PHOENIX RISING By: Traveler Category: Casefile, MSR, AU in that this takes place sometime after Season 7 assuming that Requiem and anything after that never took place. Rating: PG-13 for some gruesome crime scene details, violence and a little hanky panky. Spoilers: Non specific but I'm sure your memory will be jogged along the way. Archive: Written for IMTP VS11 and exclusive to IMTP for two weeks then anywhere, please just let me know. Much thanks to the gang at IMTP for their suggestions and beta help. They do a wonderful job with that site. Summary: Against the backdrop of a murder mystery Mulder and Scully discover a new purpose for their work and a new outlook for their future. Disclaimer: Mulder, Scully and the other characters of THE X-FILES are not mine, I'm just borrowing them for the purpose of my story. See further notes at the end. Feedback: iluvxf@hotmail.com "PHOENIX" a mythical bird who rose from its own ashes to begin a new cycle of life; an emblem of immortality or of reborn idealism or hope; a person or thing that has been restored after suffering a calamity. FBI REGIONAL FIELD OFFICE CLEVELAND, OHIO 11:43PM Mulder propped his head in his hands raking his scalp with his fingers in an attempt to wake himself up. What the hell was he doing here anyway? Here at Skinner's request or warning depending on how you took it. Mulder flashed back to the conversation in the Assistant Director's office almost two weeks ago. "I could assign you this case Mulder but I won't. I know what a case like this does to you. I know how you find yourself becoming a part of it." Skinner looked the agent right in the eyes. "The assignment came from outside the Bureau and if it wasn't that Matt Wilcox was a dear friend of mine, one of the few I still have, I wouldn't even approach you with this." Skinner was fighting a war within himself Mulder could see it and he'd appreciated the A.D.'s honesty. "What about Agent Scully?" Mulder knew what her plans were for the upcoming week and he'd been determined not to jeopardize them. Skinner had looked confused. "I thought she was on her way out to San Diego for some pathologist seminar. She told me she was giving a lecture of some sort. She seemed really excited about it. I hadn't planned on her going with you if that's alright?" "No, that's fine. That's why I asked. This is something she has wanted to do for some time." He remembered breaking eye contact with the man, looking down at his fingers, and doing a bit of manicuring with his nails. "Mulder." At the A.D.'s mention of his name he'd looked up. "You don't have to make a decision right now. Take the files home, have Scully look them over with you." Skinner's implication that Scully would be 'home' when he got there to look over the files was not lost on him. Skinner was well aware of their relationship and though it was not against Bureau policy he'd also known the A.D. had not shared his knowledge with anyone else. Their partnership was as strong as ever and that's all the Bureau needed to be concerned about. Or so he thought. "But you're still concerned about the future of the X- Files am I right"? Skinner had seemed a bit nervous. The conversation in his office had begun with a discussion of where Mulder thought the X-Files were headed. What was it that he still hoped to accomplish with the division and Skinner's concern that Washington wouldn't understand the value of their work. Then the real issue was laid on the table. "I'm telling you this off the record, Agent Mulder. As I'm sure you're well aware of, between the economy and this mess in Iraq, the president isn't exactly winning any popularity contests at the moment. Even with all these appropriations, money is getting channeled from all over to pay for the war. All I can tell you is that there will likely be budget cuts on the way. Big ones, the X-Files are a luxury that I don't think the Bureau can afford...unless something changes their mind" Mulder had also understood that implication. "But this case doesn't appear to be an X-File sir. From what you've told me they have a serial killer loose in Cleveland and there's public pressure on all sections of law enforcement to do something about it." Skinner stood, effectively ending their conversation. "Take the files home Agent Mulder. Tell me what you think." He'd gathered up the files the A.D. had placed before him certain that he had read that implication also and nodded as he stood, making his way to the door. What had happened later that evening had brought him to where he was now. 2630 HEGAL PLACE ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA TWO WEEKS EARLIER 9:28P.M. Mulder had been quiet all evening. Scully's flight was due to leave shortly after nine the following morning. She was looking forward to the week away from D.C. but not necessarily away from Mulder. Especially not now considering this case that Skinner had offered him. Mulder knew she'd been a member of this pathologist organization for a long time and they had repeatedly contacted her regarding a speaking engagement at their annual convention and seminar. This year, with his encouragement she had resolved to make it and had been preparing her presentation with him as the audience for some time. He'd been distracted that evening by the case and the conversation with Skinner and as she'd finished up she had added a final comment to her presentation. "Don't go." He hadn't responded at first but then what she had said sunk in. "What?" She'd smiled at his confusion. "I said don't go. Ask for some vacation time and come out there with me." She had made him smile with her determination to keep him out of Cleveland. He shook his head. "No, you go. You planned to spend some time with Bill and his family. I'm not too sure he'd appreciate me tagging along." "I don't care what my brother thinks. We've been through that enough times." "I know Scully. It's okay. Besides I still haven't made a decision yet." "Don't lie to me Mulder. Five deaths in a little over a year and a half and all dismembered. You're not going to step away from this and we both know it." She was right, but he'd had enough of the gruesome details of the case. He wouldn't see her for at least a week. He needed a memory to keep with him while she was gone. "How about some ice cream?" "Your freezer has never seen ice cream, Mulder. How did we end up over here anyway?" He really wasn't sure about the answer to that question. He'd gone home right from work and being unable to resist the files Skinner had given him, he had opened them and begun to read. As the horror had begun to sink in he'd called Scully for a break. She'd wanted another chance to run her presentation by him and stated she needed to go out and suggested picking up something to eat. "You came over here if I remember correctly." She had, but only because something in his voice made her uneasy. She really hadn't expected to see him until the following morning when he came to take her to the airport. "We can take a walk, up to the park, there's that little restaurant deli place that has homemade ice cream." "It's not exactly ice cream weather out there, Mulder." He stood, stretching stiff muscles and grabbed her hand to pull her to her feet. "Come on, toughen up, girl. The fresh air will do us good." They'd walked to the deli and gotten ice cream. She had been right, it wasn't exactly ice cream weather but they'd ended up in the park anyway despite the chilly air. She had sat on the stone wall that bordered the walkway seductively licking that cone. He'd been leaning on the wall next to her and had wolfed down what remained of his own ice cream after he'd seen her shiver. He had a really good idea how to warm her up. He'd turned to her and parting her legs had stepped between them. "Mulder, what are you doing?" She'd asked him in mock seriousness. "You seem a little cold, thought I could warm you up." There was mischief in his eyes that she was obviously finding hard to resist. He'd taken what was left of her cone from her hand. Tipped it towards her face and touched her lips with it. "Mulder?" "Don't worry, I'll take care of it." And he had. Touching her lips with his. When she'd responded he'd deepened the kiss. Drawing her close and wrapping her in an embrace. The photos from the files Skinner had given him, those bizarre images of death had suddenly come to him and he'd wanted nothing more than to feel every inch of her warmth. When he'd gotten a little too brave, inching his hands up under her jacket and sweater she'd stopped him. "We're in a public park, Mulder," she'd cautioned him, well aware of his arousal. "Nobody's out walking at this hour, Scully." "We are." They'd walked back to his place and despite his best intentions she had begged off and gone on home to finish getting ready for her trip. When he'd gone back up to his apartment he'd found an envelope that had been slid under his door. What he'd found inside had chilled him more than the weather. Photographs of he and Scully and their sojourn in the park less than an hour ago along with a note. 'BE CAREFUL WHO YOU LOVE' FBI REGIONAL FIELD OFFICE CLEVELAND, OHIO PRESENT DAY Whether it had been a warning or not, he'd taken it as such and so here he was, alone in Cleveland. Well, to rephrase that, not exactly alone. When he'd arrived, Wilcox had been more than friendly and accommodating. He'd paired him with the agent he had assigned the case to when the local police had come seeking help. A face Mulder would have preferred to never see again, Peyton Ritter. Peyton had been 'reassigned' to the Cleveland field office in 1999 after accidentally shooting Scully during a case in New York. Mulder had wanted the guy dismissed but it was Dana herself who had testified that he was a valuable agent who needed a second chance. So here he was in Cleveland, his second chance, and here Mulder was trying to play nice. Peyton had done all right for himself here and Mulder had learned from him over a beer that he'd met someone really nice and had gotten married. The couple's first child was due in three months. Mulder could sense that Peyton was trying desperately to make amends for his mistake several years ago but the two of them were just not working well together. A long week and another death later he was no closer to this killer than anybody else had been. But what he had found in that week was beginning to lead him to believe that Skinner had some sixth sense of his own. Back in the 1930's Cleveland had been the scene of one of the most horrific murder cases of all time. Labeled the 'Torso Murders', thirteen people were brutally murdered and dismembered over the course of four years beginning in 1934, all of them decapitated, most of them while they were still alive. Despite the involvement of then Safety Director and former federal agent Eliot Ness, no suspect was identified and no one was ever brought to trial. The murders had ended as mysteriously as they had begun. The killer had earned the nickname 'The Mad Butcher of Kingsbury Run' because most of the victims had been found in this area of Cleveland. Kingsbury Run was the name given to a prehistoric riverbed that ran from just south of the city through an industrial area known as "The Flats", along the Cuyahoga River. Back in the 1930's it had been one of the most appalling ghettos in the nation. This new series of killings had started much the same way as those back in the 30's with the discovery of the lower half of a woman's torso washed ashore on a local Lake Erie beach almost a year and a half ago. The body had been treated with some sort of chemical preservative that had turned the flesh red, tough and leathery, almost like it had been tanned. The woman was never identified. Eight month's later a decapitated corpse of a white male had been found in the Kingsbury Run area, naked, drained of blood with rope burns around both wrists. Fingerprints had identified him as twenty-eight-year old William Hovel, a homeless man who had been arrested several times for vagrancy. Also discovered nearby was the decapitated and emasculated corpse of another man, covered in the same preservative as the woman. This body had apparently been dead for several weeks. He had yet to be identified. Four months later parts of a woman's body had been found wrapped in newspaper and stuffed into bushel baskets alongside a vacant building on Central Avenue. The rest of the body with the exception of the head had been discovered several days later in a nearby field. Fingerprints had again allowed her to be identified as Angie Hall a bar maid and prostitute. Just two months ago two boys had discovered the head of a white male wrapped in a pair of trousers close to the E. 55th Street bridge. Police had found the body the next day but despite fingerprints and some distinctive tattoos this man had yet to be identified either. Despite long hours working on a profile of this latest killer, Mulder found himself faced with yet another victim when just three days ago a transient had discovered the upper half of a man's torso while trying to hop a train in the flats. The victim had been dead about two months. His head and a pile of bloody clothing were found nearby. The search of a nearby pond had also yielded the lower half of the torso and parts of both legs. In his examination of the paperwork from the original murders, the cause of death in all cases had been decapitation. The autopsy reports indicated a lack of hesitation marks suggesting a strong, confident killer familiar with human anatomy. The heads had been cut off with one bold, clean stroke. All the victims had died instantly. What was so disturbing was that the files on all the latest victims matched almost exactly those from the 1930's; six victims so far and if the scenario continued to play out, there would be seven more. Someone was either playing an elaborate game or there was more to his case than anyone else would believe. Thoughts of Leonard Betts, Eugene Tooms and Mostow came to mind. And with the ancient history of the riverbed itself, something 'prehistoric' in nature was not totally out of the question. All things he really didn't want to think about. Mulder had talked to Scully several times during the past week or so, trying desperately to keep the apprehension out of his voice. Her presentation had gone well and she was enjoying her time with Bill and his family. The brief conversations had brought him back from the darkness and he had welcomed it. His thoughts had also been with what Skinner had said. If the Bureau was forced to cut the X-Files from the budget, where did it leave them? He refused to go back to doing this. He was so damn tired. FBI REGIONAL FIELD OFFICE CLEVELAND, OHIO 8:43AM Scully made her way though the bullpen of the Cleveland office. Cleveland's FBI regional office was located in an office tower at the corner of 9th and Lakeside. Probably the windiest corner in all of northeast Ohio. She caught her reflection in the glass panels that lined the hallway. Her hair was windblown and chaotic and she suddenly wished she had ducked into the Ladies Room before looking for Cleveland's SAIC. Changing her travel plans, she had caught a red-eye out of San Diego. One connecting flight later she was here. Her last conversation with Mulder had convinced her that all was not going well. A brief conversation with Skinner yesterday had confirmed that Wilcox was worried about Mulder. She hated to admit it, but she'd seen this coming. "Agent Scully." She turned at the sound of her name to see a tall gentleman with silvery hair approaching her. "I'm Matt Wilcox, he said, extending his hand. "Welcome to Cleveland." She accepted his greeting and returned the gesture. Matt had a steady reassuring gaze that reminded her of Skinner. "Thank you." Scully remembered their last trip to Cleveland in 1995, she had been snubbed during the case by a chauvinistic police detective who obviously had a real problem with women of authority, Wilcox seemed like he would respect her. "We're really glad to add your expertise to the case, Agent Scully. Not that I don't think our pathology department is top notch, but I'm sure you know you have a reputation for putting the most extreme evidence to good use. Scully wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not. She wasn't sure she was happy about having a 'reputation'. The AIC sensed her apprehension to his comment. "I suppose you're looking for Agent Mulder?" "Yes, is he here?" "We have him set up in the conference room at the end of the hall," he said as he motioned towards a long hallway lined with private offices. "I expect you'll find him there." "Thank you, it was a pleasure to meet you." As she turned Wilcox made one last parting comment. "Agent Scully..." "Yes?" "You're probably going to figure out that your professional expertise is not the only reason we're glad to have you here." She nodded slightly, wondering what he was implying as she headed off down the hallway in search of her partner. Shortly before reaching the partially opened door of the conference room, the sound of her name again, stopped her in mid step. Hesitating only a brief moment she turned around to find Peyton Ritter striding down the hallway with a cup of steaming coffee in each hand. "I'd offer you one of these but they're both for your partner." Scully winced at the thought of Mulder living on coffee. Peyton nodded towards the conference room and Scully pushed on the door allowing Peyton to enter the room ahead of her. As she followed him in, the first thing that assaulted her eyes was the wallpaper that now decorated almost every inch of bare wall space. The blinds had been drawn against the morning sun leaving the room in a gloomy florescent haze. Photocopies of old crime scene photos, grotesque images of disembodied limbs and headless torsos were mixed with the current photographs from the case, depicting much the same scenes. Scattered throughout were photos of men and women, the victims she assumed. Peyton cleared his throat from behind her drawing her attention away from the grisly scenes. Turning to face him, her eyes were drawn to Mulder, slumped across the conference table sound asleep. His glasses, which she hardly ever seen him in anymore sat askew on his nose, his hair was disheveled and he needed a shave. The dress shirt he wore looked like he had slept in it for several days. "I guess he won't be needing these," Peyton said as he set the coffee cups down on the table. "It's good to see you again, Agent Scully." Scully could tell Peyton was somewhat uneasy with the partnership arrangements. The memory of their ill- fated case in New York was still fresh. She glared at Mulder. Now she understood what Wilcox had been referring too, why he was glad she was here. Dammit, after all these years, things hadn't changed. Peyton sensing her need to talk to Mulder, stepped away from the table. "I'll be back in a little while," he offered with a shy smile and stepped from the room, leaving her alone with Mulder. As the door closed behind Peyton Scully walked around the table to stand behind her partner. A couple of legal pads filled with almost illegible scrawl lay under his folded arms. Reaching across him she began sifting through the case documents spread over the table. Most of them were autopsy files from the 1930 murders. Mulder had numbered them with post-it-notes in the order the victims had been found. Current crime scene photos were also numbered to correspond with the original victims. The murders were being committed in exactly the same way and in exactly the same order. Also mixed in were copies of newspaper articles from the CLEVELAND PRESS and CLEVELAND NEWS, old police reports and court records. Suddenly something caught her eye, a novel, THE UNTOUCHABLES written in part by Ness himself. Scully picked up the book and found herself gazing at the likeness of Ness on the back cover, a tall man, dressed in a neat suit. She smiled inwardly at how much he reminded her of someone else. Mulder stirred in his chair, his right hand coming up to pull the glasses off his face. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Scully dropped the book back on the table and slowly began to massage his shoulders. As she worked, she could feel his tense muscles begin to relax. "I think I've died and gone to heaven," he mumbled to her, his head now resting on his crossed arms. "I still can't leave you alone for a minute, can I?" He sat up then, tipping his head back to look up at her with bloodshot eyes. "Please tell me that's fresh coffee I smell." "I was hoping you'd be more attracted to me," she said with a sigh, letting go of his shoulders. He pushed the chair back, placing his hands on the table and pushing himself to his feet. When he swayed a little she reached to grab his arm. "Mulder, you're exhausted." The chagrined look he gave her told her he knew it and he turned around to rest his ass against the table, reaching for her and wrapping her in a warm embrace. "I'm glad you're here," he mumbled into her shoulder. "I don't know what I've gotten myself into." She pushed him back, looking up to meet his eyes, brushing her lips across his. His hand came up between them and he placed his fingers against her lips pulling away. "I can't tell you the last time I brushed my teeth," he admitted with just a little bit of embarrassment. She could hear the defeat in his voice. Two weeks of sifting though ancient documents had given him little to go on. She was sure he had theories but she wasn't sure she wanted to hear them. He looked down then at his scuffed shoes. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Scully. I can't put the pieces together, not like I used to. It's like there's something missing, the part of me that could do this, that could put myself in this man's mind isn't there anymore." He was serious and yet she couldn't help but think that was a good thing. That he couldn't drive himself so deep that he couldn't get out. But she also realized that this was important to him. That 'spooky' part of him was something that legends were made of and even though Mulder was not one to bask in the rewards of commendations, she also knew that there was a certain pride there and right now it was failing him. He needed sleep and a good meal and someone to bounce his theories off of. "Gather up whatever you need Mulder and let's get out of here." He nodded, turning back to the table he began to collect the files and profiles he'd been working on. There was a sudden rap on the door and Peyton shyly stuck his head in the door. "Mulder?" Mulder looked up but didn't stop what he was doing. "Yeah, come on in." Peyton opened the door a little further but didn't enter. He glanced at Scully apologetically. "I just heard they found another body." Mulder just stood there for an instant, not saying anything. He straightened up and put his hands on his hips and stared of at the wall of grisly photographs. He felt Scully touch his right arm and he turned to look at her with a weary expression. "You got a car?" She nodded. Turning back to Ritter. "We'll follow you." CONRAIL TRACKS UNDER THE 9th STREET BRIDGE It looked like half the Cleveland Police Department was in attendance as Mulder and Scully approached the crime scene. Despite his suit coat and trench, a strange chill that had little to do with the frigid air was beginning to creep up on Mulder. He had the strange sensation that he was being watched and not just by the officers who gave a disapproving glance their way. Several Conrail workers had discovered the torso of a woman wrapped in a man's jacket and then wrapped again in a blanket. The legs and arms had also been discovered wrapped in butcher paper and placed inside a newly constructed wooden box. The head had been wrapped in a similar manner. While searching for parts of this body, police had also found the remains of another victim nearby. The death toll had now reached eight. Scully had gone off to examine the box of remains; Mulder stayed where he was still possessed by that strange chilling sensation. He looked up at the face of the Federal Building, home of the FBI offices. This site was in plain view of the office he had been working in. Remembering the 1930 case files it occurred to him that Eliot Ness had been taunted in much the same manner. Though the police had tried to keep onlookers at bay, both the media and a crowd of morbid spectators had gathered around the site. He saw Scully step away from Wilcox and the chief of police and head his way. He continued to scan the crowd determined that the cause of his chill would be found there. "Mulder?" "Hmmm." He knew she was only standing only a few feet from him, her coat gathered around her to ward off the chilly wind that blew up from the lake, but he still did not acknowledge her. There was something here, he was sure of it now. He could almost hear the voice of the bastard taunting him. "Mulder?" Scully reached over to get his attention by grabbing his arm. He still didn't look at her, his attention seemingly drawn to the many faces that moved about in the crowd. "Find anything?" He finally asked her. "I believe that at least some of the body parts in that box have been refrigerated Mulder" "Why would the killer do that?" "To preserve them for some reason, or maybe they belong to a different corpse. I'm not sure." "If I'd had the blinds open I might have seen something Scully." She was confused. He was carrying on this whole conversation without once meeting her eyes. "What are you talking about?" He grabbed her shoulders and turned her around, pointing up to the office tower directly at the top of the 9th Street ramp. "The FBI offices are right up there." She sighed. "Mulder you would have to have binoculars to see this far." "Ness was taunted in the same way Scully." "What makes you think the killer is taunting you? This all started long before you were brought on the case, Mulder." "I don't know. I just have this feeling that this all has something to do with me, that someone here is trying to get me to understand that." She watched as he continued to scan the crowd throughout their conversation. "What are you looking for?" Suddenly she felt Mulder freeze. His hands digging into her shoulders. When she looked up into his eyes they were cold and unresponsive. He was beginning to frighten her. "Mulder? What is it?" He didn't answer her. Moving away from her in the direction of a group of people who had been standing in the drizzle behind the police tape. Mulder's eyes came to rest on a tall man wearing a Cleveland Indians baseball cap. He was older; probably a good forty pounds heavier than himself with a scarred face. The chill that had been present was now making him shake, and yet, Mulder couldn't help but think he knew this man. There was something about his gaze that looked very familiar. He made eye contact with the man. "Excuse me, sir?" Mulder tried to get his attention but as soon as their eyes met the man stepped away and seemed to vanish into the crowd of onlookers. He couldn't do anything, not now and not here, instead, he focused on making a mental image of the man in the hope of later identifying him. Scully watched him from where he'd left her. He stood with his back to her, his coat billowing in the strong wind. He seemed transfixed on someone in the crowd but he made no move to acknowledge whoever had garnered his attention. As the bodies were loaded into the coroner's van the police began to break up the crowd. Several media persons were trying desperately to interview local law enforcement about the discovery. It was time to go to Mulder's rescue. Either he didn't hear her approach or he ignored her. When she touched his arm he jumped. "Mulder, we need to get out of this weather. Come on, the police can handle this. I've already asked to be present at the autopsies." He turned and looked down are her. "No, we need to go back to the Bureau I need to find a sketch artist." "What?" "I think I know who the killer is Scully." FBI REGIONAL FIELD OFFICE CLEVELAND, OHIO 2:14PM "He was wearing a baseball cap and his face was disfigured, maybe burned. Yeah, that's good. Age him about 5 years." Mulder had been working with an agent from the local office who was using a computer program designed to create composite images of suspects using descriptions from eyewitnesses, a sort of high tech sketch artist. Together they had come up with the person Mulder insisted he'd seen down at the crime scene. It was his hope that the facial recognition software of the bureau would be able to match this guy from the known felon database. He stood behind the agent, his hands on the back of the chair and at this point, Scully was sure he was doing that solely to support himself. She'd managed to get him to eat half a sandwich and down a diet coke but she had no idea what was keeping him going. The door opened behind her and Wilcox stepped into the office. "What's going on? I hear Mulder ID'd our suspect?" She touched Wilcox's arm and led him back out into the hall, closing the door behind them. "He thinks he knows who the killer is. He told me he saw him down at the crime scene." "And he didn't think to mention this to anyone down there at the time?" Wilcox replied somewhat irritated with Mulder's vagueness. "I don't understand." Neither did she actually, but she wasn't about to let Wilcox or anyone else know that. Just then the door opened behind her and she turned to see Mulder with a photo in his hand. He met her eyes briefly and then turned his attention to Wilcox. "We need to run this through the NCIC data base. See if we can put a name with this face." He said as he handed Wilcox the photo. "You believe this is our man? Based on what evidence?" Wilcox was a little irritated with Mulder's insistence. Mulder was just as irritated, tired and short on patience. "Look, humor me okay," he glanced at Scully with a 'what did you tell him' look and then back to Wilcox. "I saw this guy down by the tracks, trying to blend in with all the other onlookers. He looked right at me. You know damn well that killers are often fascinated by their own handiwork, he was right there getting a big kick out of us stumbling around trying to figure out his motive." "And just what would that motive be, Agent Mulder?" "You find out who he is and I'll figure out his motive." Wilcox grabbed the photo from Mulder and turned. "You go lay down before you fall down. And you, Agent Scully, make sure he does. I don't want to see either of you back here today!" HAMPTON INN, CLEVELAND ROOM 143 6:32PM She'd gotten him to shower and lay down but she knew he'd never sleep. He lay on his back in jeans and a tee shirt, his arm over his eyes. She had checked into a separate room on the same floor if for no other reason than to keep up appearances and had changed into more comfortable clothes herself. The sound of the door closing brought the response she had figured it would. "Nothing from Ritter yet on my suspect?" "Nothing. Mulder, if he's not a known felon..." "Yeah I know. Nothing's going to come up." He raked his hands across his face and left them covering it. Scully sat down on the bed beside him and pulled his hands from his face. "Roll over." He wiggled his eyebrows. "What ya got in mind?" Scully rolled her eyes. "Just roll over." Mulder obeyed, rolling over on his stomach and sliding his arms underneath the flat pillow. He turned his head so he could see her out of the corner of his eye. Her hands came to rest on his still too-tense shoulders. Working the tight muscles there, his upper arms and down his back. It felt incredibly good and his mind drifted. Maybe it really wasn't worth it anymore. He thought about Skinner's question, just where was he going with the X-Files lately? Yes, he and Scully had made a difference in many a case that would have remained unsolved, but was the effort really all that rewarding anymore? More than once in the past few years as their relationship had deepened Mulder had found it hard to imagine them spending the rest of their careers in that basement office. There had to be something more than that. "...you suppose the killer would resurrect a case of some brutal murders from almost seventy years ago?" Scully had been talking to him and he'd been elsewhere the whole time. "Are you asleep?" "Hmm, no, just thinkin." His attempt to instigate a different type of conversation went right over her head. "You've already concluded that this killer is matching the crimes of the 1930's in correlation to those of this case. No one was ever brought to justice for those crimes. Perhaps this is someone who is a family member of one of the victims and is trying to prove how ineffective or inefficient police investigative techniques are." Mulder thought about what she was saying and rolled onto his back. "What are you suggesting? That this killer could be someone familiar with the original case, and by reenacting the entire affair he wants to prove that law enforcement is no better today than it was then? That's an interesting thought, Scully, but why wait 70 years?" "There are a lot of people who believe the justice system in this country is worse today than it was 70 years ago, Mulder." Sitting up, he reached over and grabbed a tablet out of his briefcase. Scully wanted to scream. "So, we need to find relatives of the original victims." "Mulder, most of them were never identified. How can you find relatives of people with no names?" "We have some names Scully, we'll start from there." He began to scribble names from memory on the tablet. Edward Anderson, Florence Pollino, Mary Wallace, the only identified victims of the 1930's killings. William Hovel and Angie Hall the two identified victims of the latest spree. "Has there been any identification on the remains found today?" "Mulder, I don't know. I went back to the Bureau with you remember? And then we came back here. We haven't heard from anyone since the coroner took the bodies." "Well see what you can find out," he said in an ordered tone. And then began digging through the files. "We need to find out if there's any correlation between the victims from the 1930 and now...relatives, friends, damn, something just doesn't make sense here! We're missing something!" Scully reached out in an attempt to stop Mulder's ravaging of the mess he had created on the bed. He jerked his arm away from her. "Will you just go do what I asked you to do!" He was like a man possessed, not by a demon but by the need to succeed. She knew now that the only way to get him back was to help him do that very thing. She got up off the bed without saying a word, pausing for a moment to look at his haggard appearance. Then ever so gently, she stroked the side of his face and leaned in to kiss him. He returned the kiss, and as they broke apart whispered three words that made her realize that no matter how far he let himself go she would always bring him back. "I love you." HAMPTON INN, CLEVELAND ROOM 143 9:32PM Mulder had spent the better part of an hour sifting through the files from the 1930's murders. It occurred to him that the new killer had skipped several murders in his reenactment of the original crimes. The victims found today had corresponded to victims #11 and #12 from the original crime spree. Was that done purposely? He still had this strange thought that somehow this was all related to him. This stepping up in the crimes, that man today, was this done to get his attention before more people died? The original investigation had been the biggest police investigation in Cleveland history. Two detectives placed on the case, Peter Merylo and Martin Zelewski had interviewed more than fifteen hundred people. By the time the investigation ended more than five thousand people had been interviewed by the police department. Several suspects had been found, one even arrested but that man had been found dead in his cell shortly after "confessing" to the murder of Flo Pollino. Frank Dossman, was a bricklayer who had lived with Flo Pollino for a while. Further investigation revealed he was also aquatinted with the other two identified victims, Edward Anderson and Mary Wallace. An autopsy after his death revealed six broken ribs, all of which had been obtained while in police custody. Why had the police thought this man was the torso killer? And why had he obviously been killed? Things just got more complicated as he read on. Male, female, black, white; other than the three identified victims relationship to Dossman there was no connection between any of the other victims as far as Mulder could see. The original killing spree had ended when Ness had led a raid on the Kingsbury Run ghetto, burning it to the ground. The biggest mystery of the case has been a suspect Ness had interrogated for several weeks in what was then The Cleveland Hotel. Claiming lack of evidence and refusing to name the man, he had later let the suspect go. Speculation was that the suspect was a doctor from an influential family and had voluntarily committed himself to a mental hospital to avoid arrest, prosecution, and probably scandal. But the question that still remained was why? Mulder rubbed his blurry eyes. His head pounded. Leaning back against the pillows, he allowed himself to drift. The bar was dark, weaving his way though the crowd he spotted a petite black woman who made eye contact with him immediately. Her sultry smile was enticing and he soon found himself buying her a drink. They left the bar together, proceeding down a darkened street and entering what appeared to be a train station. Several minutes seemed to pass and he found himself standing on the platform with the woman. The vision suddenly changed then, darkened tunnels and the sound of his own breathing as he carried the limp woman across deserted tracks. Shots being fired, the wail of sirens... Jolted from the dream by the sound of the phone, Mulder found himself cold and shaking. He grabbed the phone with a trembling hand. "Mulder." Peyton's voice came back to him. "Got a call from the cops, your man was spotted coming out of a bar on Prospect with a young black woman." "My man? What are you talking about?" "The police put an APB out on that drawing you did. A couple of guys in a cruiser think they spotted him." Mulder put the phone on his shoulder and rubbed his arms in an attempt to warm himself. A black woman--the woman in his dream, Mary Wallace, victim #8 had been black. A sense of urgency overcame him. "Did they arrest him? Where is this guy?" "They followed him as far as Tower City but by the time they got out of the car and went inside they'd lost him." "Tower City?" "Yeah, the old train terminal building on the square, it's a mall now." "We'll meet you there." Mulder didn't bother to change. Splashing some cold water on his face and grabbing his gun and coat and headed for Scully's room. HAMPTON INN, CLEVELAND ROOM 146 Scully had yet to hear back from the Coroner's office. Her earlier call had yielded no new information on the victims found on the tracks this morning. Her call to Wilcox had not been met too pleasantly either when she began to describe Mulder's theory and the information he needed. Wilcox did assure her however; that the police department wasn't taking anything for granted and had issued an APB on the man in Mulder's drawing. She was shaken suddenly by pounding on her door. "Scully it's me!" Opening the door, she found him standing there. His open trench coat revealing the same jeans and tee shirt he'd had on earlier. He didn't wait for her to say anything. "Peyton called, the police spotted my guy, lets go." TOWER CITY CENTER 10:18PM By the time they arrived on the scene it was already illuminated with the red and blue flashing lights of multiple police vehicles. Showing their badges, they entered the building. Mulder spotted Peyton talking to the police chief, and when their eyes met, Peyton headed in their direction. "Hey." "Find them yet?" "Them?" "You said he was spotted with a black woman. He's gonna killer her, she's victim #8." Both Peyton and Scully tried to keep up with Mulder as he walked briskly through the terminal. "What are you talking about? We already have eight victims." "No! From the 1930 killings, Mary Wallace" Peyton turned to Scully. "What's he talking about?" Mulder stopped in frustration and Scully almost crashed into him. He looked at Peyton. "How do you get down to the train terminal?" "The trains don't run through here anymore. It's only used by the local transit authority." "I don't give a damn who uses it. How do you get down there?" Scully couldn't take much more of this. "Mulder stop! Where are you going with this?" He turned to her then, and with a pleading expression begged her to believe him. "I had a dream." She turned to Peyton. "Follow me." REGIONAL TRANSIT AUTHORITY RAPID TRANSIT STATION TOWER CITY CENTER Mulder stood on the dimly lit platform. His breath coming out in puffs as he attempted to ascertain which direction the man would have gone. Neither Scully nor Peyton said a word. He walked slowly down the platform to his left, Peyton following him. Scully stood by the frozen escalator they had come down on. "Call for backup." Peyton turned to Mulder who had pulled his gun. "What?" "They're down here, I don't have my phone, call for backup." With some resignation Peyton pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket and began to request back up from the local PD. The dampness was suddenly cut with a chilling scream. He turned to look at Mulder who was walking back toward Scully. Another scream and Peyton was off, jumping down into the well of the tracks and heading to his left at a dead run. Mulder followed him, turning to catch Scully as she jumped down behind him. It was hard running between the gravel and ties of the railbed. Mulder was torn between trying to catch up with Ritter and keeping his eye on Scully so she wouldn't get hurt. Another sound up ahead of them, this time what sounded like a gunshot. "Ritter! Dammit!" Nothing. Mulder came to a stop, pulling his flashlight from his pocket. It didn't help much in the dimly lit tunnels that were suddenly giving him a feeling of deja vue. They both walked quietly now. It was damp and chilly in the dark tunnel, the smell of old oil and decay assaulting their nostrils. It was almost too quiet and that cold chill Mulder had woken to from his dream was back. Suddenly, a shot ricocheted off the aging concrete above them, sending shards of concrete in all directions. Scully winced as one nicked her right cheek. Mulder turned when he heard her gasp. "You OK?" "Yes, go. Where's Ritter?" "He's up ahead of us somewhere. It's so damn dark down here." Mulder tried in vain to shine his flashlight further into the murky tunnels. There were miles of railway tunnels under the Terminal building. Built in the 1920's the Terminal Tower had been the hub of rail traffic. Now passenger lines were run through the new Amtrak station on the lakefront. Most of these lines were now abandoned. Mulder, we should call for backup." "Ritter already did, but I don't know where they are. They'd never find us down here anyway." It was eerily quiet; the sound of their own breathing and the mist generated by it, the only stimulation. Somewhere up ahead of them they heard Ritters's frantic voice. "FBI freeze!" More shots. Mulder was off in an instant, his flashlight flickering off the damp walls; he stopped for an instant to listen when he came to an intersection, Scully right on his heels. "Dammit Ritter, where are you?" "Make a right at the intersection, I think I have him trapped." Mulder turned to look at Scully, something akin to regret passing across his face as she watched him consider what to do next. "Wait here." "Mulder, no." "He's my partner here, Scully. Someone has to wait for the backup." Before she could object he was off again, dimming the flashlight. With the flashlight off he was nearly blind in the dark. The cold making his fingers stiff around the grip of his weapon. This training told him this was a foolish idea and yet all he could think of was Ritter up ahead somewhere alone. His was the foolish idea. The gravel of the rail bed crunched under his feet. The smell of dampness and things he'd rather not think about assaulted his nose. Mulder tried to silence his breathing There was no sound from up ahead and he hesitated to make his presence known. As he crossed another set of tracks his pant leg caught on a piece of raised rail sending him to his knees, his weapon clanking against the aged rail. Gravel and glass cut through his trousers, digging into his knees. It was all he could do not to curse out loud. From up ahead he heard the scurry of feet in the gravel, another shout from Ritter and then the flashing of gunfire again. Scully yelled from behind him but he was up in an instant turning the corner of the tunnel and finding himself outdoors in the dimly lit rail yard. Movement to his left drew his attention. He turned to see a flash of gunfire again and a figure jump across the track. "FBI freeze." A standard warning, but the figure didn't stop. Mulder raised his weapon and fired center mass, dropping the man instantly. The flash of a gunshot again and then the pain of a bullet ripping through his left arm, knocking him back. Realization hit him. "Ritter!" There was no answer from the darkness. "Mulder!" Scully yelled from inside the tunnel at the point where Mulder had exited. She saw him getting to his feet and stumbling forward towards an unknown destination. "Ritter!" he yelled desperately again. Silence, a terrible emptiness filled Mulder's stomach. He already knew what he would find and yet he fumbled the flashlight from his pocket making himself an easy target to the suspect, who was still somewhere up ahead. He could see the flash of Scully's light behind him, but refused to acknowledge her presence. Blood ran down his arm, but he could no longer feel the pain. It was Scully who reached Peyton first. Mulder had no idea how she had passed him, lost in a fog of pain and denial. Blood soaked Peyton's shirt and gurgled from his mouth as she dropped to his side. "Mulder," she turned to look up at his stunned face. "I need your help here!" All Mulder could see was Jean and the baby she carried and it made him sick. "Dammit Mulder, help me!" Finally dropping to his bloody knees beside her, she grabbed his hands. "Pressure, Mulder, I need pressure on the wound." "Officer down! We need paramedics now!" She yelled into her cell. "I don't know where we are!" She heard a garbled response and looked down at Ritter who was trying to tell her their location. "Rail yard under the terminal," Mulder finally whispered to her. Peyton gasped, blood trailing from his mouth, his eyes glazing over as Mulder watched him fight for air. He'd done this. Fired the same shot Ritter had fired without looking when he'd shot Scully in a dingy New York apartment. Scully had survived, Mulder was sure he wasn't going to be as lucky. "CPR Mulder, CPR, come on help me here!" Scully tried desperately to breathe life back into Peyton keeping up with Mulder's rhythm. Despite both their efforts his eyes remained fixed and glassy. When she found no pulse at his throat she reached to still Mulder's hands. "Let him go." She said softly, trying to get his attention. Mulder rocked back on his heels, a ghastly pallor spreading across his face in the dim light. Scully knew what he was thinking. "It's not your fault Mulder." He turned to face her, his eyes glaring at her in the darkness. "That's my bullet they're going to dig out of his chest, Scully. Don't try and tell me it's not my fault." Scully became aware of the sound of footsteps moving through the tunnels. "Agent Ritter, Agent Mulder!" AIC Wilcox shouted. Flashlights soon illuminated them, and in the light, Scully could see Mulder's clammy skin. His right hand now tightly clutching at his left bicep. He trembled and his breathing was fast and shallow. She traced his arm down to his left hand and suddenly realized that the blood running from under his coat sleeve was his. "Mulder, you're hurt." She reached across Ritter's body in an attempt to see the damage, but he pulled away from her. She grabbed his right arm trying to keep him from moving, but he wrestled away from her and staggered to his feet, moving off into the darkness as the group of FBI and Cleveland Police officers made their way to the scene. Wilcox's flashlight came to rest on Ritter's body. He said nothing at first, taking note of Scully's bloody hands, Mulder standing in the shadows. "What happened here Agent Scully?" Scully met the AIC's eyes, "Friendly fire sir. Agent Ritter and Agent Mulder were in pursuit of our killer. It appears Agent Ritter stepped into the path of a bullet meant for our suspect." Wilcox sighed and looked over at Mulder who still stood out of reach in the shadows. "I shot him, sir," came Mulder's shaky voice from the darkness. "Agent Scully?" "Agent Mulder needs medical attention sir, he's also been shot." Scully glared at the AIC as she stepped away from him, striding cautiously over to where Mulder was standing. She didn't speak to him. He was standing but she was unsure as to what was holding him up. His eyes remained closed, his lower lip trembling. His right hand remained in a death grip on his left arm, the blood continued to trickle from his fingers. She gently ran her hand down his right arm, his eyes opened, but he refused to look at her. "Paramedics are on their way. Please let me look at you." He still refused to look at her, his gaze now falling on Ritter's body as one of the other agents gently placed his coat over him. He said nothing. She reached up to graze his cheek with her fingertips and his eyes slowly met hers. His lip quivered and then suddenly he was folding into her. Her arms came around his shoulders to wrap him in an embrace, cuddling his head against her shoulder. Over his shoulder she could see the paramedics approaching. "It's okay Mulder," she said as she slowly stroked his hair. "It's gonna be okay." His knees then buckled and Scully followed him down as he crumbled to the ground. End of Part 1 METROHEALTH MEDICAL CENTER 8:33AM "Scully" "Agent Scully," Skinner's concerned voice came back to her across the phone line. "I've just gotten off the phone with Wilcox. How is Agent Mulder?" Scully sighed; she had no answer to that question. "He'll be fine sir, physically." Skinner could read her thoughts. "Has he given a statement yet?" "They have him sedated, sir. He's very upset." There was silence on the line for what seemed to Scully like an eternity. She brushed the hair from her face, her hand trembling. "Are you alright?" She wanted to be, she needed to be, but in truth she needed the valium as much as Mulder did. "I'm fi---, yes sir, I'm alright." Skinner wanted to say something, wanted to let her know he was as concerned as she was and that he was there for her, but this public phone line was not the place for that. He cleared his throat. "As per bureau regulations he's been suspended with pay pending a formal investigation and OPR hearing into the shooting. You will probably be called to give a statement, Agent Scully. Ballistics has already identified the bullet as matching Mulder's service weapon. What can you tell me?" Scully fumbled nervously with the phone cord. She wanted to get back to Mulder instead of standing here in this all too perfect waiting room. "Very little sir. I didn't see what happened." "It would help if you had witnessed it." "Sir, I heard Mulder announce himself, order the suspect to freeze. It was all just a matter of unfortunate circumstances. It was very dark." "Has Mulder said anything to you?" "He just keeps repeating that he killed him." "As soon as he's released I expect you both back in Washington." METROHEALTH MEDIAL CENTER ROOM 319 Scully made her way back to Mulder's room. What the hell had happened down there? Mulder had been working with Ritter on the case and then she'd showed up. Maybe three really was a crowd. Skinner had informed her over the phone that Wilcox had requested her involvement in the case, stating that her expertise would be welcomed. He also stated that he was concerned about Mulder, his inability to build a working profile was wearing him thin. She suddenly realized that she had worn him even thinner by putting him in the middle of a three-way partnership. Had that really affected his judgement so seriously? She found him dozing, his head thrown back against the pillow. His left arm had been immobilized against his chest; an IV line worked into the back of his right hand made it hard for him to do anything himself. She reached down, entwining her fingers with those of his right hand; careful of the IV line, she gently leaned over and kissed him. "Awakened by a princess," his eyes opened slowly revealing his dilated pupils, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. It made her feel good to see the resemblance of a smile, until it vanished from his face all too quickly. "How do you feel?" A stupid question she realized but she didn't know how else to start the conversation. He looked down at their entwined fingers and pulled his hand gently away from her. "I--", he looked away and then back to his hand, shaking his head slowly. "I don't know how I feel, Scully. Nothing's been fitting into place since I got here. I should have realized that the case was getting away from me, I..." His eyes squinted shut and Scully watched as his face screwed into bitter anguish. His voice was filled with remorse when he spoke again. "A man shouldn't be dead." She ran her fingers up his arm and he shivered. "Mulder, you've been through a lot. Give yourself some time to work this out." "No, no that's not it." He seemed angry now. "I--it's like I'm not thinking the way I used to on a case like this anymore. I can't put the pieces together." She sat down gently on the edge of his bed, feeling him stiffen when she placed a gentle hand on his leg, their eyes met. "You have a lot on your mind right now. I know how you must feel about Peyton. It was an accident. He made the mistake of not responding when you identified yourself." "I made the mistake, Scully. This isn't the first time this has happened." Suddenly he felt the need to reveal a truth to her. One he'd been trying to deny to himself for months. "It's been happening to me ever since...look, I know it shouldn't make any difference, that you and I are in this relationship now, but it does. I know you hate this need I've always had to protect you, it's worse now. It's affecting my judgement in so many ways because I don't want you to see it. "Mulder..." He raised his finger in an 'I'm not finished' motion. "Back when I did this for a living I didn't have another care in the world, and nobody gave a damn about me. I could play Patterson's game and become the monster I was looking for and everything would fall into place. That scares me now. Maybe if I just bang my head against the wall, it will stir things up in there and knock some sense into myself and I'll be able to think straight again. I won't put people's lives in danger. I won't put your life in danger." "Mulder," Scully said with conviction. "We are not putting each other's lives in danger because of our relationship." Breaking eye contact he looked down, shaking his head slightly. "I just keep thinking that if you hadn't been down there with us...I was more concerned for your safety than I was his, three's a crown Scully, especially in this business." He wasn't saying it, but she could read his logic and it frightened her. He was thinking of quitting. FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION WASHINGTON D.C. 3 DAYS LATER Scully sat nervously on Skinner's couch. She hadn't seen Mulder after his hearing. He'd left the building without coming back to the basement office and that worried her. "Agent Scully, you can go in now," Kim's voice finally registering in her brain. Skinner looked up when she entered his office, the look on his face telling her all she needed to know. He met her eyes and sighed. "Agent Scully please have a seat," he motioned with his hand to the seat she always occupied. If felt somehow very lonely with the adjoining seat empty beside her. "Have you talked with Agent Mulder?" She looked down at the brown envelope on her lap, fiddling with a hangnail she had somehow missed. "No sir, I haven't seen him this morning." Skinner took off his glasses, playing with them, trying to figure out how to put his thoughts into words. He wished they were having this conversation in a more private location. He finally looked up to meet her eyes. "He's been asked to resign." Shock was the first thing to register in her mind and then confusion. "I don't understand, sir, he was cleared of any wrongdoing. Ritter's death was ruled accidental." Now she knew why he hadn't come back to the office, and she worried about where the hell he would go. Skinner's voice came back to her. "They were going to fire him, Scully. He'd loose everything, his pension, and benefits. I talked them into asking him for his voluntary resignation. At least it will appear that he left of his own accord." "It will appear that way to everyone but him, sir. What did he say?" A smirk came to Skinner's face that she instantly resented. "You know Mulder, he said he'd think about it." "Sir," Scully leaned forward handing him the brown envelope she'd taken from Mulder's apartment. "I think he's been set up. Maybe even blackmailed into taking that assignment in Cleveland." Skinner took the envelope from her, looking at her with a questioning expression. "I gave him that assignment Agent Scully." "I know that, sir, but he also told me that it was a request from you personally, that AIC Wilcox is a friend of yours. I know you've tried very hard to deny any profiling requests from outside our department." She nodded towards the envelope Skinner held in his hands. Skinner opened the envelope, spilling the photos and the note that came with them out onto his desk. His eyes widened when he realized what he was looking at. "Where did you get these?" "Mulder found them shoved under his door the night of your meeting. We'd gone out for ice cream, ended up in the park. He just wanted my thoughts on what to do. I think someone made the decision for him. That note was referring to me. Maybe he was even threatened with the X-Files." Skinner gathered the photos and placed them back in the envelope. "Scully, there's something else you should know. I threatened him with the X-Files." "Sir?" "It's not going to matter what Mulder decides. They've also decided to close the X-Files...stating that the necessity to downsize has left them no choice but to eliminate unnecessary expenditures." Now she was angry. "Is that what we are, unnecessary expenditures? How convenient, get rid of Mulder and close the files." "Scully--I know how this sounds. The case I gave him, I was just trying to make them see what a valuable agent he is, how valuable you both are." "With a profiling case? Well that worked really well." Scully found this all beyond comprehension. "Did they give Mulder a time frame?" Skinner sighed. "He has forty-eight hours to make his decision." Scully stood without another word, turning away from Skinner and making her way to the door. "Scully?" "Yes," she replied with out turning around. "This thing with Ritter. It's eating him up, isn't it?" Scully looked down at her feet. Mulder had gone back to his own apartment when they'd returned to Washington. She'd only seen him twice. Both times he had been quiet and withdrawn. She couldn't get him to talk to her. "Yes, it is." "You keep your eye on him." She could hear the concern in Skinner's voice. Despite her misgivings, she knew they had a friend in this man. "I will sir." 2630 HEGAL PLACE ALEXANDRIA, VIRGINIA 1:47PM Her second knock on his door had gone unanswered. Awkwardly she pinned the bag from the deli against the wall as she attempted to put the key into the lock herself, hesitating only slightly at the thought of what would keep him from answering. The doorknob turned in her hand and Mulder swung the door open, barely acknowledging her presence as he walked back into the living room. "What took you so long? I figured you would have trailed me back here hours ago." She tried to ignore the disdain in his voice. She would not let him get to her. Bringing the bag into the room and setting it down on the table, she took in his appearance. Mulder was still dressed in his suit pants. His tie gone and his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his untucked tee shirt. He wasn't wearing any shoes. His face held an edge to it, not anger, more like aggravated humiliation in letting everything get to this point. Two empty beer bottles sat on the table. The pain from his gunshot wound was etched on his face. "I brought us something to eat." "I'm not hungry." "Dammit, Mulder," she said dumping the bag none too gently onto the table. "Don't start with me. I'm in this as much as you are." "No you're not, this has nothing to do with you." Scully was stuck dumb. "How can you say that to me?" "You didn't kill Peyton, I did." "You're not a killer Mulder, stop saying that." "How do you know that, Scully? How do you know I didn't pull that trigger out of some subconscious need to justify what happened to you in New York? An eye for an eye." Scully was furious now, what was going on here? She'd never seen him react quite like this before and she was certain that there was more to this whole thing than just Mulder's remorse over what had happened. He was, however, talking to her and she was determined to get to the bottom of this charade before the day was over. "Mulder, please, just stop. Listen to what you're saying. I understand how you feel, it was a terrible accident." She stepped closer to him but he backed off as she extended her hand in a calming motion, afraid he would flee. She sat down on the couch in an act of frustration. "Peyton's death was ruled accidental by the Cleveland PD Mulder, you know that. No one believes there was anything premeditated about it but you." He turned away from her, coming to stand in front of his desk, refusing to look at her. "You know Scully," Mulder said as he traced his fingers across the front of his desk, gazing out through the dusty blinds at the rain drizzling down the window. "The guys in VCS, they used to talk about me. They used to say that the reason I was so good at getting inside the heads of these monsters was because inside my head I was just like them." Scully could see that Mulder was miles away. Deep in despair over what had transpired in Cleveland. She needed desperately to bring him back. "You're not a killer, Mulder, not in the sense that they are. Yes, you've killed before; it's an unfortunate part of the job. Why is this bothering you so much?" "And what 'sense' is that!" He turned, glaring at her with tired eyes. "Think about it, Scully. Think about all the serial killers we've investigated, think about their childhood, their background. What do you see? Me! I fit the profile every time. Maybe those guys were right." Scully met his eyes. Years ago, she might have been inclined to believe him. His carelessness, his arrogant and self-centered approach to their investigations had more often than not led to an unnecessary death. This man before her now was different, and she realized with frightening clarity that his self-doubt was eating him up. "You don't believe that." He broke eye contact, unable to meet her trusting eyes and looked down at his feet. "I don't know what to believe." Scully's hands on his arms made him shiver and he raised his head to again meet her eyes. "Mulder," she said, reaching up to caress the side of his face, running her fingers though his unruly hair. "I'll agree that the things that happened to you in your childhood are factors that we find in the history of many a killer but you rose above that. You're like the phoenix rising from the ashes. You've become an elegant and respectable man and I will never question your righteousness." Mulder glanced away from her, chuckled softly in a disgusted way. "You've never given up on anything in your life, Mulder. Even when I've tried my damnedest to prove you wrong, you've never given up. Don't give up now. Don't let this get to you. Don't let them get to you." His eyes came back to hers. "Don't let them get to us." At her puzzled look he continued. "You saw the note Scully. 'Be careful who you love.' This quest of mine has caused me to loose everyone I've ever loved. That was a warning. I won't let it take you away from me. Nothing, not even the truth is worth that." Scully studied the man standing before her. In all their years together he had never been able to protect her. She'd been taken twice against her will, given an incurable disease and been deprived of her ability to bear children all in an attempt to make him give up his quest. In the end she was only able to come to the same realization that he seemed to have already come to, it was time to end it. "No." Mulder looked down at her puzzled." "What?" "Tell them no, you're not going to resign." "Scully, it doesn't make any difference. They'll fire me." "No--they won't." Now he was really confused and he stepped away from her, walking a few steps before turning again, rubbing his arm as the ache came back. "What the hell are you talking about?" "There's still a killer loose in Cleveland. Your identification of the suspect almost led to an arrest. They know who they're looking for now, Mulder. Skinner won't let you down. You haven't lost your touch, you're just a little rusty." "Yeah, old and rusty, " he mumbled stepping away from her. "You're a classic, Mulder." She could see the pain on his face and realized that it wasn't just the mental pain that had drained all the beauty from him. His arm was obviously bothering him. Stepping up next to him again, she gently eased the bandage away to be sure it was healing properly. To her surprise he didn't object. "Where's you sling?" "I don't know, where ever I left it I guess," he said making a sweeping motion of the messy apartment with his right arm. "You know your arm wouldn't hurt as much if you wore it." "Yes, doctor," he said flopping down on the couch and throwing his head back. He was exhausted. Scully picked up the bag from the deli and made her way to his kitchen. She was determined to get some food in him. A rapid pounding on his door startled them both. When it happened again she looked out of the kitchen in time to see Mulder, his left hand on the doorknob, his Walther PPK in his right. He peered through his peephole, sighed and then opened the door. Walter Skinner stepped into the apartment. "Sir?" Scully watched as their boss sized up her partner. "You look like hell, Mulder, how much have you had to drink?" Mulder didn't answer, his eyes flashing to the empty bottles on the table. Skinner followed his gaze and then looked to Scully for confirmation. "You've got more willpower than I do, I would have drank the whole six-pack." Mulder had had enough of the pleasantries. "You here to put the final nail in my coffin?" Skinner watched his agent sway with exhaustion. He looked again at Scully who still stood in the kitchen doorway. "Actually, I'm here to tell you you're wanted back in Cleveland." A sneer spread across Mulder's face. "I thought I was SUSPENDED." Skinner grabbed Mulder by the right bicep leading him into the living room. Scully, uncertain of their boss' intentions followed them. "Listen," he said, looking back and forth between the both of them. "There's something going on here, but it's not what you think, you're being misled by the enemy. As ugly as it may sound, Mulder, the only way you're going to defeat them is if you start using their own tools against them. Do the things that even they would be ashamed to do. It's time you figured out that the only way you're gonna win this game is if you start shooting back." Mulder yanked his arm from Skinner's grasp. Stepping away, Skinner could see that the comment had hurt him. "Look, I'm sorry, that was a poor choice of words, but it's the truth." "Yes it was," Scully said from behind him. Skinner turned his attention back to Mulder. "Mulder, for as brilliant a man as you are you are incredibly gullible. You're so wrapped up in this search for the truth of yours. This insatiable need you have to prove the unbelievable that you can't see that you're career and quite possibly your life is carefully being manipulated by the very people you work for." Mulder wasn't sure he wanted to hear this right now. His head and his arm throbbed and that old couch behind Skinner looked so damn inviting. He rubbed his hand across his forehead. "What are you talking about?" "They were afraid of you, Mulder. You put a real scare into the powers that be years ago when you started digging into the X-files. You and I both know there are things in those files that the average American has no idea about, but they should. Alone, you were a formable enemy and had they let you go they knew you would pursue things on your own, away from the mainstream in a place they couldn't control you. So they found a way to control you," Skinner finished, turning to Scully. "Dana was sent to spy on you or so you thought but I think by now you both know that the plan worked better than they could have ever imagined. They've spent ten years trying to dissuade you by any means necessary, Mulder. That message, those pictures, they're exactly what you believe them to be, a threat. They're using Scully against you, AGAIN and you, my friend, are letting them." Mulder stood there, speechless for some time. In his mind he knew what Skinner was telling him was true. He'd suspected it himself for years but to hear his boss confirm those suspicions made him ill. His eyes met Scully's. Skinner dug into his coat pocket withdrawing Mulder's service weapon and badge. He handed them to the agent standing in front of him. "Go back to Cleveland, Agent Mulder, solve the case. Don't let what happened with Eliot Ness happen to you." Mulder met Skinner's gaze, he took the badge and weapon from him hesitantly. Skinner stepped away. On his way out the door he touched Scully's shoulder. "Make sure he's one hundred percent before he leaves here." FBI REGIONAL FIELD OFFICE CLEVELAND, OHIO 11:40AM Mulder wasn't one hundred percent, but in the past twenty-four hours Scully had gotten him to eat two meals and he'd slept a good twelve hours. The effects of the case were still evident on his face but at least his clothes were clean and he was thinking clearly. Wilcox had met them at the airport and upon their arrival at the bureau office had wasted no time ushering them into his office. "You're probably wondering how you managed to get called back on this case, Agent Mulder." Mulder put his hands on his hips. "Considering that yesterday I was about to be shown the door, yeah, I am a little curious." "Seems our suspect, or at least we assume it was our suspect, called in an anonymous tip to the local paper and several local TV stations. He happened to mention that he'd been identified by a certain FBI agent name Fox Mulder as the probable suspect in these grisly murders, but that the Bureau had removed him from the case." Mulder turned to look at Scully. "I don't know how much you've garnered from the old case files, but there was a lot of speculation that Mr. Ness covered for the killer back in the 30's. He claimed he didn't have enough evidence to arrest the guy, but a lot of comments from others involved would lead you to believe otherwise. There are still people in this town who remember that investigation and they don't want the same thing to happen again." Mulder suddenly remember what Skinner had said last night as he'd left his apartment, 'Don't let what happened with Eliot Ness happen to you'. What had happened? Much like himself Ness had been a crusader. What would have caused a man who'd worked so hard to solve the killing spree, suddenly become so vague about his findings? Ness had run for public office without success shortly after the case had ended...the killer had vanished into the woodwork and Ness' career had never been the same. Scully's voice brought Mulder out of his funk. "They didn't get a trace on any of the calls?" "Yeah they did, they all came from pay phones, three separate ones." They both turned to Mulder when he spoke. "What else have you got on this guy? Anything?" "Yeah, actually, Alica Morgan is recovering nicely. She was a big help with information but there's one little problem with what she's been able to give us. Her description of the suspect doesn't quite match yours. Let me get the file--then I gotta run, Ritter's funeral is this morning." As Wilcox stepped toward the door Mulder grabbed his arm. "Alicia Morgan?" "She's the woman he kidnapped from the bar that night. He didn't kill her, I thought you knew that." Did he? Mulder thought. Where had his head been the past few days? The people, the victims in this mess were slipping away from him. Ritter's death was still gnawing on him and he had to make that right. "We're coming with you." FBI REGIONAL FIELD OFFICE CLEVELAND, OHIO 6:20PM The conference room looked much the same as it had several days ago. Scully had insisted on going out to get them something to eat. At this point he almost longed for the days when nobody cared if he ate or not. He'd had a queasy feeling in his stomach ever since returning from Ritter's funeral. It had been hard, extremely hard to face the family of the young agent knowing that they all knew he was the man responsible for his death. Despite the findings of the CPD, Mulder did feel responsible. Their acceptance of his genuine apology had moved him. Ritter's father had spoken to him briefly, stating that a law enforcement career was much like joining the armed forces. Putting your life on the line in the name of something you honestly believed in. "Don't let it eat at you, son," he'd said. "Good men like you are hard to find." But it was Jean herself who had really stunned him. She'd embraced him, given him a fierce hug in the funeral home and later at the cemetery she'd pulled him off to the side and in a private conversation had told him that Peyton had idolized him. How Ritter had spent hours reading old case files and trying to come to the conclusions Mulder had found. She wanted him to know that despite what he may have heard over the years, Peyton had told her that Mulder's "spooky" reputation had slowly been replaced by that of a man dedicated to his passions. "We all make mistakes, Agent Mulder," she'd said. "We wouldn't be human if we didn't. My mistake was in believing nothing could happen to him. His was in believing the Bureau would protect him. Don't make that mistake, Agent Mulder." Mulder rubbed the back of his neck and stretched his arms out to relieve the tension across his shoulders. Pain radiated up his arm from the wound and he almost considered digging out the painkillers they'd given him when he left the hospital. He needed Scully's nimble fingers to work their magic. More than that he needed her here right now because he was suddenly beginning to see a picture, the whole picture, and it wasn't very pretty. He looked up at the click of the opening door. Scully made her way into the room carrying several white styrofoam containers. The sudden smell of food made him nauseous. Scully saw the look pass across his face. Taking in the fact that he looked like he hadn't moved from his seat in the forty-five minutes she'd been gone, she was fairly certain that getting any of it into him was a lost cause. She set the food containers down on the table and leaned on it, her other hand coming to rest on her hip. "What's wrong?" Mulder sat back with a sigh. "Everything, I think. Sit down." She pulled a chair over and sat beside him. On the table in front of him was a yellow tablet onto which he'd made quite a list. Why hadn't he used her laptop, which still sat tightly closed on the table? He pushed his list towards her. "See what you think of this." Scully took the pad and began to read. 1- Where do I see the X-Files going? I don't honestly know. Do I care anymore? 2- Serial killer is reenacting a 1930's killing spree...looking for justice or looking to prove there is no justice? 3- Frank Dossman, the only suspect arrested in the 1930's was murdered...he knew the real killer and would squeal? 4- 1930 crime spree ended when Ness raided the ghetto and burned it to the ground...maybe this is what the killer had wanted? (A pretty sick way to clean up the city.) 5- Current suspect has jumped to victims 11 and 12...he's escalating the case for some reason? 6- Current suspect reveals himself to me...he wants me to know who he is? 7- Ness claimed to have known the identity of the killer but never revealed who it was...someone influential in Cleveland society...was he threatened? 8- Current suspect tipped off media re: my suspension...he wants me on this case for a reason? 9- Ritter believed the Bureau would protect him...he ends up dead...maybe he knew the killer? 10-Skinner asked me to work this case...to save the X- Files or to save me? 11-I'm being used, we've been used...I won't let it happen to us anymore! 12-I will be careful who I love...I love you. The final two points took her by surprise and she looked up to find his eyes intent upon her face. He hadn't used the laptop because this list belonged only to them. There was a determination in his expression that she hadn't seen in him for some time and the implications of that determination frightened her. "Mulder," she began softly. "You think this has all been a ruse? Eight people dead in someone's attempt to get you or us out of the Bureau? That's sick." Mulder sat back in the hard chair. "I think, Scully, that back in the 1930's some very influential people had control over law enforcement in this city. This was the depression. Almost a third of the city lived in those hobo jungles down along the river, or in others like it, those who didn't were terrified, they demanded results. Organized crime, the mob, you name it. Cleveland was one of the most crime- ridden cities in the country. People could be bought." "You think Ness was bought out?" "I think he could have been 'dissuaded', yes." His use of the word Skinner had used back in the apartment, was not lost on her. "Like you." He looked away and then very softly answered her unspoken question. "Yeah, like me." "Mulder," she said, reaching over to place her hand on his arm. "They've used you against me since the day we were partnered Scully, Ness had a family. Whose to say that wasn't used against him in the same way." Scully sighed, Mulder's paranoia in full swing. "Alright, but at that time forensics were just coming into use. Any evidence acquired using the techniques of the time was shaky at best. There were no men like you, no profilers to put the pieces together and paint a portrait of the killer. The lack of solid leads, the pressure from the media, public hysteria, it's not hard to see why Ness and his men had such a hard time identifying a suspect." "But they DID have a suspect, Scully, several of them. One very good one he let slip away. Don't you get it?" With frustration evident in her voice, she pulled her hand away. "What am I supposed to get?" Mulder erupted from the chair, slamming his palms on the table. "Ness worked this case for years, Scully! They had so much damn evidence; they didn't know where to put it all. Do you know that there are almost no official records in existence today on the case? It's all gone, conveniently lost. Doesn't that sound familiar? What I've been working with here are old coroner's files, newspaper clippings full of pulp fiction, and private files from people who had worked the case." Mulder turned and stepped away from the table, coming to stand in front of the white board that held most of the current crime scene photos. He put his hands on his hips. "I wonder how long it will take for all this to disappear? It's been happening to us for years, Scully. We work our asses off on a case and then all the evidence disappears and then the two of us have to come up with some fictional accounting that makes sense of what we spent the taxpayer's dollars on. What it comes down to is that nobody knows the truth of what really happened because we have no proof of what you and I both know to be true. We haven't SOLVED anything," he finished with a sigh of resignation. Scully sat there, staring at his back. What could she say when everything he had just said was true? "Mulder, maybe we need to stop thinking about what happened in the 1930's and concentrate on solving the case in hand." He turned around then to face her. "I don't think we're supposed to solve it, Scully." When he was met with nothing but her questioning glance, he continued. "Remember what Skinner said? That this is not what it all appears to be? I'm not going to be used anymore to perpetuate a lie, or flush out whom ever the government is looking for at the moment. I think we have an opportunity here, Scully, someone is providing us with an opportunity to bring this to the attention of the public. There's a press conference tomorrow morning, I want--I need your approval to fire that first shot." Scully sat for a moment, assimilating all that he had said. Did he honestly think the taxpayer's would care about a couple of public servants that felt they were being duped by their superiors? Is that what he was trying to say? There was no way she was about to let him stand in front of a microphone and whine about not being treated fairly. What the hell was he thinking? She got up from the chair and approached him, watching his expression change from hopeful to disappointed when she finally found herself standing in front of him. He met her eyes when she spoke. "Mulder, you can't stand in front of an army of reporters and claim that you are not able do you job properly when your superiors have other motives--which you can't prove. They don't want to hear that. They want to know what's being done to catch this killer." He closed his eyes and stood for several minutes not saying anything. She could tell he was valiantly attempting to control his rage at her unwillingness to go along with his request. When he opened them again she saw not anger, but pain. "I expected that. Somehow I expected that you'd still deny everything. You're my partner, and my friend, Scully, but if you ever expect to be anything more, and you can't deny you know I want more, we've got to stop letting them manipulate us. I will not risk our relationship because of what others expect, insist or allow us to do." He brushed past her, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. "Mulder? Where are you going?" Ignoring her question, he reached for the doorknob and opened the door to the hallway and his escape. "Mulder--wait! I don't deny... BANG JUSTICE CENTER MEDIA ROOM 9:10AM The police chief had just finished briefing the media on what information they had recently ascertained. The drawing of the suspect Ms. Morgan had described had been released to the media several days ago but so far no leads as to the suspect's identity had been received. There had been no new victims. After fording several questions on his own, he introduced the representatives from the FBI. "I'd like to introduce SAIC Wilcox from the Cleveland Field Office, and Agents' Mulder and Scully from the Washington Bureau. They are here to bring you up to speed on the Bureau's findings." Scully hadn't seen Mulder since he'd slammed the door in her face the evening before. She had left him a message that he'd promptly ignored. She did know what he wanted so desperately to do. And he was right; it had nothing to do with solving the case. She also knew, that with her, or without her, he was about to make it perfectly clear to those who had run their lives for the past ten years, he--they she thought to herself, would no longer let that happen. Wilcox and Mulder stepped up to the bank of microphones; Scully remained just off to Mulder's left. After explaining the Bureau's role in the investigation so far, Wilcox opened the press conference. "Agent Wilcox, I understand this suspect had been identified prior to Ms. Morgan's abduction?" "No suspect has been identified, all we have is a composite drawing of a man from her description." Another reporter shouted from the back of the room. "Is this the same man in the drawing Agent Mulder gave you almost a week ago?" Wilcox glared at Mulder. "The man in Agent Mulder's drawing could not be linked to the crimes at the time, there was no proof of his allegation that this man was our suspect." Again the same reporter shouted from the back of the room. "I understand Agent Mulder jumps to a lot of conclusions without proof." Mulder glanced in Scully's direction, seeking her approval one last time. She nodded and was pleased to see his lips curl in a tentative smile. "Agent Mulder is a qualified criminal profiler. Any conclusions he comes to are based on his expertise as an investigator." "But it's my understanding that Agent Mulder doesn't work for VCS." "Excuse me--Sir?" Mulder stepped closer to the microphone. "You have every right to question my expertise in this matter. Fact is, I haven't been with VSC for over ten years and yet Washington saw fit to send me here to try and make sense out of something no one has any intention of seeing brought to a close,at least not in the near future." "Mulder? What are you doing?" Wilcox' questioning voice rang in his right ear. Another reporter jumped in. "Are you saying the Bureau doesn't want this case solved?" Mulder again looked in Scully's direction. "I'm SUGGESTING that there are forces at work within the government and the private sector for that matter, of which the public is totally unaware. These groups make it their job to hamper an investigation such as this one and therefore make it impossible for me and others in my position to find the truth." The man in the back of the room spoke again. "Alien forces Agent Mulder?" Scully could see Mulder bristle at the comment. His fingers gripping the podium so tightly the tips had turned white. "No, not alien forces, and you've obviously done some investigating on your own. But if you continue to joke about this, you're only acting against me and all these other fine law enforcement personnel. Look, when you-- you assume a position where you swear to uphold the law and protect the public you expect to be allowed to do your job to the best of your ability." "And you're saying the Bureau doesn't allow you to do that?" "Not the Bureau per-se, but certain factions that perhaps have other agendas in mind." This had quickly become a conversation between the two men. Most of the other reporters in the room seemed quite content to listen in. Any questions regarding the progress of the case had been forgotten. "How far up are we talking about?" "I'm not sure, the Justice Department, perhaps all the way to the Attorney General." "You're accusing the Attorney General of the United States of complacency in a crime?" "NO! I'm not ACCUSING anyone of anything. What I'm trying to get you to understand is you need to take that investigative imagination of yours and look beyond the people in my position. We're just pawns in this game." With that Mulder turned from the podium and exited the room, the sounds of his name and more questions being shouted to his retreating back. Scully found him a few minutes later, leaning against the wall outside the conference room, his head thrown back against the wall, his eyes tightly closed. She approached him cautiously. "Mulder?" When he didn't respond she stepped close to him, sliding her right arm around his shoulder and placing her left hand on the back of his neck, drawing his head slowly towards her. She stretched up on her tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss. He responded then, more than she had anticipated. Wrapping his arms around, her he kissed her back. Gently at first, and then placing his hands on either side of her ribcage, he spun her around so she was against the wall. Lifting her so he didn't have to bend down to reach her, he deepened the kiss almost desperately. His tongue played against her teeth. This was so wrong. Here in the hallway and yet she found she couldn't stop herself from letting him in. Their tongues danced back and forth, their breathing becoming more irregular until the sound of someone clearing their throat extremely loud made them stop. Mulder broke the kiss. Slowly lowering her to the floor as he tried to regain control of himself. The palms of his hands came to rest against the wall on either side of her head and she watched the desire in his eyes disappear as his breathing became more regular. He took a deep shuddering breath and turned around to face Wilcox. To Wilcox' credit he made no comment about their little sojourn in the hallway. "You sure opened a can of worms out there, Agent Mulder. I hope you've got proof to backup these claims of yours, because the switchboard is already lighting up like a Christmas tree and I can just imagine what's going on in Washington." "I don't need proof, sir, Washington does. I just want to be able to do my job. That's all I've ever wanted," he finished, as he stepped away and headed off down the hall. FBI REGIONAL FIELD OFFICE CLEVELAND, OHIO 7:35PM Mulder sat staring at the two composite drawings. Who was this man whose life he had lived for one dream- filled moment? He hadn't acted the part of a serial killer. Nothing in those brief moments inside his head had pointed to any inner rage or lust, no stressor that had caused the man to embark on this spree of killings. What he had felt instead was sport. And a man that kills for sport is usually employed by someone else. Eight people were dead, but Mulder no longer thought it was the result of some psychopath reliving a case from the 1930's. Something even more sinister was going on here. This other man, the one he was certain he knew from somewhere, stared at him with an eye of knowledge. Knowledge that someone was using one of the most gruesome murder cases in history as a backdrop to destroy the X-Files and his career. This man he was sure was the informant who had tipped off the press. Why? Why was man lurking in the shadows of the case? And why had Skinner of all people urged him to suddenly expose an agency of men who had for years prevented him from bringing to the attention of the public crimes in which the government was almost certainly involved? This wasn't a can of worms; it was a box of snakes. The ringing of his cell phone suddenly jolted him. "Mulder." "Agent Mulder, I have some information that I think you would find most interesting." "Who is this?" Mulder thought he recognized the voice, but his tired mind couldn't place it with a face. "I understand you're being pulled off this case for good. I think there are some things you should know before you head home." Mulder squeezed the bridge of his nose with this thumb and forefinger. "Alright, what do I need to know?" "I want you, and you ALONE, to meet me, on the Eagle Road bridge in about an hour." "A bit melodramatic wouldn't you say?" "Makes it just that more intriguing," and with that the caller hung up. Mulder punched the OFF button on his phone. Ness has been one of the most high profile investigators of his time. Working for the Treasury Department until he had accepted the position as Safety Director for the city of Cleveland. His biggest claim to fame had been his investigation of then mob boss Al Capone. He and his "Untouchables" had been the ones who had finally brought the man down. His intelligence, foresight and investigative brilliance gave him the ability to lead and inspire those around him. Under his direction, the Cleveland police force became a model for the entire country. When Ness left law enforcement in the 1940's his career began a downturn from which it never recovered. Mulder reached over and picked up the copy of "The Untouchables" he'd purchased not long after he'd begun working the case. He flipped through the book to some photos. Staring at the photo of Eliot Ness, Mulder suddenly imagined he was looking at himself. Scully had left the Cleveland office a little over an hour ago after taking a call from A.D. Skinner. Skinner had none to politely told them they were being pulled off the case and that he expected them in his office at 9:00AM the following morning. She'd gotten them seats on the red-eye for later that evening and had left to go pack their things and check out. Mulder now fought the inner battle of whether or not to call her and tell her where he was about to go. "Scully." "Hey, it's me." His voice sounded hesitant and she was instantly on alert. "Where are you, Mulder?" "I'm still at the Bureau but I've got an errand to run, maybe you'd like to come along?" The conversation was cryptic but she could read between the lines. "You going to pick me up?" "Yeah, give me 15." OUTSIDE HAMPTON INN CLEVELAND Mulder was waiting at the curb when she exited the hotel. She slid into the passenger seat and buckled up. "What kind of errand are we running?" "I got a call, just before I called you. I'm certain it's the man I saw at the Conrail crime scene. This may sound weird, but I keep thinking I know him but I didn't recognize the voice. He wants me to meet him on the Eagle Road bridge. He said he has some information..." "Your informants always have information Mulder," she interrupted him. "But it's usually something that gets you into more trouble." He looked away from her, staring out the front window of the car at the rain that had begun to dampen the windshield. "You know, I got the impression that you were in on this with me this morning at that conference. Was I mistaken?" She reached over and touched his arm. "No, you were not mistaken, but you didn't exactly fire a warning shot Mulder, you launched a missile and I'm afraid the destruction might be too extensive." She watched as a smile curved the corners of his mouth. "Okay, this is gonna sound a bit melodramatic, but that seems to be the way this guy wants to play it. I want you on the floor in the back, out of site. He told me to come alone and I want him to think that I am. When I've made contact with him, I'll ring you once on the phone. Call for back up. Whatever this guy has to say, I want a chance to hear it before the wrath of Cleveland converges on the site. I don't believe this guy is responsible for the murders, but I get the impression that he knows who is." "Are you wearing a vest Mulder?" "What?" "Please, Mulder, think about this, you've just made allegations that the government and others might be responsible for cover-ups. It wouldn't be surprising if someone out there wanted you dead. This is a Bureau car, is there armor in the trunk?" Mulder pulled the car into the underground garage for the hotel and found a parking spot. To Scully's satisfaction there were indeed two kevlar vests in the trunk of the car. Mulder grudgingly acknowledged her request and in one swift move removed his coat and jacket to put the vest on over his dress shirt. Ten minutes and $8.00 later they exited the garage and headed for the flats. CORNER OF SCRANTON AND GIRARD WEST BANK, CUYAHOGA RIVER 8:22PM Mulder parked the car on the dead-end side street and got out. Scully was nestled securely on the floor in the back seat. The rain had lessened to a chilly mist as he crossed Scranton Road and headed towards Eagle Avenue. There was very little light, but he thought he could make out a figure leaning against the steel girders. He reached into his coat pocket making sure his cell phone was there. All he had to do was punch #1 to reach Scully. As he approached the man, he could see he was tall, about Mulder's height, dressed in a parka and wearing a baseball cap. "Agent Mulder." The voice, again he thought he recognized the tone but it was laced with a hoarseness that made him unsure. And then the man turned into what little light there was and removed his cap. Mulder gasped in shock as recognition set in. Michael Kritschgau, his face disfigured with burn scars extended a hand to him. Mulder accepted his hand and as they shook he could feel the scars on his hand as well. "I came to explain to you what you've gotten yourself involved in." "I'm not sure I understand." A light flickered across the bridge and both men froze. Looking in the direction it had come from they both saw a large ore freighter being pulled up the Cuyahoga River towards them. "This whole thing was a set up. Designed to get you out of the Bureau for good. But someone else has intervened and gotten you to do exactly what you've just done, plant the seeds of deception in the minds of an otherwise unsuspecting public." "Eight innocent people are dead, an agent was killed, are you saying that this was all planned? That I was used?" "Did Skinner tell you where this case originated from?" Mulder thought for a moment. "He said outside the Bureau. But he also told us that it wasn't what it seemed." "It never was. There's no murderer here, Agent Mulder, not this time, maybe not in Ness's day either. You can't solve this case because there's no case to solve. You were meant to fail and once they had you out, your career would take a dive just like Ness. The note you got, the photos, that was all part of this. They know how much she means to you." "Is she in danger? Who set me up?" "That outside source, I'm sure. A warning whistle cut the stillness and they could feel the bridge moving underneath them. The freighter was approaching and the bridge had begun its rise off the river to allow it to pass. "Answer me! What about the others, do you know who they are?" "They won't hurt her or you, not now, you've gone public, Mulder. You're going to become very high profile in all of this. Your job with the X-Files will no longer just revolve around explaining the unexplained, you're going to be called on to explain WHY they are unexplained. You'll become untouchable. You're on our side now." Suddenly a shot rang out, the bullet ricocheting off the girder above their heads. Kritschgau bolted. "Dammit Kritschgau! On who's side?" Mulder reached into his pocket and hit the #1 on his phone and then took off across the bridge after Kritschgau. Scully had her phone out and was fumbling 911 the instant she heard the single ring of her phone. Exiting the car, she tried to make out if the two men were still on the bridge. She was almost at the foot of the bridge before the call connected. "911 operator." "This is Dana Scully with the FBI, my badge number is JTT0331613, we need police back up! My partner and I are in pursuit of a murder suspect. We're on Scranton, the Eagle Road bridge!" She didn't wait for any acknowledgement when she heard the shots being fired. "Mulder!" Damn him. The streetlights were of little help and the rain had picked up again in earnest. The sudden rumbling of metal and the creaking of gears made her turn her attention to the lift bridge as it began its rise from the river. A huge ore freighter was making its way up the Cuyahoga River from the ore docks, bound for the lake and there was no way of stopping it. Sirens blared in the distance, but she knew there was little the police would be able to do once they arrived. The bridge itself was now some 40 feet in the air. Looking up she could see that Mulder and whomever he had met, were now trapped on the rising bridge. With the freighter on the river there was no way the bridge would come down until it had passed. Mulder caught up with Kritschgau; there was no where for either of them to go. He grabbed the man's coat and slammed him against the girders of the bridge. "Dammit, did you set me up? Who are these other people?" Kritschgau wrestled with Mulder, pulling his hands from his coat. "You idiot, that's not who's shooting at us! The people I'm talking about want what you want, Mulder, what we both want, justice, the truth, and a way to make the public understand what's being done to them. I can't tell you, not yet but we've gotten you to open up a pathway for ourselves and others like us, a way for our voices to be heard". Mulder pulled his gun and stuck it in Kritschgau's face. "Don't give me any of this liberation psychobabble, I want to know who's behind this, who am I working for now?" Scully watched from below as the two men wrestled each other against the railing of the bridge. Mulder's long coat the only way she could identify who was who. It looked as if his informant had him pinned against the railing. She had no way of knowing who had been firing at who. Cruisers pulled up and two offices got out running to where Scully now stood watching the drama unfold above her. "What the hell's going on here?" "My partner and I believe your suspect is on the bridge." Both officers looked up following Scully's gaze to the two figures now more than half way across the bridge and still locked in a lethal embrace. Just then, another car pulled up, this time a Bureau issue followed closely by another cruiser. Wilcox jumped from the Bureau car, the Chief of Police from the other. "What are you two doing down here, Agent Scully?" Wilcox yelled over the noise of the rising bridge. "Who's up there?" "Agent Mulder, sir, and I believe your suspect." The police chief jumped in. "I've got a marksman...." "No, they're too close together, I won't let you take that chance." Scully was livid. "It's not your choice to make!" More cars pulled up illuminating the dark streets in a circus of red and blue. A few dozen officers now stood and watched the struggle. The police marksman approached with his rifle. Mulder was slowly losing his edge. The wound to his arm made him weak on that side and Kritschgau was a strong man. He had wrestled him around and now had Mulder pinned to the railing almost crushing the life out of him, his gun also pinned between himself and the railing. "Mulder, listen to me! The X-Files are full of victims just like yourself. While you've been spending years looking for the unexplained cause of the crimes, these people have all been left to wonder why there is no justice for their loved ones. I want justice for my son, Scully wants justice for her sister and you want justice for her and your family. You've given us a way to make the public see the hidden agendas. There are people willing to testify to the validity of your accusations. You're not alone in this!" "Why now?" Mulder gasped, trying to catch his breath. "Because you now have something you want to live for." "And that would be?" "A future, with the woman you love." 'Scully' Mulder thought. Using his legs, Mulder managed to turn himself in Kritschgau's grasp. The steel of the bridge digging into his side as he was now wedged sideways working to free his gun hand. "Stop it!" Kritschgau pushed him forward, his head meeting the steel girder with enough force to make him see stars. He gasped in pain, blood slowly beginning to trickle down his forehead. He would not get free of this man. They both leaned precariously over the bridge railing, through the driving rain Mulder could see the freighter now just a short distance from the bridge. "I can solve this case, you know who killed these people! You want people to know the truth, help me here!" "I can't! Dammit can't you see! I'm a dead man; my ambiguity allows me to work in the shadows, just like them. There is a bigger more important picture here Mulder. Open your eyes!" Suddenly they were both bathed in a brilliant light. Sailors on the freighter below had turned their searchlight on the bridge. Kritschgau jumped in surprise, bringing his hand up to shield his face from the sudden brightness. Mulder saw his chance. Putting his feet up on the first rung of the bridge's railing, and using his back, he pulled Kritschgau forward over his shoulders, wrapping his left arm around the back of his neck he jerked the man forward. "Take the shot when you've got it." The police chief's orders rang in her ears, but Scully refused to look away from the drama on the bridge. The gun discharged, making her jump. Mulder felt Kritschgau's body jerk, their weight shift. Realizing what was about to happen, Mulder tried desperately to stop their forward momentum, but Kritscghau's weight was too much for him in this awkward position and together they began to tumble over the railing into the water below. Scully, standing on the west bank, could not keep the scream from escaping her throat. "No!" She and the rest of the officers watched the two men plummet some ninety feet into the chilly waters of the Cuyahoga and disappear just ahead of the freighter. No one said a word. The police chief looked over at his marksman and then back to Scully whose hands now hid her eyes. The two men had hit the water together, Kritschgau clinging to Mulder's coat in a death grip. Mulder struggled to free himself of the man and his wet coat in the frigid churning water left by the wake of the freighter. The impact had knocked the air from his lungs, and as he finally surfaced he gasped painfully to draw breath. Pulling the kevlar vest from his body, he made his way in the blackness towards what he hoped was the riverbank. It seemed like an eternity for the freighter to pass. The chief called for EMT's and backup on the east side of the river where the two men had entered the water. The sailors had seen the event unfold in their searchlight and now trained it on the river below as the huge ship passed under the bridge. There was no sign of either man in the dark and chilly water. It would be a while before either the police patrol boat or the Coast Guard would be at the scene. Officers were now dispatched with flashlights to search the banks on either side in hope of finding either man. Time was of the essence; neither of them could survive long in 40 something degree water. Scully turned to the police chief. "You've got to get me over there," she said, pointing to the other side of the river. "Gotta wait for the bridge Ma'am...it's the quickest way." Quick was at least 20 minutes and when Scully arrived on the east bank she was devastated to learn there was still no sign of Mulder or the suspect. "Get me a light!" she shouted. Determined to look herself if that's what it took. Suddenly a yell came up from the riverbank, some 200 yards downstream. "I see something!" an officer shouted. "Get some more light down here!" Scully said a silent prayer and ran with the others down to the water's edge. Drenched, bloody and cold, Mulder was pulled from the river. He now lay wrapped in blankets in the back of an ambulance. Refusing to be removed from the scene until the other man was also found. "Mulder, you're suffering from hypothermia, we need to get you to a hospital." Scully pleaded with him. "No sign of him?" He shook his head as if already knowing the answer. The action caused his stomach to churn at the same time. She was right, he needed a warm bed. "I don't know, Mulder, they'll have a better chance of finding something in the daylight." One of the EMT officers popped his head inside the vehicle. "We're rolling!" Scully nodded. "They'll nev...never find him, Scully," Mulder said with chattering teeth. BASEMENT OFFICE TWO WEEKS LATER Scully walked into the office carrying a bakery bag and two cups of real coffee. Mulder was already there and looked like he had been for some time. "Morning." Setting her parcels down, but not moving from where she stood, she took a moment to admire the view in from of her. Tie askew and his sleeves rolled up, Mulder sat in front of the monitor on his desk hacking away at the keyboard. "I had no idea you were this eager to get back to work. What are you working on?" A wry grin crossed his lips. "Finishing my report to Skinner. He wants us in his office at 9." After being pulled from the river, Mulder had given a statement to the Cleveland police that the man he had encountered on the bridge was the same man he had seen at the crime scene where victims number 7 and 8 had been found, the man in his composite drawing. This was not the killer, but Mulder was certain that he could have given them information. In attempting to apprehend the man, a struggle had ensued and they had both ended up plunging into the river. Not exactly a lie but a confabulation of the truth that he hoped would protect this fragile alliance he now seemed to have with whomever was behind Kritschgau. A group who seemed like they would stop at nothing to expose the corruption that now existed. No sign of the other man had been found. To this date there had been no new victims. The media on the other hand had been given a fabricated story that read something to the effect that Mulder had identified the man on the bridge as the suspect in the Morgan kidnapping. In attempting to apprehend the suspect on the bridge that night, the suspect had perished in the plunge into the river. Mulder found it hard to believe that the public had bought the story. His own conscience nagging him to set the record straight. Kritschgau, however, was right. There was a bigger picture here and once again Mulder found himself using a lie to find the truth. In response to Mulder's allegations at the press conference, the FBI, the Justice Department, local law enforcement, state senators, state and local government offices, municipal and county courts, several leading pharmaceutical companies and a multitude of private businesses had all been contacted by representatives of the media and legal councils. The investigations would take years and many of the answers would no doubt be found in the X-Files themselves. Scully came around the desk to stand next to Mulder. Picking up the drawing of Alicia Morgan's kidnapper. "This is still bothering you isn't it?" Mulder sat back, picking at his trouser leg to remove some invisible lint. He didn't meet her eyes. "There was a murderer there Scully. The man was working for someone. I could feel it. I just don't know if it was our usual 'outside source' or something even more sinister. And yeah, that still bothers me." She leaned on the desk, crossing her arms. "But you're still not about to reveal the identity of the man you met on the bridge? You know who he was; it's almost like letting a killer go free. What did he tell you, Mulder?" From somewhere in his memory those same words came back to him. 'Why would anyone let a killer go free?' And then Arthur Dales haunting reply. 'In the hope that...the crimes that were committed...might someday be exposed.' Mulder leaned forward and hit the PRINT button on the keyboard. Several pages spit out of the printer behind him. Pushing the chair back, he stood, grabbing the pages and stuffing them into the back of the folder containing his report. Grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair he turned to Scully. "He told me it's time for the phoenix to take flight." THE END AUTHORS NOTES: This story is fiction. The original story of Kingsbury Run however is very real. Eliot Ness, Peter Merylo and Martin Zelewiski were all real people from Cleveland, Ohio, who back in the 1930's became involved in one of the greatest murder mysteries of all time. To this day the case remains unsolved. The names of the real victims have been changed. This is in no means meant to be disrespectful. I just felt uncomfortable using them in this fictional story. All the other characters in my story are mine and any resemblance to any real persons living or dead is purely coincidental. If murder mysteries fascinate you and you'd like more information on "The Mad Butcher of Kingsbury Run" you can check out the Cleveland Police Museum's website at www.clevelandpolicemuseum.org/torso.htm or check out your local library or bookstore for "In the Wake of the Butcher" by James Jessen Badal "The Untouchables" is a novel written by Eliot Ness and Oscar Fraley. It's also a feature film starting Kevin Cosner, Sean Connery, Robert DeNiro and Andy Garcia and worth a look. I think you'll find Mr. Ness and Mr. Mulder have a lot in common. Today the area of Cleveland know as "The Flats" is still a highly industrial area but it has also become one of Cleveland's better entertainment venues with lots of restaurants and outdoor concert facilities. Many of the beautiful bridges that span the Cuyahoga River are lighted at night.