From: "Donni" <Donnilee@snet.net>
Date: Sun, 23 Sep 2001 22:08:02 -0400
Subject: RE: "Hunt for the Werewolf" by Donnilee
Source: direct


PART 6 (PG-13)

JAMIE LEVEAU'S APARTMENT

RICHMOND, VA

 

"Creeped out?" 

 

"Yeah, you know . "

 

"J," I began.  "I've known you for how many years?"

 

"Almost twenty," he said softly.

 

I nodded.  "Now don't you think if I was homophobic or had any hang ups
about that, we would have come across them by now?" I said calmly. 

 

Scully smiled gently at me from the other side of the kitchen, obviously
approving of the way I was handling this.  She was being careful to keep
a low profile and stay out of it.

 

He tapped his foot nervously.  "I guess so."

 

"I know so."

 

"Yeah, but it's different when it's . or you think it's aimed at you. 
We joke around, but . well, at least with most people."

 

"I'm not most people."

 

He finally met my eyes again.  "I'm sorry.  That's kind of insulting,
isn't it?  Assuming it would bother you."

 

I tipped my head one way and then the other, trying to say, 'Sort of.' 
"I'm sorry."

 

"Forget about it.  We've understood each other for a lot of years.  I've
never worried about you suddenly not understanding where I'm coming
from."

 

He nodded.  "All right then.  Are you going to let me make this fucking
phone call or what?" he asked, snapping out of his hesitant mood in a
flash.  I grinned and stepped aside as he went into the living room. 

 

He picked up the phone and dialed a number.  He watched me as Scully
followed us into the living room.  I put my arm around her waist loosely
and she leaned into me.  I felt an odd swelling sensation in my chest.  
Oh God, we were going to be able to act like a couple!  The thought of
being able to show people that we were together thrilled me to no end. 
I was going to enjoy being able to show my love for her.  She seemed
relaxed now.  I hoped it would last.

 

What was that going to be like?  I couldn't even imagine.  But I was
looking forward to it.  I glanced down and noticed that she had a big
red love bite on the base of her neck towards the back.  I don't think
she'd noticed.  I decided not to tell her.  Let others see it and know
she was marked, 'this one's taken.'

 

Jamie was talking.  "Detective Cartwright, please."

 

I hadn't noticed before, but he was still sporting those purple finger
nails.  I was noticing now that he was holding the phone.  He was
dressed in jeans and big teeshirt that he was swimming in.  I wondered
if it belonged to the detective.  It was several sizes too big for him. 
He looked small and delicate standing there, his head tipped to one
side, his long, shiny hair hanging off the side.

 

I smiled, feeling affection for him.  I really had been a rotten friend.
 I would have to make a better effort to spend time with him.

 

Then I watched a soft smile come over his face.  "Daryl," he said
softly.

 

He sighed.  "I know.  I wouldn't call you at work if it wasn't important
and this isn't personal."

 

He paused, listening to whatever the man on the other end was saying.

 

"I have a friend who's a special agent with the FBI."

 

He laughed softly then.  "Didn't know I had connections, did you?" he
teased.  

 

We smiled at him.   "Listen, they need some help.  They are
investigating the missing girls from Dial-A-Dream."

 

He paused.  "Yes, I know.  They need someone to let them into the houses
of the missing girls."

 

"Oh all right.  I'll tell them."  He paused.  "Fox Mulder and Dana
Scully."

 

"As a matter of fact ."  He looked at me and grinned like a maniac.  "He
is a fox.  Looks a lot like you."

 

He looked at the ceiling and laughed again at something the guy had
said.  "O.K.  Don't worry.  I'll dress like a normal human being and act
like I don't know you."

 

I saw a flash of hurt cross his face but it was quickly buried.  "I
understand.  We'll be there shortly."

 

He hung up and sat on the couch.  "He said they have someone staking out
each of the houses.  They all have keys.  We just have to look for the
brown unmarked cars.  He's going to call each of them and tell them to
expect you at some point today.  So that solves the problem of getting
into the apartments."

 

"But we have to go to the station first?"

 

"Yeah, to get the addresses.  I don't have a fax here and he said, it
would be easier to have you stop by.  Then he could give you a copy of
their entire file.  He's making a copy of it now."

 

"Wow!" Scully said.  "We usually get a hassle from local police.  They
tend to be very territorial."

 

I said, "Yeah, but we've got an inside track this time." 

 

J smiled.  "He didn't catch this case.  But he knows the detective that
did.  Said he would talk to him.  He'll be waiting for us."

 

"Let's get going then."  I headed for the stairs. 

 

"Where are you going?"

 

"To get our bags."

 

"No you're not.  You're staying here, Fox."

 

"J, I appreciate the offer but we really need to get a hotel."

 

"Why?"

 

I gave him a 'don't be stupid' look and then he smacked his forehead
with the palm of his hand.  We all laughed and I ran upstairs to gather
our stuff.  

 

Just as we were headed out the door, the phone rang.  J grabbed it up,
"Yeallo?" he chortled into the phone.

 

His smile faded and he sat on the couch.  "Who is this?"  he asked.

 

His face was turning pale as he clutched the receiver.  I was beside him
in an instant, dropping to my knees.  He tipped the receiver out so I
could listen.  All I heard was, "You're next, bitch."

 

J's hands were shaking as he replaced the phone in the cradle.  He
covered his face with his hands.  I noticed his finger nails were gone. 
Somehow he's removed them while I was gathering our stuff.  "Oh God," he
murmured.

 

I stood up and he did too.  He was shaking and I pulled him into a loose
hug.  He looked at me and said, "He must not know."

 

I nodded.  I hugged him to me and he hugged me back.  "It's all right. 
I think I've changed my mind.  We are going to stay here."

 

I frowned grimly at Scully, "All he said was, 'You're next, bitch.'  I
think we should stay here."



I looked at Scully, asking her if it was all right.  She was vigorously
nodding her head.  "Of course!"

 

J mumbled, "It was just heavy breathing before that."

 

XXXXXXXXXX

RICHMOND POLICE DEPARTMENT

PRECINCT 4

DOWNTOWN RICHMOND, VA

 

Detective Daryl Cartwright was an impressive man.  He was tall and brown
haired and green eyed.  But the similarities ended there.  He was in his
late thirties somewhere.  He had the body of a weight lifter with
bulging biceps and a thick torso, very unlike Mulder's lanky, well-toned
physique.  His face that was oddly attractive and I could see the
similarities but you'd never mistake one for the other.  

 

I think Mulder was a little relieved despite what he said.  Not because
he had a problem with J's orientation, but rather because any romantic
feelings for him from J would spoil their friendship.  He confirmed my
suspicions when he leaned over and whispered in my ear, "He doesn't look
anything like me, does he, Scully?"

 

I smiled and shook my head in the negative.  I whispered back, "No,
you're much sexier."  He grinned so wide I thought his face was going to
crack.

 

Daryl's jaw was very square, unlike Mulder's, but he did have a big nose
like Mulder's and piercing green eyes.  Mulder's were more hazel.  He
quickly showed himself to be friendly and cooperative.  We all trudged
into an interrogation room with the detective in charge of the case and
sat down to go over what we had.    

 

The detective in charge was one, Casey Mulharen.  He was a grizzled guy,
hugging retirement, but there was nothing slothful about him.  He was
all business.  I could tell his nose had been broken a couple of times. 
His salt and pepper hair was combed straight back and he periodically
chewed on the corner of his mustache, a nervous habit that always drove
me nuts on men with mustaches.

 

Since J had received the unexpected phone call from someone, the
Detective took his statement.  "Now what?" J asked.

 

"We go over everything and we trade information," Mulharen suggested.

 

We all nodded.  He showed us pictures of the gooey stuff, which was yet
unidentified.  Then he pulled out pictures of the lanugo hair found at
the scenes.  It was odd.  

 

When we were finished throwing out the facts, Mulharen said, "I have no
idea what's going on here.  It's weird.  I wish we could find the
girls."

 

I nodded.  "A body can tell us a lot.  And that's my specialty."

 

J made a face of disgust and we all laughed, then he swallowed hard,
looking nervous.  He was sitting next to me and I reached over, placing
my hand on top of his in reassurance.  He smiled at me, sadly.

 

Mulharen said, "Jamie, I already took your statement and this is off the
record.  But I need to ask you an uncomfortable question."

 

J looked at him and nodded.  He smiled, showing his dimples and giving
the detective a look that said, 'I knew this was coming.'  "I have
nothing to hide, Detective.  What is it that you need to know?"

 

"Well . only girls have disappeared so far."  He stopped, looking at J
meaningfully.

 

J made eye contact and said, "When I'm at work there, I'm a girl too. 
He probably doesn't know that I'm a man."

 

Mulharen raised his thick, Irish eyebrows and couldn't totally suppress
the smirk he threw at Cartwright.  Daryl glared back at him, not amused.
 Mulharen looked away quickly and cleared his throat.  "Care to explain
that?" he asked, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and
forefinger.

 

J sighed.  "I'm gay," he said, sounding bored.

 

"I figured that.  That doesn't explain why he would think you were a
girl unless he was one of your customers."

 

"He could have been.  How would I know?"

 

"I don't KNOW anything, but I suspect he cased the service and followed
these girls.  He grabbed them from home, not while they were at or
leaving work.  That tells me he saw them.  He didn't just talk to them
over the phone to get his rocks off."

 

Jamie frowned at his crude statement but kept his cool.  His voice was
monotone but steady.  "Detective, even if he saw me, he would probably
think I'm a girl."

 

The detective looked at him skeptically.  "Look, I'm trying to shoot
straight with you here.  I look at you and I see an . effeminate man,
but I do know you're a man."

 

"When I'm dressed like this, yes."  It was J's turn to raise his
eyebrows at the Detective.

 

The detective flushed, "How are you dressed at work?"

 

"I wear hair extensions and wigs and makeup." He paused.  "Not always,
but I usually wear a dress and sandals or women's shoes."

 

The detective coughed into his hand and then said, "O.K., so he would
think you were a girl.  You can really make yourself look so female that
the average person couldn't tell?" he asked.

 

Mulder broke in, "Not even if they were staring."

 

The detective looked at him and back at J.  He hitched up on one hip and
pulled out his wallet from his back pocket.  He flipped it open and
extracted a photo of himself as Jamella.  He wasn't dressed flashy in
this one, like he did for the stage.  He was simply wearing a smart
women's suit, off white, with a box jacket and a tight skirt, and flat
bone colored leather shoes.  He had on a necklace and dangling gold
earrings.  His hair was flipped over his shoulder to hang down one side.
 He tossed it carelessly across the table toward the detective.

 

It spun to a stop and the detective picked it up.  His mouth dropped
open and his eyes went wide.  "Jee..zzus!" he muttered.

 

He looked between the picture and J several times, shaking his head
slightly in disbelief.  Then he laughed and tossed the picture back at
him.  "You're not a bad looking dame," he joked.

 

We all laughed at that and J said, "Gee, thanks." 

 

We all just laughed harder.  "Well .." Mulharen said, unsure what to say
now.

 

"Does that answer your question?" J asked.

 

Mulharen nodded.  He face became serious.  "We need to find these girls.
 We don't even have a suspect, nothing."

 

J bit his lip, looking so sad and scared.  "He sounded . so angry," he
said quietly.  "Just full of rage."

 

I knew what he was thinking and picked up his hand again.

 

"There's no evidence that these girls are ."

 

"Dead," he said abruptly.  "I know.  I also know if they aren't found in
the first 48 hours, chances are . they aren't going to be.  And if they
are found, chances are that ."  He stopped, looking at his lap and
retrieving his hand from under mine.  "I'm scared, I admit it.  I'm
really scared."

 

I was surprised when Cartwright approached the left side of his chair
and put his big hand on J's right shoulder.  This left his arm draped
over his shoulders.  J startled and turned on the chair to look up at
him.  Cartwright said, "Jam, I'm not going to let anything happen to
you.  I promise.  We'll put somebody on you.  If the Lieutenant won't do
it, I'll take some time coming to me and *I'll* stay with you."

 

I saw J's eyes tear up, obviously flabbergasted at this gesture that the
handsome man was making, right here in the station house in front of his
colleague. 

 

Mulharen did have an odd look on his face, probably wondering if
Cartwright had a personal interest.  Finally he said, "I don't think it
will be necessary for you to take time off.  I can request your help on
this one."

 

He paused and then looked at Cartwright who hastily removed his hand
from J's shoulder.  Mulharen asked, "Cartwright, you didn't tell me you
knew . "  He glanced at his legal paid, "Jamie Leveau."

 

J looked at his lap, realizing that Cartwright's gesture had just
revealed that they knew each other outside of this case.  There was
nothing damning in that but it was unusual for a cop to touch a witness
unless they knew them.  I could see the fear on J's face.  

 

This was exactly the type of thing that could not only ruin Cartwright's
career, but could ruin J's chances at a relationship with him.  Daryl
had done nothing to indicate his sexual preferences, but the fact that
he'd called him by a pet name, Jam, was a sure indicator that they were
close.  The veteran detective hadn't survived 25 years on the force
because he stupid or incapable of making obvious inferences.

 

To all of our surprise, Cartwright squared his shoulders and looked
Mulharen in the eyes.  He said, "Yes, we're friends."  He paused.  "Good
friends.  You have a problem with that?"  His voice was like a
challenge.

 

His look dared the other detective to pursue it.  Mulharen shrugged and
said, "No problem here.  Well, that's good, I guess."  He looked at J. 
"You can give us an inside look at the world of 1-900 operators.  I need
to know how that place operates."

 

J flinched, but I hadn't heard any censure or disapproval in the
detective's tone.  J looked up at him and met his eyes.  "What do you
need to know?" he asked quietly.

 

XXXXXXXXXX

 

Before we left the station house, Cartwright had talked to their
Lieutenant and with the request and help of Mulharen, had gotten himself
assigned to the case. He was to body guard and protect the witness and
assist Mulharen in any way he could.  We agreed to check out the
apartments and report any findings to Mulharen.

 

He was staying behind to work on another case.

 

As the four of rode to the first location, the silence was thick in the
car.  It was becoming really uncomfortable.  J sat in the back with
Daryl.  I finally turned around on my seat and asked, "J, are you all
right?"

 

He nodded, not saying anything.  I saw Daryl slide his hand across the
seat.  He grasped J's fingers and squeezed them quickly, then let go.  J
smiled up at him and said, "You put yourself in a very dangerous
situation, Daryl."

 

He nodded.  "I know, but I'm tired of ducking at the first sign of
somebody swinging, if you know what I mean?"

 

I nodded and then said, "J, people can speculate all they want, but they
have no proof."

 

"They don't need proof.  You know that.  Just a suspicion."

 

Mulder piped up.  "Look, he's officially assigned to the case to be your
personal protection.  No one is going to question him hovering over you
for the next few days."

 

"Not for right now, but what happens when the case is over?"

 

Daryl replied.  "We cross that bridge when we come to it.  I'm not
really worried.  Mulharen is close to retirement and he doesn't give a
shit.  I mean, he's sharp and a good detective, don't get me wrong.  But
he doesn't have time to be stirring up shit amongst the other
detectives.  He's mature and he has better things to do.  Even if he
suspects I'm gay, he has no proof and he's not going to say anything.  I
don't really think he cares."

 

I said, "J, just because he knows you and Daryl are friends, doesn't
mean he's gay, anyway."

 

"I know that!  I'm not stupid!"

 

I flinched.  "Sorry, I didn't mean to imply that you were."

 

"No, I'm sorry, Agent Scully.  I'm just nerved up and ."

 

"It's all right."

 

Daryl said, "It's like this J," he shrugged.  "You're more important to
me than my job.  It's that simple.  I can always go work for another
department if I have to."

 

J leaned across the seat and hugged Daryl's neck.  Daryl slipped his
arms loosely around his waist, and kissed the top of his head.  J said,
"I don't want something to happen to your career because of me and have
you resent me for it later."

 

Daryl brushed J's hair back from his face and gazed at him with a
teasing smirk on his face.  "No more guilt.  You hear me?  I made MY
choice."

 

J nodded, blinking back his tears and righted himself on the seat,
leaning back and letting his head flop back against the backrest.  He
whispered, "I don't deserve you."

 

Mulder glanced in the rear view but then returned his eyes to the road. 
"J, I for one am glad that Daryl is staying with you.  This way, if we
have to go out or whatever, he can be there.  Between the three of us we
can ensure that you won't be left alone, even for a minute."

 

"Oh great," he deadpanned.

 

Mulder laughed.  "I know it's going to crimp your style for a bit, but
we can't take the risk of leaving you alone.  That call may have been a
prank.  It could be some copycat with a twisted sense of humor, thinking
it would be fun to scare the girls.  This has been in the papers too. 
Every idiot with an IQ above 50 is going to have a theory."

 

J laughed then and so did Daryl.  Mulder continued.  "But on the off
chance that it WAS our guy . I don't want you left alone for a second. 
We have to assume it was him and take every precaution."

 

"I agree," Daryl said.

 

Mulder added, "This guy won't get near you, J.  I promise."  Daryl
nodded in agreement.

 

J sighed, "I don't really have a choice, do I?"

 

Mulder and Daryl both said at the same time, "No!"

 

XXXXXXXXXX

 

We all chuckled and proceeded to the home of Christina Wales, the first
girl to disappear.

 

We searched each girl's house.  The stakeouts were watching each house
in

case our perpetrator returned to the scene of the crime, a common thing
for

serial offenders.  Most repeat offenders liked to watch their
adversaries and know what they were doing.  They also liked to relive
their crimes.

 

I didn't say so to Jamie, but I didn't hold out much hope that these
girls

were alive.  It had been so long.  But hope springs eternal.  And as
long as

they were missing, and there were no bodies, we had to believe that we
were

going to find them.

 

Mulder said he didn't know why but he suspected that the girls were
still alive.  He had one of his 'feelings'.  I'd learned over the years
not to ignore them.  It made me want to solve this case even more if
there was a chance that they could still be alive.

 

The one house and four apartments did not yield much in the way of
evidence

missed.  However, at each scene we found the long, soft  hairs on the

carpets and in the bathroom sinks.  Very strange.  The lab told us it
was

human but it looked like animal hair.  

 

XXXXXXXXXX

JAMIE LEVEAU'S APARTMENT

RICHMOND, VA 

Early Evening

 

As we so often do when things don't make sense, we sat down to
brainstorm in

J's living room.  Come to find out, Jamie had quite the storehouse of
knowledge about folklore and such.  No wonder he and Mulder got along.  

 

I returned from the kitchen with my glass of ice tea I'd gone to get and
heard Mulder and Jamie going head to head in a discussion about
Werewolves.  I rolled my eyes and sat down in a chair next to the one
Daryl was sitting on and smiled at him.  He shook his head in amusement.

 

Jamie said "Wer is an old English term for Man.   Lycanthropy is the
delusion that you are half wolf and part man.  Delusion being the
operative word here," he stressed.

 

Mulder grinned.  "I heard once that rye bread of the poor contaminated
with the fungus ergot caused hallucinations and delusions about
Werewolves in the Middle Ages."

 

He glanced at me quickly and realized I had caught his reference to
Ergot, the hallucinagen that I had contracted when I got my tattoo.  The
artist had used a red ink made from rye grasses.  It had effected Ed
Jerse a lot more than me, thank God, but he'd been psychotic so I guess
that made sense.  I nodded, 

 

"Yeah, that's a nasty fungus," was the only comment I could make, trying
to let him know I wasn't upset.  Those memories were dead and gone.  I
had Mulder now and I refused to let bad memories from the past intrude
on our new relationship.

 

He smiled and J continued.  "Fox, in 1500's Europe the legend grew
because of the strong wolf presence in the country side.  They were
suspicious people and they ascribed all sorts of demonic qualities to
wolves because of their yellow, glowing eyes and their sharp teeth."

 

"Yes, but there have been documented cases," Mulder argued.  In 1580's,
a German man, Peter Stubb confessed to being a Werewolf."

 

"Only because of severe torture and interrogation.  He said a magical
belt of wolf skin allowed him to make the transformation."  He made a
face at Mulder, indicating how ridiculous that was.  I laughed, enjoying
watching someone besides myself shoot down Mulder's theories.

 

J continued.  "Jean Grenier in 1603, southwest France said he got a
magic ointment from the *Master of the Forest*.  That was the earliest
documented case of Lycanthropy.  He was judged as being a victim of
demonic possession, an equally delusional paranoia of the time, and was
imprisoned in a monastery.  All he really was, in my opinion, was a
mentally unstable youth.  All those stories are hogwash, buddy.  Sorry."

 

He didn't look sorry.

 

Mulder sighed and I grinned.  "I've heard all the stories.  I know that
people who suffer from Lycanthropy have schizophrenia, hysterical
neurosis, manic/depressive psychosis and poly motor epilepsy.  But what
if they really did exist?  I've seen more things that were thought to be
legends or folk lore turn out to be real."

 

J sighed.  "Fox, most folk lore is based in reality somewhere.  You know
that, but we are dealing with people who were ignorant of all medical
knowledge.  They subscribed everything to God, Demons or the Devil.  
Another theory, the one I actually subscribe to the most is Rabies."

 

"Rabies?" I asked.

 

"Yeah, we can inoculate against it today.  But back then, what would the
symptoms have been, say, if someone were bitten by a rabid wolf."

 

I nodded my head.  "They would foam at the mouth, growl and snarl at
people.  You're right!  There's also Porphyria.  That's a genetic
disorder that attacks the red blood cells.  You develop
photosensitivity, skin discoloration, body hair growth and abnormal skin
changes and . psychosis.  That would fit perfectly as well."

 

"I can't win," Mulder said, throwing his hands up in the air.  "Two
against one, no fair!"

 

Daryl shook his head, "I am so far out of my league with you three, I
can't even tell you!"

 

We all smiled at him.  J said, "Just different backgrounds, that's all."

 

J continued, "There's also quite a few hallucinogenic plants. 
Traditional folklore said that you were a Werewolf if your eyebrows meet
in the middle of your face.  If you have long, claw like fingernails,
small, flat or pointy ears or an exceptionally long third finger.  It
was all superstition.  How many people do you know with all those
characteristics?" he mused.

 

Daryl injected wryly, "I think my Lieutenant is a Werewolf."

 

We all laughed again.  It seemed almost sacrilegious to be laughing
under the circumstances, but it felt good too.  We never socialized and
this was turning out to be a real fun evening.  But we needed to get
back to the purpose for this discussion.

 

I looked at Mulder. "We have no evidence that we are even dealing with a
person here," I argued, long into the discussion.

 

They all looked at me, waiting for me to elaborate.  "What do we really
have?  We have some gooey stuff  that the lab says is saliva.  But
that's a LOT of saliva.  We have a couple of claw marks on the door jamb
of one house that don't match anything we know of. Six scratch marks. 
We have long fine hairs, what's called Vellus hair.  That's usually
short, like what grows on the arm."

 

I held out my arm and brushed the soft white hair up off my arm.  "But
that's the weird part.  That hair is never eight to 10 centimeters long,
not on humans anyway.  But we could be dealing with an animal of some
kind, regardless of the lab results.  I'm going to order the tests done
again, just to be sure.  Nothing about this case makes sense.  It's
driving me crazy."

 

"An intelligent animal, Scully?" he asked, sounding amused that I would
put forth such an idea.  "One that can distinguish girls from a certain
place of employment?  And make phone calls?"

 

"We don't know if these girls are the only ones missing.  Maybe
he/she/it lives nearby the service."  I shrugged, just thinking out
loud.

 

"Hair on your head is that long," J said, steering us back to the
original topic.

 

"Yes, but that's Terminal Hair."

 

Daryl laughed, "Terminal Hair?"

 

"Yes, it's coarser and thicker.  Androgens in the body turn Vellus hair
into Terminal hair."

 

"Androgens?" Mulder asked.

 

"Male hormones, such as testosterone.  As the body matures, it changes
the hair on the head, legs and the pubic area to Terminal hair.  Once
it's Terminal, it can never be changed back to Vellus hair, even if the
androgens are taken away and estrogen is introduced to the system. 
Women who have Hirsuitism ."

 

"Hirsutism?" Jamie asked.

 

"Yes, a condition of excessive hairiness and male pattern hair growth on
women.  Like when a woman has a mustache.  Certain medications can cause
it.  Sometimes it's genetic.  A new drug called Finasteride inhibits the
transformation of androgens to dihydrotestosterone, an active
metabolite.  

 

"A female mustache or male pattern hair growth on women exhibits Vellus
hair.  But Estrogen and other female hormones can relief the condition. 
Birth control pills are often used as treatment.  They decrease the
production of the hormones LH and FSH that the liver produces and
produce a sex hormone binding globulin.  That's a protein that traps
androgens, making them less effective."

 

"Whew, " Daryl whistled.  "Where did you learn all this?"

 

"Medical school," I said.

 

"You're a doctor?"

 

J laughed, "You didn't get that from when she said dead bodies were her
specialty?" he asked, making a face again.

 

Daryl smiled.  "I was . preoccupied at the time."

 

We all smiled at him.  I said, "I'm a medical doctor with a background
in pathology.  I do autopsies mostly."

 

"Guess somebody's got to do it," he replied flatly, making a face.

 

"So this is getting us nowhere," Mulder said, sounding exasperated.

 

"The hair thing is the key.  I'm sure of it." I said.  "We're missing
something big here."

 

Mulder looked at me.  "What are you thinking?"

 

"We need to find out where that hair came from.  They said it's human,
and I believe them.  Some of them that went to the lab were cut off. 
I'm wondering if we aren't dealing with a human and an animal, working
together."

 

"Cut off?" he asked.

 

"Yeah, like they had been shaved.  Others were completely intact with
the follicle still attached to the end as though they'd been . shed."

 

"Shed," he stated flatly, waiting for further explanation, but looking
excited.

 

I grinned internally at the look of enthusiasm on his face.  He always
got unreasonably happy when I put forth a theory that wasn't completely
scientific.

 

"Yes, I think that whatever it is that was in those apartments was
either not wearing clothes or had taken them off.  If it wasn't wearing
clothes, then it's an animal.  If it was, it's human."

 

J offered, "Maybe someone is working with a well trained dog?"

 

"And he shed his hair while he was there," Mulder said, ignoring J's
comment.

 

"He . or It," said.

 

"Are you telling me that you think this is not a human being, Scully?"



"I don't know.  None of the evidence fits.  It's driving me crazy."

 

Jamie suddenly,  "Wait a minute!"

 

"What?" we all chorused in unison.  

 

"Werewolf Syndrome!"

 

Daryl said, "Yeah, Lycanthropy, we've already talked about that."

 

"No, no!" he said excitedly.  "There's a disease called Werewolf
Syndrome.  Where the hell did I read about it?"

 

It was like somebody flipped a switch in my head.  I'd never seen a case
of it, but I remembered pictures in textbooks on rare diseases.  "Oh my
God, you're right!"



PART  7 (PG-13)

JAMIE LEVEAU'S APARTMENT

RICHMOND, VA 

 

They all looked at me.  "Congenital Generalized Hypertrichosis!"

 

A chorus of "Huh?" came from all three men.

 

I was excited now.  "Hypertrichosis, it's different from Hirsutism. 
There is excessive growth of hair, but it's not male pattern hair
growth, it's all over the face, neck and trunk and it's . Vellus hair! 
Or what they call Lanugo hairs!  That type is called Hypertrichosis
Languinosa.  Do you have a computer?"

 

"Yeah," J replied.  He went to the closet and pulled out a laptop,
plugged it in and booted it up.  While I waited for the computer to do a
search of the web on the disease I said, "It's very, very rare.  I
remember seeing pictures.  Incredible.  People could easily be mistaken
for animals."

 

The Google search engine didn't let me down and came up with over a 100
sites on the subject.  I scrolled down looking for key words like
research and an actual doctor's name that would add validity to the
information on that site.  I finally chose one and brought it up.  The
three men stood over my shoulder and read with me as I scrolled down the
site.  Mulder's breath was coming in excited little  pants.  Jamie
gasped and Daryl just said, "Well, I'll be damned."

 

The page we were viewing showed a picture of a six year old boy with
this condition.  His entire face and neck was covered with hair.  Only
his eyes, nostrils and mouth seemed unaffected.

 

"Holy shit, Scully," Mulder mumbled.  "What if someone like this grew to
be a man?"

 

They all looked at me.  Daryl asked, "Wouldn't he be treated for
something like this?"

 

"If his family knew about treatment or could afford it.  I don't imagine
it's cheap to treat something like this.  Let's say this family lives in
the mountains or something and they shunned or disowned the boy."

 

"And he survives somehow," Mulder ran with my idea. 

 

I nodded my head. "He couldn't go in public like this except in a freak
show.  He'd have to hide out somewhere away from the public eye.  Says
here the few cases of this years ago landed these people in circuses as
dog men and such."

 

"But his sex drive would inevitably kick in," Mulder concluded.

 

I smirked, "You have a one track mind, Mulder."

 

He shrugged, unrepentant.

 

Jamie and Daryl backed away from the computer while Mulder pulled up a
chair.

 

"Maybe, but part of this disease CAN include stunted genetalia as well
as congenital dental defects."

 

"What kind of dental defects?" Mulder asked.

 

I scrolled down, reading out loud, "Says here, Osteochondrodysplasia,
Cone-Rod Amaursis, Facial dysmorphia, Pigmentary retinopathy ."  I
trailed off.

 

Mulder made a face.  "In English please?"

 

Daryl and J laughed from their position several feet away.  "Here it
is," I said, finding what I was looking for.  "Widely spaced, pointed
teeth.  Eureka!" I shouted.

 

"That would certainly complete the picture."

 

I sat back in my chair.  "This is all purely speculation, Mulder.  I
hate to burst your bubble."

 

"But it's the only viable theory we've come up with so far.  I say we
run with it and maybe we'll turn up something else.  But right now, we
need somewhere to start."

 

"You're right."  I turned to Daryl. "Could you call Detective Mulharen
and get his e-mail address for me.  I need to send this stuff to him and
have him print it out.  Then I'm going down there and finding out how to
go about searching every hospital's database near and around Richmond
for any cases of Hypertrichosis in the last fifty years."

 

"Fifty years?"

 

"This person, if he exists, was born somewhere.  And we have no clue how
old he is at this point."

 

"Maybe in the mountains," J said.  "The Appalachians aren't far from
here, and there are quite a few Census escapees up there."

 

I chuckled, "I know, but like Mulder said, it's the only idea we have
right now.  It's a long shot."  I turned to Mulder, "A really, really
long shot, Mulder," I warned.

 

He nodded.  "I know, but it's a place to start.  I need to feel like I'm
doing something."

 

I took his hand in mine, lacing our fingers together and nodded, smiling
at him.  It was great to find out that our roll in the hay didn't seem
to effect our ability to bounce ideas off one another and work together.
 We still hadn't really been in the field together.  We'd have to see
how that went.  I was determined to make it work.

 

Daryl was already on the phone, scribbling down the e-mail address on a
scratch pad.  He handed the paper to Jamie who walked it over to me with
a bow and a flourish.  I whispered to him when he bent down, crooking my
finger for him to bend closer.  He did and I asked, "Why does he call
you, Jam?"

 

J grinned.  "Says I'm sweeter than jelly," he whispered back.

 

Mulder and I both roared with laughter watching as J stood up, blushed
and turned away.  I turned back to the computer, still chuckling and
scrolled down some more, But it revealed nothing more of interest.  I
picked another site and started reading.  I was talking out loud and
said, "Says here that other possible symptoms of this disease are
supernumerary nipples, hexadactylism, and scoliosis.  Oh!  And
polydactyly!

 

"What's that?" Mulder asked.

 

"More than the number of normal toes or fingers."

 

"Yuck."

 

"Yeah, they can often remove them though."

 

"Scully, that might explain the weird claw marks on the door jamb."

 

"Yeah, there were six distinct marks.  Most animals have three, four or
sometimes five fingers or toes, but not six."

 

"Except for a seven toed cat I saw one time."

 

I smiled at him.  "This is interesting."

 

"What?"

 

"Says here that this is a genetic atavistic trait.  This doctor says
that he believes it is the reappearance of an ancestral phenotype."

 

"In English, please," Daryl requested, now off the phone.

 

I smiled.  "It's the theory by some scientists that genetic development
information originally used was not lost during evolution, but lies
quiescent or dormant in the gnome and embryonic development.  But it's
still there."

 

"O.K.," Daryl replied.  "We've gotten it down to Greek.  Can we try for
English again?"

 

Mulder laughed.  "It means that the human DNA and gnomes retain the
blueprint of our evolution.  For instance, that the tailbone is the
residual evidence of man once having a tail like primates."

 

"Oh, I get it.  How did you know this?"

 

J said, "He's a doctor too."

 

Daryl sighed.

 

Mulder said, "Of psychology, but all doctors get the same first four
years of school which includes basic understanding of human anatomy,
physiology and development."

 

Daryl nodded, obviously a little overwhelmed.

 

Mulder continued, "Let's put it this way.  If we did evolve from apes,
we would still retain the genetic blueprint for having hair all over our
bodies, and any other characteristics that we no longer display any
evidence of.  Outwardly, at least."

 

I added, "The genes of primates have undergone structural or regulatory
changes during evolution in humans so that hair growth is controlled
only by the sex related hormones.  Not so in primates."

 

"And this means?" J asked.

 

"A freak of nature, a one in a million chance that the evolutionary
regulation of hair growth is not engaged in an individual.  Then you
have the earlier evolutionary characteristic emerge in that person."

 

Daryl said, "Would that be like high foreheads on Cro-Magnon man?  I
know some people like that."

 

We chuckled.  

 

"You said genetic," J said.

 

I nodded.  "Says here that the genome has been traced to the X
chromosome."

 

"Meaning?" J asked.

 

"Meaning that a woman could pass this on to all of her offspring.  A
male would most likely only pass it to his sons.  It is a defect or a
lack of evolutionary mutation that is passed down."

 

"Interesting," J said.

 

"But not really helpful in this case," I added.

 

"It could be if this person's family is still alive," Mulder surmised.

 

"If they are, they wouldn't be walking around K-Mart either," Daryl
joked.

 

I laughed.  "They wouldn't necessarily display the symptoms, although,
they could have a lesser form of it."

 

XXXXXXXXXX

DR. RICHARD COLE'S HOUSE

AIKEN, SC

 

Our search of hospital records turned up one documented case of
Congenital Generalized Hypertrichosis.  The infant was born in 1952,
which would make him 48 years old.  As with one of  the only two
*families* ever found to have this disease, the child was Mexican.  The
other family was Burmese.  He had been born with four inches of soft,
gray hair all over his head neck and back, and chest.  All his mucus
membranes were spared as were the soles of his feet and the palms of his
hands.

 

They had grainy 1952 pictures of the infant and my heart broke as I
looked at them.  This poor child!  Of course, in these pictures, he had
no teeth yet, but the sparing of his palms and soles made the child look
very much like a baby ape.  No one who still worked at that hospital had
been there at that time, of course.  But one doctor who worked on the
team was retired, but still alive.  

 

We wasted no time in locating him.  He lived in Aiken, South Carolina on
a small street called Pine Bluff Way.  We flew out, renting a car and
driving there from the directions he'd given us over the phone when we
called to say we were coming by.  We pulled up to the single, story,
brick home.  It was modest with a short paved driveway and a manicured
lawn.

 

He opened the door to our knock and we flashed our I.D.'s.  "Agents
Mulder and Scully," I announced.  "We phoned earlier."

 

"Yes, come in," he said, opening the screen door.  I looked down at
Scully and guided her in with my hand on the small of her back.  I
thought I felt her shiver but it was probably my imagination.

 

He directed us to a antique sofa and we sat gingerly as he offered us a
drink.  He returned with two glasses of lemonade and sat down in a
large, wing backed chair.

 

His hair was completely white.  But the 75 year old doctor held himself
erect and showed no sign of feebleness.  He started by saying, "You're
hear about the Ape Baby."

 

Scully winced, hearing him referred to that way.  "Yes," I said.

 

He nodded.  "I was 26 years old then.  I thought I knew everything and I
thought I'd seen everything.  The arrogance of youth, eh?"

 

I had no interest in his nostalgic musings, but I sensed that he
wouldn't be pushed.  We would have to endure whatever miscellaneous
information he wished to tack onto this discussion.

 

"Who delivered the baby?" I asked.

 

"Dr. Colin Russell.  He's dead now, God rest his soul.  He was the most
compassionate man I ever met.  I tried very hard to emulate him.  He was
my mentor."

 

I nodded.  "Sounds like a wonderful man.  The woman was Mexican, we
understand."

 

"Yes, very odd.  Back then you didn't see many Mexican folks around
here.  Today the world is a much bigger place, Dr. Scully," he replied,
acknowledging that he'd been told she was a fellow doctor.

 

"You're right of course," she said.



He nodded.  "We didn't have any women doctors back then either," he
said, smiling.

 

Scully smiled back.  "There were some."

 

"Not around here, there weren't," he clarified.  "Mrs. Carmella Garcia
stumbled into the Emergency Room.  I was the Resident in Charge that
day.  Her water had broken and she had obviously walked there and was in
terrible distress.  I got her situated on a gurney and started an I.V. 
I did the initial examination."

 

"Was there anything unusual about the woman?"

 

"Yes, she was very Hirsute."

 

"Ahh," Scully said.

 

He continued.  "But not like the child.  She had a marked black mustache
above her upper lip.  This isn't unusual.  You see it in a lot of
Italian women as well.  But she did have what I thought was an unusual
amount of hair on her upper thighs.  I dismissed it because I figured it
only seemed that way because the hair was dark, unlike most woman, whose
leg hair is blonde or light brown.  Remember, I was young and dumb and I
hadn't seen nearly as much as I thought I had."

 

I chuckled and so did Scully, trying to humor him but both impatient to
get to the point.  "So what happened?  How did Dr. Russell become
involved?"

 

"I called him.  He wasn't due in till the morning.  This was about 3:00
AM if I remember correctly.  I was still working the graveyard shifts. 
He was due at 7:00 AM.  I'd never delivered a baby and I was admittedly
unsure of myself."

 

Scully nodded and asked, "What made you nervous about it?"

 

He grinned. "Well, young lady, I'd never done it before as I said and I
wanted a backup.  Not to mention the fact that I think that I'd been
with exactly two women at that point in my life.  Sad to say," he added.

 

I chuckled.  "Afraid to look?" I joked.

 

He laughed good naturedly.  "Not really, but afraid of doing something
wrong.  The textbooks don't really give you a feel for the actual
experience.  That's true of everything in medicine, wouldn't you agree,
Dr. Scully?"

 

"No truer words," she replied.  "Why didn't you just call one of the
other doctors in the hospital, an OB/GYN?"

 

"Believe or not, back then we didn't have one on staff.  And if we had,
he would have been unique and would have been special enough to work the
day shift.  I called Dr. Russell because he was the first person I
always thought of when I needed help.  He was incredibly reassuring and
encouraging to me.  He made me believe I could do anything."

 

Scully nodded.  "Go on."

 

"So he came in and we wheeled her into the operating room.  We didn't
have all these fancy birthing rooms and such back then.  We gave her a
mild pain killer and went to work.  Dr. Russell delivered the baby and I
coached her through her pushing like I'd learned and was in awe of the
entire process.  She spoke broken English but she kept saying thank you
in between contractions.  I think she was afraid that we would turn her
away because she was Mexican."

 

I asked, "Was racial prejudice a problem at that time?  I mean, I know
it was in general.  But was it in that hospital?"

 

"No, I don't think so.  I mean, Dr. Russell was one of those rare
individuals who refused to be swayed by the opinions of society or his
peers.  He taught me that the Hippocratic Oath applied to every living
thing on this planet, not just whom I thought should be helped.  It
wasn't up to me, he said.  I had taken a vow and to refuse to treat
someone in need, regardless of their affliction, race, creed, whatever,
was a gross violation of ethics and made me unworthy of being a healer. 
He said that God decided who should cross my path.  If that person was
there, God wanted me to learn something and I should always pay
attention."

 

Scully cleared her throat, seeming almost choked up by his little
speech.  I wasn't sure if it was for our benefit or not.  She said, "Not
many doctors like that around any more.  Most are in it for the money
nowadays."

 

He nodded, "What about you, young lady?"

 

I watched her flinch slightly.  She didn't like being referred to as
'young lady.'  Somehow, although he didn't mean for it to be, I'm sure,
it sounded slightly condescending.  Despite his assurances to the
contrary, I sensed that he was an old southern gentleman who had his
opinions and his prejudices, but had learned to hide them.  The type of
man that hid them unless one of those prejudices threatened to
infiltrate his family.

 

Scully said, "Well, I did a Residency like everyone else.  And I agree
with you.  I had that attitude at that time.  I thought I was going to
save the world."

 

He laughed good-naturedly.  "Didn't we all?" he asked.

 

She smiled again.  "Then I went into forensics and pathology."

 

He grimaced.  "God bless you, that's work I don't know if I could have
done."

 

"Dead people can give you a lot of answers too."

 

"You don't feel it's a desecration of the body to do autopsies?"

 

She looked stunned.  "No, do you?"



"Not really.  But because of my religious beliefs, I would have found it
difficult, if not impossible to do that kind of work."

 

Scully nodded.  "It's not for everyone.  But I do it because I feel that
person deserves to have their case solved.  The family, the ones still
living are the ones that I concentrate on and concern myself with.  They
deserve to know what happened to their loved one and they deserve the
closure of having someone pay for the crime that killed their loved
one."

 

"You're right, Dr. Scully.  It's just not for me."

 

"I understand.  But getting back to the point," Scully urged, growing
more impatient.  "Tell us about the baby."

 

"Well, as soon as his head crowned, I helped her to bear down and as the
head emerged, I heard Dr. Russell gasp and immediately knew something
was wrong.  I asked him, 'What is it?' and he said, 'Nothing, just one
more push.'"

 

He paused, closing his eyes as though trying to remember and picture the
scene in his head.  "He hollered to a nurse as soon as the baby was born
and the cord was cut.  I was at her head and didn't see it at first, but
when he lifted it to place it in the towel the nurse was holding, I
gasped as well.  I couldn't help it.  The thing was still wet and slimy
but I could see the hair, a sooty, light gray all over it's body."

 

"The thing?" Scully said, sounding disgusted with his choice of words.

 

He met her eyes unashamed and said, "Bad choice of words.  But I won't
lie to you.  It didn't look human.  And I was shocked."

 

She nodded. "Sorry, I don't mean to be . righteous.  I just feel sorry
for any child born with a genetic disorder or condition.  It's hard
enough to be normal child."

 

"I agree with you.  We examined him carefully.  His mother, Mrs. Garcia
was extremely distraught when we didn't bring him back to her right
away."

 

"Understandable," Scully replied.

 

"But we wanted to take pictures and blood tests and take snips of the
hair to examine.  It was an anomaly none of us had ever seen.  Although
select doctors in the world had seen and studied this condition.  None
of us there had ever heard of it at the time.  Later, we found out just
how rare it was."

 

"And you returned the child to Mrs. Garcia?  Then what?"

 

He made a face.  "She shunned it," he said quietly.

 

"What?" Scully asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

 

He met her gaze again a look of profound sadness on his face.  "I
remember it like it was yesterday.  I tried to prepare her.  I said that
her baby was special and we were going to examine it to try and
understand."  He licked his lips.  "I couldn't lie to her, what would be
the point?"  

 

Scully waved her hand for him to go on.

 

"I carried it . the baby," he corrected, "in to her and said, 'He's got
an unusual amount of body hair, but we could probably shave it off."

 

"And?" I prompted. 

 

"At first, she reached for him, untroubled.  I don't think she realized
what I was saying.  She expected hair, but that child looked like an
animal.  And I don't say that to be cruel.  It's just the facts.  She
pulled back the blanket I'd wrapped him in and covered his face with. 
He was crying.  And when she removed that blanket from his face . she
screamed.  It was awful.  She was absolutely horrified."

 

"And you weren't?" Scully asked.

 

"No, I was too intrigued to be horrified.  To be honest, I wasn't
thinking about the child in emotional terms.  I was, and am, a doctor. 
My first reaction was to be fascinated with the condition.  It lit a
fire in me to investigate it.  I wanted to find out what this was all
about.  I must confess, I did have one extremely dastardly thought at
the time."

 

"What was that?" I asked.

 

He looked at his lap.  "I knew how ridiculous it was right after it
crossed my mind, and I was disgusted with myself for thinking it in the
first place."

 

"What did you think?" I asked again.

 

He looked up at me tentatively, obviously embarrassed.  "I thought she
may have mated with some type of animal, like a . dog or an ape."

 

Scully made a face.  "That would be impossible!"

 

He looked at her.  "Would it?  Bestiality wasn't unheard of, even then."

 

He was referring the practice of having sex with animals and it wasn't
as unheard of as most people think.  There was a joke about parts of the
wilderness that people would reference by saying, 'Where the men are men
and the sheep are nervous.'  But that wasn't what she was saying, I
didn't think."

 

I clarified, looking at Scully, "I think you mean that the sperm of one
species wouldn't germinate with the egg of another, don't you?"

 

She nodded, making a face.  "Yes. The idea of it makes me nauseous, but
that's what I meant. I know Bestiality exists, as abhorrent as it is to
me.  But even if that were the case, an animal couldn't impregnate a
human."

 

Dr. Cole nodded.  "We know that, NOW," he emphasized.  "And although we
believed that THEN, we didn't know for sure.  We all believed in
Darwin's theory of evolution, man descended from Apes.  It wasn't
completely out of the realm of possibility.  It was strange.  We
believed in Darwin and in God, seems contradictory but it wasn't.  We
believed God had directed evolution and made man into what he was today
through that process.  Medicine has come a long way in the last forty
years.  Don't forget, there was still a lot of unknowns out there then."

 

Scully smiled a cryptic smiled, showing no teeth.  "There still are, Dr.
Cole," she replied.

 

I grinned at her, knowing she was referring to all that we had seen. 
"I'm sure," he replied.  "Anyway, she told me to take it away, she
didn't want it.  I didn't know what to do.  So I took it back to the
nursery.  She wouldn't breastfeed it.  We made up a bottle and fed it
ourselves.    She was released several days later against our medical
advice.  She wasn't completely healed.  Said she was going back to
Mexico to kill the son-of-a-bitch that had given her a demon for a
baby."

 

"Oh Jesus," Scully said.



"Yeah, it was terrible.  Back then we didn't do drive through births
like we do now."

 

Scully laughed, "Drive through births?"



"Yeah, women in and out of the hospital in two days?  It's ridiculous! 
I don't care how advanced medicine is.  Childbirth is a physically
taxing and a trauma to the body.  Two days is not enough time to
recover.  Back then doctors decided how to treat their patients. 
Nowadays, the insurance companies decide."

 

Scully nodded in agreement.  "Yes, it's not a pretty picture."

 

He said, "HMO's have turned this country's medical system into the
nearest thing to Nationalized medicine there is.  You can't pick your
doctor anymore, so what's the point?  Doctors have no incentive to
strive to be the best they can be.  They are going to have patients no
matter what.  They don't have to be good to encourage people to come to
them.  And that's the way I think it should be.  Now it's like anybody
can be a doctor if they have the brains to pass the tests.  They don't
have to have one scrap of bedside manner.  They don't have to display
compassion for their patients or anything.  And if they screw up, their
medical malpractice insurance will handle it, pay the person off and
they go on being a lousy doctor."

 

He huffed, shaking his head and said, "Sorry, didn't mean to go off on a
rant there."

 

Scully smiled.  "That's all right.  I agree with you one hundred
percent.  That is an advantage of pathology.  Your patients don't care
about your bedside manner."

 

We all laughed then at her little joke.  I tried to steer us back on
track again.  "So what happened to the baby?"

 

"Dr. Russell called every church, nunnery and monastery he could find,
trying to find someone to take the poor child in. It took weeks.
Finally, a cloistered group of nuns in Tennessee agreed to take him in. 
We ran all the tests we could and took as many photos as we could before
he left.  Then about a week later, a nun showed up at the hospital,
introducing herself as Sister Mary Margaret.  She filled out adoption
papers with the State.  The baby was officially an orphan."

 

"She wasn't appalled by the child?" I asked.

 

He shook his head.  "It was the most amazing thing I'd ever seen.  She
cradled that child and smiled at him and said they would baptize him and
raise him."

 

"I asked if she would consider returning him for medical treatment,
perhaps trying some treatments to remove the hair.  Electrolysis wasn't
around then but we knew about estrogen and that hair growth was governed
by male sex hormones."

 

"And her reaction?" Scully asked.

 

"She refused.  She said he was one of God's creatures and was born this
way for a reason, even if we didn't know what that reason was.  She
believed he was special and God would love him no matter what . and so
would she."  

 

He finished, his eyes wet from the memory.  "You alright?" Scully asked,
tearing up herself.

 

"Yes," he said quietly.  "She was the most amazingly serene and loving
woman I ever met. In five minutes she restored my belief in my faith,
and that there were still good . no, still great people in the world."

 

I asked, "What then?"

 

He shook his head.  "We never saw him again.  The nuns would send Dr.
Russell letters periodically telling of his progress.  They raised him,
taught him the bible and schooled him.  After about ten years the
letters stopped, Dr. Russell retired and it was forgotten."  He paused. 
"Not by me though.  I've never forgotten.  I've often wondered what
happened to him.  I've thought a million times of going to that cloister
to visit, just to see what had happened as he grew."

 

"Why didn't you?" Scully asked.

 

He looked at his lap.  "I don't know.  Maybe because I was afraid that
if it was interesting enough, I would have to pursue it and I didn't
want to have something consume my life.  My work was bad enough.  I was
married by then and my wife complained about my time at the hospital as
it was.  I didn't need another obsession."

 

"And it would have become an obsession, you think?"

 

"Yes, I think so.  I've never been so fascinated by anything before or
since.  I've read every study and article on the disorder I could find
since then.  I still keep up on the research in that area, purely from
an intrigue point of view."

 

"Do you know what they named him?" I asked.

 

He smiled an ironic smile, "Nazereth."

 

We both smiled.  "That is weird."

 

"Jesus of Nazareth," Scully said quietly.  "They really did think he was
special, huh?"

 

"Dr. Russell showed me some of the letters.  Sister Mary Margaret just
loved him because she had a pure heart and soul.  But she mentioned that
some of the other nuns believed that God had sent them this child to
test their faith.  They thought he was a messenger from God, hence the
name that was chosen."

 

"Test their faith?" Scully asked.

 

"Yes, to test whether they could open their hearts to any of God's
creatures, no matter how physically infirm.  If I remember correctly,
they thought that their total acceptance of this boy for what and who he
was would confirm their faith in God."

 

"Interesting," I said, wondering how people came to such conclusions. 
It was so easy to twist reality to your liking.  I was glad the boy
found a home, but frankly, I thought it was nonsense that he was a test
from God.  Faith was Scully's department.  I had faith in the truth. 
The truth will set you free.  It certainly had set me free where Scully
was concerned.

 

I tamped down the inappropriate thought of cutting this short and
rushing her to the nearest hotel to bang her brains out!  I cleared my
throat.  I looked at Scully, "Well for once, I'm subscribing to the
science end of this story rather than the beliefs of these nuns."

 

Scully smiled at me.  "You, Mulder?  Sticking with the science?  That's
not like you at all," she teased.

 

The doctor smiled at us, not sure what we were going on about but
sensing that Scully was teasing me.  

 

He interrupted.  "Well, that's the end of the story, for me anyway. 
Now, I would appreciate you telling me what your interest is in the boy.
 Well, he wouldn't be a boy anymore would he?"

 

Scully answered, "No, if he's still alive, he would be 49 years old."

 

"And you think he committed a crime?"

 

"I don't know," she said.  "It's the only lead we have so far in a case
concerning missing girls.  All the girls were snatched from their homes
and disappeared."

 

"Snatched?  They couldn't have just moved somewhere?"

 

"No one's heard from them, even their families.  They all worked for the
same place, a 1-900 service in Richmond."

 

He grinned, but then it faded.  "What's the connection to the boy?"

 

"We found long baby fine hairs at each of the girls homes.  They are
Vellus hair, blonde and light brown, but eight to ten centimeters long."

 

"Ahh," he said, pressing his lips together.  "Not too many people
running around with hair that long, not Vellus hair anyway.  His hair
was definitely gray, but I suppose it could have changed color as he
grew."

 

Scully apparently figured he would know what she meant by Vellus hair if
he had studied the research on the subject.  I hadn't known what it was
until yesterday.  Scully stood, finishing off her lemonade.  "Well,
thank you, doctor.  You've been very helpful.  We appreciate you taking
the time to see us."

 

"No problem," he answered.  He stood along with me and stuck out his
hand.  Scully shook it and then I did.

 

"One more question," I asked. 

 

"What's that?"

 

"You wouldn't happen to know the name or address of that cloister would
you?"

 

"It wasn't in the hospital records?" he asked.

 

"No," Scully replied.  "Just said he'd been given to a good home."

 

"Dr. Russell must not have wanted curiosity-seekers searching him out
and harassing him.  I have it written down somewhere.   It was called
The Mary Magdelen Convent.  I don't remember the address though."

 

He walked to his desk on the other side of the room and pulled out an
old rolodex from the bottom of a drawer and set it next to the new one
that graced the top of the desk.  He flipped through the yellowed, old
cards and stopped, tapping one with his finger.  "Here it is."

 

He scribbled the address on a slip of paper and held it out to me.  I
looked at it and nodded.  "Thank you, doctor.  You've been really
helpful."

 

"This doesn't mean that he committed the crime for sure, does it?" he
asked.

 

Scully shook her head. "No, but it's the only lead we have right now and
we have to follow up."

 

He nodded.  "I hope it isn't true."

 

"Me too," Scully said.  "Me too."

 

"If you should find him . I would very much appreciate a chance to see
him again, if only to observe."

 

Scully nodded.  "We'll see what happens.  We may not even find him."



PART 8 (NC-17)

KINGSPORT, TN

 

We were on a plane later that afternoon and landed at the Tri-Cities
Regional Airport.  We rented a car and drove to Kingsport, finding a
motel at 9:00 PM that night and checking in.  I realized we were just
southwest of Arcadia.  I had enjoyed playing house with Scully on that
case.

 

We rented two rooms and once we were ready for bed, Mulder came into my
room dressed only in boxers.  He flopped down on the bed.  I rolled over
into his side gave him a languid kiss.  "Hmmm," he hummed.

 

We broke the kiss and I laid my head on his shoulder.  He sighed and I
asked, "What are you thinking about, Mulder?" I asked, knowing he wanted
to talk about this case.

 

"Besides jumping your bones?" he quipped, but his heart wasn't in the
joke.

 

"Besides that," I encouraged.

 

"I don't know.  We don't even know if this guy is still alive."

 

"Being in that cloister, there's no school records or anything," I
confirmed.  "No medical records.  If they exist, they're inside that
cloister."

 

He nodded.  "It just seems like such a cruel fate."

 

"Hypertrichosis?"

 

"Yeah, I mean, if God does exist, why does he do things like that?"

 

"I don't think he does."

 

"Explain that."

 

"I think man creates a lot of their own trouble.  I think God created us
and we are all his children.  But he also gave us free will and an
intellect.  As far as our intellect goes, we need to use it make choices
and we don't always make the good choices."

 

"Like not having children when we have a hereditary birth defect."

 

"Well, yes.  Hypertrichosis isn't a birth defect per se, it's a
atavistic condition, but the theory is the same.  It's a social
handicap, if not a physical one.  That women was obviously uneducated,
never found out about her own condition and unwittingly passed it down
to her son.  Then, being superstitious and ignorant, she blamed the
devil for her abhorrent son."

 

"Rather than blaming herself and the fact that she never had her
condition treated and found out that it could be passed down."

 

"Yes.  Not that she would have had any treatment to find in those days. 
It's a rare, rare condition.  I mean, on the other side of the ledger,
God gave us free will."

 

"And what are we supposed to do with that?"

 

"You mean how do we demonstrate faith in the face of free will."

 

"Yeah, explain that to me.  I've never understood that. If things are
preordained, what's the point of having free will.  It's contradictory."

 

"It seems that way.  But that's one of the paradoxes of faith.  The
demonstration of faith comes when you willingly turn your life and that
free will over to God."

 

"What?"

 

"You have free will and you choose to turn your will and your life over
the care of God.  It demonstrates your faith and in return, he takes
care of you and gives you what you need."

 

"How so?"

 

"He puts people in your life that give you what you need, or tell you
what you need to hear.  You may not always get what you want, but you
always get what you need.  You only get what you want if it's God's will
for you."

 

"And if it isn't God's will for you?"

 

"Then you don't get it and it's probably not a good thing anyway, no
matter how much you want it."

 

"Do you think it's God's will that we found each other?"

 

"Absolutely, Mulder!  I think I was meant to be with you, this way, in
every way."

 

He smiled at that, liking the sound of it.  "That's comforting."

 

"Yes, it is.  But how do we know what God's will is for us?"

 

I sighed. "It's hard to explain, but you don't always know.  The trick
is to do the next right thing.  You need to do the footwork to help
yourself, the best you know how with the information you have.  God does
the rest.  If you are meeting incredible resistance, you need to look in
your heart and figure out if you are fighting for all the wrong reasons.
 When you are on the right path, things seem to go easier."

 

"Are you referring to the tenet that God will do for us what we can't do
for ourselves?"

 

"Yes."

 

"Then what's the point of doing anything?  We just kick back, have
faith, and God provides?  I don't buy that."

 

I chuckled.  "No, you're misunderstanding that belief, Mulder."

 

"What else is new, Scully?"

 

I smiled again, kissing his nipple gently and he gasped.  "It doesn't
say that God will do for you what you CAN do for yourself."

 

"Ahhh," he said, like he'd had a revelation.

 

"That's where doing the footwork and doing the next right thing comes
in.  They also say that God helps those who help themselves.  It doesn't
say he helps those that kick back and do nothing, waiting for life to
fall into their laps."

 

"This gets confusing."

 

"It can be.  But I like to keep it simple."

 

"And how do you do that?"

 

"I have two basic beliefs that have gotten me through thick and thin. 
These beliefs have sustained me when I thought I couldn't go on, when I
thought I'd lost you, when my world was upside down."

 

"What are those beliefs, Scully?" he asked quietly, looking down at me
and shifting to get a better look at my face.

 

I turned my face up to meet his gaze.  "That everything happens for a
reason.  Like that nun believed, I don't necessarily know what that
reason is.  I might find out six months or a year from now.  But there
is a reason.  I need to have faith," I said, smiling at him again as he
gave me the 'oh, no, that again' look.

 

"And the second belief?"

 

"That everything works out the way it's supposed to whether I get
involved or not.  My purpose is to do the best I can and then step back
and let God take care of the outcome.  If I resist the outcome, I just
create pain for myself."

 

"I've created a lot of pain for myself," he said sadly.

 

I squeezed him.  "Look at me," I said.

 

He turned onto his side and rubbed my arm with his fingers, sliding the
silk of my pajama top over my sensitive skin.  I shivered and put my
hands on his chest.  "What outcomes have you resisted, Mulder?" I asked
softly.

 

He smiled at me.  "Being with you, loving you.  I knew it was
inevitable, but it scared me so much.  I was afraid to love you, Scully.
 I didn't WANT to love you, not at first."

 

"I know what you mean."

 

"I didn't think I deserved you as a friend and partner, let alone as a
girlfriend or lover.  I still believe that."

 

"Stop it!  You deserve happiness, Mulder, as much as the next person. 
Did it ever occur to you that maybe I'm the one that doesn't deserve
you?"

 

"No. Never," he said firmly.

 

I chuckled, darting my tongue out to lick his chest.  He grunted and
smiled down at me.  "Well, I'm not the most open person in the world,
Mulder.  I can appear cold and aloof.  I've given you nothing but grief
since I joined up with you.  And yet, you still fell in love with me. 
That amazes me still."

 

"You're amazing, Scully.  I never thought you were cold and aloof."

 

"I know.  That's the amazing part."

 

He smiled and tipped my chin up.  He lowered his mouth to cover mine.  I
responded greedily, immediately deepening the kiss and feeling my
abdomen swell with warmth as he pressed his long, lanky body against me.
 He rolled away and pulled off his underwear.

 

I sat up and removed my top and panties.  I hadn't put on the little
shorts that went with these pajamas.

 

He moaned softly as he looked at me, reaching for me and slipping a hand
down between my legs.  His middle finger teased my swollen labia and
they parted like a blooming flower and dribbled wetness over his
fingertips.  He moaned again and latched onto my nipple, making me gasp.

 

He suckled for a minute and switched to the other breast, pushing a
finger inside me and swirling it around.  I groaned under his
ministrations.  He didn't seem to be in any hurry and I was getting
impatient.  I was throbbing softly, still feeling a little tender and
sore from our previous activities, but I hadn't made love to him since
yesterday morning and I wanted to feel him inside me again.

 

"That's enough foreplay for me," I said in between pants, as I lifted
his head from my breast and pulled him up into a kiss.  I felt his lips
smile against mine before he took my mouth under his, plunging his
tongue inside to explore my tonsils.

 

I tugged on his shoulder and he rolled into the cradle of my thighs,
hitching up on his knees.  He gazed down at me, eyelids swollen with
arousal, his pupils dilated, making his eyes look almost completely
black.  "So beautiful," he murmured.  

 

He slowly moved my legs so they rested on his chest pointed straight up
in the air.  I smiled at him realizing what he was going to do.  "Will
you be able to take it?" he asked.

 

"Why wouldn't I be able to take it?" I asked.

 

He moved his torso forward to demonstrate his point.  "I'm not staying
here, I'm going to bend over."

 

My eyes went wide as I realized what he was saying.  I'd thought he was
going to enter me from where he squatted in front of me, thighs spread
wide, his ass cheeks resting on his heels.

 

"Oh," I said, reaching for his shaft that was now pulsing and rigid
between his legs.

 

I felt it swell even further as I wrapped my hand around it and we both
moaned.   "I'll penetrate deeply this way," he said between gasps as I
stroked his cock.

 

"Let's try," I panted.

 

His arms went around the outside of my legs and slowly sank to the
mattress until his elbows touched down.  He penetrated me slowly,
watching my face carefully.

 

I groaned and threw my head back as I felt him fill me up to the brim. 
He stopped and I opened my eyes.  "Keep going," I panted.

 

He took a deep breath and sunk all the way in.  I felt so full.  He
began to thrust gently and it was pure sensation from the start.  This
position tilted my hips up off the mattress so that he was stroking down
into me, dragging his cock over my G-spot.  As he retreated, his
throbbing shaft would tickle my clit which was now swollen and aching
from arousal.  He kept his pace slow, letting me feel every delectable
inch of him as he slid in and out.  

 

His mouth covered mine and he kissed me gently and kept thrusting.  His
breathing accelerated and he said, "Have to go faster."

 

"Yes, do it."

 

He sped up, his thrusts becoming shorter and less coordinated.  My hands
moved from his shoulders where they had been clinging and moved them
down to cup his beautiful ass.  I loved the feeling of those strong
muscles flexing under my hands as he pounded into me.

 

His mouth left mine and dropped to my neck where he sucked at the site
of the light hickey he had already given me.  The pleasure/pain of that
sore spot being sucked sent me over the edge.  He let go of my neck and
shouted as I wailed through my orgasm feeling it wash over me in
clenching waves.  His hot seed flooded me as he continued to pump into
me and I clung to his ass.

 

We both sighed afterwards and he gently sat up, letting my legs drop to
the bed.  He rolled off and onto his back, pulling me up to his side and
putting his arms around me.  I laid my head on his shoulder and
whispered, "I love you, Mulder."

 

He tipped my chin up with his fingers and bent his head down to kiss me
gently.  "I love you too, Scully.  Let's get some sleep."

 

"Hmmm," I hummed and that was the last think I knew until morning.

 

XXXXXXXXXX

MARY MAGDELAN CLOISTER

BLOOMINGDALE, TN

10:00 AM the Next Morning

 

We stood looking at the burned out husk of what had once been the Mary
Magdalen Cloister.  It had been gutted by fire.  The windows were gone,
the stone edifice blackened with soot.  Off to the side there was a
tower which seemed to be still untouched although it was weather worn
and crumbling.  

 

We said nothing as we stood in the field surrounding the cloister, high
grasses having grown wild and brushing our legs up to waist level. 
Scully sighed loudly and said, "Well, can get much more of a dead end
than this, can you?"

 

I looked at the ground, wondering why we always had this kind of luck. 
I muttered, "Sorry, Scully, this is probably a wild goose chase anyway."

 

"Not necessarily.  We can go to the nearest City Hall and find out if
they have records on this place, check with the local P.D. and see if
anyone survived the fire, when it was and if they know where the nuns
relocated to."

 

"Yeah.  And then what?"

 

"We look for the nuns."

 

"Do you really want to do that?  Go to all that trouble?  Knowing that
it's probably a waste of time?"

 

"Do you have any other ideas?"

 

I shook my head in the negative.  "No, unfortunately, right now, I
don't."   It was my turn to sigh loudly. 

 

Then I heard Scully gasp.  She was staring toward the tower and turned
my head quickly to look.  We both drew our weapons.

 

A huge black bear was snuffling around the base of the tower.  Scully
whispered, "Be careful, Mulder, if it's female, she may have cubs
nearby."

 

I nodded.  We stood silently, letting the bear do it's thing.  Then I
said, "Scully, why would a bear come here?"

 

"I don't know."

 

"Food."

 

She glanced at me.  "What are you thinking?"

 

"Why would it be investigating this area unless it smelled food?"

 

She pursed her lips like she did when she was thinking and I jerked my
eyes away lest I be distracted.  'Keep your eye on the monster, Mulder,'
I cautioned myself.

 

"We must be downwind.  It doesn't know we're here," she whispered.

 

The bear was easily three hundred yards away, but I knew how keen their
hearing was supposed to be.  Just then it stood up on it's back legs and
looked in our direction.  Holy shit, it was HUGE.  It must have stood
eight feet high on its back legs.  I'd never seen one outside of a zoo.

 

"Hello, momma bear," I whispered.

 

Scully murmured, "Christy Almighty, look at the size of that thing."

 

"Yeah, you're about lunch size," I quipped.  She threw me a dirty look.

 

I think the bear heard me because it took that moment to let out a
fierce intimidating roar . and charged at us.  Both our weapons went off
at the same time, hitting it in the chest.  Blood bloomed out over it's
fur.

 

It roared again, twisted in pain and then kept coming on all fours,
listing off to the side.  We fired again.  I don't know if it was
Scully's bullet or mine, but one of them went through the eye.  It
bellowed in pain, and then fell to the ground with a surprisingly silent
thud.  We looked at each other, circled cautiously, she in one
direction, me in the other.

 

I said, "We need to make sure it's dead."

 

She nodded.  "I can't see, the grass is too high."

 

"Scully, let's stay together."

 

"No, if it goes for one of us, even wounded, it's better if the other
can still fire easily."

 

I nodded and we made a wide circle through the tall grass, approaching
slowly and tightening our circle from each side until we were about
fifteen feet away on either side of the gigantic corpse.  It was still
and silent.  Scully's head bent to one side as she squinted at the ass
end of the bear.  She looked up and said, "Not momma, it's a male."

 

"Jesus, it's a giant."

 

"They are bigger up close and personal, aren't they?" she joked.  Her
voice had a slight quiver to it that belied her calm exterior.  

 

"Could this be our Werewolf?" I asked, thinking out loud.  As soon as I
said it, I knew I was way off.

 

"Too brown, too far away, Mulder.  And it's an animal."

 

"You said it might be an animal."

 

"No, I said it might be someone working with an animal . like a dog, not
a wild bear!"

 

I shrugged, letting it go.  I knew she was right.  I picked up a small
stone and tossed it at the bear.  It bounced harmlessly off it's
stomach.  No movement, no sound.  We sighed in relief.  "Now what?" I
asked.

 

"We have to call the police and find out who would be responsible for
coming out to get this thing.  I don't know who covers wildlife in this
state." 

 

I holstered my weapon and pulled out my cell phone.  I began dialing
when Scully said, "Mulder!  Shhh!  Listen!"

 

I clicked the phone off and cocked my ear in the direction of hers. 
From the tower a faint whining or wailing sound could be heard.  "Could
be the wind," Scully whispered, not sounding convinced.  

 

"Let's get closer."  

 

We jogged toward the tower, the sound becoming louder.  When we
approached the base of the tower, it was unmistakably the sound of
someone crying. We both shouldered the big heavy wooden door open that
was sagging on its hinges and nearly fell inside the doorway.  "My God,
Mulder, could he still be here?" she asked into the gloom.  

 

We pulled out our flashlights and looked around at the stone walls and
the dirt floor, seeing nothing.  There was a staircase rising up in a
spiral around the outside of the circular room.  It rose about three
stories and then passed onto another floor through a doorway.  The
crumpling beams three stories above my head did nothing for my
confidence as we looked around, trying to determine where the sound was
coming from.

 

Scully suddenly darted across the floor and skidded to a stop, dropping
to her knees and peering at the floor.  I followed her, shining my light
at the floor and seeing what she had seen.

 

There were iron bars in the floor.  A soft whimpering could be heard and
then the stronger voice of an older female saying, barely above a
whisper,  ". . . They were on their way up to Jerusalem, with Jesus
leading the way, and the disciples were astonished, while those who
followed were afraid. Again he took the Twelve aside and told them what
was going to happen to him. "We are going up to Jerusalem," he said,
"and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and teachers
of the law. They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the
Gentiles, who will mock him and spit on him, flog him and kill him.
Three days later he will rise." 

 

I raised my eyebrows as Scully looked at me and said, "The Gospel of
Mark."

 

She turned back to the bars, shone her light down and hollered, "Hello! 
Who's down there?"

 

Her flashlight showed a straight drop down.  It appeared that there was
some sort of cave or opening beyond that, but it was too black to tell. 
Our small flashlights didn't provide enough illumination to see past the
ten foot drop to another dirt floor.

 

The sounds stopped and I knelt beside her, pulling on the bars and
finding them embedded in cement about six inches below the dirt floor. 
Scully shouted again, "We're FBI agents!  Can you hear me?  We're FBI. 
Who's down there?  We aren't going to hurt you."

 

Some shuffling could be heard and a face appeared below in the hole. 
Then a woman stepped into the light of our flashlights that we held
pointed at the dirt at her feet.  She was filthy, her long blonde hair
hanging in greasy ropes.  Her lip was split and she was clutching a
ratty olive green blanket around her.  Her shoulders could be seen above
the blanket and I realized she was naked underneath.  

 

She looked up, tears streaming down her face and cried, "You have to get
us out of here!"

 

I heard Scully draw a deep breath, "We will.  We need to know how to get
in.  Who are you?"

 

"Christina Wales."

 

I whispered, "We found them, Scully!  They're alive!"

 

Another person, wrapped in a black blanket appeared next to the blonde
and looked up.  She was an elderly woman with brown hair, streaked
liberally with gray.  Her face showed wrinkles and the strain of her
years and her ordeal.  She said, "You are police?"

 

Scully said, "Yes, we're FBI agents.  How do we get to you?  How were
you put down there?  What is your name?"

 

This one obviously wasn't any girl from Dial-A-Dream, I thought,
squelching the uncharitable thought.  I didn't know how irreverent my
thought was until she said, "I'm Sister Regina."

 

Holy shit, she was a nun!  She said,  "You need to go about thirty yards
straight south from the rear of the tower.  There you will find a pile
of stones.  Next to it is a heavy wooden trap door that leads into a
concrete shelter.  Follow the hall and it will lead you to us.  But he
secured the door.  I don't know how, with a heavy pad lock perhaps.  We
have tried to break out, but can't."

 

I said, "How many of you are there?"

 

"Five girls and myself."

 

"Who's He?" Scully asked.

 

"Nazareth," the nun said, her voice faltering.  "He's .."

 

"We know who he is," Scully answered.

 

The nun looked up, surprised.  Scully smiled in reassurance.  "We'll get
you out of there, hang on.  We're going to call for back up.  Do you
have clothes?"

 

The nun shook her head.  "He took them and left only dirty blankets."

 

I nodded at Scully and whipped out my cell phone, dialing the local P.D.
requesting at least four officers and three ambulances, figuring they
could load two in each ambulance.  I also requested that they bring some
clothes for the women.

 

We left the tower and jogged out into the field from the back of the
tower.  We found the stones and it took us a minute to find the door. 
He had camouflaged it with leaves and dirt.  Once uncovered, it was
indeed secured with a big pad lock.  We stood back and Scully fired the
lock off.  We bent to hoist the door and it was all we could do with
both us heaving on it.  I gasped out, "Christ, this guy must be strong!"

 

She grunted and the door finally flopped over on it's rusted hinges. 
The door easily weighed more than the two of us put together.  There was
a ladder leading down and Scully went first and I followed.

 

We couldn't move very fast due to the lack of light but we made our way
through the long concrete tunnel as quickly as we could.  It ended
abruptly into a cavernous room with a dirt floor.  

 

Scully stumbled when she hit it, but then righted herself as I grasped
her elbow and steadied her.  Shining our lights around revealing ten
metal army cots with thin, two inch mattresses on them.  Six of them
held the five girls and the nun.  He had room for four more.  

 

There was a bucket in the corner obviously used for defecation and
urination.  The entire room stunk to high heaven.  We could see that the
beds were equipped with shackles at the head and feet.  Good lord, what
was he doing to these girls down here?

 

I smiled gently at one of the girls and she flinched and looked away.  I
was afraid I had my answer.  Shit, I'd bet that they all had been raped.
 I kept my voice small and soft and said, "I won't hurt you girls, I
promise."

 

They all nodded in turn and Scully smiled at me, inferring what I had
from the set up in the room.  Scully asked, "Did he feed you?"

 

The nun, who seemed to be the spokesperson for the group said, "He
brought us beef broth and bread, that's about it."

 

"How long have you been here?"

 

"I have been here two months.  He brought the first girl two weeks later
and one girl every two weeks since."

 

Scully said, "The police and ambulances are on their way."

 

One of the girls said, "He's due back soon."

 

We were all silent for a moment.  "Well, he's got a surprise coming,
then," I said.

 

Scully said, "I'm a medical doctor.  Do any of you have any immediate
need of medical attention."  

 

Head shakes all around.  I said, "I'm going back out to guard the
entrance, Scully.  If he shows up and sees the door open, he'll probably
bolt.  But if he shows up before the cops, maybe I can grab him."

 

She nodded and said, "Be careful, Mulder, he's must be strong as an Ox."

 

I nodded and headed back up the tunnel, sensing that my presence was
making the girls nervous despite my reassurances.  

 

XXXXXXXXXX


Extricating the girls went smoothly.  The cops had brought jumpsuits for
the women to wear to the hospital.  They were all transported to the
nearest hospital and treated for exposure.  Rape counselors were brought
in to speak with each of them and they all gave statements to the
police.  Mulder made himself scarce, knowing that women were
uncomfortable being around a man after such an experience.  Women
physicians and police officers were called in to assist where any
contact with the women was required.

 

Nazareth Garcia was nowhere to be found.  The descriptions were
horrific.  Each woman described being shackled to the bed and repeatedly
raped.  He would tire of one and come home with another.  He had told
them that he was indeed a customer of the service and had spoken to each
of them.  Despite their use of fake names, he had discovered their real
names and their home addresses by following them. 

 

When he left his little sanctuary, he shaved the hair around his wrists
and on his cheeks and forehead.  He wore long pants, a shirt buttoned up
to the neck and a long trench coat with the collar turned up.  He often
wore a fedora pulled low over his brow to hide his eyes and would dip
his profusely hairy chin into the neck of his trench coat.  

 

From a distance he would look like a man bundled up against a windy
evening.  Only upon close inspection would see that he looked like an
animal.  All the girls had puncture wounds on their lips.  He liked to
bite their lips.  They all described his odd, ugly teeth.  They were
widely spaced, sharp on the ends and very much like fangs.  The wide
spaces and crooked nature of them made it difficult for him speak
without drooling, often giving him the appearance of drooling animal.

 

They gave a description of the buff colored long hair that covered his
trunk, neck and face and legs.  Fortunately, the man wasn't well endowed
so there had been no tearing or tissue damage to the girls' vaginas
despite the fact that he did nothing to prepare them for his entry. 
This in no way diminished the trauma of the rapes that these women had
suffered.

 

Unbelievably, the nun was taking it the best.  The cloister had burned
down about three months ago.  She suspected that Nazareth had set the
fire.  They had been having trouble with him she said.  He'd always been
an exceptional student of both his academic studies and his theology
studies.  He was smart, attentive and showed promise as a man of God. 
Or so they thought.  

 

Then they found a Playboy magazine in his room one night.  He'd been
severely spoken to by the Mother Superior about the temptations of the
flesh and his promise to renounce all things earthly and physical.  They
had no idea how he'd gotten it.  He must have been sneaking out at
night, they thought.  Certainly no one had brought it in.  His
discontent with poverty and disconnection from the world grew although
it had been explained to him that he could not go about as normal people
could.  He was told he was special and one of God's messengers, sent to
them.  

 

He worked a lot at the cloister, often doing repairs that he learned how
to do from books.  He took care of manual labor that was too strenuous
for the nuns.  He was rarely seen outside the grounds of the cloister
that was ringed by a wall of stockade fencing.  He had been seen though,
when the nuns were entering or exiting the gates.  They had heard the
rumors in the small towns nearby that the nuns were raising an animal. 
They heard the ridiculous rumors that they were aiding and abetting
Bigfoot.  They had laughed them off, knowing that ignorant people often
made ignorant assumptions.

 

Unfortunately, Nazareth had overheard some of the nuns laughing over the
rumors.  He had taken it hard and began shaving daily.  But it was
impossible to keep ahead of it and the more he shaved, the faster and
thicker the hair grew.  They encouraged him to stop and accept the hand
that God had dealt him.

 

Sister Regina expressed and admitted to having her doubts.  She had been
assigned as his principal teacher for his academic studies after Sister
Mary Margaret had passed away some seven years ago.  She had become
close with Nazareth and he had confessed to her his desires to see the
outside world.  He had admitted to having lustful thoughts about women
he had seen through the gates and even confessed to her that he had had
lustful thoughts about her.  He had seemed to be beating himself up over
it and they had prayed together for his desires to be removed. 

 

But the good sister had known something was rotten in Denmark.   She had
expressed her fears and concerns to the new Mother Superior, Sister
Agnes.  Sister Agnes was a utilitarian nun whose entire life had been
led by the book.  She had always had an open distain for Nazareth, but
hid it well and never expressed it in his presence.  She did agree that
it was her cross to bear and that he probably was a test from God and
she was not passing the test.  She had even spoken of stepping aside as
Mother Superior because of her inability to totally accept him.

 

Sister Regina thought that the Mother Superior was simply afraid of
Nazareth because she, like Sister Regina herself, sensed the thinly
veiled rage dwelling inside the boy who had now grown into a man.  He
lived in a very protected world, surrounded by women: women he was never
able to touch or express anything more than a platonic affection for. 
In retrospect, Sister Regina wondered if they shouldn't have tried to
get him treatment for his condition and exposed him in limited degrees
to the outside world. 

 

He would have been ridiculed and it might have cemented his
determination to stay within the cloister and live out his life in
solitude among the nuns.  Instead, after taking a vote, the sisters had
determined that exposing him to the outside world would just make his
discontent grow and they were already having trouble dealing with him.

 

He wasn't a large man, perhaps 5 foot, 9 inches tall, but he was indeed
heavily muscled from all the labor he did around the cloister.  He
routinely chopped wood all summer for use in the fireplaces during
winter time.  He hauled water from the outside spring on the property
and prepared baths for the nuns that they partook of once a week.  They
each had a day when they bathed.  There were fourteen nuns and two
bathed each day to conserve the water.  They did not have indoor
plumbing there and used a wooden outhouse constructed by Nazareth.  He
had decided he didn't like taking care of his business in the open,
especially later as he grew into manhood.

 

This afforded privacy for him and the nuns as well.  They were grateful.
 Then the fateful day came when there was a fire in the chapel.  All the
drapes and the cloth covering the alter were ablaze when the nuns
entered for their morning prayers.  They had formed a bucket brigade
from the spring pump to the chapel, ironically, with Nazareth helping. 
But the flames and smoke soon overwhelmed them.  Nazareth left at one
point to get two more buckets of water and they exited the chapel only
to find that the portion of the house that contained their sleeping
quarters was also ablaze.  

 

They had fled the building and watched helplessly as the building was
gutted by fire.  They had knelt and prayed for guidance while the flames
consumed their home.  Finally, one of the nuns took their one car, a
1982 Ford Fairmont and went into town, summoning the fire department. 
They arrived and poured water throughout the building to make sure that
all the flames were out and wouldn't erupt again.

 

The local Catholic Church had set up a temporary shelter for them in the
Parish Hall attached to the rear of the church until they could find new
quarters or rebuild.  They didn't have the money to rebuild or to rent a
place and were trying to figure out what to do when the townspeople
began throwing charity functions to raise money for them to rebuild the
interior of their home.  They were overwhelmed with gratitude.

 

There was no escaping Nazareth's exposure to the outside world now. 
He'd had to retreat with them and move to the Parish Hall.  The priest
there, Father McNeely had had long discussions with him about entering a
monastery to be among men rather than women.  He had said nothing but
listened to all the priest had to say.  He was the only one in town who
didn't gasp, flinch and shy away from Nazareth.  Sister had sensed his
hurt and despair.  Then one day, a week and a half into their stay in
the Parish Hall, he disappeared.  They asked the local people to look
out for him and promised that he was harmless, just confused and hurt by
their reactions to him.  

 

Guilt had prompted the townspeople to look for him, but no one could
find him.  But they hadn't looked in the one place that Sister Regina
figured he had gone; the place that had been his home for 49 years.  She
walked the three miles to the cloister and wandered through the rubble
of the building, finding a few items that could be salvaged and picking
them up as she went along.  She exited to begin her walk home and there
he was standing in front of her, watching solemnly.

 

She had asked him why he was here and he had replied that this was the
only place where he felt safe.  He could be alone with God there and not
feel the fear and disgust of the people in the world.



PART 9 (NC-17)

HOSPITAL

RICHMOND, VA

 

Sister Regina had talked to him at length and he had sat down and
confessed to her that he wanted so much to be out in the world but now
realized it was impossible.  He was angry because there were things he
wanted to do before he died.

 

She had asked him what it was that he wanted to do before he died. 
That's where things had gone bad.  He had smiled at her and she'd felt
terror for the first time in her life.  He'd grabbed her and hauled her
down to the storm shelter below the tower.  She's screamed and pleaded
with him to let her go, saying that God didn't want this, but he was
deaf to her pleas.  He was extremely strong and Sister was a small
woman, a mere inch taller than I was and not nearly so strong.

 

He had easily subdued her, tied her to the bed and cut off her habit. 
Her pleading finally annoyed him and he'd gagged her and then spent a
long time touching her everywhere, seemingly fascinated by her skin and
differences in their bodies.   He'd lingered over her breasts and
private parts.  She said his drooling and grunting was repulsive to her
for the first time and looking at him then, she saw him as an evil
creature for the first time.  Her fears were confirmed when he mounted
her without warning and penetrated her roughly, taking her virginity .
at the age of  65. 

 

She said she had retreated behind a wall of fear and pain and prayed for
her life nearly every minute for the next two weeks as he left and
brought supplies to the shelter.  He spoon fed her, keeping her tied and
raped her twice a day for two weeks.  She could barely talk by the end
of it, the trauma having snapped her mind and she retreated into a
delirium where she talked to God, begging him for forgiveness for
whatever she had done to deserve his punishment.

 

Now I'm a Catholic, but this was a lot for me to take.  I was angry that
the poor nun felt that her being raped was God's will.  That was the
saddest thing of all.  The woman had probably never hurt a fly since the
day she was born.  She had lived in that cloister since she was twelve
years old, having been 16 when Nazareth arrived and still an acolyte.  

 

She was swimming in guilt because she had felt relief when the first
girl showed up and his attention was diverted from her.  She had
immediately said acts of contrition for her uncharitable thoughts.  He
would leave them untied when he left, returning to feed them and such. 
But when he was ready to have sex, he would tie them to the beds.  As
the numbers grew, they all would be tied so that they could not
interfere with his chosen girl for that day.  

 

The nun had regained her equilibrium as he had left her alone for a
couple of weeks.  She began to speak with the girls, encouraging them to
pray for rescue and comforting them the best she could.  It had been an
awful ordeal.  She then felt that God's purpose was for her to help the
other girls survive and so he had her endure this event so she could
understand what they felt.  At least, that's how she justified it in her
mind at the time.

 

Surprisingly, no one had looked for the nun.  Oh, they had looked about
town, but figured she had gone off on her own to find a place for them,
wanting to surprise them or something.  Nazareth was returning to the
Parish Hall each day at some point, so they never suspected that he was
involved as he wasn't missing with her.  After about three weeks, they
did begin to worry and informed the police that one of their number was
missing. 

 

The police had searched the area and put out a statewide missing
person's report, but again, none thought to check the burned out
cloister.  So now the girls were safe but looking ahead to a long road
toward mental recovery from their experience. 

 

I imagine to the younger girls, the fact that he was so aesthetically
repulsive was a problem as well.  A couple of them said that they had
thought being raped was the worst possible fate a woman could suffer. 
But having been raped by what appeared to be a animal, a half man, half
ape like creature had added to the terror.  

 

The man deserved to be put away for life for what he had done.  On the
other hand, I felt sorry for him, knowing that he had been given a fate
none of us would envy and had been raised by the one group of people
that could have loved him, but also could not possibly understand his
normal male desires.  Instead of discussing them in a clinical or
rational way, they had made him feel guilty and prayed for his normal
desires to be removed.

 

If he'd been able to masturbate regularly, he may have been able to
control his desire.  As it was, he'd been taught that this was a sin and
so acting upon any normal desires was automatically accompanied by
guilt.  It was a gaping flaw in the Catholic religion as well as many
other fundamentalist religions.  There were some priests and nuns that
reached that higher plane of existence where temptations of the flesh
were not an issue in their lives.  They were truly devoted to God. But
for the average person, whose spirituality was not at that level,
suppressing normal sexual desire could indeed be a dangerous thing.

 

I wondered how long he had been festering with desire for contact with a
woman.  He'd probably gone through puberty at 13 years old.  If that was
the case, he'd held his sexual desires in check for over thirty years
before finally snapping.  That didn't lessen the extent or horror of his
crime against these women.  But it presented an interesting twist to his
story.  Although rape was an act of violence and rage, and not about
sex, his was a unique story.

 

His guilt had twisted his suppression of his urges into rage and
probably just fed the desire as time went on.  But if we caught him,
where would we be able to imprison him?  Where could he go where he
would be safe from other inmates who undoubtedly would find him inhuman?
 And interesting conundrum.

 

But we had to find him first.

 

XXXXXXXXXX

JAMIE LEVEAU'S APARTMENT

RICHMOND, VA

The Next Day

 

We left someone staking out the cloister should Nazareth return there. 
We returned to Richmond to catch J and Daryl and Detective Mulharen up
on the case.  We had been communicating with Mulharen via phone and fax
the entire time.

 

An APB was put out on Nazareth Garcia.  A police sketch artist had sat
with Sister Regina while she gave one of the most detailed descriptions
of another human being that I had ever heard.  I later teased her
asking, "Is there a video tape in there?" while tapping my forehead.

 

She'd smiled and said, "I have an eidetic memory."

 

I'd chuckled and told her that my partner did too and how annoying it
was trying to keep up with people like Mulder and her.  She smiled good
naturedly and we'd had a serious talk about her experience.  We'd
discussed my struggles with my faith over the years and how the more
weird stuff I encountered, the more my faith was strengthened.  We'd
discussed that paradox at length.  

 

She reminded me of Einstein who had said, after figuring out his theory
of relativity, that he was never more sure of the existence of God than
at that moment . because nothing besides God could have created such a
perfect system.  So she reaffirmed my belief that science and faith
could live in the same house.  

 

She was thinking of leaving church and giving up her chosen life as a
nun.  This experience had scarred her deeply.  She was unsure if she was
still fit to be a bride of Christ in light of what had happened.  I
stressed that she had not willingly engaged in this activity and
therefore she had not sinned as far as I was concerned.  Nazareth had,
but she was still as pure in heart and intent as she ever was.  I
encouraged her to go through therapy and not make any decisions for a
while yet until she was more healed from her experience. 

 

She'd thanked me and told me as I left that if I ever wanted to do bible
study, she could recite the entire bible from memory, the Old and New
Testaments.  I'd laughed and said I would keep it in mind.

 

XXXXXXXXXX

 

I looked at Scully as she sat relaxing on Jamie's couch.  We were both
exhausted and I wondered what she had talked to that nun about for so
long.  I was afraid to ask.  Why did religious people always make me
nervous?  I thought I was intimately acquainted with all of my various
shades of guilt.  But perhaps there was still some hidden away that made
me feel threatened of exposure by people who were closer to God than I
was.  I wasn't even sure I believed in him, but sometimes, my conviction
wavered.  

 

But I'd seen so many horrible things, I just couldn't figure out how
there could be a divine hand in all that evil.  In any case, she sipped
her ice tea and we relaxed for a few minutes.

 

We'd eaten dinner and were full and getting sleepy.  Daryl stood up and
said, "J, I have to go home and get some more clothes, all right?"

 

J nodded.  "Thanks for staying.  I know it's a pain in the ass."

 

"No it's not," he replied.  "I like it here."

 

He'd bent down and kissed J on the cheek and took his leave.

 

J looked at us and said, "So . now what?"

 

I said, "We aren't sure.  We've put out an APB on him.  You should see
the picture the sketch artist came up with."

 

"I'd like to."

 

Scully said, "I'll see if I can get a copy for you.  Although, you may
be better off not seeing it."

 

J nodded.  "So he's still out there."

 

I glanced at Scully who merely sighed.  We were used to these
frustrating interludes in a case where good had been accomplished but
there were still a lot of unanswered questions.  I said, "Yes he is.  We
have people watching the cloister.  I'd imagine he'll have to return
there at some point."

 

J nodded.  "So he could still come after me?"

 

I couldn't lie to him.  "He could, although the threat is lessened."

 

"I don't see how.  If he's had his collection of girls taken away, he's
bound to be madder than ever, and more desperate."

 

"That's true, these types of criminals rarely decelerate in their
activities.  However, this is a unique case.  He had a perfect set up
there at the cloister.  No one went there.  No one was allowed inside
except the nuns unless by express invitation.  He was safe from prying
eyes and could carry on without worrying about being seen or overheard."

 

"And now?"

 

"And now he has nowhere to hide.  If he turns up at the Parish Hall,
they will call the cops.  If he turns up at the cloister, the stake outs
there will nab him.  And he can't just stroll around in broad daylight. 
There's an APB out on him.  He would attract attention immediately."

 

"He might disappear for a while and then come back.  Is that what you're
saying?"

 

"It's possible, but I'm confident that he's going to make a mistake
without his safety net, that being the cloister."

 

J nodded.  "I'm still scared.  I know it's silly.  I haven't left this
house, except with Daryl, to go to the store or whatnot.  And I haven't
put on a dress since that night at the lounge.  If he sees me when I go
outside, I want him to know I'm a man.  For the first time in twenty
years, I want people to be SURE I'm a man!"

 

We smiled sad smiles at him.  He smiled and said, "Ironic isn't it?"

 

I nodded.  "This will be over soon, J.  I have a good feeling that we
will catch him soon.  How long can someone like that hide?  He can't
blend into the crowd like other criminals."

 

"Not unless he's a master of disguise, like J here," Scully quipped. 
Then she yawned so loudly her jaw cracked as she held the back of her
hand over her mouth.

 

We all chuckled and the tension was broken.  I said, "I know it's early,
but I'm exhausted, J.  I think we need to go to bed.  Daryl will be back
soon.  If you need to leave the house for anything, wake me up.  Wake me
up for anything.  And I mean ANYTHING, even if you just have a funny
feeling.  O.K.?"

 

He looked at me.  "Righto, boss," he quipped.  

 

We stood and headed for the stairs.  Scully patted his shoulder in a
gesture of reassurance and we climbed the stairs.  We undressed and fell
into the bed, too tired to do more than kiss softly before our eyes were
already closing.  Tomorrow was another day.  Another day to hunt for the
Werewolf.

 

XXXXXXXXXX

 

I sat straight up in bed, the sounds of a blood curdling scream echoing
in my ears.  Mulder was out of bed and yanking on his boxers before I
could register that I was awake.

 

He grabbed his weapon from the holster on the bedside table and charged
out into the hallway.  I shouted, "Get the light, Mulder!"

 

The light came on and flooded the hallway.  I pulled on my robe,
fastened it hastily and grabbed my own weapon.  Mulder was wiggling the
door handle to J's room as I came into the hallway.   He shouted,
"Jamie!" 

 

Must have been a slip and I couldn't blame him under the circumstances. 
I heard J shout one word that was then cut off by the distinctive sound
of flesh on flesh.  The word was "Window!"

 

"Window?" I asked.  "Oh, shit, Mulder, he's taking him out the window!"

 

He looked at me and shouldered the door open.  It flew inwards, shards
of wood splintering into the air as the door jam gave way.  He said, 
"You take the outside, I'm following."

 

I nodded and flew down the stairs.  I saw my little white ked sneakers
at the bottom of the stairs and slipped into them without bothering to
untie them or get my heel in.  I hussled down the stairs to the garage
level, the sneaks flapping on my heels like flip-flops.  

 

I careened around the townhouse just in time to see a gigantic shadow
shove something to the ground.   He shadow roared as Mulder dropped off
the fire escape at the back of the house and leveled his gun at the
shadow, shouting, "FBI, scumbag!  Don't move or I'll blow your fucking
head off!"

 

The shadow grunted and took off at a dead run.  Just then Daryl came
flying around the building, gun drawn and took off after the shadow.  He
had shoes on, Mulder didn't.  I heard Mulder curse as he stepped on
something that hurt his feet.  

 

I ran to J who was now sitting up but rubbing the side of his head.  I
asked, "Are you all right?"  

 

"Yes.  I bumped my head when he pushed me down."

 

"Why did he push you away?"

 

"I told him a I was a man," he panted.  I glanced toward the direction
the men had taken off in and J said, "Go, catch him.  I'll just go back
inside."

 

"You're head is all right?"

 

"Yes, not a hard hit."

 

"O.K."

 

J whipped his teeshirt off and handed it to me.  I smiled gratefully and
pulled it on over my robe and took off after the guys, knowing there was
no hope of me catching them unless they had caught up with him and
stopped him.  I could hear them shouting ahead of me as the man circled
around and headed back toward the street.

 

I spun on my heel and took off at an angle, back around the townhouse,
hoping to cut him off.  I rounded the front of the townhouse and skidded
to a halt on the sidewalk as he burst out of the alley and ran across
the street, trench coat flapping around his legs.  I fired low and the
bullet pinged off the pavement.

 

The sound was enough to scare him into skidding and starting to run off
to his right.  But it was all the hesitation that was needed.  Mulder
and Daryl burst out onto the sidewalk and the three of us surrounded him
from all sides, weapons drawn.

 

He turned in a complete circle, once and then sank to the ground on his
knees, curling into a fetal position and flopping over on his side. 
Daryl pulled a pair of cuffs out of the back of his jeans and approached
slowly.  He crouched behind the man and said, "Sit up."

 

He was clumsy but did as he was told.  As he did, his hat fell off and
he stared up into my face.  His brow and chin and sides of his head were
covered with long thick, buff colored hair.  He had razor stubble on his
cheeks and above his eyebrows which I could now see in the light of the
streetlights.

 

Only his eyes, ears and mouth were spared from the excessive hair
covering his face.  I gasped in spite of my effort to look calm and
unruffled.

 

Daryl barked, "Hands behind your back."

 

He did so and Daryl cuffed him.  Mulder said, "I need to get some
clothes on."  He was standing in the middle of the street in his
underwear.  

 

I felt my mouth jerk into a smile and said, "Go ahead.  I'll stay till
you get back."

 

Fortunately, no one was out this time of night although I saw some
lights in windows up and down the street.  They'd probably heard the gun
shot, not a common sound in this neighborhood.  Daryl pulled him to his
feet and led him out of the road and onto the sidewalk, where he sunk to
his knees again.  

 

Daryl reached into his jean pocket and pulled out his car keys.  He
dangled them and tossed them to me.  "Can you get my car and bring it
around.  It's the brown unmarked  over in that alleyway."

 

I nodded and clicked the safety on my Sig and trotted to the car,
unlocking it and sliding behind the wheel.  I chuckled as I slid into
the backrest only to find that my feet were about a mile from the
pedals.  I searched the front of the seat and found the bar that adjusts
it and pulled it up so I could reach the pedals and see out of the
windshield.  I fired it up and carefully backed out of the alleyway.  I
circled the block rather than try to execute a K-turn in this boat and
pulled up along side the curb.  I shut it off and stepped out. 

 

Mulder was back and they hauled Nazareth to his feet and placed him in
the back of the car.  Daryl said, "Shit," like he'd just forgotten
something and said, "How's J?"

 

Mulder answered.  "He's shaken but not stirred.  He's O.K."

 

Daryl nodded and asked the man, "What's your name?"

 

He hesitated and said, "Nathareth."

 

His speech was slightly slurred as his tongue tried to work around his
long pointed teeth.  I couldn't get a good look at them but could see
the wide spaces in between them.  It was a shame, he probably could have
had those fixed.

 

"Nazareth what?" Daryl asked.

 

"Nathareth Garthia."

 

Daryl took a deep breath, watching him through the open back door of the
cruiser.  I turned to go get some clothes on as Mulder pulled out his
phone to call the police.  I heard Daryl talking again, this time giving
Nazareth his Miranda rights.

 

"You are under arrest for kidnapping, rape, assault on an officer,
breaking and entering and second degree assault.  You have the right to
remain silent.  Anything you say can and will be held against you in a
court of law.  You have the right to an attorney.  If you can't afford
one, one will be appointed for you.  Do you understand these rights as I
have explained them to you?"

 

I didn't hear the answer, but was glad that Daryl had thought of the
Miranda rights.  Hadn't even crossed my mind.  I'd hate for him to get
off on a technicality now.  Oh, our wonderful legal system, where the
criminals of the world lived on loopholes in the written law and the
rules of evidence that often protected the criminal rather than the
victim.  It was an imperfect system, but it was still the greatest
system in the world.  I really believed that.  It was why I went into
law enforcement in the first place.  Because I thought I could make a
difference.  

 

I went into the townhouse and up the stairs, grabbing a blouse and
slacks out of my suitcase and hastily dressing and slipping into my
pumps for the ride to the police station.  I grabbed my blazer and
Mulder's leather jacket and headed back downstairs.  It was getting cold
out and although he'd put on slacks and a dress shirt, he hadn't had a
jacket on.

 

I hugged Jamie on the way out and said, "Do you want to go to the
station with us?"

 

He shook his head.  "Maybe you should go to the hospital and have that
bump on your noggin checked out."

 

"It's all right.  I'll have an egg there, but it will be fine."

 

"Any dizziness?"

 

"No."

 

"Nausea?"

 

"No."

 

"Double vision?"

 

"No, doctor!  I'm fine!" he said, waving me away.  "Really, go do your
thing.  I think I'm going to lay down."

 

"Promise me if you feel anything, you'll call an ambulance."

 

He nodded as Daryl entered.  Before I could ask, he said, "Agent Mulder
is with him.  And what's this about an ambulance?  Are you all right?"

 

He strode to J and took him into a gentle hug.  J sighed and said, "I'm
fine.  I was just telling the good doctor to stop fussing and leave me
alone."

 

"Well, we're going to check you out anyway," Daryl stated.

 

"No, I just want to lie down."

 

"Nope.  Sorry.  No can do.  Better safe than sorry."  His tone brooked
no argument and J sighed dramatically again.

 

"I appreciate everyone's concern but I gotta tell you.  I can't wait for
this place to clear out!"

 

We chuckled and Daryl took him by the shoulders and turned him around,
pointing him toward the door.  "Out," he said.

 

J's shoulders slumped and he walked to the door.

 

When we got outside, other cops had arrived and Mulder was flashing his
badge as he stood on the sidewalk.  Mulder and I took Daryl's car and
transported Nazareth to the station house in Richmond and were met by
Detective Mulharen who put him in a holding cell.

 

Daryl went with one of the cruisers and took J to the hospital to be
checked out.

 

XXXXXXXXXX

RICHMOND COUNTY POLICE STATION

RICHMOND, VA

 

Fingerprinting was surprisingly easy.  The palms of his hands were bare
and spared from his excessive hairy condition.  He was booked formally
and the State's Attorney's office was called, leaving a request on their
machine for a defense attorney to be assigned.  He was led back to the
holding cell while we filled out paperwork and typed reports of our
apprehension of the suspect.

 

We called the hospital and let the staff know that they could tell the
women in the morning, that Nazareth had been apprehended.  They were
staying over tonight but would probably be released tomorrow with
scheduled follow ups with a psychiatrist.

 

Mulder and I went back downstairs to the holding tank and approached his
cell at the end of the corridor lined with holding cells.  His muttering
was audible as my heels clicked on the pavement.  Mulder rolled his eyes
as we approached and could hear what he was saying.  He was reciting
scripture.  Oddly enough it was from the same Gospel that the nun had
been speaking when we'd found them in that cellar.

 

". . . They were on their way up to Jerusalem, with Jesus leading the
way, and the disciples were astonished, while those who followed were
afraid. Again he took the Twelve aside and told them what was going to
happen to him. "We are going up to Jerusalem," he said, "and the Son of
Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and teachers of the law. They
will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the Gentiles, who
will mock him and spit on him, flog him and kill him. Three days later
he will rise." 

 

I'm sure those words were more significant to Nazareth than to most of
us.  The fate of Jesus as seen through the Gospel of Mark was a long
standing accepted view of the story of Jesus of Nazareth.  Nazareth
Garcia was indeed betrayed by the society that refused to accept him. 
His chief priests, the nuns, had betrayed him as far as he was
concerned, having been unable to understand his needs.  He was afraid of
and probably would be given the death penalty for his crimes.  He
probably considered the outside world to be Gentiles, as opposed to the
simple poverty that he had grown up in living with the nuns.  Oh well,
enough speculation, I thought.  

 

We stopped outside the cell and he stared at us for a few minutes.  None
of us said anything.  His voice was subdued but contained a hint of
anger when he finally spoke.  He said, "Haff yourthelf a good enough
look?"

 

I shook my head sadly.  "Nazareth, I'm a medical doctor."

 

"Ah, tho you want to thudy me?"  He couldn't say the letter S I
realized.  The disgust was evident in his voice.

 

"No, I wanted to know if you had any injuries from your encounter with
the pavement earlier," I said calmly.

 

He laughed, a tortured sound that reverberated off the walls.  He looked
at the ceiling, his hands gripping the sides of the cot.  The top of his
hands were covered in long hair that poked out of the sleeves of the
prison issue orange jumpsuit that he'd been given to wear.

 

"No, Agent ."

 

"Scully," I replied.

 

"Agent Thully, my injury ith inside."  He thumped his chest and then his
temple to demonstrate.

 

Mulder said, "I'm sorry things worked out this way, Nazareth.  You
should have received treatment when you were young."

 

He looked at Mulder like he was the stupidest creature on earth and
curled his lips up, showing his yellow, pointed teeth.  I flinched
internally, putting on my professional mask to hide the revulsion that
swept over me.    That smile was evil, not because of the intrinsic
deformity of his teeth, but because of the look that entered his eyes
when he did it.  He knew  the effect it had on people, probably even on
the nuns.  They wouldn't have been able to hide it 100% of the time. 

 

His mouth closed and he turned away and said, "Wath not Godth plan for
me, Agent ."

 

"Mulder," Mulder supplied.

 

"Agent Mulder," he said slowly.  "I thhinnkk . it was my fate to end up
right here.  

 

After all, I wanted to see the outhide world."

 

Mulder frowned.  "This isn't the outside world, Nazareth."

 

He turned and looked at us.  "The outthide world let me down.  I guess I
knew that all along.  But I couldn't seem to thop myself from trying."

 

"Trying?" Mulder asked.

 

He peered at Mulder.  "Ith this your woman?" he asked.

 

I felt Mulder tense next to me.  "Yes," he replied, his voice dark.

Nareth nodded.  

 

"You're a lucky man," he said calmly.

 

Mulder said, "I know that."

 

He said, "Do you?  Do you really know?  How could you?  I have lived my
life alone.  Oh, the nuns were good to me, schooled me.  But there world
is not reality, is it?"

 

"It can be," I said quietly.  "It's their reality."

 

"But it wath not mine," he stated.  "I couldn't make them understand."

 

"We might be able to get you some therapy," Mulder said.

 

He laughed again.  "Too late for that, huh?"

 

He stood and came to the bars, curling his hands around them and peering
out at us.  I felt Mulder stiffen, but we didn't step back.  He looked
from one to the other.  "You feel guilt for my fate.  Not your fault. 
To tell the truth, I'm almost glad I was caught."

 

"Did you want to be caught?" Mulder asked.

 

"Maybe.  I juth wanted the pain to end.  No one was meant to live this
way.  I couldn't take it anymore."

 

I said, "But you hurt some very innocent women, Nazareth."

 

He nodded.  "Maybe I wanted thomeone to hurt with me.  I will repent. 
God forgives all our sins, doesn't he?"

 

I swallowed.  "I don't know," I said honestly.

 

He tilted his head.  "Convenient thing about the Catholic religion.  We
are always forgiven."

 

"I think you may be misinterpreting that tenant," I said, unable to keep
the slight sarcasm out of my voice.

 

He smiled that evil smile again.  "Maybe we all interpret thingth the
way that makes thenth to us, the way that it applies to our reality."

 

He turned to Mulder.  "You're reality ith much different than mine.  If
that wath all there wath to life, I didn't want it anymore.  Can you
understand that?"

 

Mulder swallowed and said, "I think I can."

 

He laughed again, suddenly and said, "I doubt it."  

 

He turned away on his heel and retreated to the bunk in the cell,
sinking down and flopping over onto his back, arms behind his head.  He
looked like an ape in a jumpsuit.  I asked, "What was that scripture you
were saying when we came down?"

 

"Mark 10:32-46," he replied.  "I know that one by heart," he added.  He
then turned onto his side, his face to the wall. 

 

Our discussion was over.

 

XXXXXXXXXX

 

Scully and I both had mixed feelings about this case.  The scientist in
Scully was fascinated by his condition.  But the woman in her was
saddened and she felt pity for his fate.

 

I didn't know what to feel.  I knew the horrific crimes he had
committed.  And when I read the women's statements, all I felt was anger
and I wanted him to hang from the highest tree.  But when we'd spoken to
him, he was so articulate, and obviously well educated.  It was an
illusion of civilized behavior, I realized.  Then again, he was human. 
It was easy to forget that and very hard not to concentrate on his
appearance.

 

Our society had benumbed us to a lot of things, but we still had the
capacity for incredible cruelty to anything we didn't understand.  I
understood that situation very well.  Not that I was comparing my
situation to his.  There was no comparison.  My situation was but a
fraction of the mental torture he'd had to endure.  I was at least a
normal looking human being.  People just disagreed with the way I
thought, and the things I believed in.  My ability to profile allowed me
to learn how to get into the mind of the criminal and understand his
motivations and his rationalization and justification for the behavior
he displayed.  I could almost understand where he had been coming from.

 

It was a sad situation all around.

 

We returned to D.C. the next day and went home for some much needed
rest.  We retreated to our respective apartments and showered, slept and
recharged our batteries.  One night away and I was anxious to see her
again.

 

We entered the Hoover Building the next day and got settled back in the
office, preparing to finish our final reports on the case.  The phone
rang and A.D. Skinner called us up to his office.

 

He congratulated us on our resolution to this case.  He was very
pleased.  We promised reports by the next morning and retreated to the
office, spending the rest of the day throwing the facts back and forth
to make sure we had the chronology of our report correct.  I loved
working with Scully.  I loved us like this, our strengths and weaknesses
complimenting one another as we put together a report and fleshed out
the facts and circumstances of a case.  We were a great team.

 

Now we were a team outside of the office and my heart swelled with
emotion as I thought about the fact that Scully was officially now, "my
woman."

 

I grinned and she asked, "What are you smiling about?"

 

I said simply, "You're my girlfriend."

 

She laughed and reached out to rumple my hair with her fingers.  I
pulled her into my lap and she squeaked in surprise.  "Mulder!  Let me
up!"

 

"Not until I get a kiss," I answered.

 

She glared at me.  "We're in the office!"

 

"I know that."  I looked at the fire alarm and said, "Maybe they'll get
it on tape."

 

She chucked me in the shoulder, but bent down and kissed me.  I tried to
deepen it but she pulled away and I let her go.  "Hold that thought,"
she tossed over her shoulder as she smiled and sat down behind her
laptop again. 

 

I waggled my eyebrows and asked, "Your place or mine?"

 

She smiled.  "Mine."

 

I nodded and turned back to my report, a new sense of urgency taking
over.  It would be the first time we made love on home turf.  I was
looking forward to it.  Being in Scully's bed would cement it in my mind
somehow.  It would make it real for me.

 

XXXXXXXXXX

 

I got a wild hair and packed up a picnic dinner of cold chicken and
macaroni salad, loaded up the car with blankets and sped over to
Scully's place.  I drove to the beach and pulled her out onto the sand. 
I laid the blankets carefully so she wouldn't get covered in sand.  

 

We knelt facing each other and undressed slowly.  It was dark and cool
out and I felt myself shiver as I got naked.  The cool breeze peaked her
nipples inot hard little buds and I couldn't resist bending down to
suckle her.  My urgency increased and she moaned, falling back on the
blankets.  I supported my weight on my elbows and asked, "Is this O.K.?"

 

"What?" she panted.

 

"Me on top," I clarified.

 

She nodded.  "Yeah, go ahead."

 

"I feel wild, Scully," announced, beginning to shake with anticipation.

 

"Go wild on me, Mulder."

 

"You wet?" I asked, reaching for her juncture.

 

She stopped me with a hand on my wrist and said, "I've been soaked since
your lips touched my nipple.  Just take me."

 

I groaned and sank between her thighs.  She wound her legs around my
waist and I plunged my aching cock into her without preliminaries.  She
was hot and tight and wet and muscles her quivered around me, adjusting
to the sudden intrusion.

 

Having an incongruous thought about Nazareth, I thought of what my life
would be like without this.  I couldn't imagine it now.

 

I made love to Scully that night with a sense of urgency, a need to make
this reality, my reality.  Our little talk with Nazareth had sparked
something in me, a realization of just how blessed I was and a need to
concentrate more on the things I had, rather than what I didn't have. 
And now . I had Scully.

 

I needed to remind myself that it hadn't been a dream.  She was really
mine.

 

My aching cock drove into her with an unparalleled passion and she met
me thrust for thrust, letting me take the lead from the beginning,
seeming to understand my need to be in control.  I pressed her ass into
the shifting sand below the blanket as I sped up and increased the
harshness of my thrusts.

 

I cried out between thrusts, "Scully. I. Love. You. So. Much!"

 

She moaned and I felt her walls wave around my hard shaft.  I shouted as
I spilled into her, my legs quaking from the force of my orgasm.  I lay
atop her for several minutes regaining my equilibrium.  She pushed
feebly on my shoulder and I rolled off her, realizing I was probably
crushing her.

 

She scooted over to my side and laid her head on my shoulder and asked,
"Are you all right, Mulder?"

 

"Yes, of course.  Why would you think I'm not all right?"

 

She looked up at me and I avoided her gaze.  "It's O.K. to be afraid,
you know."

 

I looked at her then and she tilted her head back to meet my eyes.  "I
don't know what I'd do if I lost you, Scully."

 

"Well, it hasn't happened, so why do you waste your time ruminating on
it?"

 

I smiled.  Always the logical one, my Scully.  I was jolted by that
sentiment.  MY. SCULLY.  I said it out loud, "My Scully."

 

She grinned.  "MY?" she teased.

 

I pulled her up onto my chest and she peered at me from above, her hair
forming a curtain around our faces.  "Yes," I whispered.  "You're all
mine, now.  I warned you, remember?"

 

She smiled softly.  "As long as you're all MINE."

 

"Always, Scully, always."

 

We got dressed and drove back to her apartment, taking a shower and
climbing naked into bed.

 

We kissed gently and she rolled off me, presenting her back to me.  I
scooted behind her and spooned her body.   She whispered, "I can't help
but feel sorry for him.  I know I shouldn't.  What he did was
unforgivable."

 

I didn't have to ask who she was talking about.

 

"I know, me too.  But maybe God will forgive him one day."

 

Scully nodded and then said, "I just hope our court's don't."

 

I grunted and buried my nose into her hair.  "I love you, Scully."

 

"I love you too, Mulder."

 

I squeezed her gently and she hummed in the back of her throat, a sound
of utter contentment and I felt my chest swell with emotion for this
tiny woman cradled in the crook of my body.  I was hers for life.  This
was it for me.  I hoped she felt the same way.  I still had a little
trouble believing it.

 

Before I even knew I was having the thought, I blurted out, "Marry me,
Scully."

 

She jerked in my arms and twisted her head around to look at me.  I was
suddenly nervous, wondering why I'd blurted that out at that moment. 
That was stupid.  I hadn't even been thinking about marriage . had I? 
The final commitment, marriage, was something that I'd never
contemplated with Scully.  And suddenly, there it was, out in the open,
without my even realizing I had been considering it.

 

Her mouth dropped open and she asked tentatively, "Are you serious,
Mulder?"

 

I swallowed.  "Serious as a heart attack, Scully."  I bit my bottom lip
and then gave her an out.  "Just think about it, O.K.?"

 

I couldn't hear her say No to me right now.  Better to have her think
about it.

 

Her face softened and she said, "I don't need to think about it."

 

"You don't?" I asked, feeling my heart accelerate to an alarming rate. 
I felt a flash of hot around my face as she maneuvered onto her back and
then turned to face me.  

 

She asked again, "Are you sure you were serious?"

 

I nodded, trying in vain to swallow the lump in my throat.  "Yeah," I
croaked.  "I'm sure."

 

She didn't say anything and I said, "You don't have to answer me now. 
This was not the right time to ask anyway.  I don't even know why I ."

 

"Yes," she cut me off.

 

I stared at her, not sure I'd heard her right.  "Yes?"

 

"Yes," she confirmed, smiling a secretive smile.

 

I grinned so hard my face muscles ached and I descended on her, locking
her mouth under mine.  I kissed her fiercely until we were both out of
breath.  As we broke the kiss and stared at each other panting, I said,
"I need to get you a ring."

 

She chuckled.  "Don't worry about that now."

 

"No!  I have to get you a ring.  I just didn't even know I was going to
ask tonight and I ."

 

"Shhh, calm down," she said, her voice filled with amusement.

 

I smiled at her and said, "You've made me the happiest man in the world,
Scully.  I love you so much."

 

"Well, I figure this way I won't have any doubts about whether or not
you Belong to Me," she teased.

 

I chuckled.  "Did you have any doubts?"

 

"No, not really."

 

We kissed again, gently this time and when she broke away, she said,
"It's better this way."

 

"How so?"

 

"I get to help pick out the ring."

 

I smiled.  "Don't trust my judgment, do you?"

 

She smiled in return.  "Don't know, I've never seen your taste in
jewelry," she said coyly.

 

I replied, "Oh Scully, you just wait.  I have lots of money to spend and
nobody to spend it on until now."

 

She frowned.  "Don't run out and start spending money like water."

 

"What if I want to."

 

"I'd rather you saved it for a house."

 

I gasped and looked at her, feeling a sense of unreality spill over me
again.  "You want to buy a house together?"

 

She grinned.  "Maybe, let's talk about that later.  Right now I need
sleep."  She rolled over, grinning.  I spooned her again.

 

I said, "What kind of house?"

 

"Go to sleep, Mulder," she admonished.

 

I was silent about two seconds and said, "House by the water?"

 

"Go to sleep, Mulder," she scolded.

 

My brain was in overdrive now.  "What town?"

 

"GO. TO. SLEEP. MULDER!" she said sternly, in her most School Teacher
voice.  But I could feel her stomach quivering with suppressed laughter
where I had my hand spread out over her ribs.

 

"How many bedrooms?" I asked, unable to stop teasing.

 

She slapped the bed, bounced onto her back and turned to glare at me. 
"Sleep. Now!"

 

I chuckled and kissed her again.  "O.K., boss."

 

She growled and rolled over again.  I spooned her again, wondering what
else I could pester her with.  I loved to tease Scully and now that I
knew I could, she was in big trouble.

 

I sighed, knowing I needed to feel my way carefully.  Dana Scully was
going to be my wife,  Good lord.  I better not push my luck.  That was
more luck than I'd dreamed of.  For once, thinking out loud and running
my motor mouth hadn't gotten me in trouble.  It had gotten me the most
wonderful thing in the world . Scully was my fiance.

 

I fell asleep with a grin on my face and my nose buried in her citrus
smelling hair.



EPILOGUE

SIX MONTHS LATER

HOOVER BUILDING

BASEMENT OFFICE

 

"What've you got there, Scully?" Mulder asked as he shouldered his way
into the room carrying a bag with Danish and balancing two cups of
coffee precariously on a cardboard tray.

 

"he Washington Post," I replied.

 

"You read that rag?" he teased.

 

"I bought it on the way in to work."

 

"How come?"

 

"The cover story."

 

"What's the cover story?"

 

"Want me to read it."

 

"Yeah, if it's that interesting."

 

"Oh it's interesting all right.  The headline reads: WEREWOLF CONVICTED
OF KIDNAPPING AND RAPE!"

 

"Oh shit, yeah, read it to me," he said as he passed out the coffee and
pastry and booted up his computer.

 

I read:

 

"A speedy trial was given for this unusual case and a mere six months
after the apprehension of the perpetrator, a trial was underway in the
most bizarre case this county had ever seen.

 

"Kidnapping and rape are not, unfortunately, uncommon in this day and
age.  But men covered in hair, having lived a cloistered life and
spouting scripture was very uncommon.  Some called him Ape Man, others
called him the Werewolf, sighting his pointed, animal like teeth, and
the fact that he happened to take each of his victims while the moon was
full or new.  He claims this was purely coincidence.  He was dubbed, The
Werewolf, early in the proceedings and the moniker stuck.

 

"Nazareth Garcia, a man stricken with a very rare genetic condition
called, Congenital Generalized Hypertrichosis, which evidences hair all
over the body,  was tried and convicted yesterday.  He was charged with
six counts of kidnapping and raping six women, one of them a nun.  He
was found guilty on all counts in the speediest deliberations in the
history of Virginia jury deliberation.

 

"He was extradited from Tennesee where the crimes took place to have a
trial in Virginia, where five of his six victims resided.  The change of
venue was requested by his lawyer and granted in light of the fact that
the population of Tennessee was enraged and hostile toward his client,
having already convicted him.  Fearing for his safety in Tennessee
prison, a Supreme Court judge granted the request and the proceedings
were moved to Virginia where they were heard by Judge Gerald Sullivan.

 

"A jury of six women and six men heard the bizarre testimony relating to
the man's sequestered life inside the cloister of nuns.  The defense
claimed that he was deranged because of his upbringing and not
responsible for his actions.  Apparently, the jury didn't believe him. 
After a mere fifteen minutes of deliberation, they issued a unanimous
decision; Guilty on all counts. They ruled against him on all counts,
despite the testimony of Dr. Richard Cole, a retired internist who
claimed to have delivered the infant Nazareth in 1952.  Dr. Cole argued
for the defendant to receive therapy and that he shouldn't be held
accountable for his actions because of his horribly disfiguring disease
and the unusual circumstances in which he was raised.  The doctor
believed that the combination had made the defendant insane.

 

"Now all that remains is for Judge Sullivan to hand down his sentencing.
 A full twenty four hours has passed and Sullivan is still not ready to
announce his decision.  This must be a tough one for any judge.  We will
report the results as soon as they are announced.  Our reporters are
standing by with this latest breaking news in the Trial of the Werewolf.

 

"When asked how he felt about his conviction he simply said, 'I'm glad
it's all over.'  He refused to give any further statement."

 

XXXXXXXXXX

 

We were both silent for a minute and then he said, "Is it really over,
Scully?"

 

"I don't know. I hope he survives prison."

 

"He very well may get the death penalty."

 

"I know, but I'm more afraid he won't make it through death row."

 

"There's nothing we can do, Scully," he said sadly.

 

I looked at him.  "We can pray for him," I said.

 

He raised his eyebrows and then said, "I'll try."

 

That was a big concession from Mulder, the bona fide atheist.  I put the
paper down and walked over to him.  He stood up and we kissed tenderly. 
"We're blessed, Mulder."

 

"Yes, we are," he mumbled and kissed me again.

 

I tried to break away when he deepened the kiss.  I felt my knees buckle
and cursed softly as I broke the kiss, hearing him chuckle with
amusement.  Damn, the man could still do that to me, even after six
months.   I was wearing a big rock on my finger and everyone knew we
were a couple now.  I could hear the sighs of disappointment from women
up and down the halls of the Hoover Building when that announcement went
out.

 

Sorry girls, I thought slyly.  He belongs to me!

 

THE END.

Donnilee
"The armchair is the neurotics spaceship." B.Earle
"When you talk to God, they call it prayer.  When God talks to you, it's
schizophrenia." Fox Mulder
http://pages.zdnet.com/brunoem/bbrain/id12.html