Title: FOXTROT Author: Rev Anna at anna_ts@juno.com Disclaimer: I don't own Fox Mulder, Dana Scully, Tom Colton or Walter Skinner (More's the pity). Chris Carter, FOX and Co. do (Though they don't deserve them.) Witchcraft was written by Carolyn Leigh and Cy Coleman. Nice 'N' Easy was written by Alan Bergman, Marilyn Bergman and Lewis "Lew" Spence. The recordings referred to in this story (for those who haven't ever heard them) can be found on Sinatra's Nice 'N' Easy and Frank Sinatra All The Way Capitol recordings all on still glorious 33 RPM vinyl (they're available on CD too). Rating: PG-13 Summary: Mulder and Scully are helping Tom Colton profile a serial killer with a taste for Sinatra Spoilers (small ones): Tooms, Irresistible, Never Again, Tithonus, Milagro * * * * * Before Mulder even closed the door, before the cool spring breeze from the open window blew a hint of cologne in his direction, Mulder knew the killer was in the room. Trying hard to control his breathing, trying hard to resist the urge to scream, he felt blindly for the doorknob, planning to run as fast as his legs could carry him. But something held him there. Immobile. Mulder watched the killer dance toward him slowly in time to the music, its silhouetted outline becoming more defined. Mulder's hand was still trying to find the doorknob behind him as Sinatra floated in from the next room. Those fingers in my hair That sly come hither stare That strips my conscience bare It's witchcraft. Mulder took a deep breath and began his mantra. 'Don't panic. Don't look at him. Keep out of his way. Open the door and run. Don't panic. Don't look at him. Keep out of his way. Open the door and run. Keep out of his way. Don't panic. Don't panic. Don't panic! Fuck, where's the stupid door?!' Finally able to move, Mulder turned just as the killer grabbed him by his left hand and pulled him toward him, back into the apartment. He froze at the sight of the killer's sick smile. And I've got no defense for it The heat is too intense for it What good would common sense for it do? Mulder felt his right arm twisted hard behind his back. "An unorthodox hold I admit," the killer whispered in his ear, hugging Mulder to him. "But I know you'll follow beautifully." Mulder felt himself spun around and around until he was dizzy. He felt himself spinning down in slow motion to the floor. The killer was grinning at him in the dark, his hands reaching down toward Mulder, his fingers sliding around his throat, crushing his windpipe, forcing him into a stifling, horrifying darkness. Mulder closed his eyes and screamed; not a girly scream but a heart wrenching lung busting cry from the depths of his soul. "Scully! SCULLY HELP!" Mulder woke with a start, sitting up so fast his head hurt. He blinked himself fully awake with a shudder. He gazed blearily around his living room until he located the source of the music he was hearing. His CD player had been to set on continuous repeat and Witchcraft had been playing over and over until it had invaded his subconscious. He got up and stumbled over to the CD player, stilling Sinatra's voice in the room, but unable to shut Sinatra's voice out of his head. Trembling, he sat back on the couch and waited anxiously for morning. * * * * Scully stood in the middle of the crime scene, staring at the dead body, wondering why no one had bothered to turn the CD off. Sinatra, cool and casual in the background, lent an eerie feel to this bizarre scene. The victim, male this time, was gagged and bound to a chair set in the middle of the room as all the previous victims had been. She was sure once the autopsy was done they'd find traces of kurari in his blood too. The tell-tale bruising of strangulation encircled the corpse's throat like a black and blue necklace. She closed her eyes not wanting to see this kind of death again. She looked around for her partner. The last she had seen him he was ambling around the crime scene, not looking for or at anything in particular. She found him in the corner of the room, standing by the CD player. Then she looked harder. He wasn't just standing; he was dancing. Mulder was dancing! She recognized the pattern. A foxtrot. Slow, slow, quick-quick, slow, slow slow, quick-quick, slow. "Mulder, this isn't Roseland." "It is as far as this killer is concerned," he answered, executing an elegant spin as he moved to another part of the room. Tom Colton entered, glad to see Scully but annoyed at seeing Mulder checking out the room, looking in weird off the wall places; looking everywhere except where the body was. On his next turn Mulder caught sight of Colton. Both men smirked inwardly at the same time, nodding to acknowledge the presence of the other. 'Spooky.' 'Prick.' The words of Nice 'N' Easy pulled Scully's attention back to the victim. She thought of the other victims and the other Sinatra foxtrots playing in the background at those crime scenes. What kind of maniac were they dealing with here? She closed her eyes as a different more disturbing thought occurred to her. Mulder's words pulled her back into the room. "At least he's got good taste in music." Mulder said, continuing to step an elegant foxtrot around the room. The other agents watched him in amazement, amusement and astonishment. "So?" Colton demanded, as Mulder smiled, dancing around him. "You've been with us for three days; you must have solved it by now." "As a matter of fact," Mulder grinned, shoving his face in Colton's as he snapped his fingers along with Sinatra. "I have." He began to dance around Colton, delivering the description of the unsub in time to the music. "White male, probably fifty, in great shape, highly intelligent. Surprisingly limber, graceful even. Strong, agile, large hands. Very, very large hands. Even when the victim is male, his hands easily encircle the throat, his fingers intertwining at the back of the throat. His psychosis runs deep. Combining the killing with music enables him to stay calm and in control. Just like the Chairman of the Board, he calls the shots, lets the chips fall where they may, all the usual cliches. But he's getting bored." Colton turned to Scully. "What are your preliminary findings?" She swallowed hard and spoke haltingly. "MO seems to be the same. Death was caused by manual strangulation. I'm sure the blood work will show he subdued this victim with kurari the same as the others." She put her hand over her eyes, suddenly getting up and turning the music off. When she turned around she saw Mulder had stopped dancing and was looking at her strangely. Grateful for the silence, she took a deep breath, before continuing to speak. "I'd have to concur with Mulder's assessment of the man's hands. You can see from the placement of the thumbs on either side of the victim's throat. They almost meet at the nape of the neck." Pulling off the latex gloves she quickly headed for the door. Mulder was watching Scully so intently he didn't hear Colton trying to get his attention. "Earth to Spooky. What about the rest of it?" Mulder continued to stare after Scully as he spoke. "Come down to the office tomorrow afternoon. The profile'll be waiting for you." "Yeah," Colton answered. Then added under his breath loud enough for Mulder to hear as he passed him. "Fucking reticulan chasing spook." "Back at ya, fucking ass-kissing prick," Mulder said over his shoulder loud enough for everyone to hear. Mulder gazed at Scully waiting on the passenger side of the car, head bowed in her hands, eyes tightly shut. He joined her in the car, allowing the quiet to envelop them. "What's wrong?" he finally asked. "I don't know. I don't know. There's something familiar about this…something-personal." "You're identifying with the victims, aren't you Scully?" Her mouth opened in shock. "What?!" "Hear me out. You're seeing yourself in those chairs, aren't you?" She didn't answer but her shudder told him volumes. "I haven't seen you this affected since Milwaukee. Since Donny Pfaster." "Mulder I'm all right. Really." "Really?" He pulled the car over, parked and looked at her hard. "I watched you in there Scully. You're recognizing something about the victims, something other than the state of their corpses. What are you seeing?" "You're the one who sees things, Mulder. Not me." "Right." He started the ignition again, shut himself down and kept shut down all the way to her apartment. She didn't get out immediately. She just sat there. "Talk to me, Scully." She remained silent. He remained silent, angry with himself for trying to get her to open up when he was the one who wanted to talk -- confess really -- about his nightmares, about waking up screaming for her. He tried again. "You know, Scully, partners do talk to one another on occasion." "So I've heard, but rarely experienced." He looked at her, hurt and confused. He did tend to talk at her more than to her, but he didn't want to admit that now; not when he was feeling so vulnerable. He sat there trying to figure out something. She reached for the lock and pushed the door open. He grabbed her wrist, but couldn't make her face him. "Please talk to me, Scully." Tears fell from her eyes. "It's…it's the music. I still can't figure it out myself. But I know it has to do with the music." He let her go. She got out and turned toward him. "I'll see you in the morning," she said, trying to smile. Avoiding his eyes, she turned and walked away. * * * * * Mulder found himself alone, back in an apartment that was a compilation of all the crime scenes. The bay window of the first. The archway of the sixth. And as always Sinatra was singing a jazzy foxtrot in the background. Once again he found himself confronted by some surreal faceless man, courtly, gentlemanly, holding out obscenely huge hands toward him, forcing him to come to him. Once again Mulder found himself immobilized, unable to resist him. Soon he was in his arms, held by this murderer, his body being led and controlled against his will, terrified, hypnotized by his fear. No matter how often he said no, tried to get away, listened to his mind shouting for him to run, he did the opposite of what he wanted. Spinning around and around, down on the floor, the hands growing larger, clamping down around his throat. Mulder woke up gasping for air, screaming for Scully. He jumped from the couch and ran over to the CD. He punched the off button, closing his eyes with a sigh, thankful for the quiet that now filled his apartment. * * * * * Scully walked down to stairs to the office, thinking about her conversation in the car with Mulder. Why was it so hard to tell him what she was feeling? She had promised herself as she cried in his arms in Milwaukee that she wouldn't do that ever again. Yet here she was back in that same isolated place. This morning she woke up determined to tell him what's going on with her. She stopped at the door, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Was she hearing what she thought she was hearing? Let's take it nice and easy It's gonna be so easy For us to fall in love Sinatra. Elegant. Casual. Melodiously floating into the hallway from the other side of the door. She opened it and watched admiringly as Mulder gracefully stepped in time to the silky foxtrot. Hey baby what's your hurry Relax and don't you worry We're gonna fall in love Mesmerized she watched him glide effortlessly from one side of the office to the other, eyes closed, sensing the furniture around him, pausing in time, spinning an imaginary partner. She closed her eyes, feeling her body succumb to the slow, slow, quick-quick, slow pattern of the dance. We're on the road to romance That's safe to say But let's make all the stops along the way Before she knew it she felt herself gently pulled into the dance, aware but unaware that she was now in her partner's arms. He led to perfection. The problem now of course is To simply hold your horses To rush would be a crime 'Cause nice and easy does it every time. "What…what are you doing, Mulder?" she finally managed to ask. His hands pulled her, turned her, controlled her so effortlessly. "Finishing my profile on this unsub," he answered in time to the breezy arrangement of the instrumental bridge before Sinatra came in again, breaking into a single step swing before returning to the foxtrot. We're on the road to romance That's safe to say But let's make all the stops along the way "And?" she asked, losing herself in the heat of Mulder's presence and the coolness of Sinatra's tones. She tried to catch her breath, Mulder's leading was taking her out of herself. It was hard to stay focussed. The problem now of course is To simply hold your horses "The killer doesn't live in DC. He comes in periodically, on business. He watches his victims for awhile before approaching them. There's nothing sexual in his motivation. He kills because he likes to. He's probably a vice-president or CEO with the power of life and death so to speak over the lives of his subordinates and clients." To rush would be a crime 'Cause nice and easy does it every time. "He has always enjoyed the 'death' part of his job description. Preferred it. But somehow after all these years, it just wasn't-isn't literal enough. It's not enough anymore to destroy businesses, ruin careers. Killing combined with dancing enables him to take his fantasies about death to another realm." 'Cause nice and easy does it Nice and easy does it every time "He works for a New York based corporation. NYPD has had three killings with the same MO in the last four months." He spun Scully under his arm as he changed their direction, walking her in time to Sinatra's finger snapping. "He's aware I'm on to him." Like the man said one more time Nice and easy does it every time "Why do you say that?" she asked. Mulder let Scully go and went back around to his computer as the CD started the song again. "Don't know. I just had the feeling I was being watched when we left the crime scene last night." "Why didn't you tell me?" He closed his eyes, her recrimination from yesterday still ringing in his ears. 'Tell her. Tell her the truth.' "Because - I was trying to think of a way to tell you about the dreams I've been having about this case. Actually, -- I've been having nightmares -- about him ever since you asked me to help you develop this profile. With each dream my impression of the killer has grown stronger." He kept his eyes closed, afraid of what he might see in Scully's eyes. "I'm laying on my couch, listening to Sinatra sing Witchcraft as I imagine this guy. I fall asleep and find myself unwillingly dancing with him, yet unable to resist the whole time. Finally when I'm dizzy and helpless, he puts his hands around my throat and begins to squeeze. That's when I wake up…calling for you." When he opened his eyes he found Scully gazing at him with genuine concern. It almost made him cry. He closed his eyes again. Scully could feel tears coming to her eyes as she looked at him with a new appreciation. But appreciation for what she didn't know. His honesty? His ability to share what he was feeling no matter what it might sound like? Why couldn't she? Her heart gave a little tug. Let's take it nice and easy It's gonna be so easy For us to fall in love "Where did you learn to foxtrot?" she asked, unable to keep the amazement of her self-revelation out of her voice. "My mother," he said. "She used to compete before she married my father - amateur division only. She let me flip through her old scrapbooks on rainy afternoons and sick days. My Saturdays were filled with housecleaning to Sinatra and Nelson Riddle." The shadow of a brief smile crossed his lips. "This case must be hard for you," she said, breathlessly, trying to regain her equilibrium. "Not really. To tell you the truth, except for the nightmares, it has been unexpectedly pleasant. Dancing was a pleasant memory I hadn't been able to access before now. I guess this is the one thing I'll ever be grateful to that prick Colton for." He stopped and looked at Scully thoughtfully. "That's a nice thing about you Scully." "What?" she asked, feeling herself again. "Your loyalty to friends, your ability to forgive. I know I've come to rely on it." He was gazing thoughtfully at her as the song played on. "Don't fit me for a halo just yet. I'm helping Colton more to prove to myself how professional I can be in the face of disgust and loathing." We're on the road to romance That's safe to say But let's make all the stops along the way "Why did you start taking lessons?" he asked her out of the blue. "Does it make it easier to understand why you'd like to be led instead of leading?" She opened her mouth to protest the question but stopped. Why bother to deny it? Why bother to ask how he knew? She nodded her head yes. "How long have you been taking lessons?" "Since the Felig case. I guess you wondered why I didn't come straight back to Washington when I was released from the hospital." He nodded yes. "I needed to think about everything I'd gone through. Not just about being shot, but about Felig himself and how he saved my life. I just couldn't come back to Washington with all that churning around inside me. So I took an extra week and stayed where I knew no one knew me. The first night in my hotel room I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk. I found myself in the vicinity of Roseland and I went in not knowing what to expect. "I was scared at first. I must have looked at the wall of famous dancer's shoes for half an hour. Then I read the names of every couple who met and married there. Twice. I found myself wishing my name could be up there, but knowing the life I lead wouldn't allow for it. I found thinking maybe if I went inside I could meet somebody - a real partner - a life partner; not some one night stand like Ed Jerse or some lovelorn voyeur like Phillip Padgett. "So I paid the $11.00 and sat, watching the people dancing, thinking how wonderful it must be to get on the floor and not have to do anything except listen to the music and follow someone else's lead. How wonderful it would be to let someone else be totally in control, leading me. The idea appalled me but it appealed to me too. "After about an hour, a man came over to me and silently offered his hand, inviting me onto the floor. I declined at first, stating quite clearly I couldn't dance. He didn't say a word. He just stood there, waiting for me to take his hand. So I did." She sat down and continued speaking. Mulder sat on the edge of his desk and listened to the longing, the wistfulness in her voice. It resonated with something deep inside him. "He led me onto the floor and I was like putty in his hand. He did it all. I was amazed. I was -- " She paused, closing her eyes, sighing deeply. "I was exhilarated. I felt lightheaded and dizzy and focussed and - wonderful. Then as quickly as it began, it was over. He escorted me back to the area where the tables are, bowed, said, 'thank you' and left me. "I went back every night Roseland was open for ballroom dancing and he was there. Again he took me on the floor, once in awhile coaching me with a simple instruction. I tried dancing with others but it wasn't the same. He had a confidence, a commanding presence that enthralled me. The problem now of course is To simply hold your horses To rush would be a crime. Scully stopped abruptly, catching her breath. She hadn't meant to go into all that detail. She looked into Mulder's eyes and found him transfixed on her, his eyes eagerly asking for more. She shrugged and leaned back in the chair. "Why was the leading of an able confident ballroom dancer all it took to turn me into a trembling submissive? Some pliant weak-willed puppet? My nights in New York at Roseland had shown me something about myself I had always been afraid to look at. I couldn't understand the hold this kind of dancing had on me. I still don't. But I had to find out somehow. So, when I came back here I looked up Fred Astaire Studios and the rest as they say is history." 'Cause nice and easy does it everytime.' "The part of your profile that describes the unsub feels so familiar. It's like you're describing a ballroom dancer." "I am. He finds leading in ballroom dancing an apt metaphor for the power he feels when he kills: casual, confident, totally in charge and in control." Scully shivered a little. "I guess that's why it's so unsettling. When I'm dancing, I feel totally taken charge of, in someone else's control. But now, even though I know how it's done… I still can't explain why I want to give myself over to my partner so totally." She saw the concern in Mulder's eyes and turned her attention quickly to one of the crime photos on his desk. She could tell he was still looking at her, feel the intensity of his gaze but wasn't ready to meet it yet. "You were right yesterday. I look at these victims and wonder if I'm seeing myself. Will I be led to my death like them?" "Scully - look at me." She took a deep breath and faced him. "It's just a feeling." "Yes. But I'm really stuck Mulder. I hate to admit it, but I'm really stuck. And really scared." "What am I interrupting?" Colton asked, not bothering to knock. He nodded curtly in Mulder's direction. "Spooky." "A meeting of minds, asshole." Mulder got up and went behind his desk. "Nothing I'm sure you've ever experienced since you need to have a mind with the ability to meet-" Scully shook her head impatiently. "Could you two not be such a pair of ballbusters this morning?" she snapped, interrupting him as she turned the Sinatra off. She closed her eyes and set her lips in a grim line. The presence of Tom Colton and the absence of Sinatra made her feel uncomfortably vulnerable for having bared her soul to Mulder just now. She didn't like it. It wasn't nice and easy as the song seemed to be suggesting. "All right," Mulder surrendered. He leaned back in his chair after pressing the print command with the end of his pencil. "So are you ready for what we've got?" Colton folded his arms and leaned back against the door. "Shoot." Mulder shared his profile in a straightforward manner, not pausing for a breath, not blinking. He stretched his feet out on his desk and folded his hands behind his head when he was done. "Why do you think the killer's on to you?" Colton asked. "Call it an extreme hunch." "Shit. Why did I agree to let you help her with this case?" "Because we were right while you fucked up on the Tooms case," Mulder answered without a moment's hesitation. "Because you know the solution to this one is the next rung up the ladder for you. Because you owe Scully big time for betraying her friendship." "Mulder…" Scully tried interrupting him, but failed this time. Mulder was on his feet now, standing in front of his desk, eyes fixed on Colton. "Because you're a by the book, imagination-deprived hack with an estimation of himself that is more out there than any extreme hunch I've ever had." The phone rang. "Have I missed anything?" Mulder asked as he picked up the receiver. Colton's face was flushed. Sputtering and enraged, he took a step toward Mulder but stopped when Mulder turned to him with a 'let's-see-you-try-it-buddy' look in his eye. "Mulder," he said, turning his attention back to the caller. Scully stepped between the two men and was about to speak when Mulder's body language made her turn in his direction. Mulder reached over and pressed the speakerphone button. Let's take it nice and easy It's gonna be so easy For us to fall in love Hey baby what's your hurry Relax and don't you worry We're gonna fall in love We're on the road to romance That's safe to say But let's make all the stops along the way The problem now of course is To simply hold your horses To rush would be a crime 'Cause nice and easy does it every time. Scully looked at Mulder, frozen in disbelief. Colton's jaw dropped, stunned. "Hey Fox," the voice said. "Do you foxtrot? You've got the build for it. Nice, lean, long line. I hope you like Sinatra. I'm saving the next dance for you." The line went dead and for a long time the only sound in the room was the buzz of the dial tone. Colton sat down and looked at Mulder, amazed. "Don't you get tired of being right all the time?" he asked, grudgingly. A scared gleam shone in Mulder's eyes as he answered Colton, but looked at Scully. "Yeah," he sighed. "I do." * * * * * When they told Skinner about the phone call, he ordered Colton and Scully to drive Mulder immediately to a safe house. "Why?" Mulder objected. "Here's the perfect opportunity to trap this nut." Scully watched Skinner's face flush. He looked like he was going to have a stroke. He stood up, rage making him seem twice as tall, twice as broad. "You know, Mulder," Skinner said, his voice starting out dangerously calm and steady, "If I weren't so intent on keeping you safe, I'd come over there AND WRING YOUR NECK MYSELF!" Mulder and Colton looked like twins. Each was a mirror image of the astonishment registering on the other's face. The dangerous calm had settled back in Skinner's voice as he continued speaking, his wrath rising the longer he spoke. "I am not in the habit of allowing my agents to offer themselves up as bait to trap some damned psychopath. You are not an expendable pawn in some damn game. If any plans are made to trap this lunatic, they will be well reasoned and meticulously planned to the last detail. NOT BASED ON SOME SPUR OF THE MOMENT WHIM OF YOURS!" Mulder didn't say another word for the next few hours. A team of agents coordinated by Colton as ASAC devised a plan to trap the killer. Skinner listened, thoughtfully, occasionally casting an eye in Mulder's direction. Scully could see that Skinner was royally pissed and getting angrier by the minute. With the strategy meeting now over, Mulder was still silent as he, Scully and Colton stood before Skinner in Skinner's office again. Colton handed the address of the safe house to Scully. "You mind driving?" She shook her head no, looking at Mulder sulking in the chair he had slumped down in. She looked over at the assistant director who looked like he was going to kick the shit out of Mulder. Skinner took a deep breath, counted to ten, took his glasses off and wiped them quietly with his handkerchief. Then he sat down and folded his hands on his desk. To Scully it looked like his was wringing Mulder's neck. "Scully and Colton are driving you to a safe house this minute. And that is the last word on the subject." And it was. At least until the three agents were in the car. "Come on," Mulder whined from the back seat. "We're too close to nailing this guy for this." "Forget it, Mulder." Colton said, shaking his head. "I may not like you but it'll be a cold day in hell before I let you do anything to endanger your life." "Oh please. You're just scared of Skinner." "Oh right. And you ain't?" Scully could still feel the blast of Skinner's anger as she waited for the light to change. "Tom's right, Mulder. Skinner said get thee to a safe house and it's to a safe house you're getting." "At least let me get a few things." "Just tell us what you want, we'll pick it up." "Aw come on. A toothbrush and a few files. I'll go crazy with nothing to do out there. I can send you back later with a laundry list." Scully reluctantly acquiesced and parked in front where she could see his window. It still had remnants of a long ago taped X in the lower right window pane. "Hurry up," she said. He was already out the door. "And you better be going to your apartment Mulder!' she shouted after him through her open window. "I want to see your face in that window as soon as you get up there." "You don't think he'd ditch us, do you?" Colton asked, suddenly worried. "No. He's just as scared of Skinner as you are," she answered, turning the car off and settling back in the driver's seat. * * * * * Mulder didn't wait for the elevator. He took the steps two at a time, rounded the corner and unlocked his door on the dead run. The door slammed behind him and just as he took his first step away from it, a sharp piercing pang hit his left thigh. He shouted in surprise and stumbled backwards, slumping in pain against the door. Fear rose slowly in his throat as he recognized the slow paralysis quickly spreading through his body. He looked down and saw a small dart sticking out of his pants' leg. He pulled it out but the burn was already all over his body. He looked up, fixing his gaze on the silhouette slowly coming toward him, in time to the music he could now hear playing in the background. Terrified, he recognized the glissando of the violins from the foxtrot in his nightmare. Those fingers in my hair That sly come hither stare That strips my conscience bare It's witchcraft. Unable to close his eyes or turn away, his left hand slid in slow motion to the inside pocket of his overcoat, barely able to hold onto the cell phone as he was pulled it out. It took forever to slide it open, to move his thumb to the power button, to hit his #1 speed dial number. And I've got no defense for it The heat is too intense for it What good would common sense for it do? The silhouette solidified before him, pushing Mulder's hair back from his forehead as easily as he removed the phone from Mulder's now immobile hand. He smiled as a voice on the other end of the line came through. "Scully," Pushing the end button, the killer put the phone down. "No. I don't think I'll let Agent Scully cut in," he whispered into Mulder's ear. "This dance is for you, Fox. Just for you." 'Cause it's witchcraft, Wicked witchcraft And although I know it's strictly taboo * * * * * Scully, stared at her phone, shut it off and glanced at the man sitting on her right as he flipped for the ten thousandth time through Mulder's profile. Tom Colton. Former classmate. Former friend. And, unfortunately, ever present colleague. She was still angry at him for his behavior during the Tooms case. And yet for all that, she couldn't say no when he had come to her again for help. "I still can't wrap around how he does it." Colton said, shaking his head in disbelief. "He really is spooky." Scully looked up at the apartment window. 'Hurry up, Mulder. I don't want to be sitting down here with Colton all night.' She turned her gaze back out the car window, humming lightly to herself, remembering the sight of Mulder dancing in the office this morning. * * * * * The killer leaned Mulder against him, slipping the agent out of his overcoat. Mulder felt the tweed of the man's jacket against his cheek, felt his limp arms slip out of the coat and fall lifelessly down at his sides. He couldn't resist him. He couldn't even try. Cradling Mulder in his arms, the killer lifted him to his feet in one fluid movement. When you arouse the need in me My heart says yes indeed in me Proceed with what you're leading me to Slow, slow, quick-quick, slow, slow, quick-quick, slow. Mulder was dragged effortlessly in time to the music by the killer. He tried to clear his head, tried to focus on Scully and Colton in the car downstairs. 'Oh Godohgodohgodohgod help me think. Maybe he'll dance me past the window. Maybe…' "Don't worry. The drug will wear off very soon. Just not too soon." Mulder's feet were barely touching the ground as the killer held Mulder around his waist, firmly supporting his back. It's such an ancient pitch But one that I'd never switch 'Cause there's no nicer witch than you. The killer hummed along with the bridge, dancing Mulder forward into the room. A soft tickle of breath kissed Mulder's right cheek. "Isn't Sinatra just the best?" 'Cause it's witchcraft, That crazy witchcraft And although I know it's strictly taboo When you arouse the need in me My heart says yes indeed in me Proceed with what you're leading me to They moved further into the room. In his head Mulder couldn't form any coherent thoughts. The only thing forming was the steady repetition of the foxtrot pattern: slow, slow, quick-quick, slow. It's such an ancient pitch But one that I'd never switch 'Cause there's no nicer witch than you. The killer smiled, closing his eyes as he danced Mulder effortlessly around the living room. Mulder's eyes watched his apartment float past his line of vision. They did a sudden reverse turn and suddenly a single chair came in view. As he felt the killer release his wrist and spin him under his arm, pictures of the murder victims ran in a continuous loop before him, bound, gagged and dead, serenaded by breezy Sinatra foxtrots; just like the Sinatra playing in the background now. The killer danced Mulder around the chair and deposited him in it on the last drumbeat. He pulled Mulder's arms behind him before he had a chance to blink, fastening Mulder's wrists tightly as the song began again. Those fingers in my hair, That sly come hither stare That strips my conscience bare, It's witchcraft. And I've got no defense for it, The heat is too intense for it What good would common sense for it do? The killer moved in front of him. He knelt gracefully and secured Mulder's ankles to the legs of the chair. Mulder groaned as sensation began to creep back into his hands, his throat, his jaw. He took a deep breath to scream for help but his head was pulled back and a cloth was shoved into his opened mouth. The weight of the hand on his mouth held his head still. 'He's going to kill me and there's nothing I can do. Oh God, Scully I know you hate them, but if ever I needed you to have an extreme hunch, it's now.' 'Cause it's witchcraft, Wicked witchcraft, And although I know it's strictly taboo When you arouse the need in me My heart says yes indeed in me Proceed with what you're leading me to The killer smiled sweetly at Mulder as he stood up, listening to the stifled cry Mulder was trying to make. "Thanks for the dance, Fox. I'll remember it always." * * * * * Scully looked back at the phone in her hand. Colton was speaking, but she hadn't been listening. He shook her lightly. "Look. Can't we call a truce? Are you going to hold the Tooms case against me forever?" "Not forever. Just 'til one of us dies," she answered. Colton shrugged, turning his attention back to Mulder's building. "Damn. What's he doing? Packing for a month?" Scully didn't answer. She just sat, rubbing the phone as she continued to hum. Colton closed the file folder on his lap, leaned his head against the headrest and started singing. "It's such an ancient pitch, but one that I wouldn't switch, 'Cause there's no nicer witch than you." Scully blinked and looked at him. Something unnerving was pricking at the back of her brain. "Why are you singing that?" "What? Don't you like it? You were just humming it yourself." "Wasn't Mulder dancing to it this morning?" "No. Mulder was dancing to Nice 'N' Easy. This is Witchcraft." Scully's body stiffened, her attention riveted back to her phone. "Oh God," she whispered. "What?" "I just heard that song in my phone!" She turned and looked up at the apartment in panic. "Mulder!" Both agents were out of the car and running for the building. * * * * * This was his nightmare, only he wasn't sleeping and he wasn't going to wake up. He was going to die. Mulder closed his eyes and screamed Scully's name into the gag as the killer placed his hands around his throat and began to squeeze. His head was spinning and he felt himself going down, down, out… The shot and the release of the pressure on his throat were simultaneous. His eyes opened as he fell backwards, seemingly in slow motion. Other noises filled the room as the lights came on and someone's hands released his arms from behind him. 'Cause it's witchcraft. That crazy witchcraft. And although I know it's strictly taboo… He turned to his left and saw Scully move in front of him, untying his ankles. When you arouse the need in me My heart says yes indeed in me Proceed with what you're leading me to His own shaky hand removed the gag from his mouth. Colton was by the killer, gun in hand, checking for a pulse. Scully was holding Mulder's trembling hands in hers as their eyes met. It's such an ancient pitch, but one that I'd never switch, 'Cause there's no nicer witch than you "Shit," he said, finally letting go of her hands and sitting down on the couch. "I guess you won't be needing that toothbrush," Colton said, pulling out his cell phone to phone for back up. Mulder smiled weakly, covering his eyes with his left hand and holding onto his partner's shoulder with his right. Scully stroked his hair. "Your turn to cry on my shoulder," she said softly. Mulder closed his eyes and leaned into her arms, crying as the music began again.