Title: Night into a Glass

Author: KimK

Category: XRA       

Keywords: MSR
                                                       
References: Emily, Memento Mori and snippets from earlier
episodes. I suggest that you be pretty familiar with the show
up to mid-season five. 

Time Line: A few months after Emily. 

Rating: R -for adult themes and situations.

Feedback: I ain't too proud to beg, but I'd rather it not come
to that-- elysium1121@gmail.com or k_nig_it1013@yahoo.com

Website: Read my other stories at http://kkrazy1013.tripod.com

Disclaimer: Alas, the characters of The X-Files do not belong
to me in any form or fashion. I am simply borrowing them from
CC & Co. for my own personal pleasure and treating them with
the respect they deserve. They will be returned, safe and
sound, as soon as I am finished. So don't sue, I'm filthy
poor. However, the characters that have clearly never appeared
on The X-Files are my creation. I would also like to let it be
known that I am not an FBI agent, detective, doctor, serial
killer or psychic. Therefore my knowledge is limited and
anything I was not 100% sure about during the writing of this
was speculation. Forgive me for skewed facts if you are any of
the above professions -especially the killer <g>. My creative
license allows for this sort of thing to an extent. MPAA owns
the rating of R.                                                 

Summary: An old friend and a new mystery. Young women are
dying in NYC, but how? Badger and his partner are stumped so
he contacts his friend from his university days, Fox(y)
Mulder. Does a psychic hold the key or is he the reason? Is it
murder or rescue? Will Scully fall victim and, if so, will
Mulder be able to pull her back?
                         

Thank you: To my wonderful friend and beta reader, Sara Bowen.
Her enthusiasm about this story helped more than she'll ever
know and she always goes the extra mile for me when I need her
to. Also to my friend Nell, who did amazing beta work for me
as well. I'd also like to thank the World Wide Web for
allowing me to search it continuously for information. As
always, thank you to Gillian and David for really creating
these beautiful characters that I just can't get enough of.
And, of course, thank you for reading. 

Author's Notes:
I've been playing with an abstract vision of this storyline
since last year, but it wasn't until we hit 2005 that it
started going anywhere. Enjoy and I'm sure I'll have plenty
more to say once you have finished.

Chapter One
<><><><><><>


Darkness on darkness consumed the area, not welcoming in the
light to offer a shadow as a friend. The stars glittered and
sparkled as though laughing at her as she ran, knowing there
was no haven to protect her. 

The heavy footsteps following her were haunting as they echoed
around her frantic form.  As the moon continued to rise--full
and red--the night grew ever colder, causing her shivers of
fear to increase with the drop in temperature. Despite the
chill, her blood felt like it was boiling, making her insides
itch and her throat fill with acidic bile. 

Turning the corner, she was welcomed by a tall wall, the brick
gray and thick with nothing to grab to assist in her escape.

This had never happened before. 

She stopped only long enough to turn and find another way out,
but it was too late. 

He was here. 

His eyes were black in color, like a shark's, shining despite
the absence of light. The silhouette of a figure approached
her, slowly, almost taunting her with the idea that maybe,
just maybe if she were quick enough she could slip through and
continue her futile getaway. 

Who was she kidding? Even when she was able to find a way out,
before, he always found a way back to her. It was all in vain. 

"Please . . ." she pleaded, her voice sounding almost foreign
to her. 

She wasn't sure what she was begging for; that he let her go
or that all of this would just end once and for all.

He said nothing, just walked, the echo of his shoes filling
the silence around them. It was almost unbearable to listen
to, the sound deafening in her ears.

This had never happened before! She wanted to scream, as if
informing him of that fact would make him rethink his actions
and set her free.

But she was mute. Her fruitless attempt at begging was the
last thing she had been able to say.

The last thing she would ever say. 

She collapsed to the ground with silent sobs, her blonde hair
falling as a curtain over her blue eyes. His body towered over
her folded form, a sudden wind picking up. An outstretched
hand hovered over the helpless body before him, the beating of
her heart now so loud it played as a requiem. 

The only thing louder than the cadence of her palpitating
heart was her shrill screams resounding off the hollow walls.

And then it stopped. 


XxX

New York City
8:43 AM

The fog covered the area like a gray blanket, street lamps
barely breaking through the grounded clouds. Officers were
scattered here and there, busying themselves with yet another
unexplained death.

Detective Gavin Neely stood solemnly to the side as they
zipped up the body bag. His partner was talking things over
with the captain, tying up some loose ends before they took
the next step . . . whatever it was. 

They loaded the body onto the truck, prepared and ready to be
autopsied. Gavin wasn't quite sure what they expected to find
this time, but they had to do something. 

"Gavin!"

He turned on his heels to find his partner walking up to him,
her hands in her coat pockets as she hugged the fabric to her
body, warding off the chill. 

"What do you know, Trish?" he asked without hesitation, his
eyes shifting back and forth from her to the retreating truck.

"Amanda Porter, 23 years old, went to NYU. A biology major.
You get a look at her?"

"Yeah, blonde, blue eyes . . . I think. You can never really
tell when they have that white film over their eyes," he said,
his attention now focused intently on his partner, yet his
voice distant with the last comment. 

"So, in other words, this guy has no MO aside from them all
being female. Whoever it is, Amanda is only the third to be
found dead outside her home."

"I'm not even sure if we're looking for *anyone* anymore,
Trish. So far there has been no evidence of an actual murder
being the case. No sign of struggle, no wounds whatsoever on
the bodies, nothing. And forensics -the best on the squad--has
yet to come across a single clue." They took a few steps
together, toward no place in particular and then paused again. 

"Agreed, Gavin, but murder is all it could be," Trisha sighed.
"It's just weird, you know?"

"Yeah . . . real weird," he added, more so to himself. Neither
of them said a word for several moments until Gavin changed
direction and began walking without his partner by his side. 

"Where you off to?" Trisha called out, only then beginning to
follow him.

"We're out of our element here, Trish. We need to bring in the
professionals."

"The professionals? Like the Feds?" She inquired, stopping,
her arms crossing over her chest.

"Yeah," he threw over his shoulder.

"Gavin, who the hell is going to send anyone out here on a
case like this? We can't even bring in the New York office
agents. I mean, it's not even really a case, just a dead end.
It'll be a cold case before we know it."

Coming to a halt behind an officer, Gavin turned and flashed a
grin. "Let's just say I know a guy who gets high on this sort
of stuff."

With nothing to say, Trisha's eyebrows shot up before they
scrunched up in confusion. Gavin tapped the officer on the
shoulder, the young man turning around immediately, ready and
eager to do what he could. 

"Lance," Gavin addressed, "I need you to get a hold of the
D.C. FBI for me, X-Files Division. Tell whoever answers that
The Badger needs assistance, pronto."

Unable to do much else than stare at the strange request, the
green cop simply offered a nod and a "yes, Sir."

XxX

Basement Office
9:32 AM

"The Badger, Mulder?" Scully arched her eyebrow, her hip
perched on the side of his desk.

Scully had been the one to receive the phone call, request of
the enigmatic Badger -an identity that didn't mean a thing to
her but seemed to stir a memory in Mulder's mind, given the
nostalgic grin pulling at his lips.

"Yep, Scully, Gavin 'The Badger' Neely. We went to Oxford
together. Well, he went there for two terms before he decided
to move back to New York and be a cop," Mulder explained, his
hands folded across his chest.

"Right, but . . . The Badger? There must be an interesting
story behind that."

Mulder turned his eyes heavenward for a moment, thinking. The
look on his face gave the idea that the story was, in fact,
interesting. Looks can be deceiving.

"Not really," he started. "Once he found out my name was Fox,
he decided that he wanted to be Badger. He's a real smart-
ass." Mulder grinned and Scully gave him a 'look who's
talking' look. "To this day I'm not sure why he chose that
particular animal, but in a sense it suited the old bloke.
Tenacious, a bit of a fighter, stubborn as hell."

Scully couldn't help but smile at the fact that Mulder was
reverting back to England days, his slang slowly slipping with
him. The idea that he'd had a good friend over there, at least
according to the fondness in Mulder's voice, was comforting to
Scully. 

"So they need us up there, huh? Must be pretty crazy for them
to skip over their own FBI office and come straight to us."

"Actually, it is peculiar, Mulder. Ten women, ages 22 to 35,
found in random parts of town, dead," she read from her legal
pad.

"And?" His face twisting in confusion, obviously wondering how
this qualified as their kind of case. 

"Notice I said dead, not necessarily murdered. They have no
signs of actually being killed, Mulder."

"Ah, the plot thickens." He waggled his eyebrows and sat up in
his chair, the hinges and screws squeaking with the movement.

"Yes. They've all been autopsied -though the last victim's
results aren't in but I expect them to be the same. According
to the reports, their hearts just . . . stopped."

Mulder stood, for no other reason than to stand, and placed
his hands on his hips as he seemed to consider all that Scully
had told him. "Can that happen?" he finally asked.

"Well, yes, I mean an aneurysm; an enlarged heart and cardiac
arrest are usually the cause. However there have been cases
where the heart gave out due to the lack of potassium in the
body, um, a violent blow to the chest -like a football
tackle -that have caused the heart to erupt or stop. I've even
read reports of the heart just stopping, for one reason or
another. It's like their time just ran out."

"Like a kitchen timer?"

Her lip curved up at the comparison -the rather accurate
comparison at that. "Yes, like a kitchen timer," she
confirmed. "That instance is rare, however, and certainly
doesn't happen to ten women, seven of which were found at
home, over such a short span of time," she shrugged, the idea
bothersome but too strange to dwell on. 

"When do we leave?" He immediately asked, his eyes having that
sparkle that usually happened when a case piqued his interest.
"We are going, right?" He asked, almost in panic by her
silence.

"I had to run it by you first, make sure it wouldn't bore
you," she replied with a smirk, moving from the desk to
retrieve her blazer.

"My curiosity is in overdrive, right now. I can tell even you
are intrigued by this particular case, Scully."

"Well, I would like to take a look at the body," she said.

"Then come on, The Badger needs us." Mulder opened the office
door, ushering Scully out, or rather, scooting her. If they
hurried they could be on an afternoon shuttle to New York.

Chapter Two
<><><><><><>

Newark Terminal
5:57 PM

Mulder and Scully exited the gate, their carry-ons at their
sides, and made for baggage claim. Usually, when a case was an
easy drive away, they avoided planes and opted to make the
drive in a rental. However, the NYPD, or rather Gavin, wanted
them up there ASAP, so they'd opted to fly.

They were to meet Gavin 'The Badger' Neely in the general area
of baggage claim and pick up the small bags they had brought.
By the sound of things, they would be here for a few days, so
they'd come prepared.

"I don't know what he looks like, Mulder, so you'll have to
spot him," Scully said from his right, trying to keep up with
his strides. He was excited about this case, coupled with the
advantage of seeing an old friend.

Aside from the Gunmen, Mulder had told her, Gavin was one of
the few good friends he'd ever had. There'd been some growing
up, though not many. Once his sister disappeared, Mulder had
become very quiet and anti-social. Also, given he was at times
suspected to be responsible for Samantha's disappearance, most
kids didn't want a lot to do with him. Or, more so, parents
didn't want their children socializing with such an
individual. Scully figured -him having never really told her-
 Mulder had gone to Oxford to try and start over. No one knew
about his past there, unless he told them, so they would
accept him easier. At times it pained Scully to think of what
it must have been like for him as a child. The fact that it
wasn't long after his return to the States that he became a
pariah once more didn't ease the heavy feeling in her heart.

"About two inches shorter than me, dark hair, dark eyes,
muscular guy -almost to the point of no neck. Though, I
haven't seen him in almost fifteen years, so who knows what he
looks like." As Mulder spoke, he searched the hectic crowd of
people. They reached the conveyer belt filled with bags and
almost immediately retrieved theirs.

Not a moment later, Gavin walked into the claim area, his eyes
skimming the throng of people -some waiting patiently for
their bags, others impatient at how long it was taking.

"There he is," Mulder said, Scully following where his
attention was turned.

It turned out Gavin had changed, though not much. He'd stopped
working out so much, so it seemed, his muscles only toned now
and a neck was visible. His hair was shorter and streaked here
and there with gray hairs, the sign of aging making him look
more debonair, much to Mulder's chagrin.  

The two friends made eye contact and Gavin made his way over
to the agents. 

"Foxy Mulder, you haven't changed a bit." They shook hands and
hugged, their grins wide.

"And you actually have a neck, Badge," Mulder joked, Gavin's
grin spreading. He shook his head, hitting Mulder on the
shoulder lightly.

"Not one bit," Gavin repeated.

As much as Scully enjoyed watching the reunion, she cleared
her throat so she could at least get in an introduction. The
men turned their heads down to Scully, her smile small but
welcoming toward Gavin. 

"Gavin, this is my partner Agent Dana Scully, M.D." Mulder
presented her with his palm turned up and she stepped forward,
offering her hand. Gavin took it with a smile and gave it a
hardy shake. 

"Nice to meet you, Agent Scully. You keeping this character
out of trouble?"

Scully smirked, her eyes drifting from Mulder to Gavin in a
fluid sweep. "I do what I can," she finally said.

"Good, he needs someone to keep his feet on the ground." Gavin
had no idea how much truth there was in that statement; how
Scully did just that every single day.

"Alright, let's get this show on the road," said Gavin with a
clap of his hands, grabbing the bags and leading the way.

The three walked to the exit, the doors sliding open. Gavin
continued to lead them to the garage and lights flashed as he
unlocked the car from a distance. 

Mulder decided to carry on with some friendly conversation,
not knowing where to start. "I thought you had a partner? Last
time we talked you did anyway. Tara? Tasha?"

"Trisha. Yeah, she's holding down the fort until I get back.
I'll take you to your hotel and then we'll head on over
there." Gavin said this as he threw the luggage into the
trunk, Mulder already pulling at the backseat door and sliding
in, letting Scully have the front passenger seat. 

They all buckled in and headed to the highway. 

"So what were you studying before you left to be a cop,
Gavin?" Scully asked.

"Psychology, just like Mulder. I was going to go the whole
nine yards and be a Psychologist, PhD and everything, but
something pulled me to this instead. I'm glad it did. What I
did study comes in handy at times, so it wasn't a total
waste."

Scully only gave a nod, a small smile on her lips. She didn't
know much about the man beside her, Mulder having only told
her about a few college memories, not really about the person. 

"How long have you two been working together?" Gavin glanced
at the rear view mirror, aiming the question more so at
Mulder.

"Six years," Mulder answered, smiling.

Not knowing what else to do, Scully nodded in confirmation. 

"Wow, that's quite the partnership, though I have you beat.
Trish and I have been working together for eight years."

The drive consisted of small talk, Scully finding out that
Gavin was 37, never married and completely content with his
job. She unleashed some information as well, though not much.
Given the reputation Mulder had, Gavin made them talk about
some cases.

At times he was intrigued. Other times he was disgusted. And
then there were the times when he was flat out spooked. By the
time they had shared some of their adventures, Gavin was sure
he'd elected the right people for the job. 

They made the brief stop at the hotel to drop off their things
then headed straight for the station. 

XxX
The bullpen was cluttered with apparent drug dealers, hookers
and delinquents. Cops swarmed the place, few actually in
uniforms, most in cheap suits. 

"Ah, there's Trish," Gavin pointed out. They walked over to
where a medium height -about 5'6 -black haired, olive skinned
woman stood, talking to someone of authority. Mulder and
Scully assumed it was the chief. 

Gavin waited patiently as the two wrapped things up--something
about picking up the results on Amanda and how this was all
turning into a lost cause. The older man -tall with a mustache
and light hair -gave an acknowledging nod toward Gavin,
causing Trisha to turn and greet them.

"Hi, I'm Trisha Menzel. Agents Mulder and Scully, I presume?"
She shook the two agents' hands, smiling as much as the
apparent stress of this case would allow. 

"This is Chief O'Donnell," she went on to introduce. The man
who could take on an army with one hand tied behind his back
shook their hands with a firm, bone-breaking grip. He then
excused himself, retreating to his office for reasons unknown. 

"You'll have to excuse him," Gavin apologized. "He doesn't
really like people. He'll save them day in and day out, but to
even suggest that he get to know any of them could get you
killed."

Mulder and Scully did nothing but stand there, trying to offer
expressions of understanding, but really just anxious to start
the case.

"I suppose you two are ready to get this party started?" Gavin
asked.

"You know it," Mulder replied, the first words he'd said since
stepping into the building. Scully still stood quietly beside
him. Peripherally, he could see her looking over the place,
studying the people. 

"Okay, let's step into our office and we'll tell you what we
can," he began, already leading the way across the room.
Trisha trailed behind, the two detectives sandwiching the
people who they hoped would be able to get them somewhere in
this case.

"There's not a lot of information, just some background info
on the victims. Like we told you, a clue has yet to be found.
We've even got the best sweeping each crime scene and the
bodies haven't been any help either. Ten weeks and nothing."

The four cops entered the small office, files scattered
everywhere, two small desks tucked in the corners. A laptop
was the only computer and a radio sat high on a shelf. A boom-
box really, circa 1984. The sputtering of a coffee maker could
be heard buried under the rubble some place. One long
florescent light was centered in the ceiling, but a lamp on
each desk offered extra lighting. It was a rather cozy
setting.

Trisha shut the door behind them then leaned against the wall,
her arms folding across her chest. Her quietude and distant
expression suggested just how troubled she was. Gavin walked
over to a desk, presumably his, and picked up a thin manila
folder. He handed it to Mulder then leaned his backside
against the desk, his legs stretching out in front, the ankles
crossed, and his arms placed on each side of his thighs as he
perched. 

"We've done some interviewing, but not all of the relatives
and friends had much to say. It's all in the notes. If you
want to talk to them again that is fine by us. Maybe those
reluctant at first will have something to say now," Gavin
explained.

Mulder opened the folder, Scully leaning over to take a peek
at the contents. Pictures of each victim, post-mortem, were
paper clipped to the few papers inside. They wouldn't read it
all now, but save it for when they could really discuss it
back at the hotel. They both skimmed the information before
making eye contact to see if the other was finished. With not
even a nod, Mulder closed it.

"About how long do we have before he strikes again? Or at
least until there is another victim, whatever the cause,"
Scully asked, her voice even and professional.

"Approximately a week and a half. Maybe two," Gavin said
succinctly. Mulder and Scully looked at one another once more
then nodded.

"I don't suppose you two have eaten?" Trisha broke in,
stepping into the small circle of people and away from her
bubble.

"No, not yet. We had some things to take care of before we
left, packed, then went straight to the airport," Mulder
answered, shuffling his feet.

"Well, normally I would treat you two to dinner, but Gav and I
need to head over to Forensics to pick up some results on the
last victim. I will suggest a place, though, just down the
street from where you're staying," she offered, an apology in
her eyes for not being able to play hostess.

"That would be great," Scully said, a smile playing at her
lips to soothe the woman.

"Just go back to the hotel and you'll see a big pink and green
neon sign that flashes 'Stanley's Bar and Grill,'" she
directed, even making a flashing motion with her hands to
better illustrate. 

"Thanks," Mulder said.

"Call us if you need anything," Gavin said, handing them his
card. "I have a good feeling about you two."

"We'll see what we can do," Scully said, shaking the
detectives' hands goodbye.

"Here's my card," Scully pulled out her wallet and retrieved
the rectangular piece of information. "Call me once you know
anything. I'd also like to get in to look at this last body,
if that's not a problem."

"Sure thing. Nice meeting you, Agent Scully. See you later,
Foxy," Gavin teased.

"Later, Badge," Mulder supplied with a shake of his head,
waving the folder as he turned to open the door. Placing his
hand on Scully's back, he led her out.

"Ever feel like you're intruding on a conversation, even when
the people aren't even actually talking?" Trisha asked once
the agents left.

"Tell me about it. You weren't stuck in a car with them for
half an hour," Gavin smiled, a small laugh coming from his
throat with the comment. 

"I sure hope they can crack this thing," Trisha said with a
sigh, turning her body to her partner.

"Trust me; they know what they're doing. I'll elaborate on the
way to Forensics." Gavin grabbed his trench coat from the back
of his chair, while Trisha took hers from the coat rack hook.
He quickly switched off the coffee maker and made for the
door. They left the office, shutting the overhead light off
and the two lamps spotlighting the area where they sat.

XxX

Stanley's Bar and Grill

"So have you two talked since he left Oxford?" Scully asked
around a sandwich. The sandwich she had ordered was fat and
much too large to fit her mouth around, but she did what she
could. Some of the honey mustard sauce would inevitably leak
out from the bottom with each bite she took. Mulder had
ordered a steak with a baked potato; he wasn't struggling as
much with his meal. 

"Well, we wrote letters from time to time, up until I moved
back to the States then we lost contact for the most part.
There were some birthday and holiday cards every now and then,
once I settled in. I think we've talked via e-mail a few
times, but that's about it," he shrugged and took the last
bite of his steak, settling back in his chair to relax as he
savored the barbecue taste.

"Hmm," was her response.

"'Hmm,' what?" 

She finished chewing before embellishing. "It's just a shame
you didn't stay in touch longer. You two must have become
close awfully fast."

"We did. I can only think of one other person who has him
beat," he smiled. Scully mirrored the smile, though she cast
her eyes down to her plate, suddenly finding her pile of fries
fascinating.

His smile only grew with her shy reaction. She picked up a fry
and lathered it in ketchup before sticking it in her mouth. 

"We have a lot in common, though. One of those things is, well
. . . his sister died when he was ten. Of course with her it
was a car accident, his dad driving. She was five, I think.
His dad never forgave himself, even though it had been the
other driver's fault. It's sad that the loss of sisters had to
be what made us so close." Mulder's eyes stayed on Scully as
he spoke, their eyes meeting as he told the heartbreaking
connection between him and his college friend. "He would have
made a great Psychologist, had he stuck with it," Mulder added
as an afterthought, changing the subject.    

"I bet," she agreed, allowing the conversation to change
without hesitation. "He seems content with what he's doing,
though."

"Yeah, he does."

The cell phone in Scully's pocket trilled and she immediately
went for it, wiping her hands on her napkin in haste. 

"Scully."

Mulder tried to interpret what all was being said between
Scully and the caller. Scully unleashed a 'yes' here and
there, but it wasn't thirty seconds before she thanked them
and hung up. Before Mulder could ask any questions, Scully was
already answering them.

"That was Gavin. The girl from this morning possessed no
further evidence. She apparently died the same way, whatever
it was." A frustrated sigh blew from Scully's lips. "They're
letting me come in early tomorrow morning to take a look at
the body," she added.

"I guess we better get out of here and get to work," Mulder
said, taking a swig of his water before reaching for his
wallet.

"It's my turn, right?" he asked, already pulling money from
the leather pocket.

"I think so." Her response was distant and her eyes were
focused on the table, looking at the salt and pepper shakers.

XxX

The case bothered her, to say the least. It had been nagging
her all evening. The lack of clues disturbed her, as it should
anyone. She was used to this, having nothing substantial to go
on. Working on the x-files for the last five, almost six,
years of her life kind of made it impossible to avoid. That
fact never made it easier, however. She was one of those rare
agents who had yet to grow numb to the crimes of the world.
Mulder was one of those rare few as well. Maybe that's why
they held on so strong to one another. 

She took in a deep breath, her eyes not wavering from their
gaze then let the breath out slowly through her lips.

"Scully?"

The sound of her name pulled her from her reverie, only to
find Mulder standing, his jacket on, ready to leave. The
waitress had brought them their ticket not ten minutes after
getting their food. Mulder had slapped thirty dollars down in
the middle of the table. As a rule, whoever didn't pay for the
meal, took care of the tip. Scully stared at him a moment, her
mind not yet focused on what was going on around her.

"Yes, sorry," she finally said, shaking her head a little. She
reached into her pocket, grabbed a five from her wallet and
laid it on top of Mulder's cash.

Scully stood up, slipped her coat on and lead the way out the
door. Trying not to think much of her sudden silence and
dazing, Mulder followed her onto the New York sidewalk and
they made their walk to the hotel.

XxX  
                                        
Room 223
9:37 PM

He flopped down on his back, hitting the mattress with an
'oomph' and a sigh. Dry washing his face with both hands, he
closed his eyes. Scully sat opposite him, Indian style, papers
strewn around both of them carelessly.

"Wow," he grunted. "There is nothing here, Scully."

As soon as they reached the hotel, Scully had gone to her room
to change into 'work' clothes--black, loose pants and a long
sleeved, plum shirt. While she changed, Mulder went to his
room and did the same -jeans and a grey shirt. She then went
to his room, ready to get to work. At first they sat at the
table by the window, but the surface wasn't large enough to
spread the folders out, so they'd moved to the bed and made it
into a makeshift office. They'd been reading over the case
information for two hours.    

"Black, Latina, Caucasian, blonde, brunette, redhead, short,
tall, skinny, curvy," Scully ran down the list of the 'types'
of women who had died. If this was a murder case, appearance
had nothing to do with the choice in victim. Scully let out a
dramatic sigh then stretched her arms over her head and popped
her back. 

"So, Mr. Profiler, who done it?" she asked light-heartedly. 

"Psh, I may be a legend, but I'm not that good," he said, his
arms folded over his eyes, only his nose and mouth visible as
he spoke. "I think the only way we're going to find a
connection is through friends, family, professors and
employers. Looks like you and I get to play detective and do
some asking around," he added.

Only nodding in agreement, despite the fact he wasn't looking
at her, Scully stretched her legs out in front of her. "My
legs are asleep," she said quietly as if she felt the need to
explain her leisurely action. 

"You should probably be doing the same." Mulder came out from
his hiding place, bringing his arms down from his face. He
folded one arm across his chest, but rested a hand on Scully's
numb shin. 

"Go on to bed, Scully. We aren't going to get anything done
tonight anyway and you have a body to look at in the morning.
Once we have more answers we'll be able to get somewhere."

With a nod and a sigh, Scully smiled wanly as she moved to get
off the bed. "I guess I'll see you in the morning then," she
said, her voice sleepy. She looked around to make sure she
didn't forget anything. Seeing that she had everything, having
not brought anything over in the first place, she walked to
the door.

"Goodnight, Mulder."

"'Night, Scully." He smiled, watching her as she left his
room. Once she was out the door, he let out a dramatic sigh
before peeling himself away from the bed and collecting the
files again. 

Moving it all to the small table, he sat down and began to
make a list of the people they would set out to question. 


Chapter Three
<><><><><><><>

Trisha picked Scully up at seven-thirty and took her to
Forensics. She'd made it to her autopsy and back within two
hours. As expected, even with her skilled hands and eyes,
nothing could be found. She met Mulder at the hotel and, after
they finally picked up their rented Taurus, they went on from
there to their first stop: The former home of Amber Henson--
age 28, brown hair and Caucasian.

It was actually a small apartment that she'd shared with a
friend. However, as far as questioning went, it didn't seem as
though the two girls knew one another all that well. Amber had
been a struggling artist -painter and sculptor -spending all
her time locked in her room creating and dreaming. Anya, her
roommate, rarely saw her and was really only there to share
the rent. According to Anya, Amber never talked to her family
back in South Carolina and was very much an introvert, too
focused on fulfilling her life long dream to be otherwise.
After quick examination of personal items, and obtaining some
of them, Mulder and Scully left and went on to the next girl. 

The next stop was to the home of the sister of Shawna Adams -
age 30, black and living on her own. Shawna had been a woman
on a mission to be an independent woman of the big city and
one of the few African-American women making her way to the
top of the corporate ladder. An introvert herself, Shawna only
spent time with her kid sister on holidays, them having been
orphaned in their mid-twenties. She wasn't cold, just
determined to make something of herself. To be someone that
was a far cry from the girl she had been in Bronx. 

Hours later, having gained only a small helping of extra
information, Mulder and Scully had questioned the family
members, friends, employers and professors of each victim.

Laurie Borden -red hair, 23, New York City Ballet dancer.
Training and performance came with twelve hour dance days and
a very lonely social life. 

Torrence Martinez -Latin, 22, college student. She'd had a
tendency to work hard, too hard, to get into Harvard. All of
two close friends barely fit in to her schedule to just see a
movie or talk about boys. After not making it in, she opted
for NYU, her failure of never making it into the school of her
choice only making her work harder.

Jennifer Wilkes -blonde hair, 32, an off-Broadway actress.
According to her homosexual, fellow actor roommate, Greg, he
was the only one she saw outside of rehearsal and beating
herself up to get into auditions. Day in and day out she
practiced and memorized, convinced that one day directors of
musicals by Andrew Lloyd Weber or Stephen Sondheim would
recognize her talents and welcome her to their stage. 

Kristin Raucci -blonde, 27 and newly divorced. After her
marriage broke-up, she'd boarded herself in her tiny sixth
floor apartment and only left when she needed to buy food.
This information came from her brother who, despite his
efforts to make otherwise, hadn't actually seen his sister in
a year. He basically supported her, mailing her money and
paying her bills. 

Mary Howard -brunette, 24, a depressed, orphaned poet. With
little to no friends, Mulder and Scully had been forced to
interview neighbors, finding out little. 

Jolene Valencia -brown hair, 24 and trying with all her might
to be discovered. A pianist, guitarist and singer, she had a
few fans and family support, but only left her apartment to
perform. At the end of the night, she went home, stayed up all
night to write and practice, slept all day and did her gig.
Rinse, wash, repeat. She simply went through the motions, her
life a routine.

Claudia Fitzgerald -black, 30, a writer. According to her
friends, she'd written several upon several novels. Novels
that were rejected by every publisher she'd sent them to.
She'd been finishing up a promising book when she died. 

And finally it was back to Amanda Porter, a biology student
who was set on being an Oceanographer. She was actually the
most sociable of the bunch, living at home still but left the
house every now and then to spend time with friends. However,
she did often choose studies, career and emotions over
socializing. In that way she was the same as the rest. 

Mulder and Scully noticed this connection, amongst a couple of
other things. 

They stopped for a moment at Starbuck's, preparing for a long
night. Trisha had invited them to her place to run over what
they had found out that day. 

Throwing their empty cups away, Mulder and Scully headed
straight for the Police station to meet with Gavin and, from
there, to Trisha's home. 

XxX

Trisha Menzel's Residence
7:37 PM

As soon as Gavin's knuckles hit the wood, a howling bark was
heard from beyond the door. Trisha shushing the animal could
be heard as she made her way to let Mulder, Scully and Gavin
in. 

When the door opened, an excited miniature Beagle, his nerves
jingle-jangled and his tail shaking his entire body, welcomed
them. Trisha picked him up before he could make his escape out
the door to romp around the yard. 

"Come on in," she welcomed, holding the door open until
everyone was inside. 

"Deeogee loves to meet new people, so you'll have to excuse
his excessive spunkiness," she added, placing the pup on the
ground so he could better acquaint himself with the strangers. 

"Deeogee?" Mulder asked before realization dawned. "Ah, D.O.G.
Clever." He knelt down to pet the dog on the head, Deeogee's
nose sniffing away at Mulder's palm. 
                                             
"That's what they keep telling me," Trisha smirked.

Scully had joined in, scratching the dog behind the ear, his
tongue sticking out and ever-wagging tail still out of
control. Trisha took each of their coats. 

Mulder watched Scully as she played with the pup, a gentle
smile on her lips as the dog responded to her petting
enthusiastically. Mulder had always had a soft spot for dogs
and seeing Scully as eager to pay attention to the animal as
the animal was to receive it, well, it made his heart melt and
a warm smile cross his lips. 

There were man-eating Pomeranians with yipping barks and then
there were *actual* dogs like Deeogee whose only joy in life
was having his fur stroked. As a rule, Mulder preferred the
bigger dogs -Labs, Retrievers, Rottweilers- but Beagles
weren't so bad, he decided.

Scully finally stood up, brushing her hands together to get
rid of any possible dog hair left on them. She then looked up
at Mulder and smiled. He smiled back, a toothy grin really,
and placed a hand on her lower back. Trisha and Gavin had
already moved to the kitchen, so he figured they better do the
same. 

It smelled like garlic and tomato sauce. The room was filled
with the mouth-watering aroma and Mulder couldn't help but
sniff the air. 

"Homemade spaghetti," Trisha announced from behind a pot of
rising steam. "The sauce is an old family recipe. I have a
pasta maker, so these noodles are the real deal, guys." She
then proceeded to dump the contents of the pot into the
strainer over the sink. 

"It smells delicious," Scully extolled.

Neither of them had really had the chance to eat all day, so
to say that their stomachs were ready and eager for food would
be an understatement.  

"Go ahead and set-up in the den. Dinner should be ready in
about five."

Mulder had the folders clutched to his side in one hand as the
three of them made way to the den. A soft looking, brown couch
welcomed their fatigued bodies. Setting the files on the
coffee table in front of him, Mulder felt as though that was
about as much 'setting-up' as they would need right now.
Scully plopped down beside him, letting out a long breath.
Gavin situated himself opposite of the pair in a green
recliner. 

Trisha lived in a descent sized condominium. It was bigger
than most New York apartments and ten times cozier. Both
Mulder couldn't help but wonder how she afforded such
accommodations on a detective's salary. Then again, many
wondered the same thing about Scully's place and his clothes.

"Long day?" Gavin broke in. 

"Very," Mulder replied succinctly.

"You sounded like you found out some pretty worthwhile things,
though."

"Well," Scully began, "we found enough to at least head in a
direction. Whether it be the right one, we're not sure, but
it's hardly enough to really get us anywhere," she informed
Gavin, honestly. "Mulder hasn't even had a chance to come up
with a theory yet," she added, smirking. 

Mulder whipped his head around then nudged her shoulder
playfully. "Give it some time, G-woman. We've only just
begun."        

At that moment, Trisha poked her head into the den. "Dinner's
ready!"

They sat down for a quiet meal, trying to avoid talking shop
until it was officially time to. It was time for Mulder and
Scully to learn a bit about The Badger's partner.

She was 35, never married and came from a half Italian, half
Greek background -which explained the phenomenal cooking. At
one point in time she had actually planned on being a chef,
but at the last minute decided that law enforcement was her
game. She was from the South -a small town in Georgia -and
although she tried to avoid revealing so, she came from big
money. She'd lived in Georgia up until she was eighteen before
moving to New York. And there she'd stayed.

They all helped clear the table, washing their own dishes to
make time go by faster and to lessen the load for Trisha.

"Whew, I'm stuffed," Mulder said, patting his stomach as he
slouched down into the couch cushions.

"Isn't she an amazing cook?" Gavin smiled 

"Terrific," Scully replied, while Mulder simply nodded. 

Deeogee had made a comfortable little spot on the couch and at
this point was lying right beside Mulder. Mulder reached over
and began to languidly caress the dog's soft fur.

"Don't get too comfortable, guys, we've got a case to tend
to." Trisha carried in a tray of coffee with her reminder. 

In an almost comical manner, Gavin and Mulder sighed heavily
at the same time, causing their partners to chuckle. 

"Suck it up, boys," Scully said, one corner of her mouth
lifting into a half smile. 

Mulder looked over at her, the 'puppy dog' look on his face.
She cocked her head to the side and raised an eyebrow, not
allowing him to get to her so easily. Mulder sighed again and
looked over at Gavin.

"She's tough," Gavin said, suppressing laughter.

"Tell me about it." A proud smile taking over Mulder's face.
Scully pushed some of her hair behind her ear and straightened
her posture, casting her eyes away from Mulder to the folders
in front of them. 

Mulder sluggishly pulled himself from the couch to retrieve
the files from the small table at his feet. Opening the top
one, he pulled out what they had used to take notes. 

He then proceeded, with Scully's assistance, to go over
everything they had found out that day; pointing out the
possible connections. The only connections at this point.

The victims were very introverted for one reason or another,
this much was true. However, small things also connected them.
Not having paid much attention to it at first, Scully had
noticed on the autopsy reports that the victims all had traces
of caffeine recorded found in the blood samples. Not all that
strange of a finding for most cases, but as usual, an X-File
had its exceptions. Caffeine was the substance used in upper
pills, such as No-Doz. Taking that into consideration, Mulder
and Scully had kept an eye out for drugs consisting of this
lone ingredient. Such pills had been found among each and
every victim's belongings and according to most of the loved
ones, the victim's had suffered from insomnia. Self-induced
insomnia that, for the majority of them, had only started a
week or so prior to their deaths. 

Another connection, small but valid, was that each victim had
lost a loved one in the last five years: A Parent, both
parents, a sibling, other family, a lover or a dear friend. 

Shawna Adams and Mary Howard had both been orphaned in the
last few years. Amber Henson's mother had lost her battle with
cancer only six months before her own death. Laurie Bolden and
Claudia Fitzgerald had each lost their fathers. Torrence
Martinez had lost her brother in a car accident while Jennifer
Wilkes's brother had committed suicide. JoLene Valencia's best
friend had died in a skiing accident and Amanda Porter's
boyfriend of two years was shot during the hold up of a
convenient store.        

It took all of thirty minutes to dish out the information,
followed with discussion. After some consideration, Trisha
broke in with a question, her brow crinkled in confusion. 

"What about Kristin Raucci?"

"What about her?" Mulder asked.

"Well, who did she lose?"

"Her husband. It wasn't necessarily a permanent loss, since it
was divorce, but I figure that could be almost as intense
depending on the relationship and "

Scully interrupted him before he could continue. "Actually, it
wasn't her husband, Mulder," she began. Mulder turned to look
at her, urging her to continue with the question in his eyes.
"Danny, her brother, pulled me aside while you were on the
phone with Gavin. Remember?"

"Yeah, I remember stepping outside but I didn't think anything
happened while I was gone."

Mulder was a little confused on why Scully hadn't mentioned
any of this before, but he assumed maybe she was waiting until
all four of them were together. Maybe it was something she
didn't want to have to repeat.

"Well, he told me why his sister's marriage fell apart." She
looked down at her hands and pursed her lips. She brushed one
thumb over the other before taking a deep breath. She squared
her shoulders and looked directly at Mulder when she spoke.
"They'd lost a baby, Mulder."

The expression in her eyes weighed heavy on Mulder's heart. It
had only been a few months since the loss of Emily and though
he knew Scully was doing her best to hide how it had affected
her, he knew it was an act. A role Scully had perfected to
fool those around her into thinking everything was okay. And
everyone believed it. Everyone but Mulder.

"He didn't go into much detail," she went on to say. "All he
said was that the baby had come down with a 103 fever within
two days. After a week in the hospital, she died." She
shrugged with the last statement, as if it didn't bother her
in the least. 

Mulder stared at her a moment and then they locked eyes. His
eyebrows knitted together and he began to chew on his bottom
lip. He wanted to say something to her. Something comforting,
but it wasn't the time or the place. Scully blinked and broke
the trance.

"That poor woman," Trisha sounded.

"Yes," Scully replied simply. She cleared her throat and
regained her composure. Mulder had yet to tear his eyes away
from her. 

He really didn't want this case to bring back anymore memories
than she was already trying to fight. But he knew that no
matter how many haunting moments from her past ganged up on
her, she would stand tall and strong and battle them until the
end. She was Scully, after all. 

Finally, he snapped himself out of it and tried to pick up
where he had left off. 

"Now all we have to do is find out why the victims were so
intent on taking the caffeine pills," Scully added after a
beat. "I think if we can find the link there then we will have
something substantial to give us a starting point."    

"Did you take anything to forensics?" Gavin asked, leaning
forward to rest his elbows on his knees, balling his hands
together under his chin. 

"Yes, actually," Mulder said. "I don't think they really
thought to take anything too personal, so we were able to
obtain each victim's purses or, at least, the belongings that
had been inside them. You can find out a lot about a woman by
the contents of her purse. Am I right, Scully?"

"I wouldn't know, Mulder. A purse is dead weight when it comes
to chasing down mutants. Or, for that matter, chasing down
you," Scully quipped, one side of her lips pulling up into a
half smile. 

"Touch‚." He threw his hands up in defeat. 

"I guess we better wait until we hear something before we do
anything else," Gavin concluded, smiling at the banter and
leaning back into his seat. "Thanks, you guys. You've really
kicked this case off. I guess we were just asking the wrong
questions."    

"Forget about it, Badge," Mulder said with a shrug of his
shoulders.

Trisha rose from her seat and began to collect the empty
coffee mugs. "If you'll excuse me, I think I'll do the other
dishes while time still allows. I have a feeling that, with
these two on board, we may be working pretty hard in no time."
She winked at the two agents before turning towards the
kitchen. 

"She's a little obsessive compulsive, you'll have to excuse
her incessant cleaning," Gavin whispered, jokingly. 

"I heard that!" Trisha shouted from inside the kitchen. "And
there is nothing wrong with a clean house."

They all shared a quiet laugh before Scully stood up. "I think
I'll give her a hand; give you two some time to catch up."
Mulder nodded and she disappeared into the kitchen. 

"You've got quite the partner there, Mulder." 

"Well, you know, she keeps me on my toes. Doesn't let me get
away with much." Mulder smiled at Gavin. "You and Trisha seem
to have quite the partnership, too, Badge."

"Eight years and you kind of have to. We've been through a lot
with one another. Everything." Gavin finally took the time to
loosen his tie and lounge in the chair. Mulder did the same.

"I hear you on that."

"Especially on the personal level."

There was a tone in Gavin's voice that gave something away.
Gavin cleared his throat and began to play with a piece of
thread on the recliner. Mulder leaned forward, picking up on
what his friend had just said in 'guy code.'

"So, you two have, uh . . ." Mulder started, trailing off
almost as if he had given the question a second thought,
therefore stopping before he could finish.

Gavin did it for him.

"Slept together? Oh yeah. It's not much of a secret around
here, so you don't need to worry about asking me about it.
But, yeah. It was a while back. Two, three years into us
working together, I think." Gavin chuckled humorlessly. "I
can't really remember."

Mulder was saddened by the last statement. Saddened by the
idea that it had just been a fling between two such incredible
people who seemed to work so well together.

"Did it change anything?" Mulder pressed on. "I mean,
especially given that you never became romantically involved."

"Nah. Well, it was different. I'll give you that. Awkward for
while, but we got over it." Gavin shrugged then brought his
hands up and folded them over his stomach. 

"So, I'm guessing it never happened again."

Gavin laughed heartily, throwing his head back into the
cushion. "Man, you really miss guy talk, don't you?"

Mulder replied with a half grin and a side tilt of his head.

"Maybe three times. Usually after a grueling case. It happens,
you know? You get caught up in what all happened and the next
thing you know you can't keep your hands off one another. I
guess it is some kind reassurance for us. To know that despite
what happened, we were still alive. Touching made it real and
waking up with one another kind of, I don't know, rest assured
the fact that both of us were still there, safe and sound."

It kind of hit home for Mulder. Sex was never how he and
Scully reassured that the other still existed, of course.
However, they went deeper than that at times. Emotions would
well up inside and they would spill their hearts out to one
another. They would hug or kiss a forehead or caress a cheek.
But never sex. Not Mulder and Scully. 

Gavin noticed the change in Mulder's expression and squinted
his eyes as if trying to read it. Then it dawned on him. 

"Wait a minute, Foxy, are you telling me that you and Dana
haven't . . . In six years you have *never* even . . . Wow.
How? I mean, that's an amazing amount of control on your
part."

Mulder snorted a laugh and nodded his head in agreement.
"Don't I know it."

"This have anything to do with The Boa?" Gavin asked, half
amused and half concerned.

Mulder wasn't quite sure what he meant at first, but it sank
in and he opened his mouth in a silent 'ahhh.'

"The Boa, a.k.a Phoebe. Well, she did *squeeze* a lot out of
the Casanova out of me. The proverbial knife in heart, if you
will. I saw her a few years ago."

"Really now? That must have been interesting."

"I'm not sure if that is the word I would use," Mulder laughed
out. A beat and Gavin prodded Mulder for the real reason. 

"There's more to it than that, isn't there? With you and
Dana."

"Yeah. There is. With us it would be more than just sex, you
know? It would have to be. She's all I have, Gavin. I can't
lose her to something so petty as *just* sex. Sex is easy.
Romance . . . that's a tough one." 

Gavin whistled and shook his head, a knowing grin taking over
his face. "Wow, man, you've got it bad." At this point, Gavin
was laughing a full belly laugh, his body shaking. The
sleeping Deeogee jumped at the loud sound, looking at Gavin
with tired eyes. 

"Shut up," Mulder said, monotone, trying to suppress the smile
playing on his lips. 

"No seriously, you're in deep."

"Yeah, yeah." Mulder looked in the direction of the kitchen,
shyly. 

"Mulder, why don't you just " The chirping of a cell phone
interrupted Gavin. 

"It's mine," Mulder said. He pulled the device from his pocket
and answered,"Mulder."

Gavin leaned in trying to listen in on what was being said but
Mulder only let out a few grunts before he thanked the caller
and hung up. 

"What is it?"

Mulder tucked his phone back in his pocket and started
gathering the files and notes. "They think they found
something."

XxX

9:42 PM

The four officers entered the Forensic Lab with haste, anxious
to see what had been uncovered. 

Trisha and Scully had been sitting at the kitchen table,
laughing about something, when Gavin came in and told them the
news. In just a few seconds, they were all out the door.

Gavin pushed open the double flap doors, Mulder followed him
while Scully and Trisha trailed behind, side by side. 

The room was filled with all kinds of equipment, some things
Mulder and Scully recognized from the lab at the FBI. Three
people sat at respective stations. One woman, with her
chestnut hair pulled back into a pony-tail, looked at
something through a microscope. A stout, balding man typed
away at the computer keys in one corner, occasionally
referencing an open manila folder. And at a metal table,
surrounded by Dooney and Burke's, satchels, wallets and Ziploc
bags filled with random trinkets, stood Carl Plymouth -the man
who had called Mulder. He was tall, six foot five, and a
muscular black man with a goatee. His hip rested against the
table as he wrote something down on a clipboard. 

"What do you got?" Gavin asked.

Carl looked up from his clipboard and set it aside. He took
off his latex gloves and threw them in the waste basket before
replying. 

"Not sure." He shifted his attention to look at Mulder. "You
might want to ask a psychic."

"Ha ha," Mulder said humorlessly, figuring the comment was a
jab at his reputation. Carl tilted his head to the side,
raising his eyebrows. He was serious.

"You're kidding, right?" Mulder asked, now somewhat amused.

"I wish I were. It's interesting what you miss when you're not
sure what to look for. Did you search all of these items
before bringing them to us?"

"No," Mulder said. "There really wasn't much time. We glanced
over a few things then decided to leave it to you guys. Now
what is this about asking a psychic?"

"Well, after looking through purses, wallets and the few items
you collected we found something among each victim's
belongings. This," Carl handed Mulder a Ziploc bag, inside a
blue card with silver print:

We Belong to the Stars
131 Forsyth St. 
New York, New York
(212)555-2234

"It's a psychic network," Carl informed the officers. "Some
people call, but they have walk-ins on occasion, too. It's not
a lot, but it's something."

Mulder handed the bag over to Scully to look at the card
herself. She glanced at it briefly before allowing Trisha and
Gavin to take a look.

"We'll investigate it tomorrow," Gavin said. "It's getting
late and Mulder and Scully have been out all day." He looked
at the agents to double-check and they both nodded in
agreement. "We'll head over there early in the morning, let's
say, around eight."

"All right. Are you going to need any of this?" Carl asked as
he started to gather the items and put them in a plastic
container. 

"Nah, we'll just take this card, that's all. Thanks, Carl."

"No problem. It's my job," he said, flashing a Crest white
smile. 

"Have a good night," Gavin said. They all waved before heading
toward the double doors and made for the exit. 

"What do you say we meet at the station at about 7:45 and
we'll head for Forsyth Street from there?" Gavin asked Mulder
and Scully. 

Mulder looked to Scully and they exchanged glances before
Mulder nodded and said, "That'll work."

"All right then. See you in the morning. You two have a good
night." 

"Goodnight, Dana. Goodnight, Mulder," Trisha said with a wave.

Mulder and Scully simply replied with a nod and a smile before
turning to the car. Mulder got in on the driver's side while
Scully made herself comfortable in the passenger seat.

Driving down the street, the traffic having died down, Mulder
snuck a glance at his partner. She was staring out the window,
fatigue evident in her posture and eyes. 

"You gonna make it up to your room or do I need to help you
set up camp in the car?" 

A half smile pulled at Scully's lips and she turned to him. "I
guess we'll see when we get there," she replied lazily. After
a beat she asked, "So, did you and Gavin catch up on old
times?"

"More like new times."

"That's good. I'm glad." Her words were beginning to slur and
her eyes were slipping shut.

"Close your eyes, Scully. I'll wake you when we get there."

The sound of the heater was the only response he got in
return. 

Chapter Four
<><><><><><>

7:47 AM
NYPD

Mulder, Scully and Trisha gathered around the refreshment
table, waiting for the coffee to finish brewing and for the
last member of their party to arrive.

"Did you two get a good night's sleep?" Trisha asked as she
reached for three Styrofoam cups. 

"Yes, thank you," said Scully. 

Truth be told, the beds were a little lumpy and a cat liked to
serenade the moon at the most inopportune times of the night.
She'd encountered worse, however. Mulder, on the other hand,
could sleep anywhere. When he slept, that is. He didn't
respond to Trisha's question, not vocally anyway, just smiled
and nodded in agreement with Scully.

Gavin trotted in just when the coffee had been distributed.
Scully was adding creamer when he approached.

"Sorry, guys."

Mulder took a peak at the wall clock before responding.
"You're only four minutes late, so we'll let it slide this
time."

"Thanks," Gavin replied dryly with a roll of the eyes.
"Anyway, I say we take the subway. It will be a lot faster."

"Sounds good," Trisha agreed.

"Finish your coffee and we'll leave once I talk with Chief."
Gavin turned in the direction of Chief O'Donnell's office. 

Three minutes later they were all out the door.

XxX

We Belong to the Stars
8:03 AM

From the outside, the business looked like an Insurance
office. It was in a brick building, as most businesses were,
and shared the block with several restaurants, second-hand
boutiques and smaller businesses. The only thing that tipped
it off as a psychic business, aside from the large sign with
an eye in a crystal ball, was the purple curtains with suns,
moons and stars embroidered on them. The name We Belong to the
Stars was painted on one window in gold. 

The four officers walked in, ready to get down to business. A
woman in a green suit sat behind a desk, chewing on her pen.
Once she saw the possible clients, she perked up considerably
and straightened her posture. 

"Good day, my name is Leslie, can I help you?"

"Yes, actually," Scully said after a beat. "We'd like to ask
you and any other employees present today a few questions."

"Any particular reason?"

"We have reason to believe that your place of business has a
connection with a case we're working on." Scully stepped ahead
of the group, obviously having taken on the leadership role.
The four officers pulled out their identifications, flashed
them and tucked them away again in one fluid motion. 

"I see," said Leslie, hesitantly. "Well, right now the only
ones available are Carmen, Luke and Nora."

"How many other psychics work here?" Mulder chimed in. 

"Well, most evenings, Celes and Jacob come in. That's it."

"Thank you. Do you mind if we go ahead and question the
others?" Mulder asked. 

"Fine by me. They're in the break room right now. Mornings are
pretty slow, so it shouldn't be a problem. It's the first door
on the right down the hallway."

"Thank you," Scully said.

Scully and Mulder started walking to the hallway when Gavin
called after them.

"Trish and I will go ahead and take care of any questioning
with Leslie, you two go ahead."

Nodding simultaneously, the two agents continued their walk
until they reached their destination. The door was cracked
open and some quiet murmuring could be heard beyond it. No
radio or TV played in the background.

Mulder did a courteous rap on the doorframe before opening the
door the rest of the way. Three people, two women and one man,
sat around a circular table. The room was dark blue and had
bold fabric draped here and there. 

"Can we help you?" a curly-haired woman asked. Her complexion
and hair were dark, but her nationality remained a mystery to
the agents. She spoke with no real accent, but didn't sound to
be a native New Yorker. 

Beside her sat the lone man, his sandy blonde hair receding
and day old stubble on his face. He had deep blue, almost
penetrating eyes that made Scully's skin crawl. The other
woman was a slim blonde woman, attractive and young. Her
attention immediately snapped to Mulder and only Mulder.

"Yes. I'm Special Agent Mulder and this is my partner Special
Agent Scully. We'd like to ask you some questions about a case
we're working on." They both quickly flashed their badges and
remained within the frame of the door. 

The darker woman sized up the agents then stood up. She was
voluptuous and her outfit was the stereotypical look most
imagined a psychic would wear -a white peasant top paired with
a bright colored, flowing skirt. She wore brown sandals on her
feet and her hair had a bandana wrapped around it. Extravagant
gold jewelry finished off the ensemble -hoop earrings, several
bracelets and a necklace with swirls and dangles. 

"Have a seat," she said, unimpressed. "Would you like anything
to drink or a donut or muffin?" she offered half-heartedly. 

"No, we're fine, thanks," Scully said.

Mulder and Scully filled the two remaining chairs and,
purposely or not, Mulder sat by the blonde woman. 

"First off, could you tell us your names?" Mulder requested.
Both he and Scully pulled out a small notepad and pen, ready
to take notes.

"Do you want full names or what?" asked the man.

"We just need something to call you. If we need any further
information, we'll let you know," Scully answered, unable to
meet the bone-chilling man in the eye. 

"Well, I'm Carmen," said the darker woman.

"Luke," the man said, raising his hand in a quick wave.

With a velvety voice, the blonde woman replied, "Nora."

"Alright, I guess the best way to do this is to split you
three up and we'll go from there as far as questioning,"
Mulder said.

Carmen rolled her eyes. "Look, Agents, we have a job to do so
if "

"If you would like to go about business as usual, while we go
about our business with Nora and Luke here, then by all means
do so. This is a serious case and I'm sure you can spare
fifteen minutes of your time," Scully laid out, then added,
"Unless, for some reason you've neglected to mention, you
oppose to us questioning you and your co-workers." Her
intention was clear; to make Carmen realize that unless they
could prove otherwise with their questioning, everyone was a
suspect. Including her. 

Keeping cool, though Scully's technique had thrown her for a
loop, Carmen said, "Nothing to hide here, Miss Scully. I'll be
back in a few minutes for my turn." She sauntered out the
door, her hips swaying naturally.

"Okay, Nora, is there another place where we could talk?"
Mulder asked, apparently already having claimed his
'questionee'.

Nora's rosy lips curled up. "Yes, Agent Mulder. I have my own
little workplace down the hall." She stood up and he followed
the action. "It's very cozy," she added, huskily.

Scully wanted to roll her eyes, but resisted the temptation.
Much to Scully's surprise, Mulder wasn't at all impressed with
Nora's seduction. He didn't seem to be anyway. Then again, he
had made sure that the beautiful blonde was the one he would
be alone with for the next five minutes or so. 

Scully watched Mulder and Nora walk out the door. She cleared
her throat and pressed down on the little knob at the top of
her pen, the clicking sound of it filling the room.

"All right, Mister . . ."

"Vicors. V-i-c-o-r-s," Luke provided, leaning forward in his
chair.

"Luke Vicors. We'll just cover the basics right now. How long
have you been with 'We Belong to the Stars'?"

"About four years."

"Why this particular calling, if you don't mind me asking?"

"My gift, of course," he answered with a smirk.

Scully looked up from her notepad she was writing on and
cocked an eyebrow. What had she expected him to say?

"Okay then. Run me through a typical day in Luke Vicor's
life." She folded one hand over the other as she waited for
his answer.

He stared at her for a moment, sweeping his eyes over her
features. She swallowed uncomfortably at the gesture, but
didn't let the uneasiness show on her face.

"Well, I wake up at around 5:30 and do my morning meditations
for thirty minutes. Then I shower, get ready and fix myself
some breakfast. I live in Newark, so I head to work at around
7:15. Once I get settled into work, I go to my private little
. . .office, I guess you would call it, and work my eight to
twelve hours of the day. Most of the time I get walk-ins, but
every now and then some people opt to just call in and chat
for a few minutes. I ease their troubled minds and when my
time is up, I have me some dinner, maybe a few drinks, and go
home for the evening."

Scully scribbled some shorthand down on the paper then brought
her eyes back to his. "What about on days you don't work?"

"Just regular stuff, I guess. Depending on the day. I catch a
show, hang out at a coffee shop, attend some concerts,
alphabetize my record collection, you know, stuff like that.
Normal stuff," he shrugged. He leaned forward a little closer,
his arms resting on the table. As each minute ticked by he
seemed to invade Scully's personal space more and more. She
tried to distance herself without him noticing, but there
wasn't much she could do.

"Going back to your workdays, how close do you get to your
clients?"

"It depends."

"On what exactly?" Scully prodded.

"On how many times I see them. Some of them I like to get to
know because they interest me." His lips curled up into a
smirk, his eyes darkening a shade as he squinted at Scully.

"In what way do they interest you, Mr. Vicors?"

"People have silly reasons sometimes to consult us, Dana. They
ask stupid things, nonsense things. That interests me. Then
there are those who are so confused about which road they need
to take or which door they need to open that they can't even
take one more step before talking to me. *That* interests me.
And sometimes I get the few whose lives actually are so, so
mixed-up that I understand completely why they need someone to
guide them one way or another. That interests me."

Scully chewed on the inside of her bottom lip then licked the
surface, taking in everything Luke had just said. Noting how
his hands were only centimeters from touching hers. Then it
hit her and her stomach dropped to somewhere around her knees.

"How did you know my first name?" She thought to herself if
she may have let it slip. No. Then she wondered if he had read
it on her badge. No, no one could have read it that fast, much
less, see such small print from so far away. 

"Don't act so surprised," Luke laughed out. Then his
expression turned gravely serious. "I've learned a lot about
you in the last five minutes without you saying one word,
Dana."

He wove his fingers together and began to study her face. 

"I've learned that when a stranger sits this close to you,
goose bumps rise up to cover every porcelain inch of your
body. I've learned that when you gather some useful
information from someone such as myself, you chew on the
inside of your cheek, considering the possibilities. I've
learned that your hair is actually two or three shades darker
than the color you have it dyed now. And I've learned that
every time your Agent Mulder looks at you, your cheeks flush
and right now you can't stand the thought of him alone in a
small room with Nora." The smirk was back on his face, proud
of his observations.

But that's all they were; observations. He was good at people
watching, that's it.

Scully swallowed, more so because of the look in his eyes, but
kept her composure. "While your cognizance is impressive, none
of that reveals how you knew my first name, Mr. Vicors."

"Then allow me to continue," his voice low as he spoke. "I
know that when the air is dry and you have a nosebleed, the
hair on your neck sticks up and you wonder if maybe, just
maybe the cancer could be back. I know that every so often,
even though you chide yourself for the very thought, you
wonder if there is more to your life than what it is now. I
know that you entertain the thought of coming clean with your
true feelings for your partner sometimes, but push them away
because you don't think he's ready. And I know the memory of a
strawberry-blonde little girl haunts your memory every night
before you go to sleep." This time he didn't smirk. His gaze
peered into her and she could fill tears stinging her eyes.

Scully shut her notepad and tucked it into her coat along with
her pen. She swept her tongue over her lips, once; twice.
Clearing her throat, she stood up from her chair and
straightened her coat. 

"We're finished here, Mr. Vicors. Thank you for your time."

Just as Luke was about to stand up, the door opened and Carmen
walked in. 

"Don't bother, Miss Scully. The other half of your posse
cornered me and did their job. You folks are lucky the
mornings are usually slow, otherwise I might be unpleasant
about you paying us a visit during business hours."

"Well, Carmen, it looks as though we are finished for now. We
may be back later, possibly tomorrow evening, to get what
information we can from Jacob and Celes," Scully said, back in
professional mode.

"Mm-hmm, well, Jacob will be here at around nine tomorrow
night. I already told your two detectives that Celes has been
out of town for the last week and won't be back for another
week or two. I guess Leslie forgot to mention that."   

"Yes, well, thank you." Scully wanted out of that room as soon
as possible. She brushed hurriedly passed Carmen and walked to
the lobby. 

Trisha and Gavin were on the small couch, flipping through
magazines. Trisha looked up when she saw movement then stood
up, walking the rest of the distance to her.

"You okay, Dana?"

"Yes, I'm," Scully started then took a deep breath.
"Everything's fine, Trish, don't worry about it. I'm just a
little hungry, I think."

A giggle erupted from behind them and every head in the lobby
turned its attention to the sound. Nora and Mulder filed from
the hallway, Mulder with a half-smile on his face and Nora
obviously enchanted by his charm. 

"Thanks again, Nora," Mulder said, leaving her behind as he
walked over to stand by Scully.

Nora batted her eyelashes and flipped her hair, smiling at
Mulder. Mulder looked awkwardly between Trish and Scully
before offering a closed smile and a wave. 

Scully tried not to notice, but given her current state, her
imagination was turning the exchange into something that only
further frazzled her nerves.

Mulder waved to Leslie then led Scully to the exit with a hand
on her back, the two detectives following behind.

"What do you say I treat us all to some breakfast? We'll
compare notes and I'll tell you why I was late this morning,"
Gavin offered once they were all outside.

Mulder's stomach chose that moment to grumble and he gave it a
pat before replying, "Sounds like a plan." 

Scully trailed behind while Gavin and Mulder talked about the
chance of rain. Trisha followed close behind them, commenting
whenever she felt the need. The sky was gray and some of the
clouds hung so low that the taller buildings were half hidden.
A man on the corner was preparing to sell black umbrellas, his
only protection from the clouds' promise being a black trench
coat. 

Mulder fell back to walk with Scully. He didn't say a word,
just smiled and kept in synch with Scully's pace. She could
tell he was curious about her quietude, but grateful that he
didn't push for the reason. Not right now anyway. 

XxX
Martha's Breakfast Nook

Despite what she'd said to Trisha, Scully didn't eat too
heartily. She'd ordered two scrambled eggs and two pieces of
toast. In the end, she'd only pushed the eggs around with her
fork and nibbled on the toast. She chased it down with four
cups of coffee and a glass of water. Trisha seemed to notice
Scully's loss of appetite, eyeing her during the foursome's
conversation, but said nothing.

"Well, seems like Leslie, Nora and Carmen are cleared then and
given Celes's vacation, I don't think she can be a suspect,"
Mulder concluded over a mouthful of pancake. He chased it down
with his glass of milk before turning his attention to Scully.

"All right, Scully, spill it. What do you have on Luke?"

She'd been dreading her turn all through breakfast. 

"Actually, I think we should further investigate him," she
said succinctly. 

"Really? Why's that?" Mulder queried.

"Well, he seems to have a special interest in some of his
clients. He addressed this openly to me. It just seems
suspicious to me. Or at least deserves further investigation,
if anything." Through her entire explanation she stared at the
ice floating in her water. Mulder found that particular nuance
in presentation unsettling and began to ask her to share her
thoughts with the rest of the class. 

Before he could say a word, she excused herself from the
table. He watched her stride away, dodging a bus boy in her
rush.

"Excuse me," he said as he pushed away from the table to
follow her.

He caught up to her before she escaped into the lady's room.
Grabbing her forearm gently, he turned her to him.

"Mulder . . ."

"You okay?" he asked without prelude.

"Yes, Mulder, I'm "

"You're fine," he finished for her, wanly.

She sighed, having noticed she'd been caught trying to pull
her usual routine. She leaned her back against the wall and
cast her eyes down to look at the floor.

The restrooms were located directly beside the kitchen
entrance, so the traffic was heavy in the narrow hallway.
Mulder stepped closer to Scully to make room for the waiters
and waitresses rushing by, leaning down so that once she
looked up again their eyes would be level. He could smell her
shampoo and hear her breathing.

"What happened to make you suspect Luke in this case?" he
asked softly.

"I," she started, pausing a moment before continuing. "He made
me uncomfortable. He just, he had that certain way about him
that made it seem he knew more than he was letting on." She
popped her head up and immediately her blue eyes were looking
straight into Mulder's hazel. Their noses almost brushed at
the movement.

"Did he say anything to you? Did he," he swallowed, "touch
you?"

Her eyes softened at his concern. "He said some things." She
saw Mulder stiffen at that and quickly corrected herself. "He
knew certain things about me that I had not made him privy to
at any point in our conversation. Things that he couldn't
possibly know. Personal things," she looked down at the floor
again with the last statement.

"But did he "

"No. No, he didn't, Mulder. I think he wanted to. Every time
he answered a question he'd move closer to me and. . ." she
trailed off, not wanting to say anything else regarding Luke
Vicors inappropriately invading her personal space.

"I wish you'd told me," Mulder whispered, his breath
feathering her ear.

"I know. I'm sorry. I thought that if I just touched on the
fact that I thought he might be worth looking in to, I
wouldn't have to talk about it," she said with the smallest
hint of guilt in her voice. 

Mulder didn't know it, but when she was given a second chance
at life, Scully had promised herself that she would be more
open with Mulder. So far, she'd been doing a lousy job.

"It helped though, right?" Mulder asked.

"What?" Her head popped up again to look at him, genuinely
confused.

"Talking to me about it." He smiled.

The suggestion of a smile swept across her features as she
looked back at him. "Yeah, it did."

His arm, which had been stretched out to rest his palm against
the wall, closing her in for more privacy, came down so he
could rest his hand on her shoulder. "I've got your back,
partner. Remember that, okay?"

"I know, Mulder. I know."

"All right, then, what do you say we join the rest of the
team. Gavin's got something up his sleeve that he is just
itching to tell us."

"Okay, I'll be there in a minute. I'm just gonna "

"Excuse me," a larger woman with frizzy orange hair bellowed
beside them. "I'm trying to run a business here, so if you two
could get a room or something, I'd appreciate it."

Mulder and Scully exchanged a look, both deciding that the
woman must be Martha.

"Sorry, ma'am, we'll move out of your way," Mulder apologized
charmingly. 

Martha rolled her eyes and turned back to the kitchen,
mumbling something about being called ma'am. The grumbling
elicited a laugh from the two agents.

"See you in a minute," Scully said around her laughter,
ducking into the women's restroom. 

Mulder strode back to the table, catching Trisha and Gavin in
conversation. 

"Everything okay with Dana?" Trisha asked once Mulder sat
down.

"Yeah, she's fine."

"Well, Gavin was just telling me what he was up to this
morning. His investigative spark seems to have come back,
because he thought of something last night that might help us
along."

"Mulder the muse of law enforcement. Sometimes I even amaze
myself," Mulder quipped.

The two detectives rolled their eyes simultaneously just as
Scully returned to the table.

"Mulder must have just tried to be funny," she said, sitting
down beside him. The comment made Gavin and Trisha burst into
laughter. 

Mulder looked at Scully with mock hurt, but the twinkle in his
eyes gave his amusement away. Scully smiled at him, then
turned to take a drink of her water. 

"Gavin was about to share something juicy with us," Mulder
said. 

Taking that as his cue, Gavin leaned forward to rest his arms
on the table. "Well, while lying in bed last night, it hit me
that we might have some substantial evidence in the palm of
our hands. I'd never even thought about it before, but as you
know, the city has security cameras set up all over the
place."

Mulder and Scully nodded in agreement, intrigued by where this
was heading. 

"It just so happens that there is one set up en route to where
this last victim was found. I'm having Forensics screen it as
we speak. I figure maybe we can catch this guy in action or
something. Anything."

"Not bad, my good man," Mulder extolled, leaning back into his
chair.

"Until we've got news on that, there's not much else we can
do. I'll get the team up at the station to work on researching
Luke . . ." Gavin looked to Scully for the last name.

"Vicors. V-i-c-o-r-s," Scully said, a small chill running down
her spine. 

"Right, Luke Vicors. We'll get what we can and then see what
we have to go on for tomorrow. Maybe we'll find something
tonight, we'll just have to see. Technically you're the boss
on this investigation now, so it's your call on what you do
with your time."

"Well, are you sure you don't need us?" asked Scully. 

"Nah, Gav can make it on his own. I think I may head home for
the afternoon and do some tidying up, actually," Trisha said,
ignoring Gavin, who obviously, judging by his smirk, was
amused by her urge to clean every five minutes. 

It had started to rain while they were having breakfast, but
it was more of a drizzle than anything. Mulder helped Scully
with her coat as the four of them all said their goodbyes
before parting ways. Gavin and Trisha stayed behind, waiting
for the check, while Mulder and Scully exited the diner.
Aimlessly they began to walk down the streets of New York,
paying no mind to the mist in the air. 

XxX

Room 225
9:47 PM

After perusing the streets of Manhattan for a time, the rain
coming and going as they did so, Mulder and Scully had lunch.
The rain went on its way around two in the afternoon, leaving
partly cloudy skies in its wake. Some time spent at Central
Park gave them an opportunity to discuss what steps should be
taken if Luke proved to be a liable suspect. Mulder was
craving something to build a theory on. The involvement of a
psychic network had him searching his mind for possibilities.
Scully was still trying to figure out how Luke Vicors had read
her so well. Every time she thought about the experience she
still felt him poking around in her brain. 

An early dinner, a subway stop confusion and two hours later,
they were back at their hotel for the evening. No call from
either Gavin or Trisha signaled that nothing further had been
discovered in the case. 

Saying goodnight, Scully and Mulder retired to their rooms.
Scully's feet were killing her, her punishment for opting to
wear heels the whole day she concluded. To ward off the aches
and pains, she indulged in a hot bath before slipping into her
flannel pajamas and sliding in between the sheets. Lumps or
not, at that moment that bed was the most comfortable bed in
the world. 

Once her head hit the pillow, Scully was out cold. 

Cold . . .

It was so cold. 

The room was bright but the source of the light offered no
warmth to her barely covered body. And the weeping she heard
all around her only made her bones chill along with the rest
of her. 

She seemed to be alone, curled into herself in the corner of
the cell. 

She knew this place. 

An even brighter flash of light startled her from her huddled
position, her attention shooting to wherever it had come from. 

Several tall figures approached her and she felt the fear well
up inside her, tears beginning to sting her eyes. 

When would it stop? When would *they* stop? She found herself
asking these questions that she felt she'd asked many times
before. 

She'd seen these faces before. More times than she cared to
count. Actually, their mouths were always covered with
surgical masks, but she knew their eyes like she knew her own
reflection. 

Just when she thought it was all going to start again, the
tests, she noticed someone she'd never seen before. She
couldn't see his face. He stood in the doorway, the light
shining behind him making his body a silhouette.  

Everything froze. Everything but her and what seemed to be a
man. His body turned and he began to walk away from the door's
entrance, turning left. The urge to follow him was
overwhelming, so that's what she did. 

Cautiously she approached the door then peeked out to the left
to see if he was there. He was. Standing. 

Waiting.

She followed.

He seemed to be weaving her through a labyrinth, turning left
and right down bright hallways that led to nowhere. She was
about to give up on this escapade when he stopped at another
doorway; pointing to whatever was inside, no words spoken. She
padded slowly to him, with caution. Always with caution. Just
when she thought she would be able to see his face, he was
gone. Paying no mind, she turned to look at where he had
brought her. Inside the room she saw . . .

Herself.

On a chrome table, eyes closed in a deep sleep. Her stomach
protruding as a woman's with child would. The men, the same
men she'd seen too many times, surrounded machines. And there
were vials. It was then that she knew what she was witnessing. 

This is how they'd done it. 

This is how they'd made sure she would never be able to
conceive. Where they had given her cancer. Where they'd
created Emily in the most unnatural way possible. 

Not able to watch anymore, she turned to walk away. 

And it was dark now. 

Tears stung her eyes as she felt her way down the hallway, her
palms sliding against the rough walls. She'd never had to 
experience it like this. She couldn't decide what was worse:
living it again and again or watching it.

Squinting her eyes, she saw him again. He stood there,
motionless. She hated him. Hated him for showing her something
that she'd never wanted to see. Bringing her back to this
place that she hadn't dreamed about in over a year. She
stopped her tears, as quickly as turning off a faucet, wiped
her cheeks and squared her shoulders. She continued to walk to
him.

She grabbed his arm and he turned to her.

Mulder?

Nononononono, she repeated over and over in her mind. But when
he looked at her his eyes were wet. He'd been crying. He shook
his head and turned back around, his head bowed as he looked
at something.

She could hear him whispering, chanting, "Why did you leave
me? Why?" Again and again. 

She moved to look at whatever was grabbing is attention. A
gravestone. She expected to see Samantha's name engraved in
the stone, but her heart sped up and it hurt to breath.

All she read was the name and dates before turning her head
away in a gasp.

Dana Katherine Scully
1964-1994

"Nonononono," she whispered aloud this time. She grabbed
Mulder again and began shaking him. "Mulder, I'm not dead. I
didn't leave you!" Tears began to choke her, but she wouldn't
stop until he at least looked at her; saw that she was there.
"Look at me. Look at me, damn it!"

She had to get out of here. She backed away from Mulder and
began to feel her way through the hallways, not knowing if she
was going the right way, or if there was a right way. She
couldn't breath and her chest hurt. 

She stopped for a moment, to get a hold of herself. In order
to get out of here she had to be thinking clearly. She felt
her body calm down and was about to start walking again, when
a hand landed on her shoulder. The contact startled her and
she spun around, hoping that maybe it was Mulder. 

She was met by black eyes. The emptiness in them brought a
scream from her throat and . . .

And she woke up.         

She wasn't sure if her scream had been heard from outside her
dream, but she assumed not since Mulder wasn't banging on the
door. 

Mulder.

Scully threw the covers off of her, grabbed her key from the
side table and headed for the door. She swung it open and
walked to the door in front of hers, directly across the
hallway. 

Pressing her ear against the door, she could hear the
television in the background. What time is it? She wondered.
Hesitating only a split second, she knocked on the door.

Shuffling noises behind it solved the mystery of whether or
not Mulder was awake. Ten seconds and he was opening the door.

"Hey," he greeted.

"Hi," she said back, not sure what exactly she was doing over
here.

Oh, right. She wanted Mulder to see her. To see that she was
alive. That she hadn't left him. She still had no idea what
she was going to tell him, though.

After a moment of silence, Mulder smiled at her. "You lost?"

A small laugh escaped, so small that it didn't require her to
open her mouth for it to be heard. She shrugged and shook her
head.

"No, I," she started. She bit her bottom lip before
continuing. "I had a dream and I just . . . I wanted to check
on you. That's all."

Mulder's eyes softened and he became very serious, all glee
and amusement leaving his face. He brought his hand up to
smooth Scully's mussed hair then tucked some of it behind her
ear. He wanted to see her eyes better. "You want to come in
and talk about it?" he asked softly.

A part of her wanted to take him up on his offer. She knew she
wouldn't revisit the dream with him, but maybe talking to him
for a bit would calm her nerves.

"No. I should go back to bed. Who knows what we will be hit
with tomorrow?" The rational part of her finally answered.
"You should get some sleep too," she added. 

She smiled at him weakly before she turned back to her room.
Unlocking the door, she heard him say, "Goodnight, Scully."

"Goodnight."

Once inside her room, she tossed her key on the dresser and
slide back under the covers. She closed her eyes, trying her
best to go back to sleep. An hour and a half later, after much
tossing and turning, her attempt was fruitless. Pushing the
covers off for the last time that night, she padded into the
bathroom and began her ministrations of preparing for, what
would inevitably wind up being, a very long day

Chapter Five
<><><><><><>
"A handful of misdemeanors in his teens and some traffic
violations. That's about as deep as Vicors' criminal profile
goes, I'm afraid." Gavin had a manila folder in his hand as he
recited what little they were able to find on their one and
only suspect, Luke Vicors.

The two agents sat at the table while Gavin chose to stand;
Trisha had stepped out to check on the progress of the video
evidence. 

Gavin continued to rattle on about the personal life of their
prime suspect. Luke Vicors was 32 years old and divorced. He'd
been married all of seven months when he was twenty-eight.
According to their records, his ex-wife was currently residing
in California. The nature and cause of their divorce was still
a mystery, but the officers had silently agreed that until
they could uncover more on Luke, it wasn't an issue. 

Mulder was only half listening to Gavin reveal what they'd
found. Unfortunately, try as he might, he couldn't keep
himself from noticing how tired his partner seemed this
morning. 

They'd both had their share of nightmares, it came with the
job. But, this morning was the first time Scully felt the need
to check on him after one of hers. He'd wanted her to tell him
about it; knew that she felt she could. It was important that
she open up about things like this to him. Any dream that
bothered her so much that she needed to see him to make sure
he was okay, concerned him and they needed to talk about it.
The fact that she looked exhausted didn't help matters either. 

Scully chose that moment to try and suppress a yawn before
reaching for her coffee and taking a cautious sip. Setting the
cup aside, she looked up and caught Mulder looking at her. A
wan smile passed over her lips, but she turned her attention
almost immediately to Gavin, who was currently running a hand
through his hair as he paced; waiting for Trisha to return. 

The click of a door opening brought Mulder back into focus.
Trisha walked in, a man with a television set on a roller
followed behind her. 

"Here it is," the man said. He plugged the TV in, turned the
VCR on and popped the tape inside. Knowing his place in the
investigation, he simply pressed play and let it roll. He left
without a word. 

Some static and snow played on the screen for a few seconds
before it cut to a black and white picture. A timer ran in the
corner, seconds ticking by as the time read 3:27am. Headlights
could be seen reflecting off the buildings, but no cars were
visible. The camera was focused on an alley. There was no
activity for several more seconds, but moments after the time
changed to 3:28am a woman came into view. 

They identified her as Amanda Porter, the latest victim. She
was clothed in a loose shirt and jeans, barefoot with mussed
hair. And her coordination was a little off. She wasn't
stumbling quite like she was a drunk, however, which made the
four officers wonder why she was in such a state. 

Mulder approached the screen to take a closer look. He screwed
his eyes at the picture and watched as the woman came face to
face with one of the building walls. She stood there
momentarily, just staring at it. Suddenly, she collapsed to
the ground, her hands coming up to cover her face. Amanda
brought her knees to her chest and started shaking her head,
the semblance of a word leaving her lips. A minute later, her
movements ceased and her body met the ground. 

Lifeless. 

Before anyone could say anything about what they'd just
witnessed, Mulder was rewinding the tape to the frame where
Amanda Porter had first come into view. 

"Scully, come take a look at this," he said, not tearing his
eyes away from the screen. He heard her scoot her chair away
from the table and come up to stand beside him. He pressed
rewind again. 

"Look at her, Scully. If I'm not mistaken, it looks like,
well, like she's -"

"Sleepwalking," she finished for him. 

"Exactly."

The detectives moved up behind them, peeking between the two
agents' shoulders at the observation. A heavy sigh from Trisha
could be heard, but Gavin remained silent. 

Mulder switched off the TV and turned around to face his
friend. "Things just got interesting," he quipped. 

"I don't understand, Mulder," Gavin finally spoke up. "That
was the crime scene. That's where we found her body. Are you
trying to tell me that no one actually killed this woman? That
she just keeled over? That nine other women just happened to
die the same way?" 

"I didn't say anything, Gavin. In fact, you're way off from
what I was about to tell you."

Scully finally turned around to join in the conversation. She
stood quietly, waiting. It was theory time. 

"But, Mulder, the tape it -"

"Badge, the tape just provided a lot more information than you
realize. This woman was murdered all right, but not by any
means you're accustomed to."

"Enlighten us, Agent Mulder, 'cause I know you lost me,"
Trisha broke in.

"Well, right now I just have an idea, but . . .I think these
women died in their sleep."

The two detectives' brows bunched up in confusion, still
completely lost. Scully stepped forward, having caught on to
Mulder's theory; sort of. She was about to say something when
Mulder decided to press on. Good. She preferred him to come
off crazy. It looked better on him. 

Her partner began to walk around the room, reaching back into
his memory. "Remember that movie back in, I don't know, '83 or
'84, with the psychics working for the government and they
were entering people's dreams?"

"Dreamscape," Scully provided, stepping closer to him.
Mulder's eyebrows shot up, conveying that he was impressed.
Never mind the fact that the only reason she'd remembered the
film was because she'd always been a closet fan of Dennis
Quaid. 

"Yeah, that one. I think that's what's happening here. I think
someone, maybe Luke Vicors maybe not, is using their ability
to get into these women's dreams."

"Mulder . . ." Scully interrupted.

But before Mulder could say anything in defense, Gavin stepped
forward. "Look, Foxy, I know this is what you do best, but you
do realize that that's crazy, don't you? Not only do we not
have anything to back it up, but that was a movie. Things like
that don't happen in real life. Not to mention, how would we
prosecute?"

"Badge, you've heard about our cases. What we've faced working
on the X-files. Movie producers would kill to make movies
about the things that I've seen. We've seen." He looked at
Scully with the correction. "I think there's more fact than
fiction to this idea. I think our UNSUB has discovered the
possibilities in his gift and he's using it to get away with
murder."

The room fell silent. Scully stood to the side, her arms
crossed across her chest, looking at the floor. Trisha was
taking the whole thing in, not seeming to believe any of it
it, but the idea apparently intrigued her. Gavin didn't seem
to know what to think.   

"Mulder, let's assume you're right," Scully spoke up. "I mean,
we have worked cases where a person is able to inflict their
will on others -Robert Modell comes to mind. What would be the
motive here? Could these be some sort of mercy killings,
releasing the victims from their grief?"

The others looked at her as Mulder responded, "It could be.
But it could also be just because he or she can do, whatever
it is they do, and these women are susceptible. I don't really
know. It's too early to tell."

Scully bobbed her head once at his response. 

"All I'm saying is that we need more facts to go on before we
dive into this theory of yours," Gavin said softly. 

"That's fine." Mulder looked at Gavin, feigning a look of
total acquiesce. His jaw was locked into place as he began to
grind his teeth. 
               
"Good." Gavin moved to the table and pulled out a sheet of
paper from a folder. "We can start by going to Amanda's
funeral. We all know that, in most cases, the killer likes to
make an appearance at his victim's funerals. So far we haven't
had any luck spotting anyone suspicious, but you never know.
We have time to grab something to eat before we have to be
there." Gavin looked up from the paper at Mulder and added,
"Look, man, I'm not completely disregarding your theory, but
like I said, we've got to find something to go on before we
can consider it as the *only* possible one."

This time Mulder didn't say anything, he just offered a nod.
Gavin collected everything from the table and headed for the
door, his partner trailing close behind him. Scully turned to
follow them but Mulder gently grabbed her elbow, bringing her
to a halt. She turned to look at him.

"Were you able to get back to sleep last night?" The hardness
in his face was gone and he asked the question softly;
tenderly. 

She paused a moment before responding. "Yes, I was. It was
just a nightmare, Mulder. One of the perks of the job." She
gave him a pat on the forearm before turning and making her
exit. 

Mulder stayed behind, watching her as she left. It was one
thing to avoid talking about something personal like dreams
and nightmares, but she'd just lied to him. He thought their
conversation at Martha's Breakfast Nook had helped her realize
that telling him things, telling the truth, was nothing to be
afraid of. 

I guess I thought wrong, he told himself, and shut the door on
his way out. 

XxX       

They decided to grab some hotdogs for a very early lunch from
a street vendor on their way out of the station. The funeral
was at 10:30. 

Mulder was munching away at his hotdog, lathered in relish and
mustard, while Gavin rattled on about something or other.
Scully and Trisha were sitting on the steps of a cathedral; a
dozen people scattered along the same steps either resting or
having an early lunch themselves. 

It was warmer than it had been the previous day, the sun
shining with no objection from any clouds. Pigeons were
already beginning to swarm the streets, picking at fallen
crumbs and taking sips from puddles left over from the rain
earlier that week. Sporadic honking filled the streets,
mingling with the chatter of people rushing down the
sidewalks.

"So are you going to do anything about it?" Scully heard
Trisha ask.

She turned to look at her friend, who was just finishing up
her hotdog, having stuffed the rest of it in her mouth. 

"About what?" Scully asked, taking a drink from her Diet Coke. 

Trisha rolled her eyes as she tried to chew and swallow as
fast as she could. "You know . . . What we talked about in my
kitchen? You and Mulder. This, um, thing between the two of
you."

Oh yeah. That, Scully recalled. 

Scully had just finished drying a plate when Trisha asked her
to sit down to talk. Scully didn't think much of it, just
considered it a good time to get to know more about The
Badger's partner. 

"What's going on between you and Mulder?" Trisha asked, with
no prelude.

Taken aback by the sudden question -a personal question, at
that -Scully could only swallow in response. Gulp, really. Her
heart sped up at the implication. 

"Wh-what do you mean?" Scully stuttered out, knowing damn well
what Trisha meant. 

"Dana, please, you know exactly what I'm asking." Trisha was
serious with the comment, but a smirk pulled at her lips. "Oh,
and don't tell me you're the best of friends and that any
thought of ravishing him senseless has never crossed your
mind. I'm a woman, Dana. You two clearly have something going
on."

Scully didn't know what else to say. No one, not even Ellen,
had ever attempted to dissect or analyze her relationship with
Mulder. She figured she should be annoyed. Usually she would
be. However, a part of her wanted to get it out in the open. 

"Trisha," Scully started, hesitating only a fraction of a
second. "I can tell you honestly that nothing is going on
between Mulder and me."

Trisha started to object again, but Scully held up a halting
hand, asking that she be allowed to press on. 

"I'm not saying that the . . . feelings aren't there. I'm just
saying that nothing has been acted on. And to be quite honest,
I think it could be a while before they are." Scully shrugged
with the last comment, a wistful smile playing across her
lips. 

"So, there's definitely something more than friendship,"
Trisha more stated than asked. 

"Mmm," Scully hummed in agreement, a nod following the sound
just in case the message wasn't clear. 

Trisha's lips curved into a smile, which then transformed into
a full-fledged grin. "I knew it. I knew it!" She then started
to laugh, almost cackle. 

Although Scully didn't find the particular situation funny at
all, the fact that Trisha was drawing some humor from it made
Scully chuckle quietly.

Now, sitting on the steps of the peaceful, gothic cathedral
that was surrounded by modern buildings and exhaust from
taxis, Scully didn't find the memory to be funny in the least.
Especially since Trisha apparently wasn't finished getting the
facts. 

"I told you, Trisha. It's going to be a while before we can
even consider moving in that direction." 

"Have you told him you love him yet?"

"No, not in so many words. To say them, well, that would only
complicate things. And I honestly think words would cheapen
what we have. Anyway, he's not ready for something like that."
She let her gaze sweep over to where Mulder and Gavin were
still talking. Gavin was laughing about something Mulder had
just said and it made Scully smile along with him, just a
little. 

"He's not ready or you're not ready?" Trisha was leaning
closer to Scully now, trying to keep the conversation away
from prying ears. 

"He's not. I'm ready, Trisha. Or, at least, I'm closer to
ready than he is." She sighed heavily. "He has a lot of things
to sort out right now; I'd just be in the way. When he's
ready, he'll tell me." 

She hoped that was true. He'd spent the last twenty plus years
of his life trying to sort through things and each day
something else was added to the pile. Somewhere, deep inside,
Scully wanted to believe that he would let her help him with
that pile. Because she knew pieces of her were lost in it too. 

"Well," Trisha said, her gaze focusing on a lamp post, a
faraway look in her eyes, "Don't wait too long, Dana. Take it
from someone who knows. Sometimes letting them -people you
love -carry on without you and not letting them know the
truth, can only push them further away." She turned to look at
the agent turned friend beside her, tears outlining her
almond-shaped eyes. 

Trisha wiped at the tears and sniffled. "Damn allergies," she
muttered. When her hand dropped from her face, she'd pasted on
a smile.

"Alright, ladies, let's head on out," Gavin bellowed as the
two male officers approached their better halves.

The women crumpled up their trash and stood up from the stone
steps, tossing the cans and napkins in a nearby garbage can.
They joined their partners and the four officers began to push
their way through the cluster of New York citizens.

XxX

NYPD 
2:07pm

While the two detectives went over their progress with the
chief and faxed the agents' progress reports to A.D. Skinner
for them, Mulder and Scully sat in the briefing room from
earlier that day sorting through pictures.

One pile was photos taken from the funeral; the other was
screen shots that the forensic team had printed from the tape
they had viewed only hours before. Mulder profiled the screen
shots; Scully dissected the funeral shots. The benefit of
their labors was negligible.

"Scully?" called Mulder, having grown tired of analyzing the
same pictures over and over.

"Hm?" she replied, a magnifying class in one hand, one of the
photos in the other.

"Who was your role-model when you were growing up?" The levity
of the question was not lost on Scully.

"What do you mean, Mulder?" She didn't tear her eyes away from
the 5X7 piece of possible evidence.

"I mean, when you were asked to write a five hundred word
essay about your hero in school, who did you write about?"

Scully lay the picture and magnifier down on the table,
seriously considering the question. Reaching back into her
life before The X-Files, before medical school, she slowly
began to remember who her idol had been. The memory made her
smile, but it wasn't long before she started to feel a bit
sheepish about it.

"Spill it," he commanded light-heartedly.

"Well, there's who I actually wrote about and who I really
admired but never really told anyone." He nodded for her to
continue. "I always wrote about Eleanor Roosevelt or Madame
Curie or a balance between the two. I mean, that's who people
expected me to write about and it's not like I didn't admire
them, but it wasn't the truth." She'd started to fidget with
her fingers, absently picking at her nails. 

"What was the truth, Scully?" 

"You really want to know?" She looked up at him, her eyes
twinkling a little, grateful for him being interested in this
hidden part of her.

"Of course." A slight pull of his lips helped her press on. 

A deep breath and, "Mary Tyler Moore. Or, to be exact, Mary
Richards."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." She almost thought he would let her leave it at
that, but he urged her to continue with his eyes. And before
she knew it, she couldn't stop talking. "She was so, I don't
know, carefree. I wanted to be able to throw my hat in the air
and smile, not caring that everyone was staring. I wanted to
throw bad parties and have a big wooden capital 'D' hanging on
my wall. I wanted a quirky neighbor named Rhoda. Actually, I
had one of those for about a month when we lived in North
Carolina. Her name was Patty, though, and she lacked the Bronx
accent. Everybody loved Mary," she added, wistfully.

Mulder was grinning, even though a part of him was sad for his
partner. Sad that she felt people wouldn't accept this side of
her. And although she wouldn't say it out loud, it was obvious
that she saw herself as the exact opposite of this fictional
character created by an actress of the same name. 

"I had a huge crush on Mary," he said. "I think I even had a
bit of a crush on Murray, too."

That brought on a chuckle from Scully and, for a moment, she
showed her teeth as she smiled.

Unable to stop himself, Mulder not-so-jokingly said, "Just so
you know, Scully, you can turn my world on with your smile."

The smile slowly faded from her face as she began to examine
the comment and how serious he had meant for it to sound.
Before she could analyze it any more, Mulder began to
tunelessly sing:

"And you can take a nothing day and suddenly make it all seem
worthwhile. Well, it's you girl and you should know it. With
each glance and every little movement you show it . . ."    

And although she was trying to keep from laughing, she chimed
in with him, quietly singing -or more so rhythmically
speaking--along as he went into the chorus.

"Love is all around no need to waste it, you can have a town,
why don't you take it? You're gonna make it after all," the
duet, more or less, sang. 

"Bring it home," Mulder said. 

"You're gonna make it after all," they finished. Mulder was
unleashing a full belly laugh while Scully covered her face
with one hand, quiet laughter breaking through between her
fingers.

"You two do realize that I can never watch syndicated episodes
of Mary Tyler Moore again without hearing your murdered
rendition of that song, right?" 

The two partners startled, turning to see Gavin standing at
the door, Trisha close behind. He was trying to hide a smile,
doing his best to deliver the joke as seriously as possible.
After only a few seconds, a guffaw broke through. 

Scully looked to Mulder, somewhat embarrassed, while Mulder
looked at her, encouraging her with his eyes to just enjoy the
moment. 

"Nothing like a little Paul Williams in exchange for Three Dog
Night," he quipped, directly at Scully. Her face softened,
showing her appreciation.

The detectives sensed an inside joke and left it at that. They
walked the rest of the way into the room and took seats at the
small conference table, where they began to discuss the photos
and talking about their findings. Findings that were,
invariably, non-existent, though they weren't open to admit
it.

XxX

They were cleaning up the table, organizing the folders, when
Mulder paused to say something.

"By the way," he started, "you might like to know I talked to
Mrs. Porter today at the funeral."

"Why?" Gavin asked, straightening up and turning his attention
full on to Mulder. 

Looking like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar,
Mulder hesitated a moment before answering. "I had to test a
theory." He heard Scully sigh at that and the sound forced him
to fight a smile.   

"Well," he continued. "While searching the crowd of people for
suspicious characters, I couldn't stop thinking about the fact
that only a select few of these women were found outside their
homes while the others were discovered in their beds. I
decided to see if any particular, um, sleeping habits had
anything to do with it."

Gavin was standing with his arms folded over his chest,
waiting for the punch-line.

"After the funeral, I pulled Mrs. Porter aside. I offered my
condolences, but said that I needed to ask her one more
question. She simply said she'd do anything to find out what
happened to her daughter. All I asked her was if Amanda had a
history of sleepwalking. You know what she said?"

No one said it, but he could read the silent "what?" on
everyone's faces.

"Yes. She was more prone to it as a child, but it wasn't
unlike her to fall back on the old habit if she had a restless
night. They'd find her on the living room rug or in a closet,
most of the time. Never had she ventured outside her home."

Gavin and Trisha exchanged glances, but Scully just stared at
him. And he couldn't help but read the expression on her face 
as a mix between frustration and pride.

"So, I'm guessing you're going to want us to question the
families or friends of Laurie Borden and Jolene Valencia,"
Gavin finally said, already reaching for his coat.

Mulder smiled at him and said, "You read my mind."


XxX       

We Belong to the Stars
9:16pm

"Back as you promised," Leslie welcomed. "Jacob's with someone
right now, but I suspect it won't be long."

"Thanks, Leslie," Mulder said. 

"Where are Detective Neely and Detective Menzel, if you don't
mind me asking?" Leslie was trying to make casual
conversation. It was obvious she'd been bored before their
arrival. A game of Tetris was paused on her computer screen
and she'd been doodling on a piece of paper.      

"They had a few things to take care of, so we came without
them," Scully provided, opening a magazine and flipping
through the pages, not paying much attention to the contents.

At around 9:30, Leslie excused herself to check on Jacob's
status. Three minutes later, she returned, Jacob close behind
with his client. The elderly woman thanked him profusely
before stepping out the door.

"You must be the FBI agents everyone is all a buzz about,"
Jacob said by way of greeting. He approached them, shaking
their hands. "We can go in the back if you like."

Not saying a word, the two agents followed Jacob, turning to
enter the last room on the left down the hallway. Walking into
the room, Scully couldn't help but think she'd seen Jacob
before. It's possible she'd spotted him in passing, but
unlikely that he would be so prevalent in her memory. Jacob
allowed them to take a seat before doing so himself. He was
tall, a few inches shorter than Mulder, with brown hair and
brown eyes. His hair was long enough so that his bangs swept
across his forehead, half covering his eyebrows. He had an
ever present crooked smile and a square jaw. She'd seen men
that looked exactly like him several instances in her life.
Scully filed his familiar face away in her mind, promising to
think more on it later.

"Since we seem to be the topic of conversation around here,
I'm sure you've heard why we need to ask you a few questions,"
Scully began. 

"Yeah, something to do with a murder case, I think, and our
business cards being part of the evidence."

"The only evidence, really," Scully corrected. Aside from the
videos, the cards were the only current clue that were leading
them anywhere. 

"Right."

Mulder opened a manila folder and laid its contents out on the
table. "Jacob, instead of asking the same questions we covered
with your co-workers, I just want you to tell me if you
recognize any of these women."

The pictures Jacob examined were all the most recent photos
that they'd been able to obtain from family members or
friends. Most of them were of the Kodak moment genre, few
professional head shots. 

"Um," Jacob picked up a few pictures, studying them intently.
"A few look familiar and I know that two of them came in here
several times to see me."

"Which ones?" Mulder asked. 

"These two," Jacob pointed to the photos of Amanda Porter and
Jennifer Wilkes, "were regulars of mine. And these three,"
moving to point out Torrence Martinez, Mary Howard and Laurie
Borden, "I know I've seen around here. The others, I'm just
not sure about."

With an affirmative tilt of the head, Mulder scooped up all of
the pictures and placed them back into the folder. "How long
have you been working here?" he asked as he closed the manila
flaps. 

"Six years, sir. I moved here from Lake Tahoe and helped
Carmen establish the business, actually."

"So I gather you know Luke Vicors pretty well," Scully stated.

"Better than most, I'd say. We're not only co-workers here,
Agent Mulder and Scully, we're friends who share a sacred
bond."

"Then you'd know his capabilities; what he will and will not
do," said Mulder.

Scully saw Jacob hesitate a moment, whether or not it was
because he was hiding something or that he felt he was caught
off guard, she wasn't sure. She knew Mulder caught it too and
that he was already analyzing the man in front of them. 

"If you're trying to suggest that Luke is responsible for
anything as serious as murder, then you're mistaken. I know
him well enough to know that he would never commit such a
crime against the human race. We're here to help people, not
hurt them. To guide them along the path, not destroy it."

Exchanging glances, Mulder and Scully decided to leave it at
that.

"Here's my card," Mulder pulled one from his wallet and handed
it to Jacob, "if you happen to think of anything that you
think could help us, call the number at the bottom. What was
your last name?"

"Hines," said Jacob, skimming over the card. He led the agents
to the front door and said goodnight. Scully could feel him
studying them as they walked away and it unnerved her. 

And what unnerved her more was the fact that she knew Jacob
Hines was hiding something. 

XxX
Room 225

It was dark again and so cold. And although she couldn't see
him this time, she felt his presence and she knew he was the
reason for the chill. 

She couldn't tell where she was. It seemed so empty, like she
was trapped in a hollow place with nowhere to turn. She
brought her arms to encircle her own chest, holding in as much
warmth as she could.

Suddenly, the outline of a figure could be seen approaching.
She felt her heart begin to race.

It was him and she wanted to run. But where? She didn't even
know where she was, much less if there was anywhere to run to.
Without thinking she took a step back and the sound of her
heel hitting the ground echoed around her. 

"Starbuck?" she heard a deep voice asked. It was from the man
coming toward her. It was Ahab.

"Daddy?"

As if a spotlight had been flicked on them, they were in a
circle of light. It was Ahab, dressed in his fatigues and
walking proud. Unable to help herself, she threw her arms
around his neck. 

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his arms hugging her
against him.

She pulled away and stared at him a moment before saying, "I
don't know. I don't even know where here is."

He didn't bother to answer the question she was asking with
that statement. Instead, he offered her his arm and began to
escort her about. Slowly the mysterious place illuminated, but
no color surrounded them. He began to lead her through a maze,
twisting and turning corner after corner. 

"Where are we going?"

He didn't answer. 

On their final turn, they entered a room. A woman lay in a
hospital bed, wires and tubes running in and out of her. At
first, Scully thought it was herself, but the bandaged head
said otherwise. 

Missy.

They approached the bed, standing over the dying body. 

"That should've been you," her father said, grimly.

Her head popped up to stare at him in disbelief. He continued
to stare at her fallen sister, even when a strangled "what?"
escaped her throat. 

"You chose this life, Starbuck. This should have been your
consequence, not hers."

"Why are you saying this, Dad?" She turned him to look at her.
"Dad? Tell me, please," she begged. 

He refused to answer her plea. Looking at Missy one last time,
he tore from Scully and walked to the door. One last look
conveyed the one emotion she'd dreaded her father ever feeling
towards her: disappointment.

As he left the room, she felt the darkness begin to surround
her again. She tilted her head to look down at her sister,
only to discover the bed was empty. 

She had to get out of here. 

Once she stepped out of the room, however, she was met with a
graveyard. Not again, she silently cried. She began to weave
in and out of the headstones, awaiting the moment that she
would stumble upon her own grave once more. 

And then she saw him, bathed in shadows and standing in the
middle of the large cemetery. He didn't move, just stood their
studying her. He didn't bother to lead her anywhere.

"You could have saved them," she heard someone say behind her. 

She turned to find Missy, walking to her in a flowing,
flowered dress, her hair down and brushing against her
shoulders.

"These people," Missy said, motioning with one hand to
indicate the graves, "may still be alive if you'd just stuck
with your first choice. If you'd just stuck with medicine."

All Scully could think was that this didn't sound like her
sister at all. Missy had been the only one 100% behind her
decision to join the FBI. Why would she being saying this?

"I've saved lives with the job I do now, Missy. I've made a
difference," she said with conviction.

A huff was what left Missy in return, before she added, "Is it
all worth it, Dana? Losing everything you worked for? Losing
me? Losing Emily? Almost losing yourself? Is that what you
wanted?"

God, she couldn't be hearing this. Not from Melissa. She
turned her face away from her sister's prying eyes, only to
see that the man remained where he'd been before, watching
them. 

There had to be a way out of here.

Scully switched her attention back to her sister. She was
gone. Scully swept her eyes over the area, desperate to find
her sister. Her eyes landed on the man again and she saw he
was moving. He was walking to her.

Her heart began to beat so hard she thought it would burst
through her chest. She turned away from him and began to walk
away. At first she tried to take long strides, but she found
herself jogging. The labyrinth appeared once more and she
began to weave through it, fast and determined.

She didn't dare look back. 

An opening appeared and she sped up to reach it. However, the
only place the light led to was the edge of a cliff. Below
her, water crashed against rocks. She looked behind her to see
the man growing closer to her and she was faced with a
decision. 

Thinking about it only a moment, she propelled herself off the
cliff and could fill the mist hit her as she descended towards
the water. 

The impact of her body hitting the waves jolted her upright
from her slumber. She was soaked in sweat and she could feel
her heart still beating fast and furious. 

She dry washed her hands over her face then threw the covers
off her body, making for the bathroom. Turning the cold tap on
in the shower, she stripped and jumped under the beads of
water.

Thinking back on everything in her dream her father, her
sister, the cemetery filled with people whom she could have
saved -she felt tears begin to well in her eyes. 

Her body shook uncontrollably as the racking sobs took over,
causing her throat to tighten. Slowly she sat down in the
bathtub, allowing the water to beat her mercilessly as she
brought her knees to her chest, cradling them. 

XxX

When she was able to feel again, two hours later, she dried
her body and dressed in a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt.
She was quiet opening the door to her hotel room, careful not
to disturb her hopefully sleeping partner only a room away. 

The small convenience shop the hotel offered carried all of
the necessities a traveler might need. Scully scanned the
shelves, finding her savior on the last one, next to Alka-
Seltzer and Tylenol.               

Back in her hotel room, she filled the complimentary plastic
cup with cold water from the sink and then sat down on the
toilet seat. Taking a deep breath, she let three pills slide
from the container into her palm, weighing their power.

Scully tossed the tablets into her mouth and she chased them
down with the clear liquid in the cup.

It was like pouring night into a glass, the chilled darkness
flowing through her breakable body, smothering the light she
once knew. 

Chapter Six
<><><><><><>

He was about to knock a third time when the door swung open,
revealing a frazzled Scully who was not entirely ready for the
day. 

She looked exhausted. 

"'Morning," she greeted, moving back to the bathroom, allowing
him to step inside her hotel room.

Mulder sat down on the bed as he listened to her rush around. 

"I'll be ready in a few minutes," she called out. 

As he listened to her brush her teeth, he walked to the
bathroom door saying, "Oh, Gavin called."

"What'd he have to say?"

"Jolene and Laurie both had a history of sleepwalking," he
supplied succinctly, watching as she brushed peach blush over
her high cheekbones. He received a hum in response.

This was a rare thing for him: to watch her put on make-up she
didn't really need. He watched as she swept ivory eye shadow
in one fluid sweep over each eyelid; observed the application
of mascara on her top lashes. She slid some Chapstick over her
lips, the natural rose color of them banishing the thought of
lipstick.

Scully studied her reflection a moment, analyzing her features
to see if anything else should be done. Mulder saw the wheels
turning as she considered something. Not a moment later, she
reached for a small, skin-colored tube. It looked like
lipstick, he thought, but she began to dab it under her eyes.
She was hiding the dark circles that had begun to form there,
he realized. 

He'd already seen them when she opened her hotel door. No
matter how much she tried to mask them, they wouldn't go away.
There was no hiding the exhaustion evident in her eyes.  

Sweeping some more blush on her cheeks, adding the color she
needed to hide how pale the obvious fatigue had made her, she
stifled a yawn. She snuck a glance at him through the mirror,
as if gauging whether or not Mulder had caught the cover-up.

Mulder knew he had to be careful or else Scully would close
down.  

"Scully, I need you to listen to me," Mulder began.  He was
speaking slowly, trying to be gentle.  "I know you've been
having trouble sleeping, which for us is not unusual, but this
is different.  I've never known for you to let it interfere
like this.  Last night I heard you in the shower.  Scully, you
were in there for two hours." He paused before emphasizing
once more, "Two hours."

She halted her ministrations, but stared down into the sink
instead of looking at him. "People do bathe, Mulder," she
attempted to quip. Scully looked at him, but he didn't crack a
smile. Brick by brick he saw the wall going back up.

"Sorry if I disturbed you," Scully replied bitterly.  "Don't
you just hate it when someone disturbs your sleep?" Spinning
around, she rested her hip on the side of the counter, visibly
suppressing the urge to cross her arms. 

Mulder ignored the barbed reference to the many times he'd
done just that to her.  

"Come on, Scully," his voice was pleading, "you know I didn't
mean that.  I just want you to tell me what's doing this to
you; to be honest and let me in."

Mulder knew it was the wrong thing to say before it finished
leaving his mouth.  He saw her close off, the wall almost
complete, and he grabbed her.  "Damn it, Scully, don't do
that. Don't you dare shut me out, not for caring about you."

Scully stopped her struggles to break his grip.  "That's rich
coming from you," she said in a voice laced with venom.
  
Mulder's hands pulled back of their own accord; as if she'd
burned him.  "Fox Mulder, mister open, mister honesty." 
Scully barked a derisive laugh.  "What kind of hypocrite are
you, Mulder?"  She turned her back on him.  "How dare you ask
anyone to be honest when you have such a fleeting acquaintance
with it yourself." 

Mulder knew it was fear and exhaustion talking but her
accusations angered him and he couldn't help that it tinted
his response.  "What is that supposed to mean?  I've always
been honest with you."

"Oh, really?  You've always been honest with me, have you?" 
Mulder didn't like the look in her eyes; as cold as they were
blue. "Lies come in many forms, Mulder.  Not all of them are
spoken, though you've told your share of those, but sometimes
it's what you don't say."  

Scully was pacing and her volume was intensifying.  "Tell me
why you felt it necessary to not tell me. . ."  She stopped
her pacing and stared off for a moment trying to compose
herself.  Suddenly she turned on him. "How the hell could you
not tell me that you knew about my ova being harvested?  Why
did you have to break that bit of news in front of that piss-
ant bureaucrat?  Couldn't you have warned me before we met
with him?  Do you have any," she let out a sob and gasped for
air before continued, "any idea how that felt?  To find out
like that, to have to hold myself together. God, that hurt. 
It was emotional rape, Mulder!"

Something burst in her and suddenly Scully was out of control. 
She spouted about the times he'd kept her in the dark,
deserting her without telling her where he was going.

Mulder tried to follow but it all came so fast and his
deepening anger deafened him.

". . . made my parents call me Mulder, my ass.  Every two-bit
tramp calls you 'Fox.' Reggie called you Fox.  Hell, even
Skinner has called you Fox. Your old college buddy was, and
is, even allowed to make a joke out of it. But not good ole
Scully. No, she had to be kept in-line.  And, you know, it
makes a kind of screwed up sense. Mulder-sense.  It explains
all the ditching and the women you pick up."

Mulder finally caught up with her.  "Women I . . .what women?" 
He'd been celibate for ages.  Scully was raging and he didn't
even think she knew what she was saying.  She went on about
Phoebe and Bambi.

"Oh, I'll bet you and that British bimbo had a great time,
while it was me who figured it all out. And Bambi. Calling me
all night then dumping me when the luscious Bambi entered the
picture.  Then just two weeks later I walk in on you and . .
."  

Further rant was interrupted by Mulder. Further rant was
interrupted by Mulder. "At least I didn't screw some deadbeat
who tried to kill me. Exactly how much did that tattoo cost
you, anyway?" Mulder sneered, leaving the double meaning of
his question hanging in the air. The tattoo was long gone but
its ghost remained indelible on his soul. Scully reared back
as if he'd slapped her. In a way he had.

"No, you just fucked a delusional woman who thought she was a
vampire. Does the name Kristin ring a bell, you sanctimonious
slut hound?"  

Mulder reacted violently; he had no idea how she knew about
that encounter and he didn't care. He was furious.  He grabbed
her arms roughly, stopping her incessant pacing, and trapped
her against the wall.  "Shut up, Scully, just shut up." She
had no idea what had driven him to that woman's bed. No idea.

Scully's jaw jutted, challenging him to make her.  They were
both breathing hard.     

Mulder was just about to say something when a phone rang; they
both looked to the intruding noise.
 
He threw her arms down dismissively, scooping his cell phone
from his pant pocket.

"Mulder."


Mulder was torn between listening to Gavin and watching as
Scully brushed at some tears under her eyes. She was faced
away from him, but it seemed to have escaped her that the
mirror revealed her every move.

Gavin brought him back to the case with four words.

They'd found another body. 

XxX

The scene was familiar to the two agents; red and blue lights
flashing, reflecting off of any solid surface. A mob of cops
stood over a ditch, an empty stretcher sitting to the side. 

Gavin and Trisha stood idly by, waiting for Mulder and Scully
to join them. 

Mulder walked several yards ahead of Scully, his strides
larger than usual as he did everything in his power to
distance them as physically as their argument had done
emotionally. Scully made no effort to change that decision,
taking small steps as she took in the haphazard behavior of
the surrounding officers and emergency workers. 

"Hank found her in this ditch about an hour ago." Gavin didn't
exchange pleasantries, just got to the point before Mulder had
even stopped walking.

"Who's Hank?" Mulder asked. He felt Scully behind him, but his
peripheral vision showed that she'd moved to stand by Trisha.

"That's Hank," Trisha pointed to a homeless man standing by a
tree, the horror in his eyes not going unnoticed. "He's a
vagrant everyone in these parts knows by name. A good man,
just has had a rough life. He said her name was Lily, a
homeless girl. Never really knew how old she was or her story,
but knew that she was too young to be where and what he was.
He said that when he hadn't seen her around in so long, he
figured she'd found a place to call home. That she was back on
her feet again. Needless to say, the sight of her lying face
down in a ditch crushed that idea. I asked him the routine
questions: If she'd been acting unusual or not sleeping as
soundly. He said yes, but that at the time he didn't think
much of it. Living on the streets can do that to a person."

Out of habit, Mulder snuck a glance at Scully, just in time to
see that even she was unable to suppress the urge. They locked
eyes for a fleeting second before turning their attention to
the ditch. 

Scully took a step toward it, looking down at the body. 

"How long do you think it's been?" Gavin asked Scully.

Scully squinted at the body. "I'd say at least two weeks."

Simultaneously, the four officers sighed. In any other
situation, it would have been humorous. 

"Then that changes things," Mulder chimed in. They all looked
at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "If Lily was a victim of
our killer, that means our UNSUB is killing these women faster
than we thought. Adding her to the list means he does it in a
week, tops. Which means "

"We don't have much time before he strikes again," Scully
finished. Mulder saw her blanch at the realization. 

"Excuse me." A medical worker pushed passed Scully. They all
watched as he helped pull the girl from the ditch and settle
her on the stretcher. 

"Agent Scully," Gavin started, but Scully beat him to it.

"I'll see what I can find."

XxX

She hated herself for what had transpired between them that
morning.

He'd found interest in other women. So what? So had Jack. So
had Daniel; he'd been married for Pete's sake. 

Yet, with Mulder, it had more to do with the fact that he
pursued those interests in front of her, with, seemingly, no
regard for her feelings. This brought her to the harsh
realization that she wasn't enough to keep his attention. Even
if she knew that assessment wasn't entirely true. 

She didn't need him to explain himself. If he asked her to go
into detail about her relations, or lack thereof, with Ed, she
would ignore the request and expect him to move on with his
life. And she should do the same. 

She knew that his encounter with Kristin had been an act of
desperation. Scully had seen the pain her words had caused
Mulder in the bathroom that morning, read the unspoken
explanation in his eyes. But at the time . . . When she'd read
that in his report, it had been on the day she'd confronted
him about her not having a desk. When she'd found Ed, she saw
him as a great weapon to get back at Mulder. Which was
precisely why she stopped Ed before they tumbled into his bed. 

Dana Scully wasn't vengeful. And the day she became a vengeful
woman, she would take it out on those who had destroyed who
she used to be. But never, never would she let Mulder be the
one to change her like that. Especially over something like
meaningless sex.         

Concerning her ova . . . His heart had been in the right
place. He'd meant well, he always meant well, and he would
never deliberately hurt her. She knew that. Mulder's actions
to conceal that information still cut deep, but had he told
her as soon as he discovered that truth, Scully knew it would
have torn her apart; he knew that, too. 

One day he would accept that, when he was ready to love her -
really love her -she wouldn't hold anything back. That she
loved him because she saw the man he was and the man he could
be and the man he used to be. That she accepted him. Even now,
she accepted that everyone had their past and had their
reasons, even if they were bad ones, and that where they were
now was what made them who they were. 

She could accept that. 

What she couldn't accept, right now, was that no matter how
much she examined Lily's body, no answers could be found. She
was putting everything she had into this autopsy, but her
efforts were proving to be fruitless. 

And she was so tired. 

Waiting for lab results, she'd caught herself drifting, but
would catch herself before she could even go to sleep. At one
point she'd popped a No-Doz, washed down with three cups of
coffee. 

Although she was a powerful investigator, her strength was in
the knife and she relied on that fact in every case. However,
the lack of sleep was deterring her investigative and
pathology skills and distracting Mulder from being at the top
of his game. She knew it was unprofessional of her to be
letting these dreams get to her; letting them disrupt their
routine. But they even haunted her in consciousness and there
was no escape. 

XxX

Clutching the pantyhose she hadn't bothered to slip back on,
Scully walked heavily along the outside of the hotel. She had
a headache and could feel the knots in her neck. 

She was passing the glass room that held the indoor pool when
something caught her eye. Pausing, she turned to take a better
look. A form could be seen under the water, doing laps across
the small pool. When the figure popped up for air, she saw
that it was Mulder and a feeling of guilt washed over her. 

Taking a deep breath, Scully opened the glass door and entered
the pool area. The smell of chlorine was strong and the warm
water made the room humid. She could already feel her hair
frizzing up. He hadn't seen her yet, so she began to approach
the side of the pool he was on.  The tan hue of his skin
glistened from the water as he rubbed his eyes before opening
them. Her heels hitting the pavement and echoing around them
alerted him to her presence. And despite everything -what had
been said and the guilt that she knew they both felt because
of the fight -he offered a welcoming smile. 

"Did you just finish up?" he asked, combing his fingers
through his unruly wet hair. 

"Yes," she said, tossing her coat and hose on the beach
recliner.

"Jump in, Scully," he suggested, waggling his eyebrows. "I bet
you look good wet."

Arching an eyebrow at him, she crossed her arms over her
chest, not saying one word.  

He grinned at the silent response. "At least soak your feet or
something. Keep me company."

Running the idea over in her mind for a moment, she stepped
out of her heels. She sauntered to the edge of the pool,
sitting down so that her legs hung off into the water.
Immediately, Scully began to circle her legs around in it,
producing small waves and ripples. 

"So, did you find anything? You were up there all day." Mulder
swam up to her, folding his arms on top of the concrete and
resting his head on them. 

Scully shook her head, keeping her gaze focused on the water.
"No, I didn't. It's hard to find anything when the killer
doesn't leave anything to find, Mulder. And with Lily being
homeless, she was malnourished and dehydrated. It's hard to
suspect foul play as the cause of death, right now. All I can
say for sure is there was no trauma or signs on chronic
conditions or disease."
               
It was silent for a moment and she knew that Mulder agreed
with her, even if he didn't express it vocally. She watched as
the underwater lights made blue and white ripples dance along
the walls and ceiling; how the only things left in shadow were
her and Mulder.

Finally, she looked at him and was surprised to find him
looking up at her. His head rose up from his arms and he
settled more fully into the water. 

"Mulder," she started. "I . . . I'm sorry about this morning.
I shouldn't have blown up at you like that."

He looked to the side and bowed his head. Combing his hand
through his already slick-backed hair, he looked back at
Scully, tenderness in his eyes.

"I threw a few low blows at you, too, Scully."

"Yes, but I provoked them."

"Well, I shouldn't have grabbed you like that," he countered,
apologetically.

Scully didn't say a word, a blanket of silence dropping over
them for the briefest of moments.

He took a step toward her and released a heavy sigh. "I think
what got to me most about the whole fight was . . . that
wasn't you, Scully. You don't do that. The Scully I know
doesn't, anyway. I've always admired your ability to remain
civil in even the most violent situations verbal or physical.
I just . . ." he trailed off. 

Once it appeared he had gathered his thoughts, Mulder reached
up a hand to wrap around her calf. He gave it a gentle squeeze
before choking out, "I meant what I said this morning. I care
about you, Scully. And although I think that goes without
saying, just so you know, I do. And when I do things like
this, ask how something is affecting you or openly express
that I'm worried, I'm not doing it to pry. I'm just," he
loosened his grip and gave her skin a soft stroke. "I'm
watching your back, partner." 

Mulder was close enough so that she could place her palm on
his drying hair. Scully brushed her thumb over the dark locks
and saw him close his eyes at the gesture. "I know," she
whispered. Those two words conveyed more than he realized. 

She knew that he watched out for her, not out of obligation,
but because he cared about her. She'd always known that. But
really, even though he hadn't said it out loud, she knew that
he did it because he loved her. And even though she accepted
that and felt the same way, it was hard for her to surrender
to that part of herself. The fragile part that made her too
human for comfort. 

"It's times like these," Mulder began, "cases like these that
make me think back to Pfaster." The name made her visibly
shiver, but Mulder pressed on. "I remember you closing off,
not telling me how or even why the case was getting to you. I
remember you . . ." A pause, a sneaking glance. "I remember
you breaking down when it was all over. I don't want to see
that again, Scully. I don't know why this particular case is
getting to you and I respect you enough to allow you to tell
me when you're ready, but I'm not going to just let it slide
this time around. I can't."

Squaring her shoulders, Scully brought both of her hands to
fold in her lap. Mulder's hand didn't budge from her leg. A
sigh escaped through her nose before she told him, "I'm an
open book from now on, Mulder. Ask and you shall receive." The
tension was so thick in the air, it could be cut with a knife,
so Scully had made her attempt at bringing levity to the
topic. 

Mulder took it the rest of the way, leering at her before
replying, "Ask and I shall receive, huh? Don't tempt me."

Rolling her eyes, Scully brought her legs from out of the
water and cautiously stood up. She grabbed what she assumed
was Mulder's towel from the ground and dried her legs. 

"I'm taking a bath and going to bed," she announced, already
heading for the exit. "See you in the morning, Mulder."

"'Kay."

Her body half-way out the door, Scully heard Mulder shout,
"Hey, Scully!" She spun around, seeing that he hadn't budged
from the side of the pool. "I'm sorry. For not telling you
things, for hurting you. It's not much, but it's all I have:
I'm sorry."

In a silent forgiveness, Scully bobbed her head once, a ghost
of a smile pulling at her lips. She watched as he accepted it,
diving back under the water to finish his laps. 


XxX

The hot bath water soothed her muscles considerably. The knots
in her shoulders were unwinding and the headache that had been
forming had finally died down. After all these years, her body
still wasn't used to standing hours on end when she performed
an autopsy. She'd rinsed herself off at the morgue, taking
away the scent of death and formaldehyde, so her only focus
now was unwinding.

Leaning her head against the wall, Scully closed her eyes. The
lack of sleep the last few nights, the long day and warmth
around her were making her groggy. Before she was able to stop
herself, she was asleep. 

And he was dying. Over and over, in every case she'd ever
witnessed that possibility, he was dying.

Watching it happen was like watching a film, sitting idly by
as the hero met his doom, unable to stop the inevitable. In
all the times he had come back--from the boxcar explosion,
when he'd been infected in the arctic- this time he didn't. 

And then there were those moments when she had been there.
When Robert Modell proved that free will was futile in his
presence, her pleas worthless. This time the bullet was meant
for Mulder, as he emptied the cartridge into his own skull,
Modell smiling with satisfaction as she crumbled to the ground
in tears, helpless. 

When his profiling pushed him over the edge.

When his demons came back.

When he'd planned to end his life. 

They all joined together in one hideous montage. She began to
bang her fists against the ground until she could feel her
flesh split and blood pour from the lacerations. Her heart
began to beat in time with the pounding of her knuckles
meeting tile, causing her breath to shorten. 

God, it hurt.

His death hurt. Her failure in saving him hurt. Her heart
trying to burst its way through her chest hurt.

And she kept waiting. Waiting for the man lined in shadows to
appear and haunt her. But he never showed. The banging only
grew louder.

Bang, bang, bang.

BANG, BANG, BANG.

They were so loud that she felt herself turning to the sound,
bringing her back to consciousness.

When she awoke to being surrounded by now cold bath water and
fizzled-out bubbles, she realized the sound was coming from
behind the bathroom door. The banging was accompanied by a
voice.

"Scully! Hey! Scully, come on!" The shouts of desperation were
muffled by the door, but the banging echoed off the walls. 

She hurried from the tub and threw on her bathrobe, throwing
the door open to find a frantic Mulder.

"Jesus, Scully, I thought you'd drowned." He let out a breath
and she saw his shoulders relax, slumping as he leaned against
the doorjamb.

"I fell asleep." Even she heard the choke that came with those
words.

"Hey," he said softly. 

The look in his eyes made her chest constrict and she couldn't
stop herself from letting the relief of seeing him alive rush
from her in tears. Those tears soon became tears of fear and
she leaned into him.

"Hey," Mulder said again. "Scully?"

She wrapped her arms around his waist and he took her in,
engulfing her body with his arms. Scully felt Mulder breathe
her in, and he began to stroke her back. 

"He's after me, Mulder," she whispered into Mulder's chest. 

"What?" 

Scully brought her face up to look at his. "The killer,
Mulder. He's after me."

"How? When? Scully, talk to me."

Mulder led her from the bathroom to her bed and sat her down.
He kept one arm around her shoulder as she told him about the
dreams. And she could feel him struggling not to be angry with
her for keeping this from him. 

"I didn't think."

"No, you didn't," Mulder agreed. Despite his almost chiding
words, his hand continued to stroke her back.

"I didn't want them to be connected. I thought I was just
having a breakdown."

"Well, that would've been much better," he countered with
weary sarcasm.

"I'd rather have a breakdown than a man making it impossible
for me to decipher nightmares from reality, Mulder."

Mulder shifted and she felt him pull at the comforter. "Come
on, Scully, lie down."

"I can't go back to sleep. Don't you understand that? It's
your theory and if I fall asleep, I may never wake up again.
Mulder, please, I "

"Shhh." He gently pushed her down onto the mattress, forcing
her to lay her head on the pillow. "I'm staying with you."
Scully heard him pull up the other side of the blankets and as
his body slid under the sheets. His bare feet brushed against
her ankles, the rough scratching denim of his jeans
contrasting with the soft whispering silk of her robe. His
shirt radiated the sweet smell of sweat mixed with fading
cologne and chlorine. 

"If you have another dream, I'll be here to get you out of it,
okay?" he whispered in her ear as he pulled her body to his. 

And slowly she relaxed. Scully could feel his thumb stroking
her hip bone, soothing her as well as he could. Her breathing
began to even and, out of no will of their own, her eyes
slipped shut. She felt her mind get hazy just before her body
welcomed the unwelcome sleep.

Perchance not to dream.

                                   
Chapter Seven
<><><>><><><>

It was warm and she could hear water running.

Scully opened her eyes in caution, her vision blurred from
sleep as she took in her surroundings. She was safe. The hotel
room was slowly filling with the light of dawn and the water
she heard was coming from the bathroom. 

It was then that she remembered the previous night. The
nightmare; Mulder staying the night; keeping vigil by her
side. It began to register that she was alone in bed and the
running water, the shower, was Mulder. 


She swung her legs over the side of the bed, stretching her
back before standing. The water shut off and Scully heard the
shower curtain rings slide against the metal pole. The door
cracked open, but no one came out. Taking a deep breath,
Scully walked to the entrance, knocking on the doorjamb for
permission.

"Yeah," Mulder said.

Scully pushed the door fully open, revealing Mulder shirtless
and in jeans. The mirror was fogged, but he shaved in front of
it anyway. A white beard of shaving cream covered his chin,
freshly applied. He was inching the razor along his jaw-line
when he looked her way. 

"'Morning Sunshine," he greeted.

She stepped into the bathroom, leaning her backside against
the faux-marble porcelain counter. "Good morning," she said,
watching him intently as he performed his morning ritual.

"How long have you been up?" Scully asked.

Mulder tapped the razor on the side of the sink, flinging some
cream in the bowl. "About an hour. I hope you don't mind I
used your shower. I, uh, grabbed some stuff from my room but
decided it would be best I stay close by until you woke up."

"Thank you."

He stopped then, turning his attention to her, his eyes
softening. "You're welcome," he replied, then added, "but I do
believe the pleasure was all mine. It's not everyday I wake up
next to a beautiful woman, Scully. Especially you."

If she didn't know any better, she'd think he was trying to
tell her something. Unfortunately the dollop of shaving cream
on his nose ruined the moment, followed by a stifled chuckle
from her throat. 

His face contorted into a befuddled expression and she felt
guilty for the outburst. 

"Mulder, you you have. . ." she pointed at her nose.

The gesture only caused him to tilt his head to the side,
taking on the appearance of a confused puppy, trying to figure
out what she was saying. She rolled her eyes and took a step
toward him, grabbing a washcloth from beside the sink. 

"Here," she spoke before sweeping the cloth over the tip of
his nose, taking the distraction away. Mulder's bunched
eyebrows changed into raised ones, a sheepish look taking over
his face. 

"Thanks."

They locked eyes for a moment, but Mulder broke the contact to
continue shaving; Scully leaning against the counter again.
Mulder finished his shave, rinsing the razor and the sink
before leaving the bathroom, Scully following behind. 

Scully stood by the table as he slipped on a shirt. She turned
away once she felt color and heat rising in her cheeks. 

This morning felt odd. Different. It felt like . . . It felt
normal. Waking up to find Mulder shaving in the bathroom,
naked from the waist up, standing beside him, still only in
her robe, carefully watching his morning ministrations. 

It was domestic and it felt . . . right. 

Her eyes drifted to the papers scattered on the table,
obviously Mulder's doing. She spotted the funeral photos and
began to pick through them. 

"I thought I'd get a head start today, go over everything to
see if we missed anything. I'd only just started when the idea
of a shower hit me. I plan to spend all day finding this guy,
Scully. *I* won't sleep until we do."

The determination in his eyes was not lost on Scully. It was
comforting and frightening all at once. She bobbed her head
before looking down at the files and pictures. Scooting them
around with a finger, an image caught her eye in one photo.
Picking it up, she walked to the window, using the sunlight to
take a closer look at the picture.

"I'm tired of retracing steps," she heard Mulder saying. "I
wish I could get in this guy's head, but it's hard to do that
when *his* MO is getting into people's heads. He's passionate,
but up until what you told me, I thought, like you, that they
were mercy killings. Now I'm not so sure . . ."
 
Scully felt her breath hitch at the familiar face she saw,
sitting in the back row, almost covered by another funeral
attendee. The head was bowed, so it was hard to decipher at
first glance who it was. Careful studying left no doubt in
Scully's mind. 

"Jacob," she whispered. 

Mulder stopped moving around, having heard her quiet
discovery. "What?" he asked, stepping over to stand beside
her. 

"It's Jacob, Mulder." Scully handed him the picture and began
to search the rest of the evidence. She came back to the
window, three more photos in hand. 

"Here," she choked, pointing to someone standing by a tree.
"And here." A man secluding himself from a circle of mourners.
"And here . . ." A shadow, his head bowed as the casket was
shown being lowered.

"I knew I recognized him," she barely spoke. 

"Shit."

She sunk to the bed, placing the evidence next to her hip.
Folding her hands in her lap, she began to fiddle with her
nails. The added weight of Mulder sitting beside her didn't
even make her flinch. 

Large hands enveloped her smaller ones, a thumb stroking the
back of her hand.

"I'm going to get a warrant," Mulder said, calmly. She could
tell he was sheathing his anger as best as he could. To anyone
else he would have pulled it off. 

"Let me get dressed." Scully began to stand, but a hand on her
elbow stopped her, pulling her back down.

"No. You're not coming."

Scully's head shot up, piercing him with her eyes. "Mulder . .
." she said in warning. 

"I don't want him getting in your head any more than he
already has, Scully. Trisha, Gavin and I will take him into
custody, get what we need out of him and then I'll come back
for you. We'll see what happens after that, okay? Please,
Scully. Do this one thing for me."

Her eyes didn't leave his face as she considered the request.

"I'll be your best friend," he added in a sing-song voice, the
hint of a smile playing at his lips. 

"Damn it, Mulder," Scully hissed, humor hidden in the feigned
reprimand. "Under one condition."

"Name it."

"You call me when you catch this son of a bitch."

Mulder's smile grew to a full-fledged grin. He placed a kiss
on her forehead before agreeing, "You got it, partner."

Squeezing her hands, he stood up and grabbed his key card.
"I'll call Gavin and Trisha and tell them we have substantial
evidence then head down to the station. Give me an hour."

"All right." Despite her acquiesce, she hated the idea of
being the one left behind. Her pride was kicking her and the
defeat of the situation was audible in her voice. 

"I know you hate this. You're the strongest person and the
best agent I know, Scully. Don't let this make you think
otherwise. It's just my number one priority to keep you safe,
as an agent and as your friend."

It was the truth. It was the job of an agent or any law
enforcement officer to make sure citizens stayed safe. That
possible victims be kept under protection. But she knew Mulder
was taking this much more personal than that and it both
touched and frustrated her.                       

She gave a nod and he opened the door, leaving without a word.

Scully unleashed a heavy sigh before walking up to the dresser
and pulling out clothes for the day. She pulled a suit from
the makeshift closet, just in case they needed her.

XxX

Jacob worked the evening shift most nights, so Mulder took it
into his hands to find out where he lived. Despite a traffic
jam, Mulder was able to bring Jacob to the station within the
hour he promised Scully. 

Mulder called Scully, catching her as she was heading down to
the breakfast offered in the hotel lobby. He told her that,
until they knew more through questioning, he wanted her to
stay put. The frustrated sigh she elicited only made Mulder
smile. 

Now it was Jacob and Mulder, tucked away in the interrogation
room. Gavin and Trisha left Mulder to ask the questions,
hiding behind the double mirror in case he needed them.

Jacob looked petrified. He'd been surprisingly cooperative
when Mulder had shown up to take him in and Mulder wasn't sure
what to think. 

"You've got twenty seconds to tell me what the hell is going
on." Mulder knew that probably wasn't the most professional
way to go about the interrogation, but, quite frankly, he was
pissed.

Jacob stared at him a long moment, seemingly waiting for the
agent to cue him on what exactly he was supposed to be
telling. Mulder pushed the folder containing the funeral
photos in front of his prime suspect, flipping it open to
reveal a black and white picture of Jacob standing by a tree,
circled in red marker. 

"Look familiar, Mr. Hines?"

The Adam's Apple that bobbed in a noticeable gulp in Jacob's
throat almost made Mulder laugh. Mulder finally took a seat,
making an effort to be at eye level with Jacob. 

"I'm all ears," Mulder said, his voice low and menacing. 

XxX

Scully couldn't remember the last time she'd had good coffee.
In spite of the somewhat rundown accommodations of the hotel,
they served a surprisingly nice breakfast. It consisted of the
basics: bagels, fruit, yogurt, dry cereal, but it was more
than most places she and Mulder stayed at offered. She took
another sip of the tan liquid and enjoyed the river of warmth
that flowed down her throat.

The rumble of her stomach advised her to take a look at the
food. In the process of standing she caught something out of
the corner of her eye, but a double-take showed the figure was
gone. Brushing off the paranoia, Scully walked away from the
table, turned the corner and approached the food bar. Careful
selection provided her with a bagel, blueberry cream cheese
and strawberry yogurt. 

Back at the table, Scully nibbled at her bagel, the cream
cheese spread thick and blue over the plain bread. When she
finished, she took a sip of her coffee. It tasted bitter. She
blamed the taste on the mixture of blueberry with the strong
substance. Moments later, Scully decided to take the yogurt
back up to her room.

XxX

"I know what you're thinking," Jacob quivered.

"Do you now? Enlighten me."  Mulder lounged back in his chair,
feigning interest. 

"You think I did it."

"They don't pay you enough, Jake. That's spot on." Leaning
forward again, Mulder squinted at the shaking man in front of
him. "What am I thinking now?"

"I'm not sure I want to know," Jacob answered, honestly.

"Smart move." Mulder pushed the folder even closer to Jacob,
forcing him to look at the picture again. "I want answers,
Hines."

"I didn't do it"

"Then why do these pictures suggest otherwise? What were you
doing at that funeral? It's obvious you wanted to attend
without being noticed, so I'd like to know why."

"I was there because of Amanda."

Mulder fought the urge to unleash a juvenile "no, duh" at
Jacob's reply. Instead he raised his eyebrows, stating with
the gesture that a better reason better be in the works. 

"Amanda, she . . ." The chestnut-haired man sighed, his
shoulder's collapsing in defeat. "She and I were involved,
Agent Mulder."

If at all possible, Mulder's eyebrows shot up even higher. He
could almost hear Gavin and Trisha's doing the same.

"We kept it quiet because of the age difference. It's frowned
upon by most parents when their daughter starts seeing a man
ten years older than her, not to mention it's against company
policy." Jacob began to fidget with his hands.

"Then if it wasn't you, Jacob, who did it?"

Silence.
                                             
"Who are you covering for? I need to know." Mulder's tone
softened, but he remained authoritative.

"I can't tell you," Jacob whispered. 

XxX

Scully busied herself as well as she could. She flipped
through every channel, three times, but when nothing of
interest to her seemed to be on, she gave up. She almost opted
to call Mulder, see what the status was, but after much
reluctance decided against the idea. 

And she was getting sleepy. 

Her head was fuzzy and her body felt almost weightless.
Refusing to succumb to the drowsiness, she dug out the suspect
file and began to read through it. She couldn't help but mow
over the fact that it had been a bad move to look over
questioning Jacob, just because Luke had been their prime
suspect at the time. Scully glanced over what little she'd
scribbled down on Jacob. 


A sacred bond. 

A *sacred bond*.

Scully propped a pillow behind her back and tried to dissect
what she could about Jacob. 

Her body began to go from weightless to very heavy, moving
from her feet and inching up her body. It wasn't long before
the heaviness reached her eyes. 

Sacred bond . . .   

XxX

"Look, Jacob, you're only hurting yourself. Each second you
stay silent, we add another year for being an accomplice to a
serial murderer. It's that simple." Mulder leaned against the
wall, staying as calm as his nerves would allow. The hairs on
his neck were standing straight up, which only meant one
thing: Something wasn't right. 

Jacob sat at the table with his head resting in his hands.
Every now and then he would rub his palms over his head, as if
fending off a headache.

Finally, Jacob looked up at Mulder. Tears were brimming the
bottom of his eyes. He looked as though he were in physical
anguish over this interrogation. Mulder almost felt guilty. 

"I . . ." Jacob started, shakily. 

That was the first thing he'd said in ten minutes, which
immediately piqued Mulder's attention. Mulder peeled himself
away from the wall and sat back down in front of Jacob. Not
one word escaped Mulder's mouth. 

He just waited. 

XxX

"Isn't she beautiful?"

The infant was cradled in her mother's arms, eyes wide and
blue as she took in her surroundings of balloons and pink
packages. She cooed, the room of women erupting in "awwws".

"She looks just like you, Scully," his voice floated over the
crowd when he spoke. 

Scully searched the room of people for him, finding him
standing in the doorway, watching. She walked to him, the tiny
baby girl writhing in her arms. 

"Mulder."

"I'm happy for you." He grinned as he brought his hand up to
brush the top of the child's head.

"I didn't think it was possible," Scully said. "That she . . .
That Emily would be real; not something I could only dream of.
She's so small, Mulder."      

He nodded, his attention locking onto her. The whole world
faded away. No presents. No banners. No friends. No family.
Just Mulder, Emily and her. 

Scully turned away from him, gathering her thoughts. "Mulder.
Have you ever . . ." she started. A small, nervous laugh snuck
past her lips. "Have you ever considered . . . with me, I mean
. . ." Why couldn't she just say it? Shaking her head, Scully
turned to look at him again, only to find him gone. Her arms
began to feel heavier. She looked down and saw . . .

Emily. 

Three-year-old Emily; tears streaming down her face, her eyes
furrowed in pain. 

"It hurts, Mommy." Emily's eyes pleaded. Pleaded for her
mother to do something about the pain. 

But there was nothing she could do. She was alone, her dying
daughter in her arms and there was nothing she could do. 

A gust of wind brought her gaze back to the doorway; focusing
in time to see him. Shadowed and soul-less he stood there, his
black eyes making her stomach churn and her body quake -in
anger and fear. He tilted his head to the side, studying her
for a moment. She felt as though he would leap at her from the
shadows. The thought made her skin grow cold. 

He did nothing. 

She took the chance of sneaking a glance at Emily. The girl
looked up at her, her eyes growing wide. "Goodbye," the child
whispered, and vanished. The pink baby blanket slipped from
Scully's arms, floating to the ground, empty. 

XxX

Thirty minutes of more silence. Mulder threw his arms in the
air and hit his fists against the wooden table. 

"Damn it, Hines! This is not some kind of game! There are
women dying out there because of this secret you are
determined not to share! For chrissakes . . ."

He sighed. "My partner is next in line," Mulder whispered,
although he knew Jacob Hines was privy to that fact. 

"I know," Jacob confirmed.

The door flew open, Trisha and Gavin in its midst. 

"Agent Mulder, what the hell is going on?" Gavin yelled. The
fact that he'd bothered to add 'Agent' informed Mulder that
Gavin was probably about as pissed as he was at the moment.
Trisha was holding it in, but her nostrils were flaring.

Mulder stepped away from the table, moving the private
conversation with the officers to a far corner. "Gavin, I
didn't want to say anything, mostly because I was pretty sure
you wouldn't believe it."

"Believe what?" Trisha broke in, her voice sinking into a
threatening alto tone. 

"That I was right. That our killer, whoever the hell he is,
uses the sandman as his sidekick in these murders. Dreams,
Gavin. Nightmares, if you want to get technical. Scully's been
having them and -"

"How long have you known?" Gavin asked, half concerned, the
other half still livid. 

Mulder brushed one of his hands through his hair, sweeping it
from his face. He looked to the side at Jacob, who was staring
at them. "They've been happening since day two," Mulder
started, bringing his attention back to Gavin. "She told me
last night, at about one in the morning. I didn't say anything
because . . . Because I was hoping I wouldn't need to."     
     

"Mulder, you can't do that," Gavin's tone softened.

Abandoning words, Mulder only gave a nod in agreement, before
saying, "I need to get this out of him, Gavin. We can talk
about this later. But that son of a bitch is still out there
and I want to find out who it is."

"Make him a deal," Trisha chimed. The two men looked over at
her, wondering what she meant. 

She leaned in closer, separating them from prying ears. Mulder
was certain that no matter how close they stood, prying minds
were on the prowl. 

"Jacob tells us who's doing this, we let him off. No charge as
an accomplice. Nothing. He gets to go home, scot-free. It's an
offer he can't refuse and if he does, I have more ideas where
that came from." Her jaw was set, eyes unblinking and
determined. 

Trisha and Scully had become good friends in the last week,
probably the best girl friends either of them had had in a
while. Trisha wasn't about to lose her friend, just as Mulder
wasn't about to lose his . . . everything. 

Mulder spun on one heel, locking eyes with Jacob. The two
officers walked out the door, shutting it behind them and more
than likely moving back into the 'hidden' room to enjoy the
show. 

"I'll make you a deal," Mulder began, "you tell me what you
know, everything you know, and you get to go home. No charge.
It's that simple."       

Chapter Eight
<><><><><><><>

"You already know who it is, Agent Mulder," Jacob whispered.

Luke. Mulder's stomach dropped at the notion. 

Jacob's voice became even softer, shaking in apparent fear for
deciding to make the deal. 

"I almost turned him in once," he began. "That's when he
targeted Amanda. He already knew everything about her and he
knew I loved her. The others, Carmen and Nora, they didn't
even know what was going on. They still don't. 

You see, when we started the business we established that co-
workers minds were off limits. Not something you read in the
protocol everyday, huh? I shouldn't have broken it. If I
hadn't, Amanda may still be alive--"

"But some other woman would have died, anyway, Jacob," Mulder
said. 

"I know. I know . . ." Jacob began to weep. 

"How does he do it, Jacob?"

Jacob drew in a shaky sigh, calming himself. "We can all do
it, Agent Mulder. The dreams, I mean. That's how we work.
Dreams are the window to desires and fears. We took those
dreams and we used them to guide our customers."

"You told them what they wanted to hear."

"The power of suggestion is a remarkable tool."

"Don't I know it," Mulder scoffed, memories of Modell flooding
back. 

Jacob gave a half-smile as he remembered his once pure
purpose. "If we gave them a push toward their desires and away
from their fears, insecurities just sort of flicker out. We
gave them a reason to live."

Mulder crossed his arms and frowned. "And Luke?"

The smile on Jacob's face fell. "Luke gave them a reason to
stop living. He wasn't always like that, I need you to know
that. I don't know what happened, but my only guess is he does
it because -"

"Because he can. The most clich‚  of all motives," Mulder
mumbled to himself. Reality hit him full force. With Luke as
the killer then that meant Scully was still very much in
danger. 

He pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial one. Silently
he begged to whoever was listening that Scully was drinking
coffee in the lobby, safe and sound.

XxX  

"There's no way out, girly-girl."

A long white corridor presented itself suddenly. The voice,
that familiar haunting voice, of Donnie Pfaster echoed off the
walls, surrounding her as if proving that not only will the
endless hallway prevent her escape, but the voice had her
trapped as well. 

She began to run, twisting in and out of rooms with no doors,
hitting the walls in frustration with her fists. 

"There's no way out, girly-girl!"

She wanted to yell at Donnie, tell him to shut-up, but her
voice wouldn't allow it. 

Banging on the walls left her breathless, and she collapsed to
the ground, tears choking her throat. Footsteps began echoing,
the voice having gone silent. She knew it was no longer
Pfaster threatening her, but the man in shadows. Collecting
herself with deep breaths, she stood and began to walk down
the corridor, the air thick and black. 

She then saw the glow of light from one of the empty rooms.
Entering the room, a place of sanction could be seen, candles
lit atop a long table. A woman was sitting in front of it,
praying.

Mom? Scully asked silently. A closer look proved that it was
Margaret Scully, clutching Rosary beads and mumbling a soft
prayer. A plea.

Scully took a step toward her, wanting to ask what was
troubling her mother. Crying interrupted Scully before she
could even speak. Not a child's weeping; not her mother; not a
man. The sobbing figure presented itself from the shadows. It
was . . . her. Scully saw herself donned in a hospital gown,
clutching an x-ray.

In this place of darkness, the Chemotherapy and radiation
treatments had taken their toll. This shell of a woman was
hairless, bones protruding here and there and dark circles
accentuating sunken eyes.

It wasn't long before their gazes met. Scully felt as though
she'd been hit in the stomach, so much that she clutched it
and bent over in pain. Her apparition turned away in sorrow,
disappearing into the shadows, leaving nothing but a memory in
its wake. 

The footsteps were back, and as they beat against the pavement
the candles began to die down, curtains of darkness engulfing
her once more.

XxX

I shouldn't have left her, Mulder thought. I could have
brought her with me, let her observe with Gavin and Trisha,
anything but leave her alone.

You didn't know, another more rational side of him soothed.
You thought you were protecting her. 

Deep down I knew Luke was still a threat. Since when do I
ignore instinct? Stupid stupid stupid . . .

After reaching her voicemail a third time, Mulder decided that
something wasn't right. He left the station saying just that
to Gavin and Trisha: Something's not right. He'd been saying
that for the last twenty minutes. Now he was stuck in traffic,
beating himself up for not thinking. 

He didn't have time for this. Swooping into the only open spot
he could find, Mulder slammed the car into park. Pushing the
door open, he jumped out of the car and evaluated his
surroundings, devising a shortcut using alleys and sidewalks.
Mulder took a deep breath and faced North. 

He ran. 

XxX

She could feel him in the room with her. The only way out was
where he was and that wasn't an option. What else could she
do? Curl up in a ball and hope that her pursuer showed mercy
on her? 

Instead, feeling a pull from her gut, she began to run toward
the wall where the place of sanction had been. Throwing her
arms in front of her body, as cushion, she prepared to feel
the concrete impact from the wall. Just as she was about to
hit the wall, a tingling sensation washed all over her body.
Her eyes shut and jaw clenched, she met the wall and the
sensation was gone. Opening her eyes, she was amazed to find
herself on the other side of the wall. She'd passed through
the it. 

The new room resembled the one she'd just left, but with
candles in each corner. 

But he was right behind her and she could see his eyes
glistening in the candle-light. Remembering the last wall
allowing passage, she began to charge at the looming wall in
front of her. Again, she passed straight through.


XxX

Familiar buildings welcomed Mulder with each corner he turned.
The panic was making his lungs constrict, slowing his pace and
blurring his vision. His body told him to stop but his panic
pushed him forward. 

If Scully died . . . 

How many times had he been faced with that thought in their
years together? No matter how often he'd contemplated that
possibility in the past, it never became easier to fathom.
Today was no exception. 

Finally he saw the hotel and forced himself to press on. 

If Scully died . . .

XxX

Over and over she passed through the rooms, and he was always
a second behind her. She was getting tired and breathless, not
sure how much longer her feet would carry her. Would she be
running like this forever, or until her body failed her?

The eerie silence was deafening. All she could hear was the
beating of her heart and the pounding of her feet, followed by
the foot falls of the man in shadows. 

Another wall, the same as the others, stood in front of her
and she continued running, confident she would pass again. 

Smack.

She crumpled to the ground. 

Crawling to the nearest corner, she pulled her legs up to her
chest, tears stinging her eyes.

There was no way out this time. Why now?

The dark figure slowed his pace, hovering only inches from her
body and stretching his arm toward her. Each second he stood
there, the cadence of her heart began to beat more rapid and
less evenly. Memories flooded back, the nightmares now
fulfilling their purpose.

Her heart was dying.

XxX

Bursting through her hotel door, Mulder saw Scully sleeping.
Slowly he approached the bed, sweat trickling down his face.
Stripping off his coat, he threw it to the side and knelt down
beside the bed. 

Aside from her furrowed brow, she seemed fine. Mulder took a
deep breath and began to say her name softly, smoothing her
hair back from her face.

"Scully."

Nothing. 

A little louder. "Scully."

Her body jolted, as if shocked, but not to the state of
consciousness. Scully began to writhe, clutching the sheets
and her chest; gasping, her face turning red.

"Scully!" He grabbed her body, shaking her in hope that she
would wake up.

Thirty more seconds passed before her body ceased movement
entirely. Mulder began to feel her face, inching his fingers
down her face to her throat, feeling for a pulse; any sign of
life. The pulse was there, but it was thready. 

Mulder was reaching for his cell phone, ready to call the
paramedics when a flood of people burst through the door. At
the rear was Chief O'Donnell, shouting for people to hurry
their asses along.
                                        
Mulder didn't even bother to ask, just began explaining
Scully's condition the best he knew how, moving out of the way
so that the professionals could do their job. 

He began pacing, waiting for her eyes to pop open to reveal
life. Waiting for her to offer a weak smile and a greeting. Or
even to ask what the hell was going on. But she just lay
there, motionless. 

His world shattered with one word.

"Code!"

Mulder felt his knees buckle as he watched the paramedics
rubbing the defibrillator pads together, his partner's body
jumping with each jolt. He watched everything begin to move in
slow motion, the paramedics seeming to not work fast enough in 
saving his best friend's life. He watched Chief O'Donnell
yelling at someone on his cell phone, veins popping out from
his temples. He watched his own body tremble in rage and fear. 

He watched Scully die. 

Chapter Nine
<><><><><><>             

It was that beeping sound again. That smell that she was sure
she'd never get used to. An all too familiar lumpy mattress.
The comfort of a warm hand holding hers. 

Scully opened her eyes to fluorescent lights and dying
sunshine. She squinted momentarily, allowing her vision to
adjust, before connecting the dots that she was, in fact, in a
hospital.                               

Now what? She wondered.

Then it all hit her. Hard. The nightmare, the skewed memories
and the man in shadows. The revelation made her bolt up from
the hospital bed, disturbing her guardian's slumber and
inducing a shockingly painful headache. 

"Scully?" Mulder mumbled sleepily, before it registered.
"Scully!"

Not hesitating even a moment, he placed a long kiss on her
forehead. He stroked her face, tracing the contours of her
cheekbones and jaw line. 

"You're alive," he whispered.

"That is painfully obvious," she quipped, closing her eyes to
shield them from the light momentarily. 

"I almost lost you, partner." Mulder sat back down in his
chair, smiling but hiding the threat of tears. Almost. "How do
you do it, Scully? Power bars? Water from the Red Sea? A
ceremony of candles and Koombiyah?"

"So far your record rivals mine, Mulder, so I'd research your
own history of mortality before we delve into mine." Scully
settled back into the bed more comfortably and reached for
Mulder's hand again. He twined their fingers together,
stroking her thumb with his own. 

"Jacob didn't do it," Mulder whispered without prelude.
"Actually, he was kind of a victim himself."

Pursing her lips into a frown, Scully scrunched her eyebrows
together in confusion. "I don't understand."

"Amanda and Jacob were lovers, Scully. Her death, aside from
fitting the mold, was the consequence of butting into Luke's,
well, business, for lack of a better word."

"So it was Luke," Scully stated with a nod.

"Yeah, it was Luke."

Scully closed her eyes, tight, but turned her head to face
Mulder better. "What was the motive?"

"At first, with nothing else to go on according to Jacob, I
thought it was a power trip; something he did because he
could. We did a background check a few hours ago and it
appears his motive was based on his wife that little detail we
overlooked. Her parents died in a plane crash only a few weeks
after their marriage, leaving Linda, his wife, practically
catatonic for several weeks. She was never able to cope and
eventually left him, taking up residence somewhere in Big
Bear. I think he loved her so much it pushed him over the
edge. Similar experiences from his customers and his co-
worker's customers intrigued him and he focused his anger on
them."

"I can't help but feel he did it out of mercy, Mulder. Yes, he
went about it in a twisted way and I in no way seek to pardon
him from his crimes, but it's just this feeling I have."

"I get the same feeling." He squeezed her hand. "I think he
saw his wife in the losses these women suffered." She saw him
flinch at that, no doubt taking her losses in the last few
years into consideration. "At first he may have meant to save
them from anymore losses, from losing themselves, but he soon
realized the power he had over them and . . . lost his mind."

Scully bit down on her bottom lip, nodding. A tear escaped
down her cheek before she added, "Those nightmares, Mulder.
God, Luke . . . He planted the worst images in my mind,
memories that . . . He knew what would break me and he did. He
did."

A sharp intake of air and Scully swiped at the lone tear on
her cheek. "It makes sense. How he did it, I mean. People die
from broken hearts all of the time, Mulder. They lose the will
to live; they give up hope."

"But you haven't, have you Scully?"

The ghost of a smile crossed her lips and she gave his hand a
squeeze of reassurance. "No, I haven't."

"Good." He brought her hand up and placed a gentle kiss on her
knuckles.

Eyeing the pitcher of water on the side table, Mulder let go
of her hand, somewhat reluctantly, and poured some into a
glass. She sat up and took a sip. "So what are we going to do
with him? He's obviously capable of striking again, no matter
the security we put him under."

"He's dead," Mulder said.

XxX

Scully's eyebrows shot in the air and she had to keep from
choking on her water. "What? How?" she sputtered. "Did you You
didn't kill him, did you, Mulder?"

Leaning back into his seat, Mulder slipped into agent mode and
relayed the events that had taken place while he'd been at the
hotel. "No. Luke was found in his apartment by Gavin and
Trisha in a 'meditative state'. Caught by surprise, he lunged
at Trisha, provoking Gavin to shoot him; dead. He was
escalating, taking these murders to a more physical level. The
traces of Rohypnol found in your coffee mug is proof of that,
not to mention his attempted attack on Trisha."

Scully elicited a sigh, the wheels almost noticeably turning
in her head.        

The click of a door opening seemed to shake her from her
thoughts, Mulder twisting to see who had come inside. Chief
O'Donnell, Gavin and Trisha filed inside the hospital room. 

"How are you feeling, Dana?" Trisha asked, concern written in
her eyes. 

"My head hurts, from the medication I'm sure, and I'm a little
woozy, but aside from that I feel fine." She snuck a peek at
Mulder with the final words. Somehow, Mulder felt she'd
answered that question as much for him as for Trisha. 

"Chief O'Donnell here is the one who brought in the
paramedics, Scully." Mulder pointed to the man standing in the
corner. O'Donnell gave a solid nod and, if Mulder wasn't
mistaken, he even smiled a little. "I ran five miles because
of traffic, so I'm still not sure how they got there only
minutes after me. I'm not sure I care."

"You ran?" Scully asked. 

Mulder tilted his head in confirmation and he saw Scully's
features soften in . . . Gratitude? No, something else shone
in her eyes. Love?

"Don't pay any attention to us. We only *caught* the bad guy,"
Gavin mumbled. One side of his mouth was turned up, but he
bore the expression of a pouting five-year-old. 

"Thank you. All of you," Scully replied, her voice soft yet
full of emotion. 

"That's more like it." Gavin winked, grinning from ear to ear. 

Trisha stepped back and opened the door. "Let's let her rest
up, guys. She hasn't really slept in four days." She switched
her attention to Scully, again. "We just wanted to say hi,
Dana. We can only put off our report for so long."

They all said goodnight and left, leaving Mulder and Scully
alone once more.

"I guess report duty includes me, too," Mulder grumbled. "And
you really do need to get some rest, to heal."

"Hey, who's the doctor here?"

"Can't we pretend I am? Just this once?" His bottom lip popped
out, quivering slightly. 

Exaggerating a sigh, Scully said, "Okay, fine. But just this
once. Don't get used to it, Mulder." She covered her shoulders
with the blanket, sinking her head into the pillow. 

As he stood, Mulder placed a soft kiss on her forehead. "You
sure I don't need to stick around? Make sure you sleep all
right? I know he's gone, but I'm sure he left a lasting
impression."

"I'll be okay," Scully replied, her voice laden with fatigue. 

Mulder had a feeling the medication she was on wouldn't even
allow the most pleasant of dreams to filter through, but only
imagining what she'd been through sent chills down his spine
and worry in his mind. Taking her at her word, however, Mulder
walked to the door. She was asleep before he opened it.

Before stepping out, he whispered, "Sweet dreams." Just in
case. 
                                             
Chapter Ten              
<><><><><><>
Sunday

Apartment forty-two held no light other than the soft blue 
coming from the television. Every now and then the screen
would fade to black for a split second as the channels
changed, the room fading to black right along with it. 

Mulder couldn't help the chuckle that left his mouth when he
spotted QVC selling dream catchers, the irony not lost on him
given the events of the last week. The hand-made pieces of art
and folklore rotated on the screen, a woman with a painted-on
smile being brought into the frame once in a while to talk
with the caller on the phone. 
                                                  
It was hard for Mulder to believe that it was only 9:00pm. The
weekend had been dragging since he got back from New York; he
hadn't seen Scully since Friday. 

For observation, the hospital had kept Scully overnight,
letting her leave with Mulder Friday morning. There had been
no strain on her heart from the attack, but they'd given her
some pain medication just in case and the prescription of
plenty of rest. Scully had finished her report on the plane
and faxed to Gavin and Trisha as soon as they'd landed then
had Mulder drop her off. She hadn't called about any problems,
so Mulder figured no news was good news. 

As he changed the channel to Discovery, his phone rang.
Reaching to his coffee table, he answered, "I was wondering
when you'd finally call."

"Miss me that much, huh, Foxy?" Gavin answered back.

"Oh, hey, Badge." Mulder sat up on his couch, muting his
television and settling his elbow on his knees. 

"I was just calling to let you know that we got Scully's
report and everything is ship shape. Also, this particular
case is the top of conversation around here. They're even
thinking about letting Trish and me take on these types of
cases, kind of our own little X-Files division, if you can
believe that; the Mulder and Scully of the NYPD."

"Wow." Mulder stood up and wandered to the kitchen. He opened
the refrigerator, finding only a half carton of milk and some
old lunch meat. Shutting the door, he settled for making some
coffee.

"So, how is Scully? Though, given how you answered, I guess
you know about as much as I do."

"I think she's doing fine. I mean she seemed fine when we got
back." Mulder walked back into his living room and threw
himself back on the couch. 

"And what about you and Scully?" Gavin said this in almost a
teasing manner. Despite that, Mulder could tell Gavin wanted
answers.

"What about me and Scully?" he said instead, evading the
question.

"You know what I mean."

Mulder sighed heavily and turned toward the television in time
to see a cheetah chasing an antelope. "I know . . ."

Gavin cleared his throat on the other side of the phone.
"Well, before we get into this -and trust me, we *will* get
into this -I just want to point out that, well, to be honest .
. . She doesn't seem like your type." 

Mulder grinned, but said in all seriousness, "Well, to be
honest, Gavin, I don't think I knew what my type was until I
met her."

"Also," Gavin started, seeming to have not even heard what
Mulder had said, "you two don't exactly see eye to eye."

"She's almost a foot shorter than me, Gav. That's kind of
expected," Mulder said dryly.

"All right, all right," he started, after receiving no reply
from Gavin. I've caught on to that, believe you me. And I can
promise you you're not the only one who has picked up on that
little 'flaw.' In fact, there were some people, when we were
first partnered, relying on that destroying the X-Files. But I
think all it did was make it better. It's what's made us last
so long. She makes me work. Hard. Really really hard. That's a
good thing."

This time he received a chuckled in response.

"You trying to avoid this, this *amazing* thing between you
and Scully is like trying to hold water in your hands forever.
It's impossible. And ridiculous. 

"Pretending to be in love is easy, Foxy. People do it
everyday. Pretending not to be? That's a hard one. That's the
real challenge. And I hate to break it to you, man, but you
really suck at it."

Mulder cachinnated at the last comment, but Gavin kept going.

"So tell me: What do you want?"

The question hit Mulder in the gut and ceased his laughter. He
chewed on the inside of his lip for a moment, mulling the
inquiry over. 

Finally, just above a whisper, he answered, "I want it all. Or
at least, as much as I can get. But . . ."

"But?"

"But we're years away from taking that step. Things that have
to be done before we can cross that line. I mean, why hasn't
she said anything to me?"

"She's waiting for you. She has her doubts, her insecurities,
even I can see that. However, once she knows you're ready . .
." he trailed off, Mulder filling in the possibilities for
himself. He was good at that -coming up with far-fetched
possibilities. 

"And you're not years from taking that step, Mulder. Two
seconds, if that. If you're going to save the world, together,
you might as well reap the benefits."

Mulder sat up and turned his television off, thoughts swimming
endlessly through his mind. He started slipping his shoes on
then said, "Okay."

Gavin unleashed quite possibly the most jovial laugh Mulder
had ever heard. It wouldn't surprise him if his old friend was
dancing a jig. 

"Do me a favor, though, Badger."

The laughter was still evident in Gavin's voice when he asked,
"What?"

"Take your own advice." The laughter died completely and
without another word, Mulder hung up the phone and sped out
the door; before he could change his mind. 


Scully's Apartment
10:30pm


Taking a peek through the peephole then glancing at the clock,
Scully opened the door confused, but pleased, by the late
night visit from Mulder. 

"Hi," she greeted. She offered an ushering hand to welcome him
inside. Silently she wondered why he wasn't wearing a coat. It
was freezing outside. Even more strange was the fact his shoes
were untied. 

He walked in, hesitantly, and began to pace in front of the
couch. He ran one hand haphazardly through his hair, deep in
thought. Scully watched him from the door, her eyebrows
knitting together, wondering what on earth had him so
frazzled. Finally, he came to a halt directly in front of her,
making eye contact immediately.

"How are you feeling?" he asked, suddenly. 

She looked at him for a fleeting moment, an amused expression
crossing her face at his peculiar behavior and, purposely
avoiding the f-word, she answered simply, "Great. I feel
great."                  

In response he gave one big nod, convinced. His eyes swept
over her entire body in one fluid motion then, his attention
settling on her lips.

It didn't even register that he was going to kiss her until
his lips crashed against hers, hard and beautifully. She was
rigid at first and knew he felt her tense up at the unexpected
act, but once his tongue pushed into her mouth, tickling the
roof of it, her knees turned to jello. She brought both hands
up to wrap around the back of his neck -partly because she
needed to hold herself up, but mostly because she needed to
pull him as close as possible until she wasn't sure she knew
were she ended and he began.

He pulled away first. 

Her eyes flew open to see him standing a few inches away from
her, both of them breathing hard. She licked her now dry lips
and couldn't do anything else but stare at him. She could hear
her heart pounding in her ears, but unlike her experience with
Luke Vicors, she welcomed the sound; encouraged it. 

Scully opened her mouth to say something, but he beat her to
it. 

"I'm sorry, but I needed to do that. I had to do that because
. . ." She watched him mentally struggle for the words.
"Because if I didn't feel *that* as soon as possible, I would
have chickened out. I knew that if I kissed you then nothing
could stop me from telling you what I should have told you a
long time ago."

She knew she should be listening. She was trying with
everything in her to listen, but she was distracted by the
incessant, unbelievably rapid beating of her heart and the
realization that if she didn't kiss him again, soon, she could
very well lose her mind right then and there. 

She knew what he was going to say. He was going to tell her he
loved her. But she knew that. He told her everyday; his eyes,
his smile, the way he found any excuse to touch her. She could
do without the words at the moment. The fact that he was
finally here meant more to her than three simple words ever
could. It meant that he was ready.

"I'm horrible with words, Scully, so you're going to have to
bear with me on this one. I guess what it all boils down to
is "

"No, Mulder."

Panic hit his face as soon as 'no' escaped her lips. Though
she knew she should make her point more clear, it amused her. 

You're a wicked, wicked woman, Dana. 

However, once his shoulders started to slump, she took one
small step, closing the distance between them, and repaid the
favor of his unexpected kiss with one of her own. Placing her
hands on the side of his face, she languidly kissed him;
thoroughly, extremely thoroughly. She heard herself moan
against his lips as his arms encircled her waist securely, her
feet leaving the ground. Her hands left his face and her arms
wrapped around his neck. Pulling away first this time, Scully
pecked him twice on the lips before resting her forehead
against his, completely breathless.

"Don't tell me, Mulder," she whispered. Her lips began to
trail along his hairline until she reached his ear, planting
an opened mouthed kiss right behind it. Mulder's entire body
shivered and she almost laughed with delight. Instead, she
kept her lips where they were, nuzzling his temple with her
nose. "Show me," she added huskily.

Mulder placed her gingerly back down to the ground and
searched her face. Yes, she said with her eyes; and he smiled
then grinned. He was close to tears and his eyes were a
remarkable shade of green.

Taking his hand in hers, Scully led them down the hallway to
her bedroom. The lamps on both night stands were on and an
open book lay faced down beside one of them. Seeing the bed
caused both of them pause. Scully, ever the brave one, took a
deep breath and lead them the rest of the way until they were
standing at the foot of her neatly made bed. 

Turning to him, she dropped his hand but began to trail her
own up his arm, admiring his arms. She continued the movement
until her hand was resting on his shoulder. Undressing him
would be quick and painless, was the first thing she observed.

He was wearing one of his gray tee-shirts. She figured he
owned a twelve pack set of them, along with an equal amount of
white and black ones. She smiled at her thoughts. Her hand
traced back over his biceps as she thought to herself how
wonderfully the plain shirts accentuated this part of his
anatomy. She brought her other hand up from her side and
placed her palm against his chest. When she finally decided to
look up, she saw that his eyes were twinkling in amusement,
but there was no trace of the usual Mulder cockiness; he was
nervous. She could see that in his eyes as well and feel his
heart racing. Heat radiating off his body hit her like a wave
and she could feel her core tremble at the sensation. 

Mulder finally brought his callused hand up to meet the silk
skin of her neck. She closed her eyes at the gesture and
sighed. She felt his hand trail from her neck to begin undoing
the pearl buttons of her cardigan with shaky hands. 

"God, I'm so nervous," he admitted with a whisper. She opened
her eyes and saw him eyeing the buttons, struggling for
control just so he could release her from the confines of her
cashmere prison. 

"Me too," she whispered back with a reassuring smile.  

Bringing her hands away from him, she grabbed him by the
wrists gently and brought his hands to her mouth. She brushed
her lips over them lightly before guiding them back down to
continue their task. Slowly, Mulder released one round button
after another until he could push the sweater from Scully's
shoulders, watching as the fabric fluttered to the ground.
Abandoning her assistance, he grabbed the bottom of the
matching green tank top and pulled it over her head, quickly
leaving her hair beautifully mussed. 

His hands flew up to trace the contours of the tops of her
breasts, admiration in his eyes. Scully's hands left his
wrists as she reached to remove his cotton shirt. It took a
few tugs to convince Mulder to abandon the ogling of her
breasts and allow her to see more of him. 

Flat-footed, without three inch heels to give her any
advantage, Scully struggled to get the shirt over his head.
During the process, Mulder started to smile, evidently amused
yet ultimately aroused by this labor of love. Finally, the
shirt cooperated--with no assistance from Mulder other than
freeing his arms from the sleeves--and it slipped off his
body. 

She was about to dryly thank him for his help in the matter
when she felt his lips assaulting hers with fervor.
Immediately her hands sprung to his belt buckle and she began
to urgently liberate him from his jeans. Her fingers fumbled,
but she kept her lips locked to his, unwilling to let go;
unwilling to break the connection. 

Mulder, however, was proving to be quite the multitasker.
While his lips continued their sensual assault, his hands
attacked the single button on her trousers and, while he
successfully toed off his shoes and socks.

 
Once free from their pants, their underwear was the only
remaining barrier. They gazed at one another for a moment,
taking in each others' bodies. Mulder opened his arms and she
leaned into him, his arms -the arms she'd sought refuge in a
thousand times over -now enveloping her body in a warm, loving
embrace.

She brushed her cheek over his chest hair as she listened to
his heartbeat, fast but steady. A puff of air on her scalp
told her he was breathing her in. His lips brushed over the
copper top of her head and she heard him mumble something into
it.

Turning her face up to him, her eyes asked the question.

"I said: God, you're so beautiful," he answered hoarsely as
passion stole his voice. 

She felt color rise in her cheeks and, to hide it, she leaned
her forehead against the center of his breastbone. His hands
glided over her back, causing a shiver down her spine. Instead
of doing what she expected him to do -unclasp her bra -he
began to lower her onto the bed. She landed with a sigh as his
lips latched onto her earlobe, moving slowly and strategically
down her neck. The warmth of his tongue found her clavicle, a
moan escaping her throat. 

"I can't believe this is happening," she barely whispered into
the air. 

No words followed the statement in reply, but she felt him
smile against her skin and his response was clear. It was
happening. It was happening and it felt indescribably
wonderful. Scully's hands curled into his hair as he continued
the journey down her body. Her back arched to allow him better
access once he reached the sensitive spot just above her belly
button.  

Suddenly he stopped his ministrations and looked up at her.
Locking eyes, she felt one of his hand's come up to rest on
her thigh, but just as soon as it was there, it began to move
over the curves of her legs, stroking and memorizing with just
his mere touch as they never broke eye contact. His fingers
found the top of her sock and began to slide the soft cotton
from her foot, eliciting a sigh from her. He repeated the
process on her other leg and his eyes sparkled in delight as
he witnessed the effect it had on her. 

Finally, his hands caressing over her side, around her back,
he unclasped her bra in one snap and removed it from her
chest. His hands were hovering over the soft flesh, when he
heard her say, "Turn off the lights, Mulder." He stared at her
a moment, confused by the request, but she answered him with a
purr in her voice. "We have forever to look, Mulder. Tonight,
I just want to feel; to know each other by touch alone." The
emotion in her voice had him clicking the lamps off and
finding his way back over her body in two seconds flat. 

And they did feel. 

She felt him worship her breasts with his mouth and hands. She
felt him slip his hands between the elastic of her cotton
panties as he removed the last restraint. She felt his firm
chest as it crushed her body and she welcomed the weight. And
she felt that chest rumble in a moan as she removed his
boxers. 

She felt him suck and nibble every inch of her body. And she
felt how hot his skin was when her lips lingered along his jaw
and neck; over his chest and shoulders.  

She felt the pain then pleasure as they joined together, at
last. 

Then, they felt everything in unison. Their emotions and
feelings, along with their bodies, mingled and intertwined.
They felt each other's hands travel every inch of every curve
and crevice. And she knew they both felt the world shake as
blessed release washed over their bodies.

It was like pouring night into a glass . . .

And drinking in the stars. 
                                 

XxX

The pre-dawn light trickled in through the half-open blinds.
He knew he'd only slept fifteen minutes, if that, the entire
night and even that had been involuntary. He couldn't take his
eyes off her. Her back was curled against his chest and
although this was not the first time he'd awakened with her in
his arms, this experience was different. No clothing separated
him from her bare perfection. And he wasn't holding her
because she needed protection from demons of the night, but
because it was as natural as breathing.  

They were lovers now. 

The thought made him smile. Burrowing his nose into the hair
over her neck, he breathed her in, wishing the scent could be
bottled. Moving his face, he was able to nudge some of her
hair away and capture her ear with his mouth. 

She stirred and he heard a content hum rise from her throat.
He followed the sound with his lips.

"What are you doing?" she sleepily asked.

"Shhh, I'm conducting an investigation. I need to test a
theory."

He felt her smile and wiggle closer to his body. Once he
reached his destination, he paused the shortest of moments
before taking a nip at that special place where the shoulder
and neck meet. A deep, sensual moan was his reward. 

"Case solved," he mumbled, moving to rest his cheek against
hers.

"That has to be a record, Agent Mulder."

"Well, the subject was very interesting. Always a plus."

Scully rolled over so that their chests pressed together,
entangling their legs once she was comfortable. She rubbed her
nose against his in an Eskimo kiss. 

"Scully?"

"Hm?"

He wrapped his arms tightly around her, a signal that what he
was about to say was serious. She brought her hand to rest
over his head, combing her fingers through the strands of dark
hair. Their eyes met and she didn't dare look away.

"I know . . . I know that saying it is kind of moot now, but .
. .it's something that I need to say, even if you already
know. Can I tell you I love you?" The proclamation was lined
with tears that didn't leave his eyes. 

"You just did," she whispered, fighting back her own tears.
She obviously hadn't realized how much those words actually
meant to her until she heard them. 

"Can I tell you again?"

"Please."

"I love you, Scully," and he followed it with a kiss.

"I haven't told many people that in my life," he said once
they pulled away from each other. "I can't even remember if I
ever told Samantha."

"She knew, Mulder. Whether you ever told her or not, she
knew."

"Yeah, I guess so." He studied her face for a second. "Were
you," he paused, giving the question a second thought before
deciding he needed to know. "Were you able to tell Emily that
you loved her?"

A sad smile played across her lips and he regretted the
inquiry. "Yes, actually," she answered. "When I . . . When I
was with her, before she died, I whispered it in her ear as
she slept. It wasn't two minutes later that she slipped away."

Mulder opened his mouth to say something, but instead hugged
her to him. She broke the embrace to lay her palm on his
cheek, her thumb brushing against the stubble. 

"I love you, Mulder." 

Their bodies molded together as they encircled their arms
around the other's waist and further entangled their legs.
Mulder felt her sigh and he breathed her in as he felt her
relax against him. 

"So what happens now?" she whispered, her voice lazy but laced
with concern. "When we wake up . . . what happens?"

Mulder rubbed her bare back gently, soothing her with his
touch. He honestly wasn't sure what would happen next. The
odds were against them and what they were to each other, to
say the least. He knew this was only the beginning. This was
the easy part. 

He also knew that they would have to take everything as it
came; their lives were that unpredictable. So, placing a kiss
on her cheek, Mulder softly uttered the only assurance he
could offer, "Close your eyes, Scully. I'll wake you when we
get there."                             
                              
Fini

Author's Notes:

I am such a sap. That being said . . .

Almost a year later and it's finished. It really shouldn't
have taken me so long, but my muse went on hiatus more times
than I should have allowed her to, therefore in the process
inflicting some killer writer's block. Plus, school did a
number on my spare time this semester. But here we are,
hallelujah. It somehow wound up being much shorter than I
intended, too, which is a blessing and shame.

Killer dreams. Dream killers. An idea that has been done and
redone, I know. The power of dreams has always fascinated me,
however, and I really wanted to see Mulder and Scully facing
something like this and I wanted to tell it my way. Though,
the story took over at some point, so I can't be held
responsible for *everything* that happened. 

I'd like to thank Sara, again, for being there with me since
the beginning and being so excited about where I was taking
our heroes. She's one of the greatest friends I've ever had,
even if I've never met her. <g> She also played a big part in
constructing the (dun dun DUN!) fight scene. Thank you, Sara.
You rock. 

And another thank you to Nell for jumping on board half way
through this story and offering another helping hand in the
beta process. Thanks for the constructive criticism and your
friendship.

To play it safe, I disclaim anything in this story that is
obviously not mine like name brands and stuff.         

I can honestly see myself writing a sequel to this story, all
because of Trish and The Badger. I don't think that will be
anytime soon, though, so until then . . .

I hope you loved this story and, more than that, I hope you'll
tell me if you loved it. Take care!

elysium1121@gmail.com
or
k_nig_it1013@yahoo.com