Title: Safe Harbor
Author: shawntaw
Category: MSR, Mulder/Scully/Skinner friendship
Spoilers: Abduction Arc
Rating: R
E-mail Address:shawntaw@h...
Disclaimer: Not mine, unfortunately. But I'm glad somebody thought of 
them. I'm not making any money on this, which explains why I don't 
have any. *sigh*

Summary: Scully is Mulder's safe harbor...and Skinner wants to 
protect the bond between them.

**********************************************************************

Skinner strode purposefully down the hallway of the hotel, his 
footfalls making muffled whomps against the soft carpet. He muttered 
to himself as he flipped through the file folder he held in his hand, 
in his haste almost running over a young couple kissing in front of 
one of the doors.

"Excuse me," he mumbled as he adjusted his course and continued to 
stride toward his destination.

Skinner was excited that his decision to accompany two of his agents 
on their current out-of-town assignment was yielding results. He had 
started feeling stale sitting behind his desk. Losing his old 
skills. Skinner could feel his senses dulling.

Of course, he reluctantly admitted to himself, it could have 
something to do with his 50th birthday.

So, he called Mulder and Scully into his office as he always did. He 
briefed them on their new case as he always did. And then he 
announced that he was coming along.

He remembered the pause in each agents movements as they waited for 
him to extrapolate. He did not. As is his privilege, he had told 
himself at the time. *After all, I am a damn A.D. and their 
supervisor.*

"Sir," Scully had ventured, "has there been some problem with our job 
performance?"

"No, Agent Scully, there has not." Skinner answered smoothly.

Mulder simply stared at him with that "profiler" look in his eye. 
*Trying to figure me out, Mulder?*

Skinner raised an eyebrow at Mulder and Mulder blinked, realizing he 
was standing in the middle of Skinner's office staring at him.

Mulder took Scully's elbow as she opened her mouth again to 
speak, "Fine, sir. We'll head to our places and pack for the trip 
and meet you here in about an hour?" He was gently urging Scully 
toward the door by her elbow.

Skinner nodded and shifted some papers on his desk.

"Fine. See you then, Agents," Skinner tried to look busy. 

Mulder's hand dropped to it's traditional place at the small of 
Scully's back as he escorted her out the door.

Skinner had pushed back in his chair with a sigh, hoping he wasn't 
making a mistake by accompanying Mulder and Scully on this case. 
Hoping that he wasn't just going to prove himself right - that he had 
indeed lost it and had become nothing more than a desk jockey.

And then Skinner kicked himself as he mentally added up the ways he 
had messed up since the three of them had arrived in town.

First, he had picked the wrong accomodations for the X-files budget.

Mulder's eyes had crinkled in glee, "Maybe we should bring you along 
more often, sir."

*How could I forget they usually end up staying in dumps? How am I 
going to justify this expenditure to accounting?!*

Then, he had silently watched in awe as Mulder and Scully sat on the 
bed in Mulder's room and bantered back and forth, putting the case 
together. File folders were exchanged between the two. Pictures 
laid out in order and then reordered as the two discussed the case.

And Skinner could think of nothing to add. In fact, he knew there 
were things the two younger agents caught that he would have missed. 
And it made him feel old.

The three had parted company and gone back to their respective rooms 
at about 11 p.m. and Skinner had pored over the files, reports, and 
photographs. Surely there was something, SOMETHING, he could 
contribute.

That's when he saw the anomaly. He didn't think; he acted. He had 
to show the other agents.

*****************************************************************

Skinner realized that in his ruminations he had passed his intended 
destination. He walked back a few doors and, without thinking, 
rapped twice as he did at the office and then let himself in.

He was already two strides into the room and speaking before he 
realized what he had done and what he was seeing.

"Mulder, I found this anomaly in the third victim's crime scene and I 
was wondering if you'd already-" Skinner's words froze in his throat. 

Scully sat on the edge of Mulder's bed dressed in green pajamas and 
bathed in the soft light from the hallway, the hand that had been 
stroking his hair stilled with shock. Mulder was twisting and 
tossing in his sleep, mumbling incoherently. His tossing quickly 
became thrashing and his mumbling, yelling.

"Scully!? No! Let her go!" 

Scully recovered her composure enough to put a finger to her lips, 
shushing her boss. She then resumed stroking Mulder's bed-mussed 
hair, murmuring to him reassuringly, "Mulder, its alright. I'm 
here. Its alright...its alright.."

Mulder's breathing slowed and, after a few minutes, the crease in his 
forehead softened. And slowly, but surely, his pulse calmed and his 
breathing became heavy with deep, peaceful sleep.

Skinner stood stock still the entire time, almost hypnotised himself 
by Scully's soft words.

Scully stood and carefully stepped to the connecting door. She 
beckoned Skinner to follow.
****************************************************************

Skinner watched for a moment as Scully disappeared throught the 
connecting door between her and Mulder's rooms, shaking himself out 
of his stupor when he saw her light come on.

Carefully closing the door to the hallway behind him, he quickly 
strode to the connecting door and stepped through it into Scully's 
room. Scully closed it behind him and turned to face her boss with a 
loud, resolved sigh.

"I imagine you would like to know what that was all about," Scully 
stated, looking Skinner in the eye.

Noticing her bedside clock glowing "2am," he replied with apology. "I 
imagine you would like to know why I was at Mulder's door bothering 
the both of you at 2 in the morning."

Scully's eyebrows lifted in surprise, "Sir?"

"I had no business barging into either of your rooms at this hour and 
so whatever is going on here is none of my business," Skinner 
finished, and started to head toward Scully's door to leave.

She put her hand on his arm. "Sir, that's just it. What you think 
is going on here, isn't." He looked at her. "Please, sir, sit down."

Now understandably curious, Skinner sat in one of the chairs at the 
small table in her room and waited.
****************************************************************

Scully paced up and down in front of Skinner once and then sat in the 
chair opposite him. 

"What I am about to tell you, sir, is very personal to Mulder and I'm 
not even sure it would be o.k. with him. I expect this to remain 
between you and me."

"Whatever you tell me won't leave this room."

Scully folded her hands in front of her and stared at them.

"It was actually on our second or third out-of-town "profiling"-type 
assignment that I began to realize something was wrong. I woke up 
suddenly, in the middle of the night, because I heard some strange 
noises coming from Mulder's room. At first, I couldn't identify it, 
but it got louder and then I could tell what it was. All I knew was 
that Mulder was screaming out for help and the name "Samantha." I 
pounded on the connecting door between the two rooms. I yelled his 
name. Then I drew my gun and shot the lock off."

Scully paused to take a deep breath. She cleared her throat.

"I just knew that someone was killing him. When I ran into the room 
with my gun drawn, Mulder was kneeling on the floor, facing his 
window where a streetlight shone in. He was screaming. I mean 
screaming, sir. Heart-wrenching, grief-stricken screams. His gun 
lay on the floor beside him. Everyone in the motel where we were 
staying was outside and the manager was pounding on Mulder's door.

I managed to convince the motel manager to let me handle the 
situation. I'm sure the fact we were F.B.I. was the only reason that 
the police weren't called.

Mulder had told me the story of his sister's abduction not too long 
before this and it just came to me. The streetlight. The 
streetlight had triggered this."

Scully paused to swallow, but still did not meet Skinner's eyes. She 
quickly chanced a glance. He nodded solemnly for her to continue.

"I shot out the streetlight, sir. It was the quickest solution. I 
shot it and told the manager to give me the bill in the morning. As 
soon as the light was out, the screams subsided. I ran back into 
Mulder's room and found him lying on his side, blinking into the 
darkness. He just looked up at me and said, "Scully? What the hell 
happened? I feel like I've been run over by a truck."

Scully laughed harshly then. She wiped a hand over her face and 
stood abruptly and began pacing.

"After telling him what had happened, I found out that this was not 
the first time on these types of cases that he had had 'problems.' 
After weeks of avoiding the subject, he admitted that he had left the 
Violent Crimes Unit as a profiler after a nervous breakdown. He just 
got too deep in the criminals' minds, he immersed himself. And 
anytime a case had to do with children....well, the result was 
similar to that night with the streetlight."

Skinner nodded. " I knew about the breakdown. Many people did, even 
though it wasn't put in his file. I can't say I blamed him with the 
type of work they had him doing."

Scully sat again, nodding. "Mulder told me as much. He said that he 
suspected you knew and that others did as well. Anyway, over time, 
whenever we got those 'types' of cases, I would get extremely 
worried. I started leaving the connecting door open so I could hear 
if he began to have a nightmare. When he would, I would sit by his 
bed and just comfort him. If I can catch it before it gets out of 
hand, he doesn't even remember it happened."

Scully studied her hands again. "Since my abduction, sometimes the 
nightmares are about me, not Samantha."

Skinner nodded and cleared his throat. He decided not to admit that 
after seeing her so pale in her hospital bed after she was returned 
that he'd had his share of nightmares too. 

"Well, that's understandable. You didn't see how he was while you 
were gone, Scully." Skinner paused and then took a chance. "He cares 
for you a great deal."

Scully looked at her boss for a long moment. Then she looked down at 
her hands again. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know what it was you 
saw. I can imagine how it must have looked." She attempted a small 
laugh.
"There are enough rumors about us at the bureau as it is."

Skinner stood and opened his mouth to reassure her of his 
understanding and to say goodnight.

"NO!!!" Mulder's screams broke the silence along with a loud 
crash. "NO! Please-" 

Scully dashed through the connecting door with Skinner close behind.

Mulder stood beside the bed in green boxer briefs, his hair standing 
up in a hundred different directions, a broken lamp at his feet and 
his hazel eyes wide with confusion.

When Scully appeared in his room, he was visibly relieved. "Thank 
God, Scully. I-I don't know where I am. Am I awake? You were taken -
but...That's not right, is it? I-"

She interrupted him with a hand on his arm. "It's just a bad dream, 
Mulder. We're in Iowa on a case and I'm right here. Come on, let's 
get you back to bed. It'll all be clearer in the morning."

Mulder's gaze flickered to Skinner as Scully gently urged his lanky 
form to bed, "You're never in my nightmares. Why are you here?" His 
gaze returned to Scully. "Why's Skinner here, Scully?" Mulder's voice 
was the voice of a small child who wanted to know why the sky was 
blue.

Scully looked in Mulder's eyes as she sat by his side.

"I don't know, Mulder. It's your dream. Why is Skinner here?" She 
brushed a lock of hair back from his face.

Mulder thought for a moment and then suddenly smiled. "I know. I 
brought him here to protect you. I don't know why I didn't do this 
before. He'll watch you while I sleep." Mulder shut his eyes, happy.

Scully couldn't help it. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Mulder, I 
can take care of myself."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Mulder said with his eyes still closed, "that's 
what you always say. But I'm not letting you go again. I love you too 
much to let that happen."

Scully gasped and pointedly did not look at Skinner.

Mulder continued to mumble, his voice becoming weaker and 
weaker. "You'll take care of her for me, right? You'll keep her 
safe while I sleep? Just a little while, not too long..." Mulder's 
voice began to fade and he laid back against the pillow, turning on 
his side, "I just need a little rest.."

"I'll take care of her, Mulder. Just get some sleep," Skinner said 
softly. Scully looked up at him with an unreadable expression. Then 
she resumed stroking Mulder's hair until she was sure he was sleeping.

Skinner and Scully softly snuck out of the room into the hallway.

They stood in silence, unsure of what to say.

"I'll see the two of you in the morning," Skinner said in his 'boss' 
voice. He began to walk away. 

After a few strides, he turned around. Scully stood watching him. 
Her red hair was mussed, her pajamas baggy and her feet bare. 
Skinner allowed himself to admire her beauty for a moment, noting 
that her toenails were painted bright pink. The word "cute" popped 
into his mind and he fought the smile before it made it to his face. 
He looked back up into her blue eyes. He allowed himself to feel a 
moment of envy for the bond between Mulder and Scully. "And don't 
worry. None of this happened."

Skinner continued on his way. And he didn't look back.

*****************************************************


RIIING!....RIIING!.....RIIING!....

The call came too early for Skinner's liking. He groped for the 
blurry telephone and answered it gruffly.

"Hello?"

"Wake-up call, sir? You put in for a wake-up call at 7am?" 

"Oh, yeah. Thank you." He growled and hung up.

Skinner threw his legs over the edge of the bed and wearily 
stretched, wincing at the ache in his back from sitting up too late 
hunched over file after file.

He reached for his wire-rim glasses and placed them on his nose, 
bringing the hotel room into immediate focus.

Standing with a mild protest from his knees, he shuffled into the 
bathroom and regarded his reflection.

*I don't know why I always look; It isn't going to change.*

"I'm fifty," he said aloud to his reflection as he had for every 
morning the past two weeks, "get over it already."

He stretched again, took a deep breath and padded back out of the 
bathroom.

Skinner lowered himself to the floor and did his morning push-ups and 
sit-ups.

He took a quick shower, replaced his glasses on his face, brushed his 
teeth and stood in front of the mirror again to smooth down what 
little hair he retained with his comb.

He got dressed in his suit and tie and then took one last look at the 
man in the mirror.

*Assistant Director Skinner, at your service*

He sighed, put his keys in his pocket, and left the hotel room.

***************************************************

Mulder sat across from him, oblivious, shoveling bacon and eggs into 
his mouth. Apparently, the previous night's activities had not 
affected his appetite.

Skinner and Scully watched him - one faintly stunned, the other 
amused.

"Does he always eat like that?" Skinner quirked one eyebrow at Scully.

The three had agreed to meet at the little diner across from the 
hotel for breakfast and sat now, enjoying their morning meal.

Mulder had ordered the largest, greasiest, platter of bacon, eggs, 
hash browns, pancakes and toast that Skinner had ever seen.

Scully sat sedately eating her plate of fruit and sipping her juice.

Skinner looked down at his second bowl of cereal and tall glass of 
orange juice, and looked back up at Scully again.

She nodded, smiling. "It all goes to his feet," she jibed.

"Hey," Mulder said around a mouthful of eggs, "I'm sitting right 
here, you know." He chewed and swallowed.

"Besides, I run. I play basketball. I swim. I'm entitled."

To emphasize his point, he took a big swig of his chocolate milk. 

Scully just shook her head in defeat, "I don't know how many times 
I've told you that at your age you don't have the metabolism you used 
to. You eat like you're seventeen years old. It is going to catch 
up with you, Mulder."

She turned to Skinner for support. He was eye-balling Mulder's food 
with envy.

Scully sighed. *Boys will be boys.*

"So," Mulder's voice interrupted her thoughts," when do we meet with 
the local SAC?"

"9:30," Skinner said, pushing away his cereal. Suddenly, he didn't 
want it anymore. Living vicariously through Mulder, he had really 
enjoyed that bacon. He took a drink of his orange juice and 
continued, "He's meeting us at the first dump site."

"The profiling team?" Mulder finished off his chocolate milk and 
without thinking, Scully reached over and swiped at his milk mustache 
with her thumb.

Embarrassed at her impulse, she cleaned her thumb on her napkin as 
Mulder gave her a startled half-smile.

Skinner cleared his throat. "We're meeting with the profiling team 
at 11 and then a working lunch with the SAC."

"Are you ready to tell us why you're here, sir?"

Mulder was looking at him frankly. 

*He really thinks I have a clear-cut reason for being here*

Skinner took off his glasses and cleaned them carefully with the edge 
of a napkin.

"I actually just wanted to get out in the field for a change," he 
said, hoping it didn't sound too lame.

He put his glasses back on, "I just thought I'd see if I could be of 
some help."

"Well, we're glad to have you, sir," Scully jumped in. He could 
practically see her kicking Mulder under the table as he piped in.

"Of course we are, sir. We just assumed-"

"That I was checking up on you. Well, I'm not."

Mulder and Scully were staring at him. Skinner stared right back.

***************************************************

At first, the authorities didn't know they had a serial killer on 
their hands.

The first victim was found outside his residence on October 20th, 
1998. The cause of death was obviously a execution-style gunshot to 
the head. 

The autopsy showed the victim had been drugged, moved to an unknown 
location, starved and dehydrated, and then shot dead. The victim had 
then been dumped in front of his apartment building.

The police had no clues to go on. No witnesses. The murder was 
unsolved.

***************************************************

When another man was murdered on October 20th the following year, the 
police didn't make the connection. 

The local coroner inquired about the similarities to a case the year 
before, but was barely listened to.

Again the victim had been sedated, moved, starved and dehydrated and 
then shot through the head. And dumped in front of his parents' 
house where he lived.
****************************************************

It was only when it happened a third time that the local police 
reluctantly admitted to having a serial killer on their hands and 
called in the F.B.I.

The M.O. on the third victim was exactly the same as the first two, 
with one exception. 

The third victim had been given water.

**************************************************

"Yeah, Scully noticed that too," Mulder's voice startled Skinner out 
of his reverie as he re-read the case files.

"What?"

Mulder gestured to where Skinner's finger rested on the anomoly he 
had been reading about in the third victim.

"Scully, noticed that the third victim wasn't dehydrated like the 
others. He was given fluids."

Skinner felt deflated, but tried not to let it show.

"Oh, so you already knew. It was such a small notation and I didn't 
hear the two of you mention it last night.."

Mulder regarded him with a slight frown, noting the small note of 
defeat in Skinner's voice.

"Sir, is something wrong?"

"No, Agent Mulder, nothing's wrong."

Skinner stood as Scully returned from the restroom.

"Ok, I'm ready to go," she said.

The three of them threw some money on the table for their meals and 
strode out of the small diner.

*************************************************

It had been a very long day. The three of them had been to each 
crime scene and given a detailed summary of the findings at each one 
by the Special Agent in Charge.

Then the meeting with the profiling team.

The group of men from the Violent Crimes Unit were none too pleased 
that "Spooky" Mulder had been called in, but seemed anxious to catch 
the killer nonetheless. They each answered Mulder's questions to the 
best of their abilities.

The working lunch with the SAC was a "crunch" session with ideas and 
theories flying around the table like spitwads as everyone inhaled 
their deli sandwiches.

Skinner, Mulder, and Scully had been present at the exhuming of the 
bodies and then Scully had gone off to redo the autopsies. 

The two men sat in a conference room at the police station discussing 
the case and trying out different theories until Mulder's stomach 
growled - LOUDLY.

Skinner was exhausted.

And Mulder was mumbling to himself again. Just loud enough to be 
annoying, but not quite loud enough for Skinner to understand what he 
was saying.

*If he doesn't stop soon, I am going to reach across the table and 
throttle him.*

Skinner saw himself suddenly reach across and grab Mulder by the 
necktie, "STOP!"

"Sir?"

Skinner blinked the image away and stifled a yawn. He looked at his 
watch as he answered Mulder, "What?"

It was 11:34 p.m.

The Denny's the two of them were eating at was practically deserted. 
Skinner sipped his black coffee and raised his eyebrow at Mulder.

"Just wondering where you were. Something about the case bothering 
you?"

Skinner's eyebrow climbed even further.

"EVERYTHING about this case bothers me. No clues, no witnesses...and 
October 20th is just around the corner."

Mulder turned back to the files he had been mumbling over and 
nodded. The frown wrinkles reappeared on his forehead.

"Well, maybe Scully will have something for us when she's done 
redoing the autopsies." He looked at his watch.

"She oughta be calling it a night pretty soon and turning up at the 
hotel."

Skinner wondered if Mulder was thinking about his nightmares. He 
wondered if Mulder even knew he'd starting having them on this case. 

Had Scully told him what happened last night?

**************************************************

Mulder and Skinner were spread out in Mulder's room, discussing the 
case.

"Ok, but why these three guys? What's the connection?"

"Could they be random?"

"I don't think so. The body types are too similar. All-American. 
Ex-jocks in their 30's. Same day every year....must be significant 
somehow...connection to killer..sporting goods store?...a 
birthday...a death anniversary...starvation and 
dehydration...weakening...punishment?..hmm.."

Skinner sighed. There went Mulder again. Mumbling, staring down at 
the file in his lap and pulling on his bottom lip.

*So, this is why they call him "Spooky."*

"The killer is punishing someone...punishing the victims for their 
strength..that's why the UNSUB weakens them..then they aren't worth 
the trouble anymore..quick death..shot to the head..but-"

The door to the hotel room opened and Scully wearily entered.

"Scully!" Mulder suddenly came back to Earth.

"Hey, find anything?"

Scully looked wearily at him for a moment.

"Fine, Mulder, and how are you? Dinner? Oh, no, I haven't had any, 
but, hey, don't worry about me-"

Mulder interrupted her sarcastic rambling by jabbing a styrofoam 
container at her.

"Fruit platter, now gimme. Whatcha got?"

She took the food from him. " I sure have had a lot of fruit today. 
Tomorrow I'm indulging in a burger." She jabbed a piece of 
cantaloupe and ate it hungrily.

"I found all the same things that the coroner before me did, with one 
exception. There are traces of cologne on each of the victims' 
bodies."

Mulder and Skinner looked at one another.

"What's so unusual about that?" Skinner said, "Men wear cologne."

Scully waved her fork in agreement and nodded.

"Which is why the previous coroner didn't mention it, " she said with 
her mouth full, "BUT the cologne on each victim seems to be the same 
one. AND-"

She swallowed and paused. "Well, this part is pure conjecture on my 
part.."

Mulder lit up. "I am rubbing off on you!"

Scully shot him a withering look.

"What? What did you find, Scully?" Mulder wheedled, serious.

"I-I could swear that the cologne was more like women's perfume. It 
seemed very sweet. The scent still lingered on the third victims 
clothing that had been sealed in a plastic evidence bag. I needed to 
compare some fibers found on the body with that of the victim's 
clothing and when I opened the bag.."

She shook her head.

"I swear it smelled like women's perfume."

The two men stared at Scully open-mouthed.

Skinner said it first, "A female serial killer."

**********************************************************************
*****

He felt himself smiling as he watched Scully sleep. She was slumped 
against the headboard, red hair falling across her face. The lamp 
cast a soft glow across her dozing figure and the files that lay open 
on her lap. 

Skinner suddenly became aware of Mulder's eyes on him. He shifted 
his gaze from Scully's sleeping form to Mulder's penetrating 
appraisal.

*Why do I feel like apologizing for looking at Scully?*

To his surprise, Mulder suddenly smiled. "She can fall asleep 
anywhere. Don't tell our boss, " He said in mock seriousness, "but 
she even falls asleep on stakeouts."

"That's o.k., " Skinner rejoined, "I hear her partner covers for her."

Mulder chuckled a little and his eyes moved affectionately to Scully.

The three of them had been going over the files yet again with the 
thought in mind that they were dealing with a female serial killer. 
Mulder thought the change in perspective might reveal further clues 
from the information.

So far, no luck.

"I guess we better call it a night," Mulder said, finally, "Scully'll 
kill me if I pull my 'profiler crap', as she calls it, and stay up 
all night."

He stood, stretched and strode to the bed where Scully slumbered.

Skinner watched them from the corner of his eye as he gathered files 
and threw away take-out containers from their midnight snack.

**********************************************************************

"Scully?" Mulder gently reached out and brushed her hair back from 
her face in his customary fashion.

She started, looked confused for a moment, and then sat up.

"I-I must have fallen asleep. What time is it?" 

Mulder carefully took the files from her and stacked them on the 
bedside table.

"It's 2:30 in the morning," he held out his hand, "Here, let me help 
you up."

Scully stood and wobbled blearily on her feet.

"Oh-" she clutched Mulder's arm for balance, "Thanks."

"Scully, take off the stilts. You're only going next door and you're 
gonna kill yourself walking on those things half-asleep."

He sat her back down on the edge of the bed and knelt down to take 
the shoes from her feet.

Skinner couldn't shake the tender feeling toward his agents as he 
witnessed the intimate, almost worshipful, gesture.

"Ok, Mulder, but no short jokes," she muttered around a yawn and took 
the proferred shoes from his hands.

Mulder chuckled under his breath and helped her to the connecting 
door between their two rooms.

"'night, Scully."

"'night, Mulder."

And she was gone.

********************************************************************

Mulder seemed unaware of how much had just been revealed of his 
relationship with Scully.

Skinner realized that Mulder was unaware himself of the nature of his 
relationship with Scully.

The thought made Skinner sad for the younger man.

"Well, Mulder, I'll see you and Agent Scully in the morning."

Mulder walked him to the door, commenting that he was tired and 
looking forward to getting some sleep.

But Skinner knew Mulder would be up all night, staring at the 
pictures of the dead and trying to crawl inside the mind of a killer.

**********************************************************************
****

Scully woke abruptly to the feeling of someone in the room with her.

She felt goosebumps rise over her skin.

A dark figure walked closer and closer...

She took in a sharp breath to scream and flailed her hand out to the 
night table in search of her gun-

The familiar scent of sunflower seeds, aftershave, and sweat caught 
her attention.

"Mulder?"

A small sob sounded from the dark.

"I can still hear your voice," he whispered.

"Mulder?" she said again and leaned over to click on the lamp.

He stood at her bedside, looking utterly forlorn. He still wore his 
suit.

The tye was loose, his sleeves rolled up, and the jacket was missing, 
but it was obvious that Mulder had fallen asleep in his clothes.

"Mulder, are you awake?"

He stared at her.

"I AM going crazy. I can SEE you." His voice trembled and his eyes 
were wide.

She reached out and took his hand. He flinched.

"Mulder, you were dreaming. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"You were taken," he insisted quietly, but his eyes were riveted to 
their entwined hands.

Scully was nodding, "But I'm back now. It's o.k."

She tugged on his hand and he sat on the edge of the bed.

"You're back?" He seemed unconvinced.

She was nodding again and stroking the back of his hand with her 
thumb.

"Let me help you back to bed, Mulder."

Scully was getting out of her bed and pulling him to his feet.

He took her by surprise by standing and taking her into his embrace.

"..never let you go.." he was muttering into her hair.

Scully allowed herself to relax into him for a moment, cherishing the 
feel of his warm arms around her.

She felt secure, protected, loved.

His heart beat steadily under her cheek. The rhythm of it nearly 
lulled her back to sleep. His hand stroked her hair, softly.

She felt him sway on his feet and realized he was dozing off where he 
stood.

"Come on, Mulder. Let's get you back to bed."

Scully led him through the connecting door with no resistance. He 
merely stared at her through exhausted, mournful eyes.

She removed his tye, belt, shoes and socks.

"Lay down, Mulder," she ordered gently with a hand on his chest.

He laid back, still watching her.

When she turned off the light, she heard him gasp.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"Nothing."

"Mulder-"

"I can't see you. I'm not sure if I'm dreaming or not. I-I think 
I'm awake. We're on a case- right, Scully? And-and I think I'm 
having the damn nightmares again."

"That's right, Mulder," she answered softly into the darkness.

"And Skinner's with us, isn't he?" His breath blew out in an audible 
gush, "I hope he doesn't find out about this. They already think I'm 
nuts at the Bureau as it is."

"Just go to sleep. It'll be alright," Scully skirted the subject.

Silence. Then-

"Stay."

She was going to say no, she really was, but-

She was really tired of saying no.

"Ok. Scoot over, Mulder. And don't hog the covers."

She could feel him smile in the darkness.

*******************************************************************

There was a fly buzzing around her face. 

Scully swatted at it and rubbed the tickled skin on her temple.

"Hmmph," she muttered and nuzzled into her warm pillow.

She heard a very soft chuckle and began to slowly drift toward 
wakefulness.

The fly tickled her chin and then her left cheek.

"..hmmphk..fly swatter.." she tried to say and cracked open her eyes.

The chuckle was louder this time and accompanied by a puff of warm 
air across her face.

She wrinkled her nose and squinted.

"You've got morning breath, Mulder."

His bleary face came into focus over her's. He had stubble over his 
cheeks and chin and dark circles under his eyes. He looked 
exhausted, but pleased.

"So do you, Scully," he grinned and brushed his lips across her 
forehead one last time, "Good morning."

She yawned, rubbed the new tickly spot Mulder had left on her face, 
and started to sit up, but couldn't.

Her legs and Mulder's were wrapped around one another, her arm was 
underneath him and his arm around her.

Scully carefully disentangled herself.

"Sorry," she muttered, embarrassed as she got out of the bed.

Mulder simply watched her with soft eyes as she padded across the 
room in her baggy pajamas to his bathroom.

"I'm not," he said softly as she closed the door.

***************************************************** 

*Mulder seems much more subdued this morning. I wonder if he had 
another one of his nightmares?*

Skinner watched Mulder slowly eat his toast. This morning Mulder had 
just ordered toast and chocolate milk.

*He looks pale. I think this case is getting to him.*

Scully didn't look too much better. She was quiet and kept glancing 
at Mulder and then quickly looking away.

She picked at her muffin, disinterested.

"Well," Skinner said so suddenly that the other two jumped, "I know 
you probably sat up looking over the files after I left, Mulder, so 
what did you find?"

Mulder shrugged and looked up at his boss.

"I worked up a tenative profile-"

"Tenative is better than nothing, Mulder. What is your theory?"

"Well, female serial killer, age 25-35, comes in contact with all 
three men who are all three ex-jocks and athletic. So, I'm thinking 
she works at a sporting goods store or batting cage or somewhere were 
all three men worked out or hung out. Something to do with their 
involvement in athletics, working out."

Mulder began to liven up as he delved into the killer's mind.

"She's punishing them. Punishing their strength. Has to be. Why else 
would she drain them of their strength before killing them?"

He frustratedly took a large bite of toast.

"Motive. That's what's killing me - motive. Could it be a 
simple "Female wants to punish dominant Male Society' thing? It 
doesn't FEEL that simple..."

Mulder was muttering and drifting off again. Scully reached over and 
put her hand on his arm. He came back to himself and looked up at 
her.

"Anyway, I'd like to look through receipts and bank records for the 
three victims - look for a connection. And I'd like to speak to 
friends, co-workers," Mulder said looking at Skinner.

"A lot of that was done by the officers originally, Mulder. No 
connection was found." 

"Yeah, well, I'm doing it again."

Skinner regarded the man with sympathetic eyes.

"Mulder, did you get any sleep last night?"

The younger man blinked at him defiantly. "Enough."

"Well, you look like hell," Skinner said, not pulling any punches.

"Thanks," Mulder responded, sarcastically.

"Mulder," Skinner continued, "all I'm saying is that you are going to 
collapse if you don't get enough rest. Don't let this case get to 
you, o.k.?"

Mulder nodded curtly, not meeting Skinner's eyes. Scully gave her 
boss a brief, grateful look and then studiously looked away.

*She's worried about him*

Skinner frowned. He was too.

**************************************************

But Mulder was right. After re-searching each victim's residence, 
the connection was found.

Vitamins.

Each victim took vitamins and diet supplements in order to "bulk up."

Receipts revealed that the victims bought their vitamins from two 
different mail-order companies.

On the surface, this wasn't a lead. But further digging, at Mulder's 
insistance, revealed that the companies were one and the same. 

The vitamin company that the first two victims had made their 
purchases from had gone through a name change four months before the 
last victim's death.

Mulder spread out the crinkled receipts in front of him on the table 
in his room.

He steepled his fingers and stared at them.

He waited. 

Waited for that flash of insight. For that inspiration. 

The clock ticked.

He sat in the quiet room, hardly breathing, every fact he'd read 
running through his mind.

Every face of each interviewee. Every nuance of their body language.

*Lying? Telling the truth? Hiding something?*

Mulder mentally judged each one.

The clock ticked.

He sat with fingers steepled and stared at nothing. 

******************************************************

Scully and Skinner rode in the car in silence, each lost in their own 
thoughts.

"Maybe we shouldn't have left him alone," Scully suddenly said.

Skinner sighed.

"I was just thinking the same thing, but he's right. We can't 
babysit him when there's work that needs to be done. He's right. 
He's a grown man."

*Who am I trying to convince? Her or myself?*

"Well, I just want to get this over with and get back-" Scully 
stopped speaking, worried she'd revealed too much. She scrunched 
down into the passenger-side seat and stared out the window and the 
passing scenery.

*She loves him*

The thought struck Skinner from nowhere, but had the power to take 
his breath away.

*******************************************************

"I just need some time alone to review the facts, make some 
connections. Honest, I'll be fine. Go track down the owner of the 
mail-order company. Call me if you find anything. But, Scully," 
Mulder had looked at her with intensity in his hazel eyes, "our perp 
isn't a man."

Scully shook her head.

She wondered how he could be so sure.

*That's why they call him 'Spooky'*

Scully thought back to a case in their early years together.

"Spooky? Do ya think I'm spooky?" Mulder's voice echoed in her head.

Back then, she hadn't been sure what to think of him.

The car was coming to a stop. Scully pulled herself out of her 
reverie and prepared to meet the owner of the mail order company.

To her surprise, as she reached for her door handle it opened.

Skinner offered her a helping hand out of the car with a look on his 
face that Scully couldn't fathom.

*******************************************************

Of all the people they had interviewed today, only 4 had been women.

Mulder reviewed the list in his head.

2 co-workers. 1 girlfriend. 1 mother.

*It wasn't them..It wasn't them..the killer is angry..bitter..maybe 
abused..damaged goods..*

The wary faces of the co-workers floated behind his closed eyes. Sad 
and traumatized girlfriend. Mourning mother.

*It wasn't them...*

*****************************************************

Scully and Skinner sat across the table from the small, spare man who 
owned the mail order vitamin company.

Skinner found it laughable that such a puny, old man sold promises of 
strength to the young and vital.

He pushed his glasses up on his nose and pinned the man with his eyes.

"Why did you change the name of your company from-" Skinner looked 
down at the paper in front of him, "'Bulk Up Vitamins' to 'Smart Move 
Vitamins' four months ago, Mr. Bernard?"

The man swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing prominently on his thin 
neck.

"I was worried about legal concerns. A lawyer friend of mine said I 
could be sued if someone didn't get the bulk they wanted from 
vitamins called 'Bulk Up.' So, I changed it. Did I not file the 
proper paperwork or something?"

"No sir, that's not why we are here. Do you recognize any of these 
men?"

Skinner placed photographs of the victims on the table in front of 
the man. Scully simply stood to one side watching, arms crossed at 
her chest.

"Um, no. But all my business is through the mail. They could be 
customers."

"Do you recognize these names?"

The man read the list thrust in front of him.

"Yes! These guys are some of my biggest customers. Well, were. The 
first two stopped ordering a while ago and the third one hasn't 
ordered in about a year. But, yeah, I don't have a lot of customers 
that ordered as much as these guys. Couldn't forget those names." He 
attempted a smile at the two agents.

They didn't smile back.

This man wasn't their UNSUB and they both knew it.

****************************************************

*Damn! Why couldn't it be cut and dry?*

Skinner was nursing a pounding headache. He pushed his glasses up 
and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Scully was staring into the passing darkness as they drove back to 
their hotel in Burton, Iowa.

He knew she was thinking of Mulder.

"Why don't you call him on your cell?"

She seemed startled. "What?"

"Mulder. If you're that worried, just call him."

She shook her head stubbornly. "He wouldn't appreciate it."

He looked heavenward before returning his eyes to the road.

"Let's review the case," he suggested.

She nodded, staring again out her window.

"Mulder's pretty sure the perp is a woman. I agree that the mail 
order thing is the connection, but obviously not through the guy who 
runs it. So, how? This is the only connection that was found 
between the victims, but how is it significant? That is the problem.."

Scully was now frowning in thought.

"The guy runs the place by himself," she said, "No help, no delivery 
people, no telephone people, no secretaries.."

Skinner shook his head negative as she ticked off the facts they 
already knew.

The car swerved and screeched on the dark road.

Scully clutched her seat and gave out a small yelp.

"Delivery people!?" Skinner shouted as he gained control of the car.

"WHAT?!" Scully shouted back, looking at him as though he'd lost his 
mind.

Skinner pulled the car to the side of the road, put it in park and 
turned to face Scully with excitement evident on his face.

"In a place like Burton, Iowa isn't there a chance that the same 
delivery person was used to deliver the vitamins the victims 
ordered? I mean, it isn't that large of an area."

Scully was nodding with her mouth hanging open in realization.

"It could be a post office worker, UPS, Federal Express..we need to 
find out who the vitamin guy used!" she practically shouted.

Skinner pulled back onto the road and headed back to Burton, double-
time.

*******************************************************

The killer lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, breathing in short 
quick breaths. 

The time was getting near. 

*October 20th, my birthday. Not long now. Another sacrifice. Happy 
now, Dad? Happy now?! That'll show you...one less...kill them 
all..that'll show you...*

A pitiful sob sounded in the darkness.

******************************************************

Skinner was driving fast. Too fast. He could feel the adrenaline 
pumping through his veins. 

He remembered this feeling. 

The case was moving forward. They had a lead. They needed to jump 
on it right away.

Scully white-knuckled the dashboard. "Uh, sir? Could you slow down a 
bit? We're not going to do anyone a bit of good dead."

He very deliberately released some of the pressure on the accelerator.

"Sorry, but we finally have a lead," He hit the steering wheel with 
the palm of his hand, "FINALLY."

Scully tried to relax and smiled at her boss. 

He looked like a kid who'd just opened his most-wished-for Christmas 
present. 

"You really did miss being in the field, didn't you, sir?"

Skinner arched an eyebrow and glanced over at her.

He tried to remain nonchalant, but an un-Skinner-like smile crept 
across his features.

"I guess I did."

"So, that really WAS the reason you came with us. There isn't any 
secret agenda here," she stated.

"I told you and Agent Mulder that there wasn't, " Skinner said, a 
little miffed about not being trusted and reverting into his 'formal 
mode.'

"We know, sir, but you have to admit it was unusual for you to 
accompany us. You've never done it before."

He glanced at Scully, back at the dark road, and back at her again.

"Well," he cleared his throat, "there might be something else to it," 
he admitted, reluctantly.

Scully recognized one of his nervous habits - throat-clearing - and 
just KNEW if he had his hands free, he'd be cleaning his glasses - 
another one of his nervous habits.

Her curiousity was peaked.

"What?"

He looked at her again as if debating whether to tell her or not.

*She'll think I'm an old fart. An old fart having a mid-life crisis*

He sighed.

*I AM an old fart having a mid-life crisis*

"I turned fifty about two weeks ago," he blurted as casually as 
possible.

Scully relaxed. She hadn't known what to expect, but that wasn't it.

"Happy belated birthday, sir."

"Thanks." he was absurdly pleased.

"So, what? You were wondering if you could still be an effective 
field agent?"

He smiled again. It sounded so much nicer the way she said it instead 
of the way he thought it.

*I wonder if I still got it or if I'm a used-up old desk jockey?*

"Yeah, something like that."

Scully seemed to consider this for a moment.

"Well, sir, you are the one who came up with the delivery person 
idea."

Scully pulled out a small notebook and a pen. "So, wanna review the 
case again? Heck, it worked before."

Skinner nodded eagerly, glad to drop the subject of his birthday and 
all the emotional baggage that it entailed.

He also recognized the compliment and his heart was warmed by it.

"Ok, so now we've got a suspected female serial killer, age 25-35, 
probably a delivery person in the Burton, Iowa area. She picks 
young, athletic, guys who like to buy a lot of vitamins. She kills 
one victim on October 20th every year, which means this date is 
significant somehow. We're going to find out which delivery service 
the 'Smart Move Vitamin Company' uses and start narrowing down and 
interviewing suspects. I mean, how many people can there be making 
deliveries in Burton, Iowa?"

Skinner was nodding. *The ol' synapses are really firing now* 

"Oh," he interrupted, "We also need to look at recent customers of 
the vitamin company as potential victims for this upcoming October 
20th. Maybe stakeout those with big deliveries recently?"

Scully was nodding her head now, and writing in her notebook.

She tapped the pen on her knee and stared into space for a moment.

"You know what keeps bothering me? The third victim. The one who 
wasn't dehydrated. That HAS to be significant somehow; I just can't 
figure out how."

She sighed. "Sometimes I wish I could make those 'connections' like 
Mulder - Oh, Mulder!"

Scully pulled out her cellphone. "We should tell him about all of 
this!"

Skinner was turning onto their exit. "And tell him we'll be there in 
about 30 minutes."

Scully let the phone ring at least 10 times.

Mulder didn't answer.

**********************************************************************

Mulder's lean, muscular legs pumped up and down as he ran for all he 
was worth.

His lungs felt like they were going to burst, but he ran harder.

The cool wind caused his eyes to tear up, clouding his vision.

Mulder's bare arms swung, pushing him faster, faster..

He finally slowed and then stopped, gasping for air.


Sometimes a good, hard run cleared his head.

Tonight it didn't seem to be working.


He hunched over and clutched his bent knees, sweat dripping from his 
damp hair, lean and athletic in his jogging shorts and sleeveless 
gray sweatshirt.

A figure watched from the shadows along the side of the street, 
holding a dog on a leash and not believing the fortune of having 
found the lamb so close to home.

The perfect sacrifice.

**********************************************************************

Scully practically ran down the hallway to her hotel room, Skinner 
hot on her heels.

*I'm sure he just went for something to eat. That's why he didn't 
answer his room phone. And he probably turned off his cellphone.*

She listed reasons in her head for Mulder's silence. 

But she couldn't shake the picture of him collapsed on the floor 
having some sort of 'episode' triggered by this case.

*Its never happened when he's not sleeping. Its never happened 
during the day. But what if it has and I'm not there?*

She keyed into her room as Skinner practically breathed down her neck.

The two of them plummeted into the hotel room and ran for the 
connecting door.

Scully flung it open so hard that it bounced off of the wall.

"MULDER!"

Mulder stood in absolute stunned silence, obviously fresh from the 
shower, nude, and drying his hair with a towel.

His eyes were round, hazel discs. "Scully?!"

She spun around immediately, colliding with Skinner's chest.

Mulder wrapped the towel around his waist that he'd been using to dry 
his hair.

"Would somebody tell me what the hell is going on?"

********************************************************

Things were calming down.

Skinner regarded the two embarassed agents and tried not to smile 
with amusement.

Mulder sat in sweatpants with his damp hair combed straight back. His 
arms were crossed across his chest as he listened to Scully tell him 
of she and Skinner's finding this afternoon. He didn't meet her eyes.

No one brought up the episode that had just occured. 

*Modus operandi with these two; selective memory*
Skinner shook his head and sighed.

Scully was looking at a point somewhere over Mulder's left shoulder 
and blushing slightly as she spoke.

When she came to the part about Skinner's revelation, Mulder's 
eyebrow rose and he gave Skinner a congratulatory look.

"Good catch, sir."

"Thank you, Agent Mulder," Skinner smiled slightly.

Mulder stretched and stood. He paced.

"Ok, so we begin by finding out who the delivery people were for the 
three victims. And I say we let the locals assign someone to watch 
the recent customers of the vitamin company."

Scully was tucking her notebook back in her coat pocket.

"Well, gentlemen, I think I've had enough excitement for one 
evening. If you two don't mind, I'm going to return to my room and 
put my feet up."

Skinner stood and he and Mulder bid her goodnight.

Skinner wondered if Mulder also noticed the small tremor in her voice 
as she said goodnight and left the room.

*****************************************************

He rolled his shoulders as he shut the door behind him and entered 
his room.

It had been another long day. He half-jokingly wondered if his heart 
could take the amount of adrenaline that had rushed through his 
bloodstream today.

Skinner paused and placed a hand over his heart.

Thumpthump...thumpthump...thumpthump..seemed o.k...

*Now that I'm fifty, I'm getting paranoid*

He knew there wasn't a thing wrong with his heart.

*You just had a physical. Stop being stupid, Walter.*

Skinner tossed his jacket and gun on the chair and reached up to 
loosen his tye.

He leaned over to click on the television. 

*I need something to take my mind off the case for a while*

A football game caught his eye and, kicking off his shoes, he sat on 
the bed and leaned up against the headboard to watch.

******************************************************

Someone was trying to sell him a waffle iron. They were not going to 
leave him alone until he bought a waffle iron.

"No thank you," he muttered, opening his eyes.

Skinner realized that he had fallen asleep and that an infomercial 
was playing on the T.V.

He used the remote to turn it off, took off his glasses and put them 
on the nightstand, and rolled over, drifting back to sleep.

*****************************************************

Sharon lay next to him in the darkness. He could feel her warmth 
from where he slumbered.

He breathed deeply in contentment.

*I haven't had this dream in ages*

He seemed to be floating, half-asleep.

Skinner opened one eye and then both when he realized that a blurry 
form was sitting on the edge of his bed, watching him sleep.

*I didn't lock the door?!*

Shocked at his lapse in judgement, he moved quickly to reach for his 
glasses, but they were handed to him instead.

The form was Scully.

*****************************************************

"I didn't know whether to bother you or not, sir," she sat hesitantly 
in her robe on the edge of his bed.

"Its Mulder. He-he's worrying me."

Skinner reached over and turned on the lamp. He sat up.

"How so?"

She ran a hand through her already unruly hair.

"He's pacing...mumbling. Keeps going on and on about the case. When 
I try to talk to him, he says the motive is driving him crazy, but 
that he's close. He tells me to leave him alone. He's 
acting...strange. Stranger than usual."

She shook her head and sighed, "I know it doesn't sound like much, 
but-"

Skinner was already out of bed and putting his shoes back on.

"Not at all, Scully. Give me a minute and I'll go with you."

She nodded, miserably, and waited.

******************************************************

Mulder was gone.

Scully and Skinner had returned to find him gone.

No note was apparent.

He didn't take his shoes or running clothes.

Half-eaten room service food lay still warm on his plate.

Scully stood speechless.

She pictured Mulder, in nothing but sweatpants, wandering the streets 
of Burton and mumbling to himself.

*Was he sleep-walking? Did he finally go over the edge?*

"No.." she heard herself say pleadingly.

Skinner put his hand on her shoulder.

"Let's not assume anything, Agent Scully. That's what got us worried 
last time. Could he have gone to the soda or ice machine?"

Scully tried to think analytically. She looked around.

"I don't think so. Here's tea here with his food and the ice bucket 
is still here."

Skinner and Scully spent the next several minutes disproving the 
possibilities until there was only one conclusion left.

Mulder was gone.

**************************************************

The killer led Mulder's stumbling form to the pickup truck.

"Get in."

Mulder got in and sat in the back.

"Lay down so no one can see you."

Mulder obliged.

The killer covered him entirely over with a blanket and got into the 
driver's seat.

*Another sacrifice. One less. One more year over.*

*******************************************************

The hotel room was declared a crime scene thanks to Skinner's 
intervention. The place swarmed with F.B.I agents. Taking samples. 
Taking fingerprints. Making notes. Interviewing Skinner and Scully.

Skinner's face twitched slightly with guilt as he watched the 
fingerprinting crew. He hoped they hadn't destroyed any evidence 
before they realized that their current case was involved.

He looked over at Scully where she was being interviewed. She was 
the consumate professional. Face calm. Voice even. But Skinner 
knew by the set of her lips and the clench of her fist that she was 
worried sick.

*****************************************************

He and Scully had tried first to report Mulder missing to the local 
authorities. They were told that a grown man is not missing just 
because he can't be found for a couple of hours.

The two were back at Mulder's hotel room, looking for clues to his 
whereabouts when Scully had a Mulder-like leap of inspiration.

She was leaning over the chair where he had sat when she left him to 
get Skinner. 

Scully remembered Mulder dropping into the chair after pacing for 
five minutes straight.

In her mind's eye, she saw him mumbling to himself. Taking a bite of 
his burger. Sipping his tea.

She saw herself tell him that if he wouldn't listen to her and get 
some rest, she was going to get Skinner.

She saw herself leave and tried to imagine what Mulder did next.

Scully's eyes fell on the notebook of scribbles beside Mulder's plate.

She tried to read his seemingly disconnected written ramblings and 
was about to give up when she drew a sharp breath.

She could swear she she heard an audible click as part of the puzzle 
fell into place.

"The killer," she had said, spinning to speak to Skinner across the 
room. He was looking through Mulder's suitcase again, making sure 
nothing was missing.

"What?" He had stood up from where he stooped on the floor by the 
suitcase.

"The killer has Mulder. The killer targets young, athletic males. 
October 20th is only a few days away. Mulder went out running 
tonight, somehow the killer saw him, he fits the profile, and now 
he's gone."

Scully went pale as she felt the truth of her words.

"The killer has Mulder, sir, I just know it."

********************************************************

The police had long cleared out.

The room was deserted.

Scully sat in Mulder's chair, staring at his notes.

Skinner sat on Mulder's bed, watching Scully.

"Maybe if I can recreate what he was trying to put together.." she 
trailed off, in thought.

Skinner sighed and rubbed a hand over his head. He was trying not to 
picture what was probably happening to Mulder right now.

He knew Scully desperately wanted to make that 'leap.' 
That 'electric connection' that Mulder always seemed to be able to 
make, given enough time.

*The only problem with Mulder is when he profiles, it is a rush to 
the finish. There's always the questions: What will happen first? 
Will he make that intuitive leap or will he go crazy?*

So far, he'd always won the race. He caught the bad guys.

Skinner almost feared the possibility that Mulder had finally lost it 
and wandered off as much as he feared the killer. 

He said none of this to Scully as he watched her try to BE Mulder.

She looked at his notes. She hesitated for a moment and closed her 
eyes.

"He paced for several minutes," she began to pace.

Minutes passed. Scully mumbled to herself about Mulder's state of 
mind, about the facts he kept mentioning, about the facts she had 
written in her notebook.

She stopped in front of Skinner where he sat, legs splayed and hands 
folded between them.

Scully looked mortified. "I forgot you were here, sir. This must 
seem pretty far-fetched-"

He shook his head. "Continue, Agent Scully. Who says Mulder is the 
only one who can do this?"

She nodded and continued pacing the path Mulder had taken when she 
had last spoken to him.

"Then he sat-" she sat in his chair.

"We had an argument. I said it was getting to him. He went on and 
on about motive and told me to leave him alone for awhile. He 
resented me coming back in here to check on him before I went to bed 
for the night."

She picked up the burger, almost in a trance, eyes shut.

"He took a bite of his burger-" she took a bite, "- and said, 'See, 
I'm even eating, so you can cut out the Mother Hen routine.'"

She picked up his tea glass, the tea now lukewarm and watery with 
long-melted ice.

"He took a sip of his tea, then chug-a-lugged it, coughed when it 
went down the wrong way and that's when I told him I was going to get 
Skinner," Scully referred to Skinner as though he were not in the 
room.

She took a huge swig from the tea glass, gasped and took a deep, 
sucking breath.

"It's not just tea!" she gasped.

Skinner was already at her side and swiping the glass from her hand.

"Damn! Poisoned? Should I call 9-1-1?"

Scully was shaking her head adamantly, trying to catch her breath.

"He was drinking. Mulder was drinking. He almost NEVER drinks, 
sir. It's mostly whiskey."

She finally cleared her throat and wiped the tearing from her eyes.

"He wanted me to leave because he didn't want me to know he was 
drinking." Her eyes became unfocused.

"Like his father," she whispered to herself, suddenly understanding 
why Mulder demanded she leave him alone.

Shame. Guilt.

"He was trying to treat the nightmares with alcohol. He's never done 
that before," she paused, "That I know of, that is." She finished 
solemnly.

A minute or so of silence passed as the two contemplated the 
implications. Had Mulder simply stormed off in some sort of drunken 
state?

Scully felt her head spin. *Stress is getting to me*

Skinner set down the glass and took Scully by the arm.

"Scully, there is nothing more we can do tonight. Its late and we're 
both tired. I want you to go back to your room and try to get some 
sleep."

To his surprise, instead of protesting, she obediently headed for the 
connecting door.

He followed her, suspicious.

*******************************************************

He noticed she swayed on her feet and Skinner led her by the elbow to 
her bed.

"Sit, Scully," he said as he bent down to remove her shoes.

Remembering Mulder performing this exact favor for Scully and the 
look of adoration that had been on his face made Skinner feel 
slightly adulterous.

He bit down on the inappropriate emotion and removed her shoes. 

He then pulled on her hands to get her to stand. She couldn't seem 
to keep her balance. Skinner kept one hand on her as he pulled down 
the covers on her bed.

"Get in, Scully. I think everything that has happened tonight is 
maybe overwhelming you a little."

He expected venom and denial. He expected protests and Scully's 
patented intellectual insults.

He did not expect the weak moan as she crawled into bed and pulled 
the covers to her chin.

Skinner started as he noticed her eyes were confused and blank.

And dilated.

"There WAS something in the food or the tea!" He realized.

He cursed, loudly.

"Get up, Scully. We've got to get you to a hospital."

She tried to get out of the bed, but fell in a heap beside it.

Skinner swept her up into his arms and dashed into Mulder's room.

Depositing her on Mulder's bed, he took the small plastic liner from 
the garbage can beside the nightstand and used it to collect the 
burger and fries.

He could find nothing in which to secure the tea, so he decided to 
simply carry the glass.

Skinner tied the bag around his belt, picked up Scully in his arms 
and carefully picked up the tea.

"Ok," he said soothingly to a too-cooperative and mute Scully, "here 
we go."

******************************************************

Scully woke to the sound of soft beeps and Skinner's 
uncharacteristically tender voice.

"Scully? You awake? I see your eyes moving under there. Come on, 
open up.." he continued to mutter reassurances as she tried to speak.

"Whaaaa," she coughed, "Muh-" 

Scully couldn't seem to form coherent words.

She opened her eyes with extreme effort. 

Skinner leaned over her, his glasses glinting in the faint light.

To her shock, he smiled.

*Oh no, must be bad*

"Don't try to speak, Scully. Can you hear me o.k.?"

She nodded slowly, swallowing the sudden nausea the movement caused.

"Good. Just listen. They found Rohypnol in Mulder's tea and whiskey 
concoction. Are you familiar with the effects of Rohypnol?"

Scully spoke then, albeit roughly. "Date rape drug. Makes victims 
easy to manipulate. Induces amnesia."

"Basically," Skinner nodded.

Her eyes shut. "Mulder.." she said as though in pain.

Skinner's expression turned serious. "Its how the killer is 
abducting his victims. I think we can be pretty certain that there 
is no accomplice."

He patted Scully's hand, "Its still the middle of the night; you 
haven't been out of it long. They're keeping you for observation 
until morning. We can't do anything until then anyway, Scully, so 
try to get some rest."

She nodded, eyes still shut.

Scully heard Skinner leave the room, the door shutting softly.

Visions of Mulder being tortured and calling out her name filled her 
head as she drifted into an exhausted, fitful sleep.

*****************************************************

Mulder startled as Scully gave a cursory knock and then pattered in 
bare feet and pajamas through the connecting door.

He instantly folded his hand around his drink.

*She can't find out I'm drinking...She can't find out I'm drinking..*

After all the trouble he had gone through to hide any 
evidence...Buying small bottles..throwing them in the dumpster 
outside after using each one..ordering iced tea from room service...

*Damn! I thought she was asleep!*

He normally wouldn't mind if someone knew he was drinking. He 
normally wouldn't mind if Scully found him drinking in a bar, or 
having a beer, but what was going on tonight was different...

And she would know it. Only her. She knew the history..the 
significance.

His father had drank heavily in Mulder's childhood. His father had 
been drinking to forget.

Mulder - Fox - would inevitably remind him of the very things he was 
striving to wash from his mind. The young boy's mere presence did 
it. He didn't even have to say anything.

Mostly, Fox had learned to stay out of his way. To defer...not to 
make eye-contact..not to argue..

But his father would explode.

His father beat the living crap out of him.

He still could hardly meet the man's eyes now, even though they were 
both adults. His father made him feel stupid..unworthy..

*"Loser! Good-for-nothing! It should have been YOU!"*

Mulder's father's words echoed in his head as though it happened 
yesterday instead of over 20-odd years ago.

Scully was staring at him as he huddled protectively over his tea. 
He tried not to look so obvious. 

He shook his head. Mulder was feeling woozy on top of everything 
else.

"Mulder, are you o.k.?"

"Yeah. Why?" He sat at the small table with his files, cheeseburger, 
fries and iced tea - eyes wide.

"Mulder," she stepped toward him, "This - This case is getting to 
you. Have you even been to sleep yet?"

He felt a surge of anger. Why couldn't she just go away and let him 
wallow in peace? Why does she always have to hover?

*"What is going on with you, boy? You wanna take a swing at me? You 
think you even got the guts? Go ahead, take a swing at me!"*

His last encounter with his father before Mulder departed for Oxford 
played in his hazy mind.

*"Take a swing at me!"*

Scully cocked her head, irritation and concern on her face, "What is 
going on with you?"

*Take a swing at me!"*

Mulder stood, fists clenched, and took a shaky step forward.

His vision suddenly cleared and he realized Scully stood not five 
feet in front of him, looking at him with wide, wondering eyes.

He gasped.

Mulder paced past her, made a circuit in the small room and paced 
past her again.

"This case...This case...the damn motive...the date..can't make the 
connections..can't.."

He ended up back by the table and took a drink of his 'tea' without 
thinking.

Why did the world seem so wobbly? 

Reality and memory continued to meld and waver. One moment his 
surroundings were crisp and sharp, the next he was reliving the past.


*"You climb inside sickos' minds?" 

Mulder had given his father a tour of his area at the VCU and was 
explaining how he was getting a reputation for his uncanny ability to 
profile. It was the last attempt Mulder ever made to earn his 
father's pride.
"Sounds like the perfect job for you, boy," his father sneered and 
walked off.
Several of his co-workers glanced up in shock.*


Mulder blinked back to reality. He remembered he had been really 
glad that noone had called him 'Spooky' during his father's visit.

"Mulder? You're worrying me-"

He strode angrily over to the small table, sat tiredly, picked up his 
burger and tore off a bite.

"You can stop the whole 'Mother Hen' routine, Scully. See, I'm 
eating and later I plan to sleep, ok?"

She opened her mouth again, but he continued to rant.

"And I am not a child who needs to be checked on, Scully. I-I resent 
that you think I am some kind of defective who can't-"

"Mulder!" Scully interrupted in shock.

He shook as he picked up his tea and sipped it.

*Aw, to hell with it*

Mulder chugged his tea and choked for his trouble.

Scully ran forward and pounded him on the back.

"Scully! Just leave me alone!" Mulder sputtered.

She stood back, her hands on her hips and her lips in a firm line.

"That's it, Mulder. I'm getting Skinner. Maybe he can talk some 
sense into you."

Mulder didn't answer. He had lost his connection with his 
surroundings and was floating free.

He tried to speak. He tried to react.

Mulder heard the door shut as Scully left.

He fell from his chair onto the floor...

Helpless.

*******************************************************


The spare, short man entered the hotel room a moment after Scully 
left.

He knew he had no time to spare.

He leaned over and checked Mulder's pupils.

Dilated.

"Get up and follow me," he ordered Mulder in his sing-songy voice.

Mulder climbed to his feet and staggered after the man as he exited 
the room, quickly and quietly.

*****************************************************

*"Where's your sister, Fox!? Where is she?!"*


He was hearing his father's voice again.


*His teeth clacked together as he was dragged roughly by the shirt.

"What's wrong with you, boy? ANSWER ME!"

His father saw the gun lying on the floor.

"What the hell-" He picked it up and spun to face the trembling, 
mute, gangly boy.

"What did you do, Fox?!" He was waving the gun wildly in his son's 
direction.

"Bill-" his mother grabbed his father's arm and pleaded tearfully 
with him.

"Get off me! This is your fault! You and that bastard!" His father 
pointed at Fox with the gun.

Fox trembled uncontrollably. "D-D-Dad, Sam's g-gone.."

"I can see that! Where is she?!" his father dropped the gun and 
grabbed Fox by his upper arm, shaking him - hard.

"D-Don't know...Th-Th-They took her...took her...I tried to stop-p-p 
them..your gun...couldn't...just froze...so sorry...so 
sorry...sorry...sorry.." Fox was sobbing now, hanging limply in his 
father's grasp.

"You FROZE?!" his father threw Fox from himself as though he were 
rubbish and the thin boy landed against he edge of the couch.

"You're not my son," he had said, disowning him.

"I'm sorry..I'm sorry.." Fox had kept muttering, lying on the carpet, 
eyes shut tightly. 

His father had mostly called him 'boy' after that day, only 
occasionally gracing him with 'son' or 'Fox.'

But, mostly, he was just 'boy.'

******************************************************

"..'m sah.." Mulder trailed off at the sound of his own voice and 
swallowed the familiar tears.

*I'm just dreaming again*

He cracked his eyes open and was greeted with a dull haze. His head 
pounded.

*hangover?*

His mouth was dry and thick. He swallowed several times and cleared 
his throat to soothe it.

Mulder's vision began to clear and what he saw confused him.

He was in somebody's basement..

He turned his head slightly.

The dim light came from small, high windows. There were a set of 
narrow, concrete steps leading up to a door.

*definitely a basement. I should know..*

He smirked at his own weak attempt at humor.

*How the heck did I get here?*

Mulder continued to look around.

He was restrained by the shackles around his ankles and attached to 
the cinder block wall by long chains. He had limited movement, but 
was able to reach the perimeters of the room. 

But, of course, not the stairs.

Suddenly it all became clear.

*The killer*

"So, figured it out yet?"

Mulder looked up. A small, thin man peered down at him from the 
door. 

"I took you a little earlier than the others and we wouldn't want you 
checking out too soon now, would we? So, here-" he chunked a small 
bottle of water and a granola bar down at his captive.

The killer suddenly grinned. "You still haven't figured it out yet, 
have you? Well, I'm not gonna tell you."

He backed to the door and Mulder heard locks being engaged and a 
heavy, scraping sound.

And he was alone.

*******************************************************

Scully and Skinner had spent the day interviewing suspects.

The list of delivery employees was much more extensive than either 
had expected it to be.

Mr. Bernard, the owner of the mail-order vitamin company, used 
several different delivery companies, depending on who would cut a 
better deal.

The larger his order, the more the companies would barter for his 
business, or the better already- established specials they could 
offer him.

If all else failed, he used the U.S. Postal Service.

There was also the matter of the high turnover rate of a couple of 
the local delivery businesses.

So, looking at the Post Office, UPS, Federal Express, and a couple of 
locally-owned delivery services - Scully and Skinner spent their day 
narrowing down the list of suspects and thinking about Mulder.

*******************************************************

Using the working profile Mulder had left them, they were able to 
narrow down the list to five females. All either current or former 
employees of the delivery companies. 

They scheduled interviews with the women - three had been conducted 
that day and two were scheduled for tomorrow morning.

Scully's hand tremored slightly as she took notes in her notebook, 
Skinner noticed as he manuvered the car in the city traffic.

He realized he hadn't seen her eat anything that day. 

She had picked at breakfast and pushed her lunch around on her plate.

Skinner opened his mouth to gently chastise her for this and had a 
revelation.

Mulder.

The killer had starved and dehydrated his victims before executing 
them.

Probably without even meaning to, she was doing the same to herself.

*When was the last time I even saw her drink a glass of water?*

Skinner shifted his focus back to his driving and scanned the 
businesses ahead for a convenience store.

Seeing one, he switched lanes and turned in to the parking lot.

Scully looked up as they parked.

Skinner didn't say a word. He just got out of the car and stalked 
purposefully into the store.

Scully frowned, sensing something amiss, but shrugged her shoulders 
and went back to her notes.

In a few minutes, Skinner reappeared with a small sack.

"Scully?"

"Hm?" She didn't look up.

A bottle of water and a package of crackers were shoved under her 
nose.

"No thanks, I'm not hungry," she politely declined, still not looking 
up.

"Scully, look at me."

She did. And Skinner had his "boss" face on.

"I want you to drink the water and eat the crackers, Agent Scully. I 
will not have one of my agents passing out because she did not bother 
to take care of herself."

"But, sir-"

"Drink. Eat." Skinner said firmly, pointing at the water and crackers.

She sighed. Slowly she opened the water and took a drink. It felt 
good, actually. She took another.

Skinner was still staring at her, but the wrinkle between his eyes 
had eased a bit.

She opened the crackers and put one in her mouth, crunching loudly 
for Skinner's benefit.

The wrinkle between Skinner's eyes vanished, and he smiled slightly.

"Ok, Scully, I'll leave you alone. I just don't want you neglecting 
yourself while we look for Mulder. He wouldn't want that either, you 
know."

Her mood turned somber again, "I know."

She made herself eat another cracker and drink some more water. But, 
suddenly, her stomach felt sick.

Skinner's cell phone rang, breaking the heavy quiet that had settled 
in the car.

"Skinner."

Scully watched his face tense up again, the wrinkle reappearing 
between his eyes.

"We'll be right there."

He turned to her. "That was a detective with the local P.D. One of 
the kitchen employees at our hotel has been found dead and stuck in 
one of the hotel dumpsters."

The knot in Scully's stomach tightened.

*******************************************************

Scully watched as the hotel employee's body was zipped into the body 
bag. 

He had been shot through the head, execution-style. 

"The only thing missing is his maroon room-service vest, far as we 
can tell," The kitchen manager was saying, "But, of course, I suppose 
he could have been carrying something else without my knowledge. I 
already told the other police this." 

She turned toward Skinner and the man he interviewed. 

Skinner was nodding, grimly, looking down at the ground as he 
listened to the other man speak. 

He didn't take any notes. This turn of events was not a huge 
surprise. 

It had become obvious to Scully that the killer had been watching for 
an opportunity to take Mulder and saw her chance when Mulder had 
ordered room service. 

*She had apparently killed the hotel employee, perhaps using a 
silencer by the lack of witnesses, took his vest, and had posed as 
room service in order to drug Mulder's tea and deliver it to his room. 

The killer had then been able to lead a drugged Mulder to.... 

Where?! Where is Mulder right now? What is happening to him?* 

Scully felt the knot tighten her throat again. She tried to take a 
deep breath. 

She became aware of Skinner's appraising gaze on her. Scully averted 
her eyes quickly and turned away to look again at the dumpster. 

Skinner's worried look never wavered. 

******************************************************* 

Night fell. 

Mulder knew this because the little strips of light slowly vanished 
and the room became pitch black. 

*Cloudy night* 

He tried not to drink the water. He knew he should save it for what 
was to come. 

Mulder had found a bucket in the corner just before the sun 
completely disappeared and was able to attend to his basic needs. 

Bladder empty, he had sat on the small cot set up against one wall. 

*Scully and Skinner will find me* 

He tried to think of Scully and how she looked when she slept and how 
she looked when she worried and how she looked in those teal 
pajamas... 

Mulder sighed. This wasn't helping. Now all he could think about was 
the possibility that he'd never see Scully again. 

He decided to mentally go over his profiling notes, add any 
additional knowledge he could, and try to see if he couldn't make 
some headway on the case. 

Perhaps it could save his own life. 

The biggest concern Mulder had was the apparent revelation that the 
killer was a male. Scully and Skinner could be on the wrong track if 
they were following the tenative profile he had formed before his 
abduction. 

A scraping sound preceded a beam of light into the basement as Mulder 
scrambled to his feet and glared toward the opened door. 

"Who is it?" he called out, even though he knew he wouldn't get an 
answer. 

*Time to bait this guy and see I can get some information* 

"Wouldn't you like to know," said the sing-song voice with a laugh. 

The beam shone on the bottle of water and granola bar by the wall 
where Mulder had left them. 

"Saving them won't do you any good. I'll just take them from you 
when its time," he warned. 

"But if I die too soon, you don't get what you want from me, do you?" 
Mulder decided to use the only weapon he had against the killer - 
himself. 

"You said it yourself," Mulder added, "wouldn't want me checking out 
too soon." 

The killer seemed to be staring at him, but Mulder couldn't tell 
exactly WHAT was going on behind the beam of the flashlight. The 
small man was merely a shadow. 

"I could always take someone else. You are not indispensible, you 
know." 

His voice had become growly, barely restrained. 

"Why October 20th?" Mulder asked, "Why not just kill me now? What is 
it, some kind of sick anniversary?" 

The killer laughed harshly. 

"I'm not an idiot, Mr. Mulder. I may not be with the F.B.I., but I 
can see what you're doing." 

He seemed to be staring again. 

"With the brown hair and the light eyes.." he seemed to fade for a 
moment. 

"I bet you're into sports, aren't you?" 

Mulder frowned, wondering whether to lie or tell the truth. He 
decided to try a different tack. 

"No, actually. My job at the F.B.I. is profiling and its mostly 
paperwork. I don't get a lot of time to participate in sports or 
anything physical like that, why?" 

The killer flew into a fury. 

"That's not true! I saw you running! Its obvious!! Say it! Say it!! 
SAY IT!!!" 

His hysterical voice rose several octaves. 

He flung his flashlight without warning and it hit Mulder square in 
the forehead. 

Mulder's already dark world spun as he fell and began to recede into 
absolute blackness. 

"With the brown hair and the light eyes," the killer started again, 
this time spitting the words at Mulder, "and the jock mentality.... 
my father would have loved you." 

Mulder barely had time to wonder about that before his hearing 
followed his sight and he knew no more. 

***************************************************** 

Scully sat up and gasped. 

There was a pounding on the connecting door. 

She flung herself out of bed, tripping on the bedcovers, and stumbled 
to the door. 

*MULDER?!* 

Scully started to open it, rethought and grabbed her gun from the 
nightstand. 

She reached out a shaky hand to open the door as the pounding sounded 
again. 

"Open the door, Scully! Are you alright? If you don't answer me, I'm 
going to knock down the door!" 

Skinner's voice boomed through the barrier. 

She breathed heavily, set her weapon back down, and unlocked the door. 

He paced in, looking pale and holding his own gun ready in front of 
him. 

Not seeing a threat, he spun to squint at Scully where she still 
stood - hand still on the doorknob and looking confused. 

"What's wrong, sir? And why were you in Mulder's room?" 

His eyebrows shot up. 

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" he said, incredulously. 

She blinked at him. 

Skinner lowered his gun and stepped forward, placing a hand on her 
arm. 

"You were screaming. I couldn't tell what you were saying, but it 
sounded pretty bad. I wasn't sure if you were having some kind of 
nightmare or being attacked." 

He paused. 

Scully was biting her lip and trying not to cry in front of him. Her 
jaw set and he knew the tears would go no farther than the sheen he 
saw in her eyes. 

"I stayed in Mulder's room because, well.." He knew she wasn't going 
to like what he had to say. 

"I was worried." 

He cleared his throat and stepped back, dropping his hand. He waited 
for her inevitable anger. 

Skinner wasn't disappointed. 

Scully's eyes sparked blue fire. 

"Do I have to start telling you too, sir? I can take care of 
myself. It was just a nightmare. No big deal." 

She stalked to her front door and flung it open. 

"You may return to your own room, sir. I do not require a keeper." 

Skinner, she noticed for the first time, stood regarding her without 
his glasses - a mixture of defeat and concern in his brown eyes. He 
walked barefoot to her front door and gestured to his drawstring 
shorts - the only thing he wore. 

"I assume I am at least ALLOWED to get dressed before I am evicted?" 

She blushed, her anger gone as quickly as it came. 

"Yes sir." 

Skinner shuffled to Mulder's door, mumbling loud enough for her to 
hear, "Good thing nothing was wrong. Can't hit a damn thing without 
my glasses anyway." 

Scully smiled ruefully and shook her head as she went back into her 
room and shut the door. 

***************************************************** 

Mulder awoke to bright sunlight on his face and a throbbing pain in 
his head....and his stomach. 

His gut growled loudly. 

He sighed and sat up, tenatively. 

Mulder sat in one of the small rectangular patches of sunlight cast 
from the windows. 

*windows must face east* 

Hunger overwhelmed him. He looked around for the granola bar and was 
surprised to see it where he had left it. 

He broke it in half and ate one part. The other half he set back by 
the water. 

Mulder felt the knot on his forehead and was grateful that he 
couldn't see any blood where he had lain. 

*There could be internal injuries.* 

He could hear Scully's voice distinctly in his head. 

*That's what she would say if she were here. And she'd feel around on 
my head with her fingers as though she were doing some sort of 
telepathic x-ray of her own.* 

He smiled at the idea and imagined her reaction to such a notion. 

Mulder could clearly see her giving him "The Look." 

He unscrewed the top of the water and took a drink. He slowly 
swished it around in his mouth and then swallowed it. 

He had to be careful with his water too. 

Mulder wondered if there was somewhere he could hide a stash of water 
for later. 

He could convince the killer that he'd drank all the water - empty 
bottle - and the killer'd never know the difference. 

Except Mulder searched the basement and there was nothing. 

He sat heavily on the cot and decided to try to work on the profile 
again. 

Mulder considered the killer's comment about his father and stared 
into space - eyes unfocused - as he mentally reviewed his notes. 

He did not see the killer kneeling down by one of the basement 
windows, regarding his captive.... 

and smiling wickedly. 

****************************************************** 

The killer opened the door with a creak right before sunup. 

Mulder sat up on the cot and tried, in vain, to stare at him in the 
darkness. 

Last night, during his ruminations, Mulder had developed a plan. 

"I've come to tell you that you had better go ahead and finish up 
your water and the other half of that bar. Today, we begin." 

The calm, pleased way he said it sent a shiver along Mulder's spine. 

The killer turned to leave. 

"So, how old will you be this October 20th?" 

Mulder knew he was taking a shot in the dark...literally. 

But, after analyzing the facts last night, he'd come to realize that 
the killer's mention of his father had been a major clue. 

It had to have something to do with the killer's birth. 

Mulder hoped so, anyway. 

He was still working on the significance of the other words the 
killer had spoken to him. 

*Light eyes? Brown hair? Jock mentality? Why are these 
characteristics important?* 

The killer spun, eyes wide in the pale light beginning outside the 
small windows as the sun rose. 

"How? How did you find out? HOW?!" 

Mulder hoped the small man wasn't carrying anything solid to throw at 
him. 

"I'll be 35. And not the man my father wanted at all," the killer 
spit at him as the light across his face changed to 
amber, "Satisfied, Agent Mulder?" 

The feral smile returned. 

"If you think this information will help you at all, you are 
mistaken. Your friends are SO on the wrong track. They won't find 
you in time." 

The killer snorted in amusement and stepped from the basement, 
slamming the heavy door. 

Mulder let out the breath he had been holding. 

*But I AM on the right track...* 

He picked up the bottle of water and the leftover granola bar and sat 
on the cot to nourish himself. 

He had the feeling it was going to be a long time before he got the 
chance to do so again. 

******************************************************* 

The female employees were interviewed. 

The notes were spread across the large table in the conference room 
at the Burton Police Department. 

The local cops had given the two F.B.I. agents the run of the place 
and a wide berth, having no leads of their own. 

It was all up to Scully and Skinner. 

"This isn't right. She isn't here," Scully tossed another manila 
folder to the side with disgust. 

"I've checked the date October 20th against the records of each of 
the females interviewed and it came back with nothing. And each of 
the women has a solid alibi for the time when Mulder was kidnapped." 

"Of course, October 20th could be a date that is only significant to 
the killer and not a date that would be listed in a personnel 
record," Skinner played Devil's advocate from where he sat opposite 
from her. 

Scully nodded impatiently, flicking a stray strand of red hair behind 
her ear as she shuffled the papers, "I know, but that doesn't explain 
the alibis." 

She held up a hand, "And before you say it, I know that one of the 
people providing the alibis could in fact be an accomplice." 

She sighed explosively. 

"But to be honest I am getting the feeling that we are running in 
circles here. The killer is not one of these women." 

Skinner's brows raised. 

*Mulder would be so proud. She 'gets the feeling?'* 

Aloud, he said, "Then the profile is wrong?" 

Scully paused. 

"I've never known Mulder's profiles to be wrong," she stated 
quietly, "but maybe in the state of mind he's been in..." 

She let the thought trail off. 

Skinner looked down at his hands. 

"It IS something we should consider," he finished for her. 

Scully nodded and slammed the folder shut that she held in her hand. 

"Let's start on the male employees." 

******************************************************** 

Mulder was making himself crazy. 

The basement was utterly silent. 

He listened for street noises, but there were none. 

He listened for movement in the rooms above him, but could hear 
nothing. 

Utter and complete quiet. 

And it was driving him nuts. 

His mind wandered... 

He wondered what Scully was doing right now. 

Mulder closed his eyes.... 

She would be following the profile he left. 

*The WRONG profile, apparently.* 

He tried to picture she and Skinner interviewing suspects. 
Discounting leads. 

Eventually she would come to the conclusion that his profile had been 
wrong. 

But would it be in time? 

The door to his 'cell' began to open slowly. 

Mulder blinked back to his surroundings and stood as he always did, 
although it did no good and gave him no defense against anything the 
killer should decide to do to him. 

To his shock, a woman stepped in and regarded him with a half-smile 
on her thin lips. 

"Surprise," said her sing-song voice. 

Mulder's jaw dropped. 

Maybe he'd been right after all. 

******************************************************** 

*Ohhhhkaaaay...* 

Skinner blinked in disbelief. 

*Um, Mulder is definitely never hearing about this. Definitely* 

He almost laughed at himself. He sounded like Rainman. Even if it 
was only in his thoughts. 

Skinner lay very still, on his right side, facing his...problem..and 
wondering what he should do. 

Get up and make a run for it? 

Lay there and pretend to be asleep and let HER wake up and make a run 
for it? 

Pretend it was no big deal, get up and go back to his room and get 
ready for the day like a mature FIFTY year old adult? 

His inner child wanted to get up and run for it. 

*Mulder is going to either kill me or laugh himself into a seizure 
over this* 

Scully opened her eyes suddenly, saw him lying nose-to-nose with her, 
sparse inches separating them, and gasped. 

*Damn! Waited too long!* 

Skinner tried a tenative smile. 

"Um, good morning, Agent Scully?" 

He cursed himself mentally when it came out sounding like a question. 

She blinked rapidly as though trying to wake up. 

Scully must have decided this was really happening, because a smile 
then formed on her face. In fact, her smile was in serious danger of 
becoming a chuckle. 

"Good morning, sir," she choked out, successfully. 

They lay there regarding each other. 

A abrupt laugh puffed across Skinner's face. Scully couldn't help it. 

She rolled to her back and laughed. 

"I'm sorry, sir, but," she took a deep breath to stop the next 
chuckle, "the look on your face. And, for a moment, I was even, 
like, 'What the-', and then I remembered-" 

She interrupted herself with another chuckle. 

Skinner rolled to his back and sat up, slowly. He shook his head at 
Scully's blurrily laughing figure. 

"Oh, yeah, real funny. Do you have any idea what this would look 
like if someone were to walk in here?" 

He gestured to the door as someone knocked. The two of them jumped. 
Scully was startled into silence. 

Since it was her room, Scully answered, "Who is it?" 

"Maid service, ma'am." 

They relaxed and sighed. 

"Not today, thank you," Scully shouted to the door. 

"Yes ma'am," the maid could be heard shuffling away. 

Skinner reached up an pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"I think I'm getting a headache already, and the day has barely 
started." 

He looked around, but details of the room remained out of focus. 

"And where are my damn glasses?" 

Skinner felt his glasses placed in his hand. He put them on and the 
situation sharply came into focus. 

He and Scully sat side by side, on top of the covers, fully-clothed, 
a notebook, pen and a couple of files scattered between them. 

The rest of the files and the pizza debris were on the small table 
across the room. 

It would be obvious to anyone that the two had fallen asleep working 
on the case. 

His eyes rested again on Scully. She was looking at him with a 
smirk. 

"Feel better now, sir?" 

He blushed all the way to the top of his head. 

"I'll go to my room, clean up and meet you at the cafe' for breakfast 
in..say..30 minutes?" 

She nodded, becoming serious again. 

"I want to get right back to work on this, sir. I think I have an 
idea how to flush our killer out into the open." 

******************************************************* 

Mulder awoke to the smell of woman's cologne. 

He hadn't even realized he'd slept again. 

And dreamless for a change. 

He'd slept the sleep of the weak and spent. 

Once more, the smell of perfume assailed his senses. It wasn't 
particularly strong, just obvious. 

*must have happened when she moved me* 

The beginning of the case came flooding back to him in technicolor 
detail. 

Scully had smelled women's cologne on the third victim's clothing 
before it had a chance to dissipate. 

He put two and two together. 

When the killer was herself, she dressed like a woman. That included 
the cologne. 

Mulder wished he could talk to Scully and Skinner. He wondered if 
they were even close to finding him. 

He wondered how Scully would handle it when he turned up dead. 

******************************************************* 

Skinner and Scully sat across from one another, plates pushed aside, 
hunched over a small pile of files and papers. 

"So, your plan is standard police work?" Skinner said. 

Scully nodded. 

"I have here the addresses of our two main suspects. I also have 
addresses of close relatives," she shuffled through the papers,"What 
I am proposing we do is narrow down the list of residences to those 
with basements or cellars." 

"In this part of the country, that isn't going to narrow it down 
much, if at all," Skinner interjected. 

"I know, but its something," Scully continued impatiently,"Then, I 
want to show up at the remaining residences at random. I don't want 
there to be any warning to the residents themselves." 

"We don't have a search warrant," Skinner pointed out, "and we aren't 
likely to get one for so many residences at once. A judge won't sign 
off on a 'Hail Mary' shot, Scully." 

"It isn't just random residences," Scully protested, "These are 
suspects-" 

"The relatives aren't," Skinner interrupted, "and the judge may see 
it as a violation of their rights." 

"We're talking about a man's life here! October is day after 
tomorrow!" 

Several restaurant patrons looked up at Scully's raised voice. 

Skinner cleared his throat. 

"Scully, calm down. I think your plan is fine. I just want you to 
be aware that we won't be able to just bust down the door of each of 
these residences and search them without a search warrant or probable 
cause. Just being related to the suspect is not enough reason to be 
under suspicion." 

Scully's eyes held a desperate look. 

"Day after tomorrow," she repeated, "There isn't enough time for 
this." 

"We'll do the best we can. We'll get the locals to help," Skinner 
reassured her. 

Scully nodded and began to shove the mess on the table back into her 
briefcase. 

It was all they could do. 

********************************************************************** 

The small man walked tiredly up the rickety stairs of the old 
farmhouse. 

He wondered idly why it was so warm in October. 

Sweat caused the light blue workshirt to stick to his frame and he 
had a sudden worry that the binding underneath showed. 

*Naw. I've gotten too good at it now. Noone suspects.* 

At this thought, he traced his finger around the name sewn over his 
left breast pocket. 

*Earl. Much better than Arlene, right Dad?* 

He paused and turned to admire the afternoon sun. It had been a 
short day today at his new job at the gas station. Not a job he 
particularly wanted, but a job he had taken out of neccesity. 

*After all, even psychos have to eat.* 

He chortled to himself at the thought. 

The killer would be caught soon. He was beginning to come to terms 
with that. 

But, when it was over he would have rid the world of four of his 
father's ideal sons. 

Four "all-American" men. 

The killer smiled to himself. This last one would be his masterpiece. 

Not only athletic, but brilliant as well. 

His father would have been bursting with pride had this man been his 
son. 

*Oh yes, it will a pleasure to rid the world of Agent Mulder.* 

He smiled wider. 

This one would be his legacy. 

The killer turned and strode into his home. This was his favorite 
part of the day. 

*The Unveiling* 

He thought of it as the shedding of his mask. 

Earl strolled into his bedroom, stripping off the blue shirt as he 
went and letting it flutter to the floor. 

Next went the white undershirt, revealing a tight wrapping around his 
chest. 

He continued his walk smoothly into the bathroom, slowly unwinding 
the binding and sighing as he slowly... 

surely... 

became Arlene. 

She moaned as her breasts were finally freed from their prison. 

*Like the most constrictive bra ever made* 

She resisted the urge to scratch madly, quickly undressing and 
stepping into the shower. 

Arlene turned the water to a hot temperature and proceeded to scrub 
away the day's sweat and grime. 

She steamed up the bathroom and then stepped primly from behind the 
curtain, a changed person. 

The killer began her ritual. 

The ritual she had established from the beginning....with the first 
murder. 

She wanted the victims to know it was a woman who killed them. 

A mere woman. 

Arlene wanted her father to know, somehow from his deep, deserving 
grave, that SHE killed them. 

She relived the killing of her first *lamb* (as she thought of him) 
in her mind as she dropped her towel to the floor and walked nude to 
the dresser by the bed. 

The killer picked up her perfume bottle and began to dab it on her 
wrists...her neck....behind her knees. 

She then splashed a little over her palms and rubbed it up and down 
her arms, over her chest and over the top of her hair. 

Arlene loved the smell of this cologne. It was sweet...feminine...It 
smelled like flowers. 

She applied her makeup with care. 

Did her hair best she could, considering its boyish cut. 

Then she donned silky, dainty underwear, a flowery blouse and a pair 
of faded, blood-spattered jeans. 

The killer sighed. She would have rather have worn a dress for this, 
but she was nothing if not practical. 

She traced one of the light stains with her finger. 

*Bleach just doesn't work on blood very well* 

Her attention was diverted by the sight of her nails. She wished she 
could grow them...paint them. 

But that would be a dead giveaway in her everyday life. 

And she had been taught by her father long ago that the world would 
eat her alive if she lived as a woman. 

Arlene snorted with ironic amusement. Her father, the very one who 
made her believe she was inferior for being born female, laughed at 
her when he discovered she was living her life as a male. 

She thought she had found a way to earn his approval. She made a 
pretty fair guy. Her co-workers seemed to appreciate 'him.' 

She got comfortable with the role. So comfortable, in fact, that she 
had decided to reveal herself to her father. 

Big mistake. 

The man derided her for her delusions. Called her names. Laughed. 
Said that not only was she a failure because she wasn't a boy like 
she should have been, but now was a failure at being a woman as well. 

He thought that was hilarious. 

Arlene did not. 

She never spoke to her father again, but continued living as a man. 
She was addicted to the approval she received at work. 

And maybe a small part of her still wished she could have been her 
father's son. 

When she received word that her parents had perished in a car 
accident, instead of feeling glad or sad or upset....she merely felt 
cheated. 

Now she would never be able to prove to him that she could be what he 
wanted. 

The anger built inside her. 

She hated him for all he had done to her and now she hated him for 
leaving before she could prove him wrong. 

She hated her mother for sitting by and doing nothing. 

The anger built inside her. 

The trigger came one unlikely afternoon when 'he' was working in a 
sporting goods store. 

An employee brought his new baby son in for everyone to see. 

He bragged and bragged about his son's athletic future. He joked 
about his obvious budding athletic prowess. 

Something inside of Arlene snapped. 

That man's brother had been her first victim. She couldn't bring 
herself to kill the man himself, not with the new baby. 

She did have SOME scruples. 

The next one was easy. 

Arlene had found him while working at a local delivery company. 

He was the epitome of a big, dumb, arrogant, jock. 

It was the third one that shook her a bit. 

The killer assumed too much about him. She looked at him and saw the 
same qualities that she had loathed in the second man. 

It was only after she had already abducted him in preparation for 
the 'sacrifice' that she had discovered that he had cancer. 

He had just been diagnosed. She had found the papers in his pocket. 

Not only that, but in his wallet were pictures of him coaching in a 
local Special Olympics. 

Arlene had tried to backtrack. She gave him water in an effort to 
give herself more time to think of a plan to return him, unharmed. 

But it was too late. He knew too much. 

So, she killed him and vowed to be more careful choosing the next one. 

*And now I have found the perfect sacrifice.* 

The killer straightened her blouse and smoothed her hair. 

She regarded her reflection, paused, and smiled. 

********************************************************************** 

Mulder drifted in and out of reality.

His mouth felt sticky.

His stomach had settled into a constant, hollow ache.

Mulder was having a little trouble distinguishing reality from 
hallucination.

He had conversations with his sister.  She appeared beside him on the 
floor, forever eight years old, and he took the opportunity to 
apologize for failing her all those years ago.

Samantha sat listening as he rambled, nightgown stretched over her 
folded knees as she hugged them to her chest.

When he ran out of things to say, she merely shook her head as though 
he were being silly.  Samantha smiled at him affectionately.

Mulder reached out to her, but she vanished like smoke.

His father appeared abruptly next to him in her place, causing Mulder 
to jump.

Mulder's father began to berate him.  He accused him of wrongdoing in 
Samantha's disappearance.  He ranted about Mulder's choice to attend 
Oxford, so far away from home.  He blamed Mulder for Mulder's 
mother's breakdown.  He belittled Mulder's choice of career and his 
profiling ability.

Mulder sat, head down, trying to remind himself that he was suffering 
from delusions caused by dehydration, starvation, and isolation.

When he couldn't take it anymore, he began to fight back.  The anger 
burst like a dam and words began to pour from him.  Words he had 
always wanted to say to his father.

He told his father he loved him.  He told his father he hated him.  
He screamed at him for abandoning him after Sam's abduction.  He 
begged to know the reason for his father's abuse.  Mulder finally 
told him his reason for fleeing to Oxford. Escape.  He admitted his 
uncanny ability to crawl inside criminal's minds even disturbed him 
sometimes.

He wondered why his father hated him.

"WHY?!" Mulder screamed at the apparation of his father.

The ghost from his past disappeared like a popped soap bubble.

Mulder began to weep.

The killer watched from the doorway, stunned.

********************************************************

Scully stood on the porch of a small farmhouse, flanked by Skinner.

They were on their own.  

Skinner had been right.  No judge would issue such a broad search 
warrant.

The local PD thought the agents were out-of-bounds and leaving 
themselves open to lawsuits.  Violation of civil rights.

They wanted nothing to do with it.

Scully knocked firmly.

After a few seconds, the suspect from the post office opened the 
door.  He looked surprised.

And a little scared.

"Yes?"

"Sir, Do you remember us? Agent Scully and A.D. Skinner from the 
F.B.I.?"

"Yes, and I thought I told you I didn't do it.  I was out with my 
friends."

"Yes sir, and we checked on that.  Your friends do indeed claim that 
you were with them on the night in question."

Skinner stood, silent and strong, behind her.

The guy swallowed nervously as looked at him.

"So, what's this all about then?" he said to the two of them.

"Do you have a basement or cellar?" Scully asked.

"Yes, why?"

"May we see it, please?" Scully hoped she didn't sound as desperate 
as she felt.

"Why?" The man was getting angry, "Why do you need to see my 
basement?"

"If you will just show us your basement, we will gladly answer your 
questions, sir."

The man considered them with narrow, suspicious eyes.

"Alright. Come on," he pushed the door open and began to walk away, 
trusting the agents to follow.

Scully and Skinner followed cautiously.

The man led them to the corner of his kitchen.

He opened a heavy wooden door.

Narrow stairs led into the darkness.

The man flicked on a light switch and started down the stairs and 
Scully and Skinner stepped carefully after  him.  Scully reached 
behind her to place a hand on her gun and watched the man's every 
movement.

The stairs ended in a sharp turn.

Scully and Skinner stood, defeated.

The man stood in the middle of his basement.  It was filled with 
dusty boxes, old equipment, and assorted junk.

"Now will you tell me what this is all about?" The man said, hands on 
hips.

Scully closed her eyes and shook her head.

"Let's just say that you have...narrowed things down a bit."

She felt Skinner put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder.

******************************************************

The killer looked down at Mulder from the doorway to the basement.

She felt chest flutter with anxiety.  Had she done it again? Chosen 
poorly?

It sounded as though his father was no prize either.

The fantasies she had in her mind of this man before her and his 
father playing catch and spending afternoons absorbed in football 
games began to dissolve.

The visions she had of Mulder's father patting him on the back with 
pride when he joined the F.B.I.....melted.

Had this man been hurt just as she had?

*What have I done?*

She clasped her hand over her mouth and fled from the dank basement, 
slamming the door behind her.

*********************************************************************

Scully sat with her arms crossed, staring - as had become her habit - 
out the passenger-side window.

"There's no point in checking that man's relatives," she said, 
suddenly.
"Its obviously not him.  It has to be the other guy."

She reached for her pocket notebook and glanced at it.

"Earl Green."

Skinner simply nodded and stared straight ahead, driving.

But one thought kept going around and around in his head.

*Tomorrow is October 20th; what if we're wrong?*

**********************************************************************
*

Skinner took the lead at the remaining suspect's residence.

Scully's determined expression changed to a frown as the drive they 
walked up expanded into a parking lot.

It was an apartment building.

"Wait, this can't be right," Scully started.

Skinner took out his notes and looked at them.  "This is the correct 
address for Earl Green."

He looked back at Scully. "Apartment buildings have basements, too."

But she was shaking her head, "An apartment building's basement would 
be too busy, too high-profile," she sighed, "Let's go check it out 
anyway.  Maybe there's something we're missing, not thinking of."

*This has to be it* Scully ground her teeth.  *If not, we've lost 
Mulder.  How can we redo the profile and find him by tomorrow?*

The two continued stalking toward the run-down apartment building in 
silence.

Earl Green's apartment was on the corner of the first floor.

Skinner knocked while Scully stood behind him to one side.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Nothing.

"He's probably at work.  Didn't we find out he got a new job at-"

Skinner once again consulted his notes, "-a gas station?"

Scully nodded.

"Let's check out the basement."

Scully and Skinner entered the building in search of the 
superintendent.

**********************************************************************
**

Arlene paced in her bedroom.

*wrong...wrong...wrong...this is going so wrong...*

Being eventually caught she had expected.  Looked forward to it, 
almost.

But being wrong, AGAIN, about the sacrifice....

She felt like she was going to fly apart.

*I have morals.  I only kill those that deserve it.  How could I have 
been wrong twice?*

She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

Arlene flew at it, enraged, and smashed the glass with her fist.

**********************************************************************
***

As the darkness began to descend again in the basement, Mulder lay 
very still.

Flat on his back now, he stared unseeing at the ceiling, no longer 
able to distinguish between what was real and what was in his mind.

His perception changed from darkness to surreal visions of his past 
and back again.

Mulder's lips curled in a small smile.

Scully knelt beside him.  She wasn't wearing one of her severe F.B.I. 
suits, but what he knew was her favorite 'bumming around the house' 
outfit.  He loved it when she wore that.  It made her look 
so...unaffected.  She smiled gently at him and reached out to stroke 
his hair.

*sleep now; its alright* his Scully seemed to say.

Mulder closed his eyes with a sigh.

**********************************************************************
**

Scully stomped back outside the apartment building while Skinner 
stayed behind and made their farewells to the kind superintendent.

The apartment basement was full of old air conditioners, cleaning 
supplies, assorted parts and junk.  The building also had a separate 
laundry room which the two agents had checked out.

Nothing.

Scully strode back to stand in front of Earl Green's door.  

*One of these men has to be it!  The profile couldn't have been that 
far off.  We can't start over! We can't...*


She felt hot tears form in the corners of her eyes and took a deep 
breath to ward them off.

Scully glanced over at Skinner.  He and the superintendent were still 
talking.

She pressed her face to the window by the door and cupped her hands 
around her face to block the sunlight.

She could see nothing around the venetian blinds.

Scully stepped from the small landing and walked around the corner of 
the building, the perimeter of Earl Green's apartment.

As she stepped down to the grass and around the side of the building, 
a curtain fluttering out an open window caught her eye.

*Bingo*

Scully quickly jogged to it.  The ground sloped downward as she 
approached the window.  She was unable to see into it, and cursed her 
height.

She turned to get Skinner when a particularly strong gust of wind 
blew her hair in her face.

She reached up to push it back and stopped.

The curtains above her fluttered again in the breeze.

*I know that smell.  Cologne.  Women's cologne.*

Scully felt her face pale.  She looked up at the open window and 
dashed back toward the front of the building.

"Skinner!"

**********************************************************************

Scully was standing impatiently at Skinner's elbow.

"What do you see? What?"

"Well, ol' Earl likes flowery, frilly decorations," Skinner leaned 
back from the window and dusted himself off, "Either he is very in 
touch with his feminine side, or Earl's got a woman living with him."

"I say let's go in," Scully said.

The superintendent, who had been standing silently a few feet away, 
piped up.

"Mr. Green doesn't have a woman living with him as far as I know, but 
if you need in, I have a key."

Scully and Skinner looked at one another.  The probable cause they 
had for entering and searching Earl Green's residence was skimpy, at 
best.

They came to a silent decision. 

"Yes, we'd like in," Skinner said to the superintendent.

It was the only lead they had.

The three of them walked around the apartment and the super keyed 
them in.

**********************************************************************
*

It was late afternoon now.

'Earl' hadn't gone to work today; he'd called in sick.

Arlene sat on her porch, watching the shifting shadows as time passed.

She thought about the man dying in her basement.

*Well, I've been in this situation once before.  At least I'll know 
better than to give him water this time to prolong it.*

She knew the time was getting close.

There was, of course, only one thing to be done.

**********************************************************************
**

Mulder's eyes opened.

He felt lethargic.

His tongue kept sticking to the roof of his mouth and it hurt to 
swallow.

The pain in his stomach had gone away.

His Scully still sat beside him, smiling her gentle smile.

*I'm coming* he heard her voice *I'm coming*

Mulder felt certain that it would be too late, so, he tried 
desperately to say goodbye.

"Scuh-" he coughed and tried to swallow.  Mulder moaned in pain.

His Scully shook her head with a concerned frown *Rest now. Rest.*

*I'm coming* her soft voice smoothed his furrowed brow *I'm coming*

**********************************************************************
*****

If a person didn't bother to look in the bedroom, Earl's apartment 
looked like any regular bachelor's apartment.

Only, once the bedroom door was opened, it became obvious that all 
was not what it seemed with Earl.

"Is there a girlfriend?" Skinner was asking the super as Scully dug 
through Earl's chest of drawers.

She found a drawer of frilly panties and bras.  There were also 
several wide bandages in the drawer.

She closed the drawer as Skinner and the super talked and opened the 
next one.

Nightgowns.

"I hesitate to mention it, because she doesn't live here, but Mr. 
Green does have a twin sister," the super volunteered.

Skinner and Scully both stared at him.

"That wasn't in his personal info," Scully finally said to Skinner.

"Nice lady," the super said, "comes by and takes care of the place 
when he's out of town or runs errands for him.  Stuff like that."

Scully and Skinner looked at one another again.  Both had the same 
suspicion, but neither wanted to voice it yet.

She turned back to digging through drawers.

"How well do you know this sister, sir?" Skinner was saying.

Scully opened the bottom drawer. It was filled with papers.  She 
began shuffling through them.

"Is her name Arlene?" Scully said abruptly, interrupting the two men.

"Yes, I believe it is. Why?"

"We got her, sir.  We got her," Scully held up a formal-looking 
document.

It was the title to a small house and a piece of land outside of town 
under the name Arlene Green.  It had been recently paid off.

Scully resisted the urge to yell, "YES!", and stuffed the document in 
her pocket.

**********************************************************************
***

Arlene sat on the edge of her bed, looking out the window and 
watching the sun go down.

She reached in between the mattresses and pulled out the gun there.

Gently placing the gun on the bed, she pattered over to the chest of 
drawers and pulled open the top drawer.

Withdrawing the box of bullets there, she returned to her perch on 
the bed and began loading bullets, slowly, one by one.

Soon she would do what needed to be done.

**********************************************************************
***

Scully and Skinner raced through the rapidly fading sunlight with a 
crinkled map, bumping along dirt roads and stopping now and then to 
stare at faded signs.

"Damn! I think we should have gone left back there, sir."

Skinner started to look for a place to turn around when he did a 
double-take at a faded sign as they passed it.

"I think you're wrong, Scully.  The sign back there said 14702.  
Isn't that-"

"Yes! Yes it is! Turn around quick!" Scully yelled as Skinner 
practically did a full 180 degree turn in the middle of the narrow 
dirt road.

Scully clutched the dashboard, but said nothing.

They needed to get there as fast as they could.

**********************************************************************
******

Arlene caressed the loaded gun in her lap.

*The sunset is beautiful this evening.  I almost wish Mulder could 
see it.  It would be a small apology for my actions.*

She sighed as the sun continued to slip away.

**********************************************************************
******

Mulder had passed into unconciousness.

In his fertile mind, he sat in a white room on a white chair, dressed 
in a white hospital gown.

The gown was too short and he kept trying to tug it down over his 
knees.

To his shock, his Scully appeared in a chair next to him.

Mulder smiled. "Scully, what are you doing here? Actually, while 
you're at it, what am I doing here?"

His Scully folded her arms across her chest.

"This is your vision of Heaven, Mulder.  My guess is that you 
couldn't imagine what it must be like.  That's why all the white.  
And it obviously makes you feel very vulnerable," she gestured at the 
gown he wore.

"But it is nice to know that you think being with me is Heaven," she 
smiled a big, genuine grin.

"So far, I like your subconcious," she joked.

He grinned back and looked around at the white room. 

*What else would be in his imagined Heaven?*

His Scully placed a letter in his lap.

"It's from your sister," she said, "she wants you to know that she's 
in a better place and that she doesn't blame you for anything that 
has happened."

Mulder turned the letter over and over in his hands.

He looked up at his Scully. "Really?"

She looked back at him, seriously. "Really."

To his right appeared a small table with what looked like a large 
stack of books on it.

Upon closer inspection, he found that the large volumes stacked on 
the table were lists.  Lists of the good he'd done in his life and 
lists of the bad.

The largest ones were not the ones he expected.

Mulder turned again to look at his Scully.

"I love you, you know," he told her, even though he was faintly aware 
he was only talking to a vision of Scully.

"I know.  I love you, too, Mulder," she said with a smile and leaned 
over to give him a light kiss on his lips.

"It won't be long now," she said, cryptically.

**********************************************************************
******

As Skinner sped along over the darkening, dusty road, Scully tried 
her new theory out on him.

"..so, I think the original profile was actually right.  The killer 
is a woman, living as a man."

"You're saying that Earl dresses as a woman?"

"No, no, I'm saying Arlene dresses as Earl.  She lives as a man.  But 
she must kill them as herself.  At least, I'm guessing that from the 
cologne that was on the third victim's clothes and from the smell of 
it on the female trappings in 'Earl's' bedroom at the apartment."

Skinner chanced glancing away from the road at her. "That's a thin 
thread to follow, Scully."

Her jaw tightened in the half-light. "Not really, sir.  The cologne 
is the connection.  And, whoever 'Earl' is, there still is no alibi 
for the night of Mulder's abduction."

"You know, I thought maybe Earl was a cross-dresser when we found all 
of those women's clothes and the bandages.  Some of the lady perps we 
picked up on some of my early busts with the bureau used to use those 
to bind their breasts so they could disguise themselves as men," 
Skinner commented.

"Actually, that's what made it finally fall together for me.  That 
and the comments about the 'twin sister.' " Scully agreed.

They both fell silent as a ramshackle farmhouse appeared in the dim 
distance.

**********************************************************************
****

Arlene got up from the bed as the edge of the sun disappeared from 
the horizon.

Usually, by her routine, this night was for the sacrifice and the 
next day was for the cleansing.

She had spent her birthday for the last few years dumping the bodies, 
scrubbing the basement, and washing her jeans.

She walked to the heavy wooden door and lifted the plank blocking it.

She paused as she opened it to admire the expensive sound-proofing 
she'd installed in preparation for her father's, and the world's, 
punishment. 

Leaving the door ajar, she stepped into the almost pitch blackness of 
the basement and began to descend the stairs.

Arlene stared at her 'lamb' as she approached him.  He looked 
perfect.  How could she have been so mistaken?

She paused and watched for movement before she approached. 

There was none.

Arlene knelt beside him and took his head into her lap.

Looking down into his pained face, she stroked his cheek with one 
hand and cocked the gun with the other.

*Last one....no more mistakes....must get it right...the only 
solution...*

She apologized to Mulder as she bent over him and squeezed the 
trigger.

**********************************************************************

Scully and Skinner only paused a moment as they ran up the stairs to 
the front porch.

"F.B.I.!" Scully yelled as Skinner kicked in the door with one 
decisive blow.

The door flapped inward with a loud thump against the wall behind it 
as the two agents barged in, weapons drawn.

The house was silent.

"Arlene Green?!" Scully shouted.

The sharp retort of a gunshot sounded from the back of the house.

"No!" Scully screamed as she dashed off in the direction of the noise.

Skinner ran behind her, a grim expression on his face.

*******************************************************

Scully immediately saw the large wooden door hanging open in the back 
of the bedroom.

*too late...too late...too late...*

She reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a small 
flashlight as she approached the doorway.

Gun drawn, flashlight illuminating the narrow stairway, Scully 
cautiously called into the darkness.

"Arlene Green? F.B.I., come out with your hands up where I can see 
them!"

Skinner's breath puffed across her ear, causing her to shiver eerily.

"Ditch the flashlight.  You're making yourself a target."

Scully knew that, of course, but all she could think of was 
Mulder...shot.

He needed an ambulance.  ASAP.  He didn't have time for all of this.

She clicked off her flashlight, and tried to let her eyes adjust.

It was no use.  The basement was pitch black.

Scully clicked her flashlight back on and started down the stairs.

******************************************************

Skinner had to fight the urge to pull her bodily from the basement 
doorway.

*She's an F.B.I. agent, trained for this just like you, Walter.  Stop 
trying to be chivalrous.*

But it didn't stop him from breathing a quick piece of advice in her 
ear.

To his surprise, she took his advice and turned the light off.

Unfortunately, it became obvious to both of them that there was not 
enough natural light in the basement to see by.

He resigned himself to follow Scully down the black stairwell.

He withdrew his own flashlight, lit it, and stepped after her.

******************************************************

Whatever horrors they had expected to find, it hadn't been this.

Arlene Green was slumped over Mulder's prone figure, half her skull 
blown away.  Brain matter, bone and hair were spattered on the wall 
beside them.

The gun lay limply in her hand, her other on Mulder's face.

Scully holstered her gun and approached the scene carefully.

"Mulder?" she whispered, kneeling beside him.

She couldn't see his face for Arlene's hand and blood covered him in 
a red sheet.

"Mulder?" Scully said again and reached out a tenative hand to feel 
for his pulse.

She found it and turned back to Skinner, triumphantly.

"He's alive.  We need an ambulance," she gestured with her now bloody 
fingers.

Skinner pulled out his cellphone and went up the stairs to get better 
reception.

After a few seconds, she could hear his booming voice talking to the 
9-1-1 operator.

"Help's coming, Mulder," she told him quietly, resisting the urge to 
push the killer's body from him.  She knew she shouldn't disturb the 
scene.

"Hold on, Mulder," Scully choked back a sob, "Hold on."

****************************************************

Scully watched Mulder's face as he lay unconcious in the hospital bed.

The worst was over.

She sighed heavily and shifted in her chair.

Or was it?

Oh, he would wake up from his injuries and dehydration soon.  The 
doctors had reassured her of that and she'd seen his chart for 
herself.

She watched the I.V. drip slowly into the tube leading to his hand.

No, her concerns didn't lie with the physical.

Now that she and Skinner had found Mulder and the physical danger was 
pretty much over, she found her mind turning to other matters.

Like, why was he drinking that night in the first place?  And, was it 
the first time he had tried to self-medicate his nightmares with 
alcohol?  How long had this been going on?

And were the nightmares only about his sister, or were there other 
things in Mulder's past that she didn't know about.

Mulder could be such a loner sometimes, she wondered if perhaps she'd 
missed the signs.

His father had been an alcoholic.  Scully knew these things could be 
genetic.

How many nights had he sat alone in his apartment, getting quietly 
drunk so that he could pass into a dreamless sleep?

Or had he ever done that?

How many of the late-night phone calls she'd received from Mulder had 
been an attempt to resist the urge to drink himself into 
forgetfulness?

She realized there was so much she didn't know.

But she was going to ask him, when the time was right.  And she was 
going to be watching him a little closer.

Skinner appeared at the door, holding it open with one hand and 
frowning with concern at the man in the bed.

Scully had the feeling she wouldn't be the only one keeping an eye on 
Mulder.

She smiled reassuringly at Skinner.  

His eyes lost some of their worry and he started to speak when his 
cellphone trilled.

Skinner made an apologetic face and stepped back into the hallway, 
the door shutting behind him.

Scully turned her attention back to the man in the bed.

There were a lot of things she'd been thinking about.

She'd almost lost this man.  Her friend.  Her partner.

Scully sighed.  She knew she shouldn't fall in love with Mulder, but 
feared it was too late.

Yes, 'partners' was the perfect word to describe the two of them.  

Shared joy.  Shared pain.

She wondered why he hadn't shared this particular pain with her.

What had been done to him in his past that he had so much emotional 
baggage?

Was he ashamed that he'd turned to alcohol?

Maybe the time in the hotel had been the first time?

These are things they would have to talk about.

Mulder's hand twitched and she stepped forward to take it.

His hazel eyes opened, confused.

She leaned over him.

Mulder's face lit up when he saw her.

He smiled.

She smiled back and, bending forward, placed a kiss softly on his 
lips.

His eyes held surprise when she pulled away.

Then he smiled again, this time wider.

His hand squeezed hers.

She squeezed back.

Scully reached forward, and stroked his hair.

Neither spoke.  She knew he couldn't because of his throat and she 
felt no need to use words right now anyway.

His eyes began to flutter as she stroked his hair.

Mulder struggled against sleep, his innate curiousity shining in his 
eyes.

Scully knew he wanted to ask her questions.  Find out what happened.  
Ask how it was that he was not dead.

She was not looking forward to telling him that noone was quite sure 
why Arlene had killed herself and not Mulder.

Perhaps they would never know.

There would be time for all of that later as well.

She continued to lightly stroke his hair.

Mulder's eyes closed, long lashes resting on pale cheeks, and his 
breathing evened out.  Not the breathing of a man unconcious, but 
that of a man who is enjoying hard-earned rest.

Scully wondered if his mother had ever comforted him this way after a 
childhood nightmare.

She wondered if Mulder had ever been truly happy at all.

Had 'The Quest' consumed him like this since the age of twelve?

Was there no room for happiness in his life or did he fear he was 
damaged goods and that no one would want him and all of his problems 
too?

Scully wondered what roles she filled for Mulder.

Friend, certainly.

Keeper, sometimes.

Mother? Sister? Perhaps at times....

She filled in whatever gaps needed filling.

Could she love him?  Was he able to love her?

Could she deal with ALL of Mulder?

Scully snickered to herself.

She did that already.

Scully realized she had forgotten one of the roles they filled for 
one another, but almost dismissed the thought as too maudlin, too 
sappy.

Sighing in the privacy of her own mind, she allowed herself to give 
voice to the thought.

Scully once again leaned forward and brushed her lips carefully 
across his slightly parted lips.

"Soulmate," she said softly.

**********************************************************************
*****

Well, folks, that's it. *sigh* I feel proud, happy, relieved and sad 
all at the same time!*L*

I hesitate to ask, but I am thinking about writing about the 
psychological aftermath of "Safe Harbor" and dealing with Mulder's 
possible alcoholism and his emotional baggage.

I'll let you decide.  E-mail me and let me know if I should write a 
sequel to "Safe Harbor" dealing with these issues....

I feel like you're all old friends.  I really appreciated all the 
feedback.

Thank you so much! :) *sniff sniffle* 

Don't worry, they're happy tears....:)



Special Disclaimer: I'm not an expert on the drug Rohypnol. I know, 
from the media and from a relative in law enforcement, that it is a 
drug used with alcohol to make the victim malleable. It also induces 
amnesia. Most victims of it do not remember, except maybe through 
flashbacks later, what has transpired. This drug is used quite a bit 
for "date rape." Here it is used on Mulder and the other men to make 
them easy to handle. Also, I don't know that it would affect Scully 
in such a small dose and so quickly, but I am taking a little 
literary license here for that part. I do not feel it harms the 
story. I hope you agree.