back, they could get things rolling. And fast. "Another one in Tulsa last night. Tulsa PD recognized the MO and called the field office. And that's when got our break." Atkinson didn't bother to conceal his jubilance. "Our break?", Mulder echoed. He was completely out of the loop. "He abandoned his vehicle at the scene. Registered to one Henry Fuller, of Bakersfield, California, a white male aged 29. We called the Bakersfield force and got a complete rundown on Fuller. Between that and the journals he left in the camper we've got a life history. I don't know how but you were right Mulder, he's been killing in towns where he lived growing up and following the moves backwards... We thought Truman screwed the pooch on the age of two of the victims, but they looked younger than they were. Fuller didn't exactly stop to check their ID's" Atkinson went to the wall map and pointed at two locations. "Now Fuller still has one stop to go, here in Penville, before he hits his hometown... I suggest we mobilize and fly out there immediately. Notify the local PD and the State Troopers that he's possibly heading their way. The airforce has a T-39 fueled and ready at our disposal." Mulder gazed at the pins on the map for a moment. "No. He's not there. He's already gone... " He touched the first pin and added more quietly, "I can feel it." Atkinson gazed at him askance. Mulder *seemed* to be back to normal (whatever normal was for Mulder anyway) but there was something mechanical about his reactions this morning. Underneath there was definitely something wrong. But whatever it was he was not going to buy into any more loopiness. It was interfering with the investigation and it was beginning to piss him off. "Agent Mulder, you have no basis for that assumption. We should be in the air to Penville now." "Yeah Mulder." Tennyson added. "We should be out there right now waiting for this guy, not standing around here with our thumbs up our butts discussing your *feelings*." "Shit Tennyson will you SHUT UP" barked Atkinson. He turned to observe Mulder, ready to run interference again, but Mulder showed no reaction. He simply gazed blankly at Tennyson and then walked away. He acted as if he had been scoured of emotion... now Atkinson knew something was wrong. "Hey Hey." Agent Solaire was on one of the phones motioning frantically for quiet. There was something hot coming in. He was rapidly taking notes and nodding, occasionally punctuating the conversation with an "Uh-huh". Finally he hung up and reported. "News in from Penville. Fuller's been and gone. He nabbed a six year old and stole another car. The state troopers caught him at a reststop, but he shot them and carjacked a 4x4. He could be taking the backroads now... it's gonna be hard to catch him." Atkinson turned and examined Mulder. He gave no acknowledgement to the news that his hunch was right, just continued to frown and stare into space. Then abruptly he focused his attention on the room and spoke. "No... I know where he's going." Mulder spoke quietly from a corner. "He's going home. Right to his house. He's going to close the circle. He's on automatic now, he won't deviate. We just have to get there first." "Right." Atkinson shouted. "Everyone pack up. We're gonna be on the plane in a half-hour." He was relieved. This he could understand. It was almost over, one way or another. He just hoped Mulder could hold out a little longer against whatever it was he was battling with. ***** Henry Fuller drove slowly down the last mile. He had been up for days now, driving constantly... but the end was so close, so close. He hunched over the wheel and sang softly to himself. "Can you tell me how to get, how to get to Sesame Street." The driveway of the old house came into view. He felt the rising tumult inside him. His left leg started twitching, spasming... the old scar tissue tingling like ants were dancing. Almost. Almost home. He left the vehicle parked at an angle in the driveway after withdrawing his tattered dufflebag and the last garbage bag. It was a small little load. He left the keys in the ignition. Wouldn't be needing the truck anymore. His travels were over. The house looked different. There were nice curtains in the windows, a pink Barbie Big Wheel bike on the renovated front porch... It made him anxious. It didn't match his memories now. Someone had stolen his home. Fuller marched right up to the screen door and into the hall. He could hear someone in the kitchen, smell cooking. He roared down the hall and into the big, airy kitchen. "GET-OUT-OF-MY-HOUSE" he bellowed. The woman dropped the glass mixing bowl she was holding. Batter splattered everywhere. The little girl playing on the floor started shrieking. He pulled the shotgun out of the duffle and pointed it at the woman. "SHUT HER UP AND GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!" She fell to the floor and started scrabbling crablike to reach the child. Fuller stalked over to the fridge and used the gun barrel to knock things out onto the floor, clearing room for the last bag. When the woman saw the garbage bag, saw what he was doing, realized who he was, she stopped screaming. Fuller, startled by the sudden silence, glanced over to check her out. She go for a knife or what? Nawww... She had backed herself into a corner and was shaking and clutching her little girl to her chest. She was so scared she had pissed herself... "Jesus. Some people are just DISGUSTING." Fuller thought as he jammed the sad little green garbage bag into the fridge. At least she was quiet now... he had to get rid of her so he could have some peace and quiet at the End... but not in here, not in his house. It would have to be outside. He gripped her hair and half-dragged her down the front hall, with her still holding her baby. Mayswell do the kid too. She'd have a sad and sorry life with no mama... yessir. Sad and sorry indeed. He yanked open the screen door, pushed them through and strided out onto the porch... ***** And faced an impenetrable dark blue ring of F.B.I. agents backed up by the local Hostage Rescue Team. Fuller started shrieking like an animal. The woman and child were screaming hysterically. Atkinson glanced over to Mulder; he was the Agent in Charge, why wasn't he giving the warning asking Fuller to surrender?! Mulder stood transfixed, motionless, staring directly at Fuller. Shit. Atkinson couldn't wait for him to snap out of it... someone had to act. He yelled to the howling man on the porch. "Mr. Fuller - release your hostages, place your weapon on the ground and your hands on your head." A burst of static came over the headset followed by the voice of one of the HRT snipers. "This is Delta 5 to Delta Base. I'm in position. I have a clear shot. Request permission to fire..." Fuller suddenly shut up and stood motionless, staring directly at Mulder, mesmerized. He released his grip on the woman's hair, pointed the gun at Mulder one-handed and started screeching. "YOU! I know you! Shoot me! Shoot me or I'll kill her! I'll kill you!" he screamed to Mulder personally. He threw the woman down the porch stairs. She rolled to the bottom, curled around the child to protect it. "You know this is the end... you're gonna have to kill me anyway... KILL ME NOW!" "Base, 5. I say again - request permission to fire." "Mulder, what the hell is wrong with you!!! Give him clearance for the shot!" Mulder heard nothing. He focused in on Fuller through a tunnel in the red mist. The pain stabbing between his eyes coalesced into a sphere; the pressure was unbearable. He could *feel* the festering torment in the man. This had to end. For both of them. Mulder stepped out from cover behind the car, brought his Glock up and assumed a two-handed Weaver stance. Atkinson stared at him stunned...he couldn't be serious. "Mulder, are you fucking nuts? Get back under cover. Let the snipers take him down! Mulder, if he goes for a head shot, you are toast!" "Base, 5. What the hell is going on?" "Base, 4. *I* have a clear shot. Gimme clearance!" "4, this is 5. The shot is mine." Atkinson yelled into his mike. "Cut the traffic! If clearance is coming, I guarantee you'll be the first to know!" Mulder heard the voices in the background as if from a great distance. They were irrelevant. He gazed steadily into the infernal depths of Fuller's eyes, and Fuller returned the intense stare over his shotgun barrel as they made a silent covenant... Fuller smiled feraly. His eyes went so wide white showed all around the pupils. Then without warning he dropped his shotgun and threw his arms wide into the position of crucifixion. Mulder shot him twice between the eyes. Henry Fuller dropped to his knees, a beatific smile of release on his face, before plummeting face first down the porch stairs, coming to rest next to the catatonic woman and the screaming child. Atkinson bellowed into the headmike. "All positions hold your fire! I say again; all positions hold your fire!" Mulder let his arms drop to his sides and the gun drop into the grass. He blinked into the sun, the people around him starting to come into focus. Atkinson was standing directly in front of him, holding his upper arms, peering into his eyes to see if anyone was home. An anonymous voice came over the headset; "Hey Base; nice shooting!" Mulder didn't reply. He was observing the scene as if he had just arrived. He could see it all clearly now... there was no more red mist; the stabbing pain had vanished from his forehead the moment Henry Fuller had died. It was over. ***** Scully stood in her large third floor office at Headquarters. The space had certainly been nice at first... she had missed having windows in the basement... but now she would have traded a top floor corner office for those cramped quarters again. She had started packing her second box when a voice drifted in through her office door. "Leaving so soon?" Mulder was leaning against the door frame, looking very much back to his old well-groomed self after a week off the task force. Unfortunately he was wearing that maroon suit she hated so much... She gave him one of her rare and precious full smiles. It was so good to see him. "Hey Scully, what's up?" "Housecleaning... I've requested reassignment. I'm going back to forensics. All this..." she waved her arm to encompass the roomy office. "This is not me. This is not what I've been trained to do... this is not what I am." "Ahhhh, *Doctor* Scully, back in the saddle ag'in. Good. For awhile you looked like you were in danger of growing a Made by Mattel stamp somewhere on your anatomy." Scully smirked and then tilted her head and simply took the sight of him in for a moment. A tiny smile appeared on her lips. "And what about you Mulder? I thought that you'd be a big hero and the darling of the media for putting an end to Iceman. I expected a guest host shot on America's Most Wanted or Unsolved Mysteries, or at least the Larry King Live show" she teased. "Do you seriously think Skinner would ever let *me* get that close to a live mike...?" he smiled briefly and leaned on his elbow against the door frame, then turned more serious. "Actually, it has been very strongly suggested to me that I take a leave of absence; an extended leave." He took a breath. "I'm not sure how long I'll be gone Scully." "Oh." Scully packed a few more things in silence, looking up occasionally to steal a glance at Mulder. He hadn't taken his eyes off her. He finally broke the quiet. "Scully, about the other night... thanks doesn't seem enough." "Oh that's ok." Scully said lightly. "What are friends and ex- partners for?" Mulder winced slightly at "ex-partners". He continued... "And I'm deeply sorry about the whole thing with Nathaniel - please give him my apologies the next time you see him... ?" "Mulder, are you fishing?" She raised both eyebrows and smiled cryptically. "No, I haven't decided yet if I'm going to continue seeing him. It may be best if I just make a clean break from everything to do with the last month... I just don't know." She folded the flaps closed on one of the cardboard boxes. "And while we're on the subject," she said lightly "How is Gemma?" She raised a single eyebrow at him. She was pleased to see Mulder taken slightly aback. "Hoh... um... she's fine. She's in Virginia at Quantico now. We talk on the phone; she drives up occasionally." "Uh-huh." Scully raised her other eyebrow and grinned mischievously. Point made. "Welllll, there we are..." she drawled. Mulder inhaled. "Yup... here we are." He put his hands in his pockets and moved from the door to her desk. The gazed at each other for some time silently, not knowing how to broach certain subjects that were still unsaid. Mulder cleared his throat. "Are you still having the dreams?" he said suddenly. "No. Strangely enough they stopped after you... um... visited me." "It all stopped for me the minute I shot Henry Fuller." "Mul-der, I do not want to get into this again..." she warned. "Once the case was over, all your stress symptoms would naturally disappear. They were all just psychological manifestations of what you were going through... now let's drop it." She busied herself with closing the flaps on the second box as Mulder heaved sighs at her across the desk. "Alright, let's agree to disagree on this." he said ruefully. "As on almost everything else." "Agreed." She closed the desk drawers, put a few things in her briefcase. Almost time to go. "One more thing." "Hum?" Scully gazed at him expectantly. "Despite all upheaval and trauma it's put you through... could you ever open yourself up to the 'extreme possibility' of working with me again on the 'Spooky Patrol'?" She gazed deeply for a moment into those earnest hazel eyes... "Mulder, where you're concerned, I've learned to consider opening myself up to any 'extreme possibility'." He gaped at her astonished. Scully handed him one of the boxes and actually grinned at him. The expression on his face... "Uhhhmmmm.... *almost* any..." She gave him a cheshire cat smile, switched off the lights to the office, then turned back to him. "Fox Mulder, after you, any hope I could have for a normal, placid life has been destroyed." She tilted her head back to meet his eyes, and put her hand on his chest. "Thanks". Mulder considered her with wonder, and then gave her his most charming smile. "Dana Scully, it has been entirely my pleasure... " He followed her out of the office carrying her boxes. "Hey Scully, y'know the Lone Gunmen think there's actually a government plot underway that keeps the populace normal and placid by adding sopoforic soma-drugs to the water supply...?" "Mulder - shut the door." END ***** Endnotes. In writing this I wanted to explore the psychological repercussions of being exposed to all the weirdness of the x-files... I don't believe a person simply would shrug it off and go on with their lives normally - eventually it would catch up to them in some form or another. In Scully's case; denial, in Mulder's; deeper obsessions and psychological fragmentation. I didn't start out to write such a dark story... I actually began it as an experiment to see *how close* I could get Scully and Mulder without them actually breaking the surface tension of their relationship... well, they got *this close*, and I actually considered an alternate ending to the apartment scene where they got *beyond close*. However, when it came to writing that scenario, there was no way to make the characters behave in that manner. Thanks to Chris' vision, they are very clearly defined and they don't bend like Gumby and Pokey. I believe this is as close as they're gonna get folks... and that's the way we like it. Sorry to be so hard on Mulder; once I got started, he just kept going to pieces. (you know we DDEB'ers just love that angst). Both he and Dana are feeling much better now, really... :-) Until the next story.... enjoy! Tash. DDEB Black Ops (we are not who we are)