From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 12 Jun 2005 06:53:50 -0000
Subject: Root of the Problem - Prologue (0/14) MSR, NC-17 by Cybill & Donnilee
Source: direct

Reply To: cybill@pacbell.net;, donnilee@snet.net


TITLE:   ROOT OF THE PROBLEM
AUTHOR:  CYBILL & DONNILEE
E-MAIL:  donnilee@snet.net
         cybill@pacbell.net 

WEBSITE: http://donnilee.tripod.com
         http://www.cybillxfilesopus.com
RATING:  NC-17
CATEGORY:  MSR, CASEFILE
CLASSIFICATION:  ANGST, RST
WARNING: There is a rape in this story between original 
characters (not our dynamic duo). We've tried not to be too 
graphic but still get our point across. However, if this 
sort of thing bothers you, you've been warned.  
SPOILERS:  Tiny one for Triangle; mention of Cancer.
TIMELINE:  Near the end of Season 6.

SUMMARY:   Mulder and Scully investigate a series of murders 
in a small town and find out something is affecting everyone
there.

DISCLAIMER:  All characters used from the show, The X-Files 
are the property of Chris Carter, Ten Thirteen Productions, and 
Fox Broadcasting.  No copyright infringement intended.  No 
money made here.

THANKS:  To our beta reader, FatCat, who dutifully whipped out 
her fine-tooth comb. Thanks, darling.

XXXXXXXXXX
PROLOGUE 
XXXXXXXXXX

SLOANE STANLEY MUSEUM
ROUTE 7, KENT, CT 
MAY 21, 1997
WEDNESDAY - 3:58 PM

I was finally getting off work in a couple of minutes. For the last 
quarter hour, I'd been able to see him standing out there on the 
sidewalk, trying to look casual. He was leaning against a big oak 
tree that stood sentinel next to the concrete sidewalk. The town 
was like that, a curious mix of the old and the new.

His name was Ron and he was my boyfriend's best friend. I never 
really figured out why. The guy gave me the heebie-jeebies, but I 
tolerated him for Johnny's sake. They'd always done everything 
together. They grew up together, both lived here in town and both 
went to college at Western Connecticut State University in 
Danbury. Here, everybody knew everybody. That could be good, 
but it could also be bad. It seemed that someone was always in 
your business.

I sighed and closed the door behind me, turning the key and testing 
the door to make sure it was locked.  I took a deep breath and 
plastered a smile on my face before turning around. "Oh, hi, Ron!"

"Hey, Rebecca."

"Where's Johnny? He was supposed to pick me up."

"He got stuck doing something for his mom. He called and asked 
me to pick you up. Said he'd meet us up at the cabin above 
Macedonia."

"Oh, okay then." I tried to keep the disappointment out of my 
voice. The cabin was an old run down thing in the woods above 
Macedonia Park. It had been used as a hunting cabin long ago. 
Now, all we local kids used it to party in.

I slid into the passenger seat of his Honda Civic, laying my purse 
on my lap and my bag at my feet. We drove in silence for a while. 
Fortunately the ride was only a couple of miles. When we turned 
into the Macedonia State Park entrance, he said, "We already 
brought stuff up to the cabin earlier."

"Oh that's good. It will save time."

"I'm looking forward to tonight," he said. Something about the tone 
of his voice made me look at him. I wanted to see Johnny. I'd been 
hoping we could sneak off after a while. I didn't really know why, 
but I'd been horny as a bed bug lately. Of course, Johnny wasn't 
complaining. I'd bought a new three pack of condoms just for 
tonight.

We parked and I threw off my work shoes and took my hiking 
boots out of the bag I'd brought from home. I put them on, with my 
feet hanging out the door. He waited patiently and offered me a 
hand up when I was done.

Just the feel of his hand in mine made me shiver, and not in a good 
way. I forced another smile and slammed the car door. "Let's get 
going."

Somehow it seemed that if when we were moving, he didn't bother 
me so much. We reached the cabin all too quickly and Ron shoved 
open the door. He went to the fireplace and started the paper ablaze 
that they'd set up earlier, getting the fire going. I observed his 
back while he wasn't looking.

He wasn't a bad looking man, just not my type. He was six-feet 
tall, and had sandy brown hair and blue eyes. He had the well- 
toned body of an athlete, just like Johnny.

Once the wood was catching, he stood and turned to me. "Actually, 
I'm glad we're here alone. I wanted to talk to you about 
something."

"What?"

He walked up to me and put his hands on my shoulders.  "This is 
hard for me to say," he began. "Johnny's my best friend and all, but 
he doesn't deserve you, Rebecca."

"What are you talking about?" I asked, trying to pull away.

His hands only grasped me tighter. "Rebecca. I can give you 
everything he can and more. I know this will shock you, but I've 
been in love with you for a long time."

"Ron! This is ridiculous. Let go of me!" I wrenched my body to the 
side, breaking his grip and started toward the door.

He was on me in seconds, wrapping his arms around my waist. 
"Oh, no you don't!" he growled.

He began walking backwards, pulling me with him. He shoved 
open the bedroom door of the cabin with his back. I jerked when I 
heard it slam against the wall.  "Ron! Johnny will be here soon. 
Stop this nonsense!  I like you as a friend, but that's all. I'm 
sorry!"

"Sorry?  Oh, you're going to be sorry, all right. I tell you I love 
you and you tell me I'm ridiculous!  Well, I don't think my love is 
ridiculous. I'm going to show you what you've been missing!"

"You're crazy! You're not yourself right now. Don't do anything 
you'll regret," I begged.

He merely laughed and shoved me until I fell onto the bed face 
first. I tried to scramble away, but he grabbed my ankles and 
yanked my body back to the edge of the bed. Jesus, he was strong.

He pulled down my wool slacks, popping the button off the front 
of them. I screamed and squirmed, trying to get away, hoping 
someone would hear my scream.  'Where was Johnny?' I thought 
frantically.

From out of nowhere, he came up with a belt and tied my hands 
together tightly and then awkwardly moved me up the bed. He tied 
the other end of the belt to the headboard. I could smell the musty 
scent of the mattress and wondered why I had never noticed that 
before.

Once he had me secured, he proceeded to yank off my hiking boots 
and pull my pants off. I screamed again and tried to kick him. He 
easily subdued me with the weight of his body. I was really 
panicking now. He was actually going to do it. "Ron, please! Let's 
talk about this!"

"No more talking! I told you I loved you. If you can't accept that 
then I'm going to show you. I'm going to make you love me!"

"You can't make someone love you, Ron! I like you.  Please, let 
me go. I won't say anything to anyone. I promise!"

During my little speech, he'd obviously gotten his fly down. I was 
still wearing my shirt and he hadn't bothered to disrobe at all. 
I felt his hot erection against the back of my legs and began to 
fight in earnest.

Pain exploded in my skull as he punched me in the back of the 
head. Then searing pain ripped through my abdomen as he forced 
himself into my bone-dry sheath.  I screamed.

"Shut up!"

I couldn't help it. It hurt so badly. I screamed again, sobbing and 
began to beg. "Ron, please! Stop hurting me. I'll do whatever you 
want! Please!"

"Shut up!" he bellowed. He was thrusting hard, jamming himself 
inside me. He was probably average sized but in my dry sex, he 
felt huge.

I felt dizzy from the pain. The last thing I remember was 
screaming, "Jjoohhnnyy!"

That brought another blow to the back of my head and everything 
went black.

XXXXXXXXXX

MACEDONIA STATE PARK
KENT, CT 
MAY 22, 1997 
THURSDAY - 3:00 PM

"Jesus Christ! That's Rebecca Stowe!"

I looked at Deputy Harrison and swallowed the bile rising in my 
throat. She'd been stabbed repeatedly.  Judging by the fact that her 
pants were missing, I was going to assume she'd been raped.

"What do you want to do, Sheriff?" Deputy Harrison asked.

"Call the coroner in New Milford and the State Police Barracks. 
Get a major crime squad out here. This is way over our heads."

"Yes, sir!"


XXXXXXXXXX 
CHAPTER 1 
XXXXXXXXXX

HOOVER BUILDING 
BASEMENT OFFICE 
WASHINGTON, D.C. 
MAY 27, 1997 
TUESDAY - 8:00 AM

"Morning, Scully," I greeted.

"Morning," she said, her voice subdued.

I watched as she set down her briefcase and opened up her laptop 
on the table. She wouldn't look directly at me, but she looked 
awfully pale. Her movements were swift and to the point. There 
was no easy glide to her walk, no softly sweeping her hair back as 
she dug into her briefcase. It didn't take a genius to figure out 
that something was very, very wrong.  "Scully, what's wrong?"

She cleared her throat and turned to me, wetness pooling in her 
eyes. "I have something to discuss with you. Give me a minute to 
get set up here."

"Okay. Are you all right?" I asked. It was rare to see Scully near 
tears. When she was in pain, I was in pain. It had been that way for 
a long time now.

"I'm fine," she said, giving her standard response.

I waited patiently while she booted up her computer, printed out a 
couple of e-mails and opened her briefcase, extracting a manila 
folder. She came over to my desk and stood next to me. "What's 
up?"

"I want to investigate a case."

My eyebrows rose. Scully rarely took the initiative to investigate a 
case. I usually picked them, or A.D. Skinner assigned them to us. 
"What have you got?"

She took a deep breath and set the folder in front of me. I opened 
it and began to read while she stood there quietly. Her unnatural 
stillness was unnerving me a bit. I read two police reports and two 
autopsy reports on women that had been murdered in Kent, 
Connecticut.

One, Rebecca Stowe, was a 22-year old that had been raped and 
stabbed to death. There were no suspects.  The second one was a 
35 year-old pediatrician who had also been raped and murdered. 
Her name was Christina Fuller. Her boyfriend, Brad Crane, was 
being held for questioning.

I looked up at Scully after skimming the contents.  "I don't get it. 
Where's the X-File?" I asked.

She shook her head slightly. "There isn't one."

"Then why do you want to investigate these deaths?"

She then laid the two e-mails that she had printed in front of me. 
One was from a nurse, Maggie O'Connor, at New Milford Hospital 
informing Scully of Christina Fuller's death including the details 
of her obituary. The other was from a Brad Crane, telling her nearly 
the same thing.

"Dr. Fuller was raped and stabbed to death. I knew her, Mulder. 
We went to med school together.  Her family was from Danbury, 
so after she graduated, she moved back to Connecticut. We didn't 
keep in contact constantly, but we still sent each other birthday 
and Christmas cards every year and gave each other updates on our 
lives. She started dating Brad around Christmas time. She'd 
mentioned it in her Christmas card. He's a male nurse at New 
Milford Hospital. She had her own pediatric practice, but was 
affiliated with the hospital there."

"She lived in Kent, though?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "I want to know what 
happened. If it's the same killer, it doesn't make sense."

"Do you think Brad killed Christina?"

"I just don't know. I only met him once a few months ago when 
she came down for a medical conference.  We had dinner together 
while they were in town. That's the point. If he did, was he also 
responsible for killing the other young woman just three days 
earlier?"

Now I understood. It was personal. It was rare that Scully asked 
anything of me, let alone to investigate a case for personal 
reasons. We didn't have anything else pertinent going on right now 
and I had no reason or desire to say no. In fact, it might be good 
to get out of town. I was getting restless doing paperwork and going 
over old, unsolved cases. Scully didn't need to say anything more 
for me to see how important it was to her. It was written all over 
her face. A friend of hers had been murdered.  "Let's talk to 
Skinner."

She nodded and gave me a close-lipped smile that let me know she 
appreciated me not arguing with her about it. I grabbed my suit 
jacket and pulled it on, grabbing up the little information she had. I 
followed her out the door with my hand on her lower back.

My attraction for my partner had grown over the years. I knew it 
wasn't a one-sided thing.  Somehow, we'd managed to ignore the 
sexual tension between us for about four years now. It had started 
shortly after she was returned from her abduction. Although she 
drove me to distraction sometimes, I was unwilling to risk doing 
anything that might send her running for the hills. She was too 
important to me.  If I could help her solve the murder of her 
friend, maybe in some small way, that would atone for all the shit 
I felt I'd put her through over the last six years.

XXXXXXXXXX

A.D. SKINNER'S OFFICE 
HOOVER BUILDING - 3RD FLOOR 
WASHINGTON, D.C. 
MAY 27, 1997 
TUESDAY - 8:30 AM

Skinner was surprisingly amenable to the investigation. I think he 
felt that we could use a break from the weird stuff as well. A good 
old-fashioned investigation might be just the thing we needed.

He signed off on the 302 and the travel plans. He even made a call 
to the local Bureau in Hartford, Connecticut, letting them know 
that we would be coming into the state and asking permission to 
use their facilities if they were needed. They quickly agreed.

Permission in hand, we rose to go. Skinner stopped us. "Agent 
Scully."

"Yes, sir?"

"Good luck. I hope you find out what happened to your friend."

"Me too, sir. Me too. Thanks for being so understanding about 
this."

"You're welcome. Go find this bastard."

She smiled gently at him. "We'll do our best, sir."

"I know you will; you always do."

With that we left and went downstairs to pack up whatever 
supplies we might need. While she did that, I called the Travel 
Department and booked our airline reservations. We were soon 
booked on a flight for Bradley International leaving in three hours.

We went home separately and packed. I had a feeling there was 
more here than met the eye and it wasn't going to be a quickie 
investigation. With that in mind, I packed a week's worth of suits 
and plenty of casual clothes.

I picked her up and we headed for the airport. She didn't say a 
word during the entire trip. Once boarded, she turned to me and 
said, "There's more to this."

"What's that?" I asked.

"I didn't mention this to Skinner because I have no idea if it's 
related.  It's probably not, but my friend also sent me a scan of a 
recent newspaper article about a recent population boom in that 
area."

"That's odd," I remarked.

She opened her carry-on and handed me a copy of the article. I 
skimmed through it, noting that the boom had started several 
months ago. Women in Kent, Cornwall, Warren and a couple of 
other small surrounding towns were turning up with a remarkable 
number of pregnancies. The ratio of births to the population was 
too high to ignore. One obstetrician had mentioned it to a patient 
that was a reporter. Very soon, it was front-page news.

Speculation about good living and screwing during winter storms 
were all posited as possible reasons for the recent boom. I handed 
it back to her. "We'll have to keep that in mind. Maybe we can put 
talking to that doctor mentioned there on our list of things to do."

"Sounds good."

"Where are we staying, by the way? I didn't even ask."

"There are no hotels in the town and I didn't want to stay in the 
next town over, Gaylordsville, so I booked us rooms at the Cooper 
Creek B&B."

"A bed and breakfast? All right, we'll be living it up!" I teased.

She laughed softly and I was glad to see her smile.  "Hopefully it's 
a nice place."

"I'm sure it's better than our usual accommodations in rat motels," 
I commented.

She grinned and then followed it with a yawn. I suddenly noticed 
just how exhausted she looked. The death of her friend had to be 
hard on her. We've both lost so many people in our lives. The only 
solace I had was that it didn't have anything to do with our sordid 
past in the X-Files.

She looked over at me and tried to hold back another yawn with 
her hand. "I'm going to try to take a nap.  I didn't sleep well last 
night."

"Go ahead and catch forty winks. I'll wake you when we're 
landing."

She hunkered down in her seat, and laid her head back. Without 
opening her eyes she said, "Mulder, I appreciate you doing this. I 
know it's not an X-File."

I smiled at her. "Anytime, Scully. I'm happy to do it."

"Are you?" she asked skeptically.

"Of course. Don't you know I'd do anything for you?" The words 
were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

She opened her eyes, looked at me and then laughed. "Drop the 
panic face, Mulder. It's all right. I'd do anything for you, too."

I breathed a sigh of relief and then chuckled softly; glad she 
wasn't going to make a big deal out of it.  We rarely talked about 
our feelings for one another.  I don't know why it was so hard for 
me. I guess I figured the less I talked about them, the less they 
would hurt me. The old 'move a muscle, change a thought' theory in 
action. If I kept busy, it left little time for me to dwell on all 
the things I didn't have in my life, or all the risks I was unwilling 
to take.

Little did I know, in a matter of days, our relationship would 
change forever.


XXXXXXXXXX 
CHAPTER 2 
XXXXXXXXXX

SHERRIFF KEN HARTLEY'S OFFICE 
KENT, CT 
MAY 27, 1997 
TUESDAY - 3:30 PM

We walked up the rickety steps of the small building that housed 
the town's only law enforcement office. The weathered boards 
creaked with age, as if each pound weighed heavily on its wooden 
surface.

Mulder pulled the gentlemen card by opening the heavy, thick 
door, which had seen better days from the looks of it. Upon 
entering, my nose was immediately overwhelmed with the smell of 
cigar smoke. Small town, old habits. They didn't worry about 
secondhand smoke or labor laws that prevent smoking in any 
governmental facility within the United States. Who was I to crack 
down on them?

I crinkled my nose in discomfort and Mulder swiped at the air. It 
was a futile attempt at removing the stench that was now creeping 
into the fabric of our clothes. It would take one hell of a dry 
cleaner to remove the lingering stench I foresaw in the near future.

"Excuse me, anyone here?" Mulder asked to the empty room. We 
heard something that sounded like a grumble coming from around 
a corner.  Mulder and I slowly walked towards it. The stream of 
smoke billowing in the air was like a beacon in the dim room.

We turned the corner to find the profile of St. Nicholas himself. 
Except, it wasn't exactly a jolly fat man in a red suit we saw.  It 
looked more like a fat man in a burlap sack with his tan uniform. 
His big feet were up on his desk, a newspaper open wide over his 
round belly, and the offending cigar dangling from his wet lips.

Mulder cleared his throat to announce us. I sighed with irritation. 
The fat man looked at us over his wire-rimmed glasses with a 
detached interest.

"You those FBI agents who came to look into the Fuller murder?" 
He wasn't exactly rude but his tone and demeanor did border on it.

"Yes, we are. Fox Mulder, and Dana Scully," I announced, 
introducing us. The man slowly folded up his paper and set it on 
his desk. He removed his feet from the gritty surface and stood. 
Leaning back and stretching, his stomach protruded over his belt 
buckle. I was losing my patience with every tick of the clock.

"Look, Sheriff," I began. I looked at his nametag and continued, 
"Hartley. We came all the way from D.C. to look into this case. Do 
you still have Brad Crane in custody? We'd like to speak with him 
as soon as possible."

"Nope, we don't have him anymore. He's been released," the 
Sheriff announced.

"Released! Our headquarters were told that he had been picked up 
for questioning about Christina Fuller's murder. He was supposed 
to be held until we were able to interrogate him upon our arrival." 
My fury was starting to take over. Lack of sleep and grief could 
bring out my fiery Irish temper.

Mulder placed a gentle hand to my forearm. The gesture took away 
some of my frustration but not much.

"Sheriff Hartley, why was Mr. Crane released?" he asked in a calm 
but firm tone.

"He didn't kill, Christina." He sat on the edge of his desk, as if 
holding up the weight of his belly was too much for his spindly 
legs to take. If he had been a woman, he would be eight months 
pregnant right now.

"Then who did?" I asked in the nicest voice I could muster. We 
were getting nowhere with the man.

"Don't know." He shrugged.

Was he for real? Could he string together more than a couple 
words at a time? Jesus! Christina was a wonderful doctor and my 
friend. How could he be so uninterested? I couldn't believe that her 
death was being investigated by a caricature of a law official.  Law 
and Order, my ass.  This was more like Mayberry, RFD.

"Would you like to expand on that for us, Sheriff?" Mulder was 
amazing. He was standing there with a bland expression on his 
face and a hand in his pocket, leaning his lanky frame against a tall 
file cabinet. If you didn't know him, you'd think he was ambivalent 
about finding out about Christina's death, but I knew better. He 
was trying to show the Sheriff an aura of trust. He was not holding 
a defensive pose, like the one I was sporting right now. He was 
calm and collected and the Sheriff was buying it.  Sometimes it 
paid to have a psychologist for a partner.

"Like I said, he didn't kill her. There were fingerprints all over the 
woman's body and not one of them were his."

"How is that possible?" I asked, frustrated. "He was her fiance; 
surely, he touched her at some point that day?"

"Because he left their house before Christina took her morning 
shower. She was killed after work. We figure the murder took 
place some time between going to the grocery store after leaving 
her office, and right before making it home to Mr. Crane that 
evening," he said.

Finally, we were getting somewhere.

"So, where are you with the case?" Mulder chimed in.

"We're interviewing the grocery store attendants and trying to pin 
down the exact time of death. There had to be a reason she pulled 
over to the side of the road. We figure she must have known her 
assailant, or she was picking up a hitch hiker."

"She wouldn't do that," I said softly. "Pick up a hitch hiker, that 
is," I clarified.

"You know, Agent Scully, I get the impression that you knew Ms. 
Fuller," he said kindly.

"Yes, I did, Sheriff."  That was all I was going to say about that. 
Mulder's eyes met mine. They held a hint of sympathy within them 
and I looked away quickly. I couldn't break down here.

"Would it be possible for us to get copies of everything you have 
on this case to date?" Mulder asked the Sheriff.

"I guess it couldn't hurt." He moved with more speed than I 
thought possible to make the copies for us.

I was sure he just wanted us to get the hell out of here. I'd bet he 
was thinking that us big fibbies who came into small towns and put 
their noses and fancy suits into the mix just mucked everything up. 
A small laugh escaped me before I could tamp it down.

Mulder looked at me and grinned. He's thinking the same thing.

Just as the Sheriff returned with the copies, a young man briskly 
entered the small office.

"Sheriff! We got him!" My heart jumped in anticipation.

"Who, Deputy?" It was the first speck of animation we'd seen from 
the Sheriff since we entered.

"Ronald M. Graceson!" he exclaimed.

"Ronnie? Deb's boy?"

The young deputy nodded his head excitedly.

"Now what did he go and do this time?" the Sheriff asked.

"He killed Rebecca Stowe!" The young man's wide smile couldn't 
be tamed even by the subject matter. My hopes for Christina sank.

The Sheriff's eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding! Are you sure? 
You have to be sure or his Mamma is going to have the entire town 
trying to string us both up by the balls."

"We have a full confession. We're bringing him in now." The 
young man jittered from side to side, clearly there was too much 
adrenalin running rampant through his system.

Mulder and I stood to the side, silently watching the debacle 
unfold. The young man's face finally registered that someone else 
was in the tiny room. He hooked a thumb at us. "Who are they?"

"Feds." Apparently Mulder and I didn't need an introduction.

Mulder held out his hand anyway, "Fox Mulder, and this is my 
partner, Dana Scully.  Your name is?"

"Oh, sorry! Andy Harrison, sir."

After we shook hands with the overwhelmed deputy, Mulder asked 
about the new development. "So, is it possible that this Ronald 
Graceson character killed Ms. Fuller as well?"

"Um, maybe. I hadn't really thought of asking him about 
Christina." 'He didn't think of asking about a woman who was 
raped and murdered three days after Ms. Stowe was killed in a 
similar fashion?' I thought as I gripped my fists tightly. I thought 
my nails were about to break the skin of my palm.

"Well, we'd like to review the case reports and the confession." 
The Sheriff nodded at Mulder hesitantly. "Scully and I would also 
like to interview Mr. Graceson after he's been booked for Ms. 
Stowe's murder."

"Now, wait a minute here," the young deputy hedged.

Mulder was about to stake a claim on the case when the Sheriff 
jumped in. "It's alright, Andy. They just want to talk to the boy 
about Christina."

"But, but this is my case," he stumbled over his protest.

"Andy," the Sheriff said in warning. "One call to Washington and 
we'll have us a whole slew of suits running around here. They don't 
want to take over your case. They're here to help find out what's 
happened."

The young man stilled and nodded at his superior.

Mulder and I nodded in unison at the Sheriff's proclamation. 
Mulder added, "Andy, we just want to help. You knew the girl, 
right?"

"Yes, sir. Awful thing seeing her torn up like that."

"Well, Agent Scully went to medical school with Ms. Fuller. They 
were friends. You can understand her wanting to find out what 
happened, can't you?"

"Absolutely! I'm sorry, Ma'am," Andy responded, tipping his hat at 
Scully.

I smiled. Mulder knew when to play the personal cards, all right. In 
most cases, that would work against us. Here, however, I had a 
feeling the personal aspects were going to endear us to the locals, 
rather than be a burden.

"Okay. Come back in the morning. We'll book him this evening 
and you can have at him bright and early tomorrow," Sheriff 
Hartley promised.

I was about to object when Mulder lightly touched my back. "That 
will be perfect. Thank you for allowing us to work with you on 
this. Ready, Scully?"

I looked at him with daggers in my eyes. He knew damn well that I 
was not done here, but for some reason, he was agreeing to their 
terms. I thought we had completely reversed roles.

He ushered me out of the smoke pit and to the front of the 
building.

"What the hell was that, Mulder?"

"Scully, clearly these people are not happy about us being here."

"So what? When has that ever stopped you before?" I was 
becoming furious.

"No, that wouldn't have stopped me before but you would have."

I was not following where he was going with his line of reasoning.

"Right now, Scully, you're personalizing this case."

I opened my mouth to speak and he cut me off, putting two fingers 
over my lips.

"What you need to do is step back from your emotions and see that 
these are nice people. They may not be college graduates, but they 
know their own kind. We need to hang back and investigate on our 
own.  Antagonizing them or being condescending is not going to 
get us where we need to be."

He had a point there. Too bad he didn't use the same line of 
thought more often.

"We should only connect with the locals when necessary. We're 
going to need them though. We need their records and if they get 
lucky, we're going to need access to the suspects.  We're both 
aggravated and you are over tired. You know as well as I do that 
it's a recipe for disaster to start out a case this way."

I couldn't argue with that. He guided me by the arm to the 
passenger side of the car. I turned swiftly and grabbed the keys 
clasped in his hand. "Fine, but I'm driving," I said. I knew I was 
acting petulant, but I was still somewhat upset at the events that 
transpired with tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum.

We got into the car and headed off towards our hotel, actually, the 
bed and breakfast. I couldn't believe Mulder and I were staying in a 
B&B. How pathetic was that? I was finally getting away for the 
weekend, staying in a beautiful bed and breakfast, and of course, it 
was under less than desirable circumstances. Just once, I'd have 
liked to be in a nice place with a handsome man in tow for more 
pleasurable reasons. I wondered if my life would ever be normal. I 
looked over at my partner who was trying to give me space by not 
engaging me in conversation.

Nope, normal just wasn't in my cards.

XXXXXXXXXXX

COOPER CREEK B&B 
KENT, CT 
MAY 27, 1997 
TUESDAY - 5:30 PM

The Bed and Breakfast was beautiful. When I made the 
reservations, I really wasn't expecting something so quaint and 
well, lovely. Mulder and I entered the colonial-style house, 
complete with large white pillars donning the veranda. There was a 
large maple desk straight ahead at the back of the entrance hall. A 
small, frail-looking woman, who looked to be in her 70's, was 
talking softly on an old-fashioned, antique phone. Her hair was tied 
up tightly in a bun. She had pink, pointed glasses tipped on her 
nose. She looked up and smiled as we set our luggage on the 
gleaming, wooden floor.

Mulder was looking at the large living room to the right of the 
entrance. On the left was another large room. A long, matching, 
maple table with fabric-covered chairs sat in the middle of the 
space. There was a huge bouquet of daisies sitting in the middle of 
the table. I could smell the flowers from here; quite the contrast to 
the smoke-filled sheriff's office we had exited earlier.

The woman finished her call and rose to greet us. "Oh my, you 
must be the newlyweds from New York," she gushed.  Her smile 
was wide and her wrinkles were set deep in her face. She must 
have smiled a great deal in her life. "Aren't the two of you the most 
handsome couple?" she cooed.

Mulder smiled wickedly and waggled his eyebrows at me.

"Uh, I believe you're mistaken," I said, laughing.

"Oh deary, you needn't be embarrassed. You're husband is quite 
the looker and you!" She paused. "Oh, you are probably the most 
beautiful thing I ever did see in all my 74 years," she continued.

I swiped the hair from my eyes and smiled at the sweet, old 
woman.

"Now young lad, isn't she the prettiest thing you've ever seen?" she 
inquired. She was almost sickening in her sincerity.

"Or ever known, ma'am," Mulder replied, without missing a beat 
and without a hint of facetiousness.

I looked at him, shocked. Mulder thought I was pretty? No, 
actually, he said 'ever known' to her question. He thought I was the 
prettiest woman he'd ever known? How was it possible that this 
opinion had escaped my notice?

"Mulder," I scolded. I tilted my head to gauge whether he was 
being serious or not.

He just looked at me and shrugged his shoulders as if it were 
obvious. His look said, 'Why are you looking at me funny?'

I just shook my head and looked away, unsure of how to take his 
response. 'What was this shift happening between us?' I asked 
myself. It was as if we were letting out little secrets without 
warning. That was just not like us. I suddenly remembered his 
comment from the plane; that he would do anything for me. I 
wondered exactly what that meant.

"Well, let me get the two of you registered. I am sure you have 
better things to do with your time than shoot the breeze with an old 
woman." She winked at me and went back behind her desk, sitting 
down slowly. "My name is Alice and I'll be here to take care of 
you. If you need new towels or sheets," she continued.

That was it! Enough. I cut her off. "Alice, I am Special Agent 
Dana Scully and this is my PARTNER, Agent Mulder.  We're with 
the FBI. Remember when I made reservations with you yesterday? 
I requested separate but connecting rooms, if they were available."


She looked at me and her eyebrows climbed her small forehead. 
"Oh my! I apologize for my behavior. You just looked, I don't 
know. You just looked like you two belonged to one another. I'm 
sorry. Silly me. Yes, I do have your rooms and they connect 
through the bathroom. I hope that's acceptable."

Mulder grinned at me. There was laughter in his hazel eyes. Now I 
had to spend God-only-knows-how-long sharing a bathroom with 
the man. He had enjoyed her mistake immensely, purely because it 
made me uncomfortable. Damn him! I knew I hadn't heard the end 
of this one.

"That will be fine. Thank you, Alice. No apology necessary." I said 
with a sigh.

Of course that was when Mulder chose to partake in the 
conversation. "It happens to us all the time. You're not the first and 
you won't be the last," he said, trailing off into soft laughter.

'Now what am I supposed to think when he goes and says 
something like that?' I mused. Damn, I was confused, not to 
mention, hungry. When was the last time we'd eaten?

"All right, well, here are your room keys. If you need anything, 
just holler. I'll probably be in the kitchen. Breakfast is served 
promptly at seven, lunch at twelve, and dinner at six. If you need 
me to keep a plate warm for you in the evening, just let me know."

"Thank you, Alice. Don't fret over us. We tend to keep long days 
and even longer nights," I said tiredly. "Can you recommend a 
good place to eat in town?"

"Sure. The best place in town, besides here of course," she said, 
pausing.

Mulder nodded encouragement at the sweet woman.

She continued, "Is The Fife and Drum. The food there is 
exquisite." She smiled at me and grabbed my hand. "You really are 
a beautiful woman, honey. Although, you're too skinny. You need 
a little meat on those bones. One week here with me and we can 
fix that right up."

I pulled my hand away lightning-fast. Ever since the cancer, I'd 
been a little touchy about my weight. I didn't need anyone, 
especially a little old lady, reminding me of my doubtful 
appearance.

"Okay, time to go."  With that, I turned around, grabbed my 
suitcase and headed up the stairs to my room. I could hear Mulder 
whispering something to Alice. Whatever. I didn't care. All too 
soon he caught up to me and nudged my suitcase with his.

"Hey," he said shyly.

I stopped in front of Room #2. Mulder's room was #1. Wasn't that 
ironic? He always got top billing.

"Do you think I'm too skinny?" I asked without turning around. I 
couldn't bear to see his face during my moment of weakness. A 
strong hand crept around my waist and pulled. I felt my back lean 
against his chest.

His voice was but a whisper against my ear. "Scully, you're alive. 
To me, you couldn't be any more perfect."

I sighed. "Thank you, Mulder. Thank you." He pulled away and 
went to his own room.


XXXXXXXXXXX 
CHAPTER 3 
XXXXXXXXXXX

FIFE & DRUM RESTAURANT 
KENT, CT 
MAY 27, 1997 
TUESDAY - 7:10 AM

"Mmmm," I moaned with delight as I chewed and swallowed. 
"This is wonderful," I added. I was thoroughly enjoying my 
salmon.  It was crusted with almonds and brown sugar and laying 
on a bed of white, fluffy rice. I was armed with a fork in one hand 
and a hunk of fresh-baked bread, slathered in butter in the other.

I didn't get a response from Scully, so I looked up to find her eyes 
riveted on my face. I thought it was my face. A second later, I 
realized she was staring at my lips. Her fork was raised halfway to 
her mouth.  It was as if she was caught in suspended animation.  
"How's your stuffed shrimp?" I asked.

She shook her head slightly as if suddenly becoming aware of her 
surroundings. Her food dropped off her fork to make a small 
clunking noise on her plate.  "Oh geez!" she exclaimed. "Sorry, 
Mulder. I drifted off there for a minute."

I couldn't help the shit-eating grin that spread across my face. 
Scully had been checking me out.  If I called her on it, she would 
deny it till the cows came home, but she couldn't foolme. "I asked 
how your stuffed shrimp was," I stated.

"Oh! Great, it's great. It has this wonderful bread stuffing. How 
about yours?" She looked down at her plate, letting her hair 
partially hide her face as she began to pick another shrimp from its 
shell. I watched the pink rise up in her cheeks and grinned even 
wider.  She knew she'd been caught.

"Judging by the moaning I was doing, I would have thought you 
gathered that I think this is some of the best salmon I've ever had," 
I replied.

She cleared her throat. "Yeah, I guess so. About those noises," she 
began.

"Noises?"

"Those noises, moans you make. I don't remember you being so 
vocal when you eat," she said.

"I don't remember having food this good," I shot back. I couldn't 
resist teasing her. "Why?  Does it bother you?"

"A little. I don't know, not really. Oh, forget it," she stammered 
out in rapid speech.

I was really disconcerting Scully; it was quite fun. While I usually 
took great delight in seeing her off-balance, there was more to it 
tonight. I think Alice's comments about us being a couple had 
disturbed her more than she was willing to admit.

Hell, if I was honest, they had disturbed me much more than I was 
willing to admit. If Scully ever really came on to me, I would be 
doomed. There was no way in hell I would be able to resist her. I 
sighed, remembering that I didn't have to worry about that 
possibility any time soon. I wondered why my attraction for her 
was so unsettling.

Every move she made was turning me on; from the way she slid 
her food off her fork with her teeth, to the way she tipped her head 
back slightly as she took another large swallow of white wine. I 
watched the muscles undulate in her throat as she swallowed and 
felt my groin tingle. God, it would be a miracle if I made it 
through dinner without embarrassing myself.

I stood up, throwing my napkin on the table. "I have to use the 
Men's Room," I explained to her upraised eyebrow.

"Okay," she said simply.

I practically trotted to the bathroom, hoping some cool water 
dousing my face would put an end to the slow burn that was 
gathering in my groin.

Emerging several minutes later, I peered into the other side of the 
restaurant that housed the bar and dance floor. It was noisy with 
mating sounds and young twenty-somethings grinding against each 
other on the dance floor. I was never that carefree in my twenties. 
If I stood and watched that it wasn't going to help my arousal 
level. I hurried back to the table, eager to pay the check and get 
out of the place.

XXXXXXXXXX

COOPER CREEK B&B 
KENT, CT 
MAY 27, 1997 
TUESDAY - 9:00 PM

Shit. It was ridiculous. I couldn't take my eyes off her ass as we 
proceeded up the long staircase to the second floor.

Furtive glances had been the after-dinner drink of choice as we 
rode in silence the short distance from the restaurant back to the 
B&B. I'd felt sexual tension around Scully before, but this was 
totally out of hand.  If I didn't do something to relieve myself, I 
was going to spontaneously combust.

I watched as she slowed and reached toward her door with her key. 
I was seized with a sudden case of the 'fuck-its'. I wanted her and 
it was about time she knew about it, too. There were probably a 
thousand reasons why I shouldn't spring it on her. I was guessing 
there were probably a thousand more she would think of, that had 
never crossed my mind.

For some reason, I was drawing a blank at the moment.  All I knew 
was the lure of her body, the curve of her hip, the swell of her 
breast under her lightweight sweater, the dip of her hair where it 
turned under against her neck.

I was behind her in two long steps and slid my arms around her 
waist, leaning down to place my chin on her shoulder.

She shuddered visibly in my arms and jerked in surprise. "Scully," 
I croaked out, alarmed at the gravelly, low pitch of my voice.

"Mulder, don't," she said, twisting the handle of the doorknob and 
shoving it inward.

"Why not?" I walked her into her room, kicking the door shut 
behind me.

She jumped at the sound and that set something loose inside me. I 
whirled her around to face me, putting my hands on her shoulders.

"Mulder, what's going on?"

"I don't know but don't even tell me you don't feel it," I replied.

She looked up at me, her eyes wide, maybe even a little frightened. 
"We shouldn't do this," she whispered, her voice breathy.

Being the pig I am, I couldn't take my eyes off the rise and fall of 
her breasts as her breathing grew heavy. I spoke to her breasts, 
"Give me one good reason why I should keep suppressing the urge 
to kiss you until you don't know your own name anymore?"

I was surprised to hear her whimper. It was unexpected enough to 
pull my eyes up to her face.

Her eyes were large in her face, and her mouth opened and closed 
but no sound came out. "Mulder," she tried, obviously at a loss for 
words. Perhaps she was drawing a blank too.

"Too late," I muttered, and stepped closer, lowering my mouth and 
laying it over hers in an open-mouthed kiss.

She moaned and was kissing me back in two seconds flat. My 
hands wound around her again, pulling her tightly against me. 
When my hardness pressed into her soft belly, we both broke the 
kiss and groaned.

"Oh God," she whispered.

"Gotta have you," I mumbled, and proceeded to lift the hem of her 
sweater up and over her head.  "Can't wait anymore. Want you so 
bad," I whispered.

She lifted her arms to help as I walked her backwards toward the 
bed.

One hand landed on her breast and squeezed. I guess that shredded 
the last of her resistance. We were in a sudden flurry of arms and 
legs, tearing off our clothes and kicking off our shoes.

Once naked, no time was wasted as we literally fell onto the bed. I 
landed heavily on her body but she didn't seem to mind. Grinding 
my iron-hard shaft into her mound produced more moaning and the 
bucking of her hips against mine. What the hell were we doing?

We were both crazed. It was not going to be slow and easy. It was 
not going to be tender and sweet.  I wanted to ravish her like I'd 
never wanted to ravish a woman before in my life. Raising myself 
up on one arm, I took her hand and led it to the throbbing mass 
between my legs.

She gasped, "Oh dear God!"

My voice was raw with arousal and emotion. "Feel what you do to 
me. All the time, Scully. Sometimes I can control it. I've been 
controlling it for years, but not tonight. No more, not tonight," I 
repeated.

Her legs spread wide and she positioned me at the gates of 
paradise. I could only groan as I jammed myself deep into her hot, 
wet tunnel.

The look she gave me was primal and full of lust.  For a moment, I 
felt like a diver in a shark cage. I ground against her, angling for 
every millimeter of depth. It felt so good I thought I might die 
from it.

Her hot, little hands landed on my hips, urging me to move and 
pulling me deeper even though I could feel the head of my cock 
knocking at the entrance of her womb.

She lifted her legs even higher. With her knees spread so wide, 
nearly pointing out at right angles, I was afforded maximum 
penetration and I took full advantage, thrusting hard and deep.

I felt the strong, tight ring of muscles clamping on my rigid flesh 
and imprisoning it inside for seconds before I would pull back and 
slam home again.

She was serenading me with a symphony of sounds that drove me 
close to insanity. I looked down at her and realized I was passing 
up a great opportunity. I hunched up on my knees, and bent so that 
I could reach her breasts. I suckled her, pulling her flesh firmly 
into my mouth. Her back bowed up off the bed.

Her sex played a rapid rhythm of spasms on my cock and I as she 
came. I hissed with bursting arousal and the desire to hold on for a 
longer show. It wasn't going to happen.  I slid one hand down to 
cup her ass and yanked her pelvis toward me in a frenzy of strokes, 
wanting my own release.

I ground against her and she shrieked, her walls squeezing me 
again for the second time. I howled in triumph and felt my cock 
expand in her snug hole, then my own climax burst forth. Hot seed 
poured out of me in a nearly steady stream. I vaguely sensed that 
my body was jerking atop hers in the throes of the most intense 
orgasm of my life.

I felt blackness tickle the edge of my vision and sucked in a noisy 
breath, trying to gain my equilibrium as my dick throbbed and 
continued to fill her to the brim.

"Scully," I managed to croak out, just before my vision went black.

XXXXXXXXXXX

MAY 28, 1997 
WEDNESDAY - 6:45 AM

I woke to find the bed empty. In a moment of panic, I looked 
around, quickly realizing I was still in Scully's room. Damn, what 
was I going to say to her?  I glanced at the clock. It was already 
6:45 AM.  Breakfast was at 7:00. I needed to shower and I could 
hear the water running in the bathroom. The temptation to join her 
was nearly overwhelming but I didn't think she'd appreciate it.

She'd been as horny as I was last night, but I'd been the instigator, 
no doubt about that. I gathered up my tossed clothes and slipped 
them on haphazardly. I went into the hall and let myself into my 
own room, gathering some clean clothes. I sat on the bed, waiting 
to hear the water shut off.

'What was she going to think of me? Had I ruined the best thing 
that had ever happened to me? Was she going to be angry, sad, 
thrilled?' I just didn't know. I wasn't usually such a Neanderthal 
with women. These questions circled my brain until I registered 
that the water had stopped. Shortly, I heard the door on her side 
close.

I rose and made my way into the bathroom. The room was steamy 
and redolent with her scent, which I inhaled unashamedly. I turned 
on the water and stepped beneath the spray, sighing in pleasure as 
the water beat on my head and back.

I chuckled, feeling the soreness in my legs. I'd used muscles last 
night that I'd forgotten I owned. I wanted this to be a turning 
point for Scully and I.  The problem was I had no clue as to how 
she was going to react.

Being the consummate gentleman that I was, I'd gone and passed 
out cold on her immediately following getting my rocks off. That 
was going to play well I was sure. Great move, Mulder. It was a 
wonder she didn't kick me out of bed onto the floor.

I quickly shampooed my hair and washed up, getting out and 
toweling off. I was hungry and didn't want to miss breakfast.

XXXXXXX

MAY 28, 1997 
WEDNESDAY - 7:00 AM

After dressing and combing my hair, I went back into the bathroom 
and knocked gingerly on her door that led to her room.

"Come in!" she shouted.

I opened it up to find her standing by the bed, fully dressed in a 
navy-blue suit and white blouse. She had papers from the case 
spread out on the bed and was putting them in some sort of order. 
"Scully, about last night," I started to say.

"Let's have breakfast, Mulder. We have a full day ahead of us," she 
said briskly. "We need to see Ron Graceson. I've already made a 
call to the Troop L, the local State Police Barracks in New Milford. 
Surprisingly, Andy Taylor actually called in a Major Crime Squad 
on Rebecca Stowe's murder scene. I wouldn't have given him 
credit for that. They said they faxed their reports to his office 
yesterday, something he obviously neglected to tell us and didn't 
include in the copies he gave us."

She was chattering like a magpie in an obvious attempt to avoid 
discussing our liaison last night.  I sighed with disappointment. It 
was going to be a long day.  We were going to have to talk about 
it.  On the other hand, I could respect her need to process the 
events and come to terms with them. I wasn't, however, going to 
let it go away.  Not this time.

I was not going to be able to pretend that it never happened. I 
loved her too much. We'd crossed a big, fat, black line last night. 
Now that it was crossed, though, I knew there was no going back 
to holding hands, so to speak. Not for me. "Scully," I tried again.

"So we need to get over there and get those reports as well as talk 
to Ron Graceson."

"Scully!" I barked.

Her head snapped up from her organizational task, looking at me 
for the first time. "Yes?" she asked, as if nothing was going on and 
it was just another day. It almost pissed me off.

"I'm not going to push it."

"Good, that's settled then," she said crisply, jamming papers into 
her briefcase. "Let's get some breakfast."

I sighed loudly. It was the only protest I lodged as I followed her 
out the door and downstairs to see what Alice had cooked up for 
breakfast.

XXXXXXXXXX

We gorged ourselves on bacon, eggs, and toast made with fresh- 
baked bread and jelly. How I could be so hungry after the dinner 
I'd had last night was beyond me, but I was. What surprised me 
though, was the amount of food Scully packed away.

Alice fussed over us, refilling our coffee cups as we ate and 
chattering to some of the other guests. It appeared that there were 
four others staying at the house at the present time. I didn't spare 
them much of my attention.

The biggest thing I noticed was Scully's studied effort not to look 
at me. Finally, she stood and I followed her lead, waving good-bye 
to Alice. "So, what do you want to do first?" I asked, steering us 
onto neutral territory.

"Let's go get those Major Crime Squad reports from Sheriff 
Hartley. I'm a little miffed he didn't tell us about them yesterday."

"He gave us copies of all their work on the case."

"Yes, but he conveniently forgot to include those.  Why do you 
think that is?"

"I don't know, Scully, but I doubt he's intentionally trying to screw 
up our investigation."

"Are you sure about that?" she said, more harshly than I thought 
necessary.

I gave her a look of confusion as I slid into the passenger seat of 
the rental car, knowing she would want to drive. She started the car 
but then sighed and sat back after hooking her seatbelt in place.

I stared out the window. One thing I didn't want to do was fight 
with Scully. "I'm sorry, Mulder. I'm on edge about this case. I'm 
seeing bogeymen everywhere."

"Don't worry about it. You're right. We have a lot to do. Let's get 
at it."

A look I couldn't interpret flitted across her face and then was 
gone an instant later. She turned to face the windshield and I 
resumed my stare out of the passenger side window.


XXXXXXXXXX 
CHAPTER 4 
XXXXXXXXXX

KENT FALLS
KENT, CT 
MAY 28, 1997 
WEDNESDAY - 7:30 AM

"Wow, Jennifer, look at this one!"

I watched as Mark adjusted his camera angle and was delighted 
with the picture he captured.

"Oh, yeah! That waterfall is spectacular. I'm so glad you were able 
to come out today." I looked up at him adoringly.

"Sure, what are friends for? I love hanging out with you, Jenn." He 
gripped my shoulder and we made our way through the picnic 
tables and continued on into the brush.

I steered him off to the right as we took in the rays from the sun on 
such a beautiful day. "How about here? It's quiet and no one will 
see us from the beaten path," I said timidly.

He looked at me with a tilt to his head, looking as if he did not 
quite understand my reasons, but not really caring. "Doesn't matter 
to me. I can't wait to eat. I skipped breakfast."

"Me too, I didn't want the food from Fife & Drum to go to waste. 
You know how the portions are so large and all." I set out the thin 
blanket and kicked off a shoe to hold each side down.

He smiled and kicked off his own running shoes and plopped 
down. I sat down and opened the large backpack-style picnic 
basket.

"Damn, Jenn, you've got a ton of food in there. It didn't feel that 
heavy when I was carrying it."

"That's because you're a big, strong man," I said, stroking his ego. I 
tipped my head, hoping I looked sexy as I pulled out the steaming 
box holding the turkey. "You know, this is kind of a special day for 
us, Mark."

His eyebrows knit together. "How's that, Jenn?"

I pulled out the small loaf of homemade bread and the carving 
knife I packed from home. The blade nicked my thumb as I 
removed it from its casing. "Ouch, shit!" I hollered as I stuck my 
thumb into my mouth.

"Be careful, Jenn. That knife is really sharp. How deep is the cut?" 
he asked in a worried tone.

I pulled my wet thumb out of my mouth. "Just a small cut. I have a 
band-aid right here," I informed him as I opened the small pocket 
of the backpack.

He offered to help me put it on and I wasn't going to say no. I was 
easily getting lost in the way his hair fell over his forehead and the 
sweat that trickled down the side of his neck. I involuntarily licked 
my lips.

"As I was saying, this is a special day for us, because it's been one 
year since we first met," I reminded him. I looked up and smiled at 
him. Mark Johnson was the sweetest, most handsome man I'd ever 
met in my entire life. Our lunch was so much more than just a 
celebration. I wanted Mark, and I wanted him to know how much I 
truly cared for him, as more than friends.

He grinned in reply. "Well what are we waiting for?  Let's eat."

I nodded and dished out the meal. We ate in companionable silence 
for a while, just enjoying the view of the falls and the trees on such 
a blue-sky day. The meal was amazing. The thick, homemade 
bread slathered with warm turkey and mustard tasted heavenly to 
both of us.

After we finished the meal and the sun was beginning to set, I 
approached him with the real reason I brought him out there. 
"Mark, what would you say if I told you that I cared for you?"

He looked at me nervously and then smiled. He must have 
remembered that it was all right; we'd been best friends for the last 
year.   "I care for you too, Jenn," he finally replied.

I took that to mean 'other than friendship'. I was in excellent shape 
and strong for my size. I toppled his form to the ground, my mouth 
covering his. At first, he didn't know what to do. My hand came 
down and skipped underneath his running shorts to stroke his dick 
in maddening swipes.

"Jenn, we shouldn't be doing this," he warned as he pulled away 
from my lips.

I didn't listen. I moved my mouth from his and pulled down his 
shorts taking his dick into my hot mouth. I did it so quickly, he had 
no time to push me away. As I sucked on him, I shimmied out of 
my own elastic-waist shorts and kicked them off.

"Jenn, we can't," he tried to protest.

I sat on his lap and shoved his length into my hot center.

He groaned and laid back as I pumped up and down over him.

XXXXXXXXXX

I knew it was wrong and that it would change our relationship 
forever, and probably not for the better. However, at the moment, I 
couldn't fathom telling her to stop in my lust-induced haze. Girl or 
no, it felt fantastic having her core around my cock.

"Shut up and enjoy this," she said with slight irritation, continuing 
her movements until I was moaning and out of control. She 
hunkered down and ground her pelvis into mine. She was a 
Jennifer I didn't know; wanton, out of control, and just a bit scary.

I screamed out as my orgasm overtook me.

She yelled her own pleasure right on the heels of mine. Once 
finished she fell atop me and hugged me fiercely. "Happy 
Anniversary," she said in a mushy tone.

Oh no. It was exactly what I didn't want. I'd hoped it was a one-off. 
Shit. I had to get out of this. Somehow, I had to make her 
understand that we could never be an item. I wasn't interested in 
her like that. Hell, if I were honest with her, I'd tell her that I 
wasn't 
exactly all that interested in women all together. They served a 
need in me for companionship but that was it. There was nothing 
special about women to me in the romantic sense. Now that guy, 
Jack that I met the other night was a sight for sore eyes. He made 
women look like hags in comparison.

"Jenn, this can't happen again," I said, trying to lift her off of my 
cock, but she wasn't budging.

"What do you mean, Mark?" She tipped her chin onto my chest 
and looked into my eyes.  She really was clueless.

"Jenn, there's something you don't know about me. I'm sorry I 
didn't tell you before."

"You have a, a girlfriend?" she muttered, the tears already pricking 
her eyes. I could see the anger starting to rage within her. This was 
exactly why girls were too much trouble.

"No, Jenn. I'm not interested in girls that way. I'm gay," I said with 
finality, biting the bullet, and just telling her.

"That's bullshit! You just don't want to be with me! If you were 
gay, then how did I just fuck you right now?" she screamed. She 
lifted up but didn't disengage from my lower body. We were still 
stuck together.

"Jenn, it's the truth. Enough stimulation and anyone gets hot; but 
my head wants a guy."

XXXXXXXXXX

My head turned from side to side looking for something, anything 
to make him feel as mortified as I did. The knife's blade glinted off 
the side of the backpack, easily in reach.

"I'm not lying to you, Jenn," he continued. "Really. You're a sweet 
girl."

I couldn't bear it. Why didn't he just shut-up! A sweet girl? Who 
was he fucking kidding? I'd show him a sweet girl. My cold hand 
found the handle to the knife and slipped it behind my back.  Rage 
coursed through me, out of control.

"How dare you lead me on? You just want someone else!  Some 
other girl who's prettier than me! That's what this is. I'm not good 
enough for you, eh. I'm so undesirable that you have to lie and say 
you're GAY! That's really low, Mark. Well, I'll tell you what; if I 
can't have you, no one can!" I screamed.

As I screamed at him, I lifted up. His sticky penis slipped out of 
me. Without thinking, I grasped it with one hand, and sliced it off 
with the other! Blood gushed out of the open orifice. His hands 
came down and held the area tightly.

"OH MY GOD, WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO?" Mark 
screamed at the top of his lungs. He was clearly panicked and now 
it was making me panic.

I couldn't handle the screaming.  Someone was going to catch us. 
"I'm sorry, Mark. I loved you, so much it hurt.  I had to hurt you 
back, don't you see? Don't worry, I'll make it better," I promised 
him. The solution was suddenly so clear. "You won't suffer any 
more," I whispered into his ear as I brought up the knife and sliced 
his neck from ear to ear. The line looked like a smile as it poured 
blood over my knees.  I backed away from him, the copper smell 
invading my nostrils.

He fell over on his side holding the bloody hole where his penis 
once was. His eyes went wide and rolled behind his head.

I grabbed the blanket we'd used for our picnic and threw it over 
him. I couldn't stand to look at him. I suddenly realized what had 
happened. "Oh, my God!  What have I done?" I whispered. I had to 
get out of here.

XXXXXXXXXX

SHERIFF KEN HARTLEY'S OFFICE 
KENT, CT 
MAY 28, 1997 
WEDNESDAY - 8:30 AM

I convinced Scully to let me approach the Sheriff about the Major 
Crime Squad reports. With her present attitude, even she knew she 
would probably piss him off. We couldn't afford that this early in 
the investigation. We had no real evidence that they had botched 
the investigation. Sheriff Hartley calling in a Major Crime Squad 
at least said that the man wasn't stupid in his arrogance. He was 
willing to ask for help when he needed it.

Playing the role of law enforcement mano-y-mano, I was able to 
extract copies of the MCS reports on both murders in a matter of 
minutes. I thanked him kindly and we chatted about the Knicks for 
a few minutes.

Scully was waiting for me outside. I emerged and she asked, "Can 
I see them?"

I handed them over without protest. We sat in the car while she 
read the reports, handing them to me one sheet at a time as she 
finished so I could read them too. "What do you think?" I asked.

"I need to think about it. Where do we go to see Ron?  Man, he 
better be there," she added unnecessarily.

"I'm sure he is. We have to travel to New Milford.  He's being held 
in a county jail there. They have nothing but an overnight drunk 
tank here, three cells."

"Gee, what a surprise," she said sarcastically.

I bit my tongue, hoping that her attitude would improve. I wasn't 
going to be able to handle this level of tension between us for very 
long.

XXXXXXXXXX

COUNTY JAIL PARKING LOT 
NEW MILFORD, CT 
MAY 28, 1997 
WEDNESDAY - 9:30 AM

We sat outside in the car and briefly discussed our strategy. We 
decided on good cop/bad cop. 'Scully, with her present attitude, 
would do nicely as bad cop,' I thought. I failed to mention that I 
thought so to her. I valued my balls, even if she didn't.

We were about to go inside and conduct the interview when she 
asked, "Does it seem a little too convenient that Brad Crane was let 
go so early?"

"Well, technically, they could have held him for 72 hours without 
charging him with anything. On the other hand, why bother if there 
was no evidence against him? Why?"

"I don't know. He just seemed like the most likely candidate.  The 
answers he gave the police were a little too neat, don't you think? 
After reading that report, I noticed that he's the one that mentioned 
she took a shower after he'd left that morning. First off, why would 
you mention a shower?"

"He was concerned about the finger prints?" I offered.

"Maybe, but if you were a distraught boyfriend, I doubt that would 
come to mind."

"It's hard to say. People respond strangely to stress sometimes. As 
much as the job of profiling fascinates me, I've learned that the 
human animal has a tricky way of protesting any attempts we make 
to fit him into a neat, predictable package." I caught myself 
segueing into a lecture and stopped. She totally missed that I was 
talking about us as well.  Either that or she chose to ignore it. 
Either one didn't bode well.

"True, something about it bothers me though. The interview was 
too short. There were plenty of questions that weren't asked. His 
car wasn't even examined by a crime scene tech."

"Well, we can ask that it be done. We can talk to him too. Ron isn't 
our only lead. We want to talk to Brad anyway, and make sure his 
story hasn't changed.  I'd also like to see the house. I always like to 
get my own feel for people."

"Right, well, let's put that on our list of things to do as well."

"Okay. First things first; let's get this joker out of the way."

"You don't think he did it?"

"I doubt it. Why would a twenty-something college kid kill a 
thirty-something pediatrician?"

"Why did he kill his best friend's girlfriend?"

"Good point," I conceded. "We're doing too much speculating. 
Let's get some facts."

With that, we got out of the car. The air in there was getting 
stifling anyway.


XXXXXXXXXX 
CHAPTER 5 
XXXXXXXXXX

COUNTY JAIL 
NEW MILFORD, CT 
MAY 28, 1997 
WEDNESDAY - 9:45 AM

The young man looked scared. His head was bowed as Mulder and 
I entered the tiny room. He was sitting at the metal table, the sole 
overhead light making him glow a sickly yellow color. From the 
looks of it, the New Milford police were going for the vintage, 
interrogation room look that you see in so many dated cop 
programs.

There was only one chair sitting across from the perpetrator. 
Because I was to play the bad cop, I had taken up a position 
against the far wall. I opened the buttons holding my blazer closed 
and crossed my arms high against my chest. It would leave an open 
space for my gun to protrude. I kicked up my right heel against the 
back of the wall and leaned silently. I wanted the kid to know I 
was there but not be able to see me easily.

Mulder stood next to the table and pulled the chair out. It made a 
scraping noise against the concrete floor, mimicking the sound of 
nails on a chalkboard. Graceson cringed at the noise. Mulder did it 
on purpose to get the kid on edge. Mulder slapped the thick file on 
Rebecca Stowe onto the table, casually letting the crime scene 
photos slip out. Graceson gasped as her bloodied body came into 
view over the slick surface.

"You look surprised," Mulder said gesturing to each photo. He 
methodically placed each one in front of Graceson. It was creating 
the desired affect. The guy was sweating. His hands twisted in 
their cuffs in his lap.

"I, I don't, I didn't," the guy trailed off.

"You didn't what? You didn't rape, stab, and kill Rebecca Stowe?" 
Mulder said with a hint of sarcasm.

"I didn't mean ... I loved her!" the guy practically yelled.

"Well spit it out already. You loved her?" Mulder played into the 
guy's twisted mind perfectly.

"I didn't mean to kill her! I loved her. I loved her so much! Johnny 
didn't deserve her. No one did!"

Mulder pulled out one of the most gruesome of the crime scene 
photos. The one that showed Rebecca's face in unbelievable pain 
and her body laid open, stab wounds everywhere. The girl's hair 
was matted against her scull, red and brown with dried blood.

"Oh God, oh God, why?" The guy started crying now.  He looked 
more like a boy than a young man.

"You tell me, Ronnie. Why did you do that to Rebecca if you loved 
her the way you said you do?" he asked softly.

"Because, I couldn't stop myself! She wouldn't see that I was so 
much better for her than Johnny. I loved her more than he ever 
could!"

"Did you ever do drugs, Ron?"

"What? No! I swear. I don't know what happened. It was like I 
wasn't myself. I was so full of lust and rage. I know it sounds 
stupid and lame, but I literally couldn't control myself."

'Damn, that sounded familiar,' I thought. Only I hadn't killed 
anyone. I'd merely lost my mind and fucked my partner.

My thoughts shifted toward Mulder as he stared Ron down, 
planning his next move. I looked at the way his body sat in the 
stiff metal chair. He was so big, so masculine. Every inch of him 
oozed sex appeal; from the tip of his shiny Kenneth Cole's, up his 
lean runner's legs, over his tight ass, along his muscled chest, 
against his long silky neck, all the way to the top of his thick 
mane of hair. Damn, he was a gorgeous man.

I had that man. Boy, did I have him. Just the thought of his thick 
cock within me brought goose bumps to my flesh. 'Did it get hot in 
here or is it just me?' I wondered. 'Shit. Focus on the case, Dana,
I chastised myself. Mulder shuffled through the photos, as I looked 
my fill at his long fingers. Oh, those fingers. The things his 
strong hands had done to me last night. Jesus. 'Damn it, Dana, cut 
it out, I groaned internally.  Once again I tried to focus on the 
here and now of the case.

Mulder looked over at me. I could see that he had noticed my 
quickened breath and heaving chest. It felt like I couldn't get 
enough air in the tiny room. He stared at me for a moment. I think 
he may have forgotten what we were doing here. His gaze moved 
from my face down to my breasts.

I felt as though he was undressing me with his eyes. 'What the hell 
is going on here?' I asked myself.

He shifted in his chair, his body pointed towards me. He looked 
over at Graceson. Ron wasn't paying attention. He was looking at 
the photos and stroking Rebecca's face while chanting over and 
over again, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Mulder's eyes made it back to mine and one of his hands gripped 
his thigh reflexively.

I looked up his thigh and noticed the unmistakable bulge tenting 
his slacks. Jesus, not again. He made sure I noticed his discomfort 
when he abruptly crossed his legs, hiding his desire.

I just about whimpered. All right, enough was enough. We had to 
get through the interview and out of here before we did something 
inappropriate.

"Did you know Christina Fuller?" I asked. The boy's head didn't 
lift from the picture of Rebecca.

"Who?" he asked through his tears.

"Christina Fuller," I said, using my tough-as-nails tone.

He looked over at me. "The name's familiar." He looked away as if 
he was thinking of something. "Yeah, I knew a lady with the last 
name Fuller. She's a doctor."

I nodded for him to continue.

"I think she delivered my baby sister a few years ago."

"Yes, that's her. You know her then?"

"Kinda. Not really. I went with my Mom to the hospital when she 
delivered Megan. Dad left us before Mom had Meggie, and I was 
the only one there for her."

"Where were you three days after you killed Rebecca?" Mulder 
chimed in.

"Hiding, man. I didn't know what to do. I don't know what came 
over me. It scared the shit out of me." The boy began sobbing 
again.

"So then, you haven't seen Dr. Fuller since your mother gave birth 
to your sister a few years ago?" Mulder asked.

Ronald looked confused. "No, why? What the hell does this have 
to do with my Rebecca?" He wiped his nose with the sleeve of his 
shirt.

"Christina Fuller was killed three days after you killed Rebecca. 
She was raped and bludgeoned to death.  That's how this involves 
you!" I yelled him as he continued sniveling.

"What? You think? I didn't kill her! I admit to killing Rebecca but
I didn't have anything to do with Dr. Fuller's death! I swear to 
God, I didn't!" He pushed back his chair and it hit the wall behind 
him. Nowhere to run.

"Its okay, it's okay, Ronnie," Mulder said calmly. "We just have to 
ask the questions, that's all." Mulder looked over at me with those 
deep hazel eyes. He tipped his chin. That was my sign to back off. 
I had done my bad cop routine. This guy hadn't had anything to do 
with Christina's death.

Back to square one.

The rest of the interview continued, us receiving nothing more 
from the kid. He killed his best friend's girlfriend in a lust-frenzy. 
He was remorseful but guilty as charged. Mulder was actually 
giving the kid a break. Normally, when a man rapes and stabs a 
girl that many times, Mulder was less coddling. There must be 
something I was missing because he was going really easy on him.

I kicked off the side wall just as Mulder said, "We're done, here. 
That will be all, Ronnie. Thank you for cooperating with us." I 
wanted to either smack that generosity off his face or kiss it off. 
I hadn't quite decided which I'd prefer to do more.

We left the building in silence and entered the car. Mulder didn't 
even ask to drive.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Well, that was a big, fat waste of time," I said as I turned the 
engine over and put the car in gear.

"Not really. We did find out that he didn't mean to kill Rebecca," 
Mulder stated casually.

"He was remorseful, yes, but he raped and stabbed that girl to 
death, not to mention the beating she took while being raped," I 
reminded him.

"I'm not disagreeing with you, Scully. I just find it interesting 
that he said he didn't mean to kill her and that he loved her. I've 
seen sick people before. The guy is just a kid. I actually believed 
him when he said he didn't have control while he was committing 
this crime. He has no record of any kind, not even jaywalking."

I looked over at him sitting coolly in the passenger seat. "Neither 
did Jeffrey Dahmer," I reminded him.

"There's nothing to link him to Christina except our supposition. 
That guy is not a serial killer."

"You're kidding me, Mulder. You think he was temporarily insane 
and committed a one-time murder?"

He shook his head.

"Then what? Don't tell me you've found some type of X-file here. 
It's a straight forward crime of passion." I looked at him and he 
pulled that plump bottom lip into his mouth and bit the edge. No 
fair, that's what I wanted to do. I harrumphed.

He was grinning from ear to ear. He must have picked up on my 
irritation. I pulled off to the side of the road to set this
right with him.

"Look Mulder, this is not an X-file. We're here to investigate 
Christina's murder. That's all that's happening; a good old- 
fashioned murder case. There's nothing in here that would suggest 
otherwise."

He unbuckled his seat belt and turned towards me, so I followed 
suit.  "What if he really didn't have control over what he was 
doing?" he asked, serious as a heart attack.

I couldn't believe he was trying to find an X-file here. 
"Possession?" I replied lamely.

"Could be.  Good thought."

I laughed out loud.

"No, I'm not sure. I was thinking it was more like an out-of-body 
experience," he continued and quirked his head towards mine, a 
devilish grin adorning his face. "I do believe I've had an out-of- 
body experience in the past twenty-four hours. Maybe it's 
catching?"

"That's rich, Mulder! An out-of-body body experience." I laughed 
at him again.

His hand came over and landed on my thigh. 'Oh, that kind of out- 
of-body experience,' I realized. I gulped, suddenly not sure the 
conversation was going where I had originally planned.

"Are you going to deny that you've had one too?" His hand crept 
up a little higher.

I swallowed audibly. I gave up. "Uhhhh, I don't know what you 
want from me." I admitted. It came out more as a breathy whisper.

"What do you want from me?" He asked coolly.

His hand slid up my leg, over my hip and gripped my waist. I 
couldn't deny it. I couldn't sit here and tell him that I didn't want 
him. Damn, I did want him. I wanted everything I could get my 
hands on. I didn't know why my outburst of desire was coming out 
now; all I knew was that it was coming out in full force. 'Watch 
out, Dana, there be dragons here,' I chanted in my head. I lost my 
mind and answered his question with an honesty I didn't know I 
was capable of when it came to Mulder.

"Everything," I whispered back as I yanked his head to mine and 
stuck my tongue as far down his throat as it could go. I wanted to 
swallow him whole. I forgot everything we'd silently agreed upon 
over the years and took what I wanted. Him.

His hands attacked me. They were everywhere at once. Sliding 
down my back, cupping my ass, and pinching my nipples through 
the silk of my blouse. I couldn't get enough of him.

"Jesus, I need you," I said into his opened mouth. I nibbled his lips 
and groped at the bulge in his pants. My fingers made quick work 
of his belt buckle, laying it open. He groaned into my mouth as I 
latched onto his lips again.

"Scuulllyyy."

I let go of his lips so he could speak and moved on to kissing his 
salty neck.

"Shouldn't we take this back to the hotel?"

"Nuh uh," I mumbled into his ear. "Can't wait that long. Need you, 
now. God, I just want to fuck you."

He tried to make a half-hearted attempt to get me to stop. "But 
we're right next to, mmmm of uh, the road. Anybody could see."

I moved over the console and straddled his legs. I held the sides of 
his face and looked deep into his eyes. I was getting angry with 
him. Why? I didn't know. However, his resistance was suddenly 
like a slap or rejection and I felt white hot rage burn through me.
I shook his head slightly and growled, "Do you want to fuck me or 
not?"

"Oh God, more than life itself."

I felt my anger drain away as though it had never existed.

He hiked my skirt up to my waist and was surprised to find that I 
was wearing stockings and not pantyhose. "You're going to be the 
death of me," he muttered into the space between my breasts. His 
nose rooted around and miraculously popped open a button to my 
blouse with his teeth.

"Now that's what I'm talking about." 'Who the hell was that and 
when did she take over my voice?' I thought stupidly.

His talented nose pushed down the satin covering my right breast 
finding his target. His tongue came out and swirled around the 
tight peak making me moan like a porn queen.

I moved my hand between us and opened the button on his slacks, 
sliding down the zipper.

He moaned around my breast and bit down as my hand encircled 
his length.

I screamed out into the car, holding his head to my breast with the 
hand that wasn't holding my prize. "Now, Mulder, right now!" I 
pulled his penis through the hole in his boxers.

The second the cool air reached our over-heated sexes I impaled 
myself on him. I smiled and moaned. Finally he was inside me. I 
realized that I'd been thinking about it since I'd woken this 
morning. My imagination paled in comparison to the real thing.

Meanwhile, his hand came up and pushed aside the satin of my 
panties. He groaned and tipped his head back.

"So good," I whispered between too-dry lips. I began to pump up 
and down, setting a steady rhythm.

His hands held my hips and helped me move with him, his pelvis 
tipped up at every downward thrust. It was maddening.

I'd never in my life felt my inhibitions run out the window. I'd 
never even had sex in a car before. 'What would make me want 
him so bad I couldn't wait until after our investigation? Or at least 
until we got back to the B&B?' I wondered idly as I moved over 
him. As soon as the thought came, it too flew out the window. The 
fire in my sex started to undulate within me like hot lava ready to 
explode. I covered his panting mouth with mine for a deep 
lingering kiss and started to move faster above him.  Everything 
else in the car and outside on the road turned into streaks of light 
as my orgasm started.  "Mulder, I'm gonna, I'm gonna," I stuttered.

"Oh fuck, Scully, yes," he muttered in return.

His hips jerked up into me hard. As the waves of my orgasm 
crashed over me, his hand came down on my little bundle of 
nerves between my legs and started spinning in tight circles. The 
effect was instantaneous. I bucked above him wildly, coming down 
on his cock so hard I feared I might have actually hurt the man. He 
didn't complain. He just screamed out, "Oh fuck, Scully, oh shit!" 
My final orgasm completed and his began shooting into me. The 
feeling was heavenly.

I fell over him like a lump, sweaty and satisfied. It was the first 
time since I'd woke this morning that I'd felt happy, but this was 
Mulder, again. This was also happening on the side of the road, not 
five miles from the police station. Shit! What was I thinking? I was 
having a deja vu because I believed I'd asked myself that before 
within the past two days. How could I have let this happen again?

"Shit, shit, shit," I said out loud.

He grumbled into my neck in reply.

I slid off him, and moved back to the driver's seat.  I grabbed the 
tissue box from the car's floorboard and cleaned myself up. I 
handed him the tissue box without making eye contact so he could 
do the same. I rearranged my panties in the most dignified way 
possible and adjusted my skirt into place. I looked down to fix my 
blouse and noticed that Mulder and sucked my left breast through 
the fabric, leaving a big wet spot. I just gripped the sides of my 
blazer and buttoned it over the proof of our torrid interlude. I 
looked into the rearview mirror and pressed my hair back into 
place.

"We have to interview Brad," I said, sounding loud in the too-quite 
car. I rolled down my window to help the windows defog and 
started the engine.

"Scully, we have to talk about this," Mulder stated firmly.

"Later. We have work to do." With that I checked my mirrors, 
stepped on the gas and peeled out onto the road. I flicked the 
switch on the radio and turned it up loud enough to drown out the 
rapid beating of my heart.


XXXXXXXXXX 
CHAPTER 6 
XXXXXXXXXX

HOME OF BRAD CRANE & 
CHRISTINA FULLER 
KENT, CT 
MAY 28, 1997 
WEDNESDAY - 11:00 AM

Mulder stood behind me, shifting his weight from one leg to 
another. It was the only sign of his discomfort over what had 
happened minutes earlier in the car. I knew I'd hurt his feelings 
this morning when I'd brushed him aside.  I just couldn't face him 
yet. I needed time to sort out my own behavior.

I knocked hard on the whitewashed door. The car ride over was 
uneventful; if you started from the time after I'd literally jumped 
him with no warning.

"Dana! Oh, thank God, you're here!" Brad opened the door in a 
rush and embraced me. I'd only met the man once before, but that 
was under better circumstances. I returned his hug. He pulled back 
and I saw that there were large, dark circles under his eyes.  His 
hair was a tangle of curls, and he looked exhausted. My heart went 
out to the guy; he had just lost his fiance. I couldn't imagine what 
I'd look like if I lost Mulder. I shook the thoughts from head.

"Brad, this is my partner, Fox Mulder."

Mulder reached out to shake Brad's hand. "I'm very sorry for your 
loss." Mulder said as he released the grip he had on Brad's hand.

"Thank you. Come in, have a seat." We entered the living room 
and sat on the love seat across from the chair Brad sat in. The room 
was cozy. There was an impressive, brick fireplace along one wall 
with bookshelves from floor to ceiling. Christina always did love 
to read, I remembered fondly.

"How are you holding up, Brad?" I asked him solemnly.

He looked at me as if he was about to break down any second. "It's 
so hard, Dana. Chris was, she was my entire world." He sniffed 
and wiped his eyes, trying to keep his emotions in check.

"I know, Brad. She truly was an amazing woman. We will find the 
person responsible for this. I promise you," I stated with all the 
conviction I had within me. It would be a promise I was going to 
keep.

Mulder looked around the room and settled on a picture of 
Christina. He got up and stood next to the mantle looking at the 
picture with great interest. I had forgotten that the only pictures 
he'd seen of her were the crime scene photographs. The picture 
showed her happy and full of life, a stark contrast to what was 
shown of her last moments here on earth.

"Brad, did Christina have any enemies?" he asked without turning 
from the mantle. He took his time going over each photograph 
displayed. There were so many of her and Brad, hugging, kissing, 
and smiling. They looked to be the perfect couple.

"Not that I know of. Everyone loved Chris." He put his hands over 
his face and his elbow on his knees.

"Did anything out of the ordinary happen within the past few 
weeks or months that could be helpful to our investigation? It 
could be anything," Mulder continued as he checked out the 
bindings of the many books they had on their shelves.

I believed he was trying to get a feel for who they were and what 
they were interested in.

"Yes, actually. There are a couple things I wanted to run by you, 
Dana." He pointed to me as he answered Mulder's question. He got 
up and went over to the small writing desk that held their mail and 
other miscellaneous items. "She had received a couple calls about a 
month ago. At the time we didn't think anything of it."

"What type of calls?" I asked, my interest piqued.

"A man. We didn't know who it was, and according to the Caller 
ID, they were coming from the hospital. She picked them up 
thinking it was a patient going into labor. She was on call 
constantly."

I nodded in understanding.

"But these calls disturbed Chris a little. She told me it was 
nothing, just a crush."

"What did the caller say to her?" Mulder asked as he settled beside 
me on the love seat again.

"According to her, the caller complimented her on how pretty she 
was and said that he'd fallen in love with her. It was the same type 
of call both times." He sighed and leaned against the desk. "I 
should have paid more attention. We'd both been so busy at work 
and I was up for a promotion. She should have told me it was more 
serious than a couple calls."

"What do you mean, Brad? What would make you think it was 
more serious? Maybe she didn't know it was more serious." I 
turned to Mulder to see what he'd thought so far. His face was a 
complete blank. He was in profiling mode. He'd heard what was 
happening but was making his own leaps and strides.  I could see it 
in his eyes.

"Well, I was going through the desk here to find our address 
book," he said, taking a deep breath. "I found these letters. 
Apparently this guy had more on his mind than a little crush and 
shy-boy phone calls. God, it's my fault, I should have been there. I 
was her fiance! I was supposed to protect her!" he said as be broke 
down and began to sob again. He couldn't control his grief any 
longer. He handed the letters to me.

I skimmed one and passed it to Mulder, going through them 
quickly.  I stopped on the last one.

Mulder commented, "These look like pretty standard love letters, 
Scully. All hearts and flowers. A love poem, a quote from one of 
Shakespeare's Sonnets."

I nodded as I reviewed the most recent letter. "Mulder, look at this 
one. It's dated the day before her murder."

**Christina,

The wait is over.

Our time has come.

I want you.

You will be mine.

Don't try to fight it.

We are meant for each other.

Soon.

It was signed with a heart, nothing else.

"Jesus, Mulder," I gasped.

He shook his head sadly.

"I'm going to go make some coffee," Brad said abruptly. I had seen 
how our reading the last note affected him. The poor man was in 
shambles.

"Scully, Brad had nothing to do with this. We don't need to ask 
him any questions. We have his testimony of his whereabouts the 
night of her murder, from the New Milford police. I don't think 
they missed anything," he added quietly.

I nodded in agreement.  Mulder and I swapped notes and quickly 
reviewed them. The rest of them were run-of-the-mill. It was the 
last one that was disturbing. Mulder went out to the car and 
grabbed an evidence bag to hold the letters.

For the next hour, Mulder and I sipped coffee and let Brad talk of 
fonder times with Christina and how they had plan to wed in the 
spring. We again promised Brad that we would bring her killer to 
justice. He thanked us and we took our leave.

As we walked to the car, I tossed Mulder the keys. He caught them 
in midair.

"Well, at least we have a small lead," I said with a sigh as I 
entered the passenger side.

"We know that a male who either works or has regular access to 
the hospital sent her those letters," he confirmed.

"I want to have these couriered to the D.C. lab for fingerprinting. 
Maybe we'll catch a break."

He nodded and moved the car out into traffic.  "Where to now, 
partner?" Mulder queried as he made the turn towards the highway.

I looked down at the clock.  It was already 6:20 PM.

"The B&B," I stated very matter of fact.

"Really?" He grinned.

"To eat, Mulder. I'm famished and Alice did say that dinner is 
available promptly at 7:00. I believe we'll make it right on time. 
We can call for a courier to pick up the letters when we're done 
eating."

Mulder's stomach growled. "I wonder what's on the menu for 
tonight?"

If he was making a reference to last night's festivities, it was 
lost on me. My mind was swirling with thoughts of my dear friend, 
and my body was doing summersaults trying to figure out how I could 
avoid talking to Mulder. 'Maybe I could eat quick and head to my 
room before Mulder even finished his dinner. Yeah, that should 
work.

Little did I know that my plan a big chink in it.

His name was Mulder.

XXXXXXXXXX

COOPER CREEK B&B 
DINING ROOM 
KENT, CT 
MAY 28, 1997 
WEDNESDAY - 7:00 PM

Dinner was chicken and dumplings. The dumplings were out of 
this world. I asked Alice what was in them.  She merely smiled and 
said it was a secret recipe and she couldn't go giving it out to 
everyone.

I was still contemplating our impromptu fuck-fest in the car. It had 
surprised the hell out of me. At the same time, I had been 
delighted, if a bit confused.  It was so unlike Scully to throw 
caution to the wind.  If she ever gave me a chance to talk to her, I'd 
tell her how thrilled I was to discover this side of her.

Therein lay the problem. As skillfully as she was cranking my 
libido into high gear, she was avoiding any sort of discussion about 
our relationship. We'd had hot monkey sex twice in two days. Now 
she wouldn't even look at me.  'What's up with that?' I wondered.

It was just like us to avoid talking about certain subjects. On the 
other hand, once we decided to do something, it wasn't like Scully 
to avoid analyzing it in all its facets. Once convinced that 
something was inevitable, she would face it head-on, with 
determination and courage.

I was at a loss as to why the situation was so different. I wasn't 
stupid. I knew it was above and beyond anything we'd ever had to 
deal with of a personal nature. Still, it hurt a bit that she was so 
unwilling to talk to me. She almost seemed afraid, and that hurt 
even more. I couldn't figure out why she would be afraid of me, or 
afraid to talk to me.  It wasn't like I'd rejected her; quite the 
opposite.  Therefore, I didn't know what she feared.

After her taking the initiative this afternoon, I was feeling 
somewhat better about my mauling of her last night. From the time 
I'd woke up this morning, I'd been afraid that she would feel I'd 
taken advantage of her, or pushed when I should have retreated.

I was terrified that she would think it was a mistake. During the 
interview with Ron was the first time I'd gotten a hint that she 
wasn't as unaffected by our midnight bop as I'd thought. She'd been 
flushed and uncomfortable. There was no doubt that she'd taken 
note of my most uncomfortable erection.

Now, I was a horn dog of the tenth degree.  I was the first to admit 
it, but even I could usually control myself while I was working. 
While Scully had given me any number of spontaneous erections 
over the years, it usually didn't happen while I was trying to break 
down a suspect, especially one who had committed such a sexually 
heinous crime.

I ate slowly, hoping to come up with a strategy that would block 
her in a corner without making her end any further exploration of 
this facet of our relationship. We had to talk about this new thing 
between us. I cared for Scully too much as a partner, and I loved 
her far too much as a woman, to merely be her fuck-buddy.  That 
wasn't going to be nearly enough for me. I didn't want to just fuck. 
I wanted to make love to her. I didn't feel like we'd done that yet. I 
hoped I would get the opportunity.

I also didn't want it to come between us. That thought sounded 
ridiculous. Sex generally brought people closer. In our case, 
however, it had the potential to drive an enormous wedge in our 
partnership and friendship if we were not both on the same page. 
'What the hell did she want?' I asked myself. I had yet to pry that 
nugget of information out of her. 'Everything' is what she'd said in 
the car this afternoon. What did that mean?

She sat back in her chair and sighed, putting her hands on her 
stomach. "Good, huh?" I asked stupidly.

"Mmm, it was great. I'm tired though. I think I'm going to turn in 
early."

"I'll go with you."

"Take your time, Mulder. Don't let me rush you," she said, as she 
stood up and turned on her heel.

"Wait!" I called to her, raising my voice and attracting the 
attention of several others at the table.

"I'm tired. I'm just going to shower and go to bed," she concluded. 
Then she was gone like a puff of smoke.

"Damn it," I muttered under my breath. I stood up and threw my 
napkin on the table in a childish gesture of frustration.

Alice was suddenly at my side and asked, "Is everything all right, 
Mr. Mulder?"

"Yeah, Alice. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make a scene."

"Problems with your lady friend?" she asked with an astute gleam 
in her eye.

"You could say that," I admitted, walking away from the table.

She followed me out into the hallway. "Maybe I can help," she 
offered.

"No, I don't think so. I appreciate the offer but this is something 
we need to work out for ourselves."

She pursed her lips slowly and eyed me up and down.  "Let me 
guess. Things have gotten more intimate between the two of you 
and you haven't taken the time to talk about it. So now you've both 
got your panties in a twist cause you don't know what the other one 
is thinking."

I stared at her in disbelief as she rattled off her incredibly 
accurate spiel. "How in the world did you know that?"

She tapped a finger to her temple. "I haven't lived this long 
without learning a thing or two about reading people, Mr. 
Mulder."

"Can't argue with those results," I teased.

She smiled then, showing her dentures. "Which one of you is 
dodging the talk?" she inquired.

"She is. I've tried to talk about it twice now and she's found some 
reason not to discuss it with me."

"Do you love her?" she asked bluntly.

I swallowed noisily and nodded in the affirmative.  "Yeah, I do. I 
don't think she knows that though."

"Oh, I bet you're not giving her enough credit. On the other hand, 
sometimes in these situations, you can write a note or letter rather 
than facing them head on. It eases you into things."

I cringed, thinking of Christina's 'love letters' from her twisted 
admirer. Letters were not my communication of choice on a good 
day. Today, the thought really turned me off. It must have shown 
on my face.

"Scratch that.  I can see you're not keen on that idea. The only 
thing I can tell you is not to push too hard. Let her know you care 
in any way you can.  She'll come around. I've seen the way she 
looks at you."

"Thanks, Alice."

"Anytime, sonny," she said cheekily.

I chuckled and waved at her as I made my way to the staircase and 
took the stairs two at a time.

XXXXXXXXXX

MULDER'S ROOM 
COOPER CREEK B&B 
MAY 28, 1997 
WEDNESDAY - 8:30 PM

I entered my room and changed into more comfortable clothes; 
sweatpants and a tee shirt. I decided to forego underwear and socks 
since I didn't plan on being up for long. If Scully wouldn't talk to 
me, I was going to go to bed. I wasn't up for a night of watching 
second rate porn on Pay-Per-View, or sitting up going over case 
notes. I just couldn't concentrate on anything but her right now. 
Who was I kidding?  I had to see her.  I wouldn't be able to stand 
being alone right now.

I gathered my resolve and entered the bathroom, walking to her 
door. I stood there for a few moments trying to figure out what I 
was going to say. Before I could formulate a plan, the door swung 
open.

Scully gasped, finding me standing there on the other side. "Geez! 
You scared me!"

"Sorry, I was just about to knock."

"I need to use the bathroom."

"Okay, I'll wait in here," I informed her, pointing over her 
shoulder.

"No, Mulder. Just go to bed. We have to track this guy down in the 
morning."

I stared at her, feeling a bubble of anger rise up inside me. "No, 
not this time. Dodging time is over. We WILL talk about it."

Her chin lifted in stubborn refusal. She was gearing up for a fight, 
and that wasn't what I wanted at all.  I laid my hands on her 
shoulders.

I felt her shiver and watched her look away from me.  "Scully, 
don't be afraid."

"I am NOT afraid. Jesus, you can be an arrogant pig sometimes!" 
she said, raising her voice, and pushing past me.

My arms fell to my sides. "You're right, I can be," I agreed.

She turned and her head snapped up to look at me.  She looked 
frightened and confused.

Being careful not to raise my voice, I said gently, "I would never 
hurt you, Scully, not intentionally."

Her face softened. "I know Mulder."

"Do what you have to do. I'll wait over here."

She nodded briskly.

XXXXXXXXXX 
CHAPTER 7 
XXXXXXXXXX

SCULLY'S ROOM 
COOPER CREEK B&B 
MAY 28, 1997 
WEDNESDAY - 9:00 PM

I stepped farther into her room, closing the door behind me. 
Making my way to the bed, I sat down on the foot of it and leaned 
my elbows on my thighs. I took a deep breath, rubbing my hands 
through my hair as I made a futile attempt at arranging my 
thoughts.

About a minute later, she finally emerged wearing navy blue men's 
pajamas.

I sucked in my breath at the sight of her. God, she almost looked 
ethereal sometimes. Against my will, I felt my groin tingle and my 
cock start to harden.

She walked to her suitcase, and threw her work clothes on top of it. 
Then she turned to face me.  "Say what you need to say," she 
blurted out.

I raised my eyebrows at her.  "You act as if you're going before a 
firing squad."

She took a few steps towards me but stayed well out of reach. "I 
guess I feel that way. Look, Mulder. I have no excuse for my 
behavior. It was the most unprofessional, moronic thing I've ever 
done. I have no explanation. I'm sorry. I don't know why I couldn't 
control myself," she babbled, her hands waving in the air to 
emphasis her words.

I stood up and stepped toward her.

She stepped backwards so quickly that she lost her balance.

I lunged for her, watching her arms windmill in the air as she 
attempted to right herself. Before she could fall, my arms were 
sliding around her waist and pulling her up against me. Without 
any warning, my throat opened and a low-pitched moan wound out 
of my mouth at the feel of her curves against my body.

She hissed, whether in pleasure, pain, or disgust, I wasn't sure. Her 
hands landed on my chest and she attempted to push me away.

I pulled her tighter against me. I used one hand to capture her chin 
and force her to look up at me. Her breasts were plastered to my 
chest and she was breathing heavily. My cock was at full mast 
now, doing the wave against her soft belly, nudging insistently.

She whimpered, "Please, Mulder."

I whispered, "I don't give a damn about professional and 
unprofessional, Scully. I'm not upset that you couldn't control 
yourself. Hell, neither could I.  Neither CAN I. Jesus, you're 
driving me crazy!"

"What do you care about then?" she ground out through clenched 
teeth.

"You," I breathed out.

She opened her mouth to respond but I was all done talking.  My 
mouth fell over hers and I pulled on her lips, slipping my tongue 
between her warm lips.

She moaned and I felt her resistance fade, her body melting into 
my chest. Her tongue danced with mine and the kiss turned frenetic 
in a matter of moments.  I crushed my lips to hers, wanting to 
swallow her whole.

Somehow, we managed to stumble to the bed. I pulled her top off 
over her head, not bothering with the pesky buttons. Watching her 
full breasts bounce into view nearly took my breath away.

She pulled on the drawstring of my sweats and they came loose, 
sliding down my legs and pooling silently around my ankles.

I spun, sitting on the edge of the bed and yanked down her pajama 
bottoms. I sucked in a surprised breath, seeing that she had also 
gone commando. "Oh Scully," I breathed out.

I pulled her to me, kicking my sweats off the end of my feet as she 
yanked my tee shirt over my head and tossed it behind me. "What 
are we doing, Mulder?" she cried out.

"We're losing our minds."

"Again?" she asked.

I laughed out loud. I couldn't help it. The smile it brought to her 
face made me giddy with happiness.  "God, we really do need to 
talk," I mumbled.

"I know," she whispered.

I pulled her forward and buried my face in her stomach, growling 
in mock frustration. "Talk," I said.

"Later," she clipped out, pushing me onto my back.

With no preliminaries, she straddled my hips and impaled herself 
onto my raging erection for the second time that day. "Ah, Jesus!" 
I cried out, feeling her walls envelope my throbbing cock. My legs 
were still hanging off the bed from the knees down and I couldn't 
have cared less.

She posted up and down, steadying herself with her hands on my 
shoulders. Her hips swiveled, grinding her clit into my pubic bone 
and she shouted, "Oh!"

I met her thrusts, rising up to meet her, bucking hard. Then I felt 
her orgasm ripple through her sex, squeezing my shaft with divine 
pressure and I bit my lip, not wanting it to be over so soon.  I 
couldn't believe she'd come already.

I felt the tightening in my sack and sat up.

She wrapped her hands around my neck and her legs around my 
waist as I stood up and turned, lowering her to the bed. This time 
she was far enough up that we could both be all the way on the 
mattress.

I grabbed one of her legs behind the knee as I loomed over her, 
supporting my weight on my other arm. I began thrusting into her, 
feeling myself sink deep and hit the back of her tunnel. "So good, 
Scully. Oh God, you're so small," I managed to croak out.

"Come on, Mulder.  Come for me."

"Oh Christ!" I shouted, continuing to drill into her like I was 
digging for oil. I could feel myself swell and knew I was climbing 
quickly to my own release.

She raised her head and sucked on my nipple. I bellowed and felt 
my balls spasm. Her muscles began hugging me again like a child 
sucking on a thumb, trying to hold me inside.

I felt it rise up in me and my head spun. My orgasm was blinding 
and I squeezed my eyes shut as lights burst behind my eyelids and 
my cock erupted like Mt. Vesuvius, pouring hot seed into the 
deepest depths of her body.

She was practically gurgling as she moaned, the sound coming 
from deep in her chest, her hands clutching at my biceps. I slowed, 
still tumescent and flexed inside her, pressing and releasing my 
hips, unwilling to let go of the tremendous pleasure just yet.

At least I didn't pass out this time. When our breathing slowed, I 
raised my head from where I had buried it between her neck and 
shoulder. I met her gaze and kissed her softly.  "Should we talk 
now?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I'm too tired," she mumbled.

"Scully, please."

She just looked up at me. "I promise I'll stop running.  Just give me 
tonight, okay. Stay here; hold me."

"It's a deal," I agreed. I rolled off her and lay on my back.

She scooted up to my side as I held out my arm, inviting her closer. 
She put her head on my shoulder and I hugged her tightly. After a 
moment she mumbled, "It's good, Mulder."

"Good?"

"Great, fantastic, the best I've ever had," she said, her tone almost 
shy.

I smiled at the top of her head. "Me too."

In minutes we were asleep. There were no words of love spoken. 
No promises were given, other than the promise to stop running 
and to talk. I felt better though. As long as she didn't shut me out, 
we could work things out. I needed to work it out. I couldn't let it 
go much longer without knowing where we stood.

If I wanted Scully to be forthright, I was going to have to find my 
own courage. She needed to know how I felt about her. As I drifted 
off to sleep, I vowed that another day wouldn't go by without her 
knowing that I loved her.

Easier said than done.

XXXXXXXXX

The piercing sound of the hotel phone jerked me into wakefulness. 
I shook my head, pulling myself out of the fog of sleep. Scully 
stirred beside me and rose up on her elbow.

I reached over to the hotel phone on the bedside table as I looked at 
the clock. Christ it was only 5:00 AM. "Hello," I croaked into the 
receiver.

"Agent Mulder?"

"Yes, that's me," I said, shaking my head again.

"Oh, sorry. Thought this was Agent Scully's room.  They must 
have mixed them up. Doesn't matter. Anyway, we got another one, 
sir."

"Who is this?" I asked, finally awake enough to rub two brain cells 
together.

"Oh sorry! It's Andy Harrison, the sheriff's deputy," he reminded 
me, as if I wouldn't remember who he was.  Barney Fife to 
Hartley's Andy Taylor.

"Another murder?" I asked.

"Yeah, hiker found him on the trails up by Kent Falls this 
morning."

"Who the fuck hikes at this time of morning?" I heard myself ask 
indignantly.

The deputy guffawed, obviously thinking that was the funniest 
thing he'd ever heard. "I agree. Health nuts. What can you do? Can 
you come out?"

"Of course. We're on our way."

"Great, I'll tell the sheriff."

"Wait!"

"Yes, sir?" he asked. They grew them polite around here, I thought 
inanely.

"How do I get to Kent Falls?" I asked.

"Oh yeah!" he responded, laughing again. "That would help, 
wouldn't it? Got a pen?"

XXXXXXXXXX

KENT FALLS 
KENT, CT 
MAY 29, 1997 
THURSDAY - 6:00 AM

The place was gorgeous. Rolling green lawn stretched out in front 
of us as we parked our car in front of wooden parking rails. How 
quaint. We exited the car to find the sheriff, Deputy Harrison, and 
the other deputy of this well-rounded police force. Judging by his 
nametag, his name was Brandon McKenna.

I looked to the left and took in the site of the Falls, surrounded by 
thick greenery. You could hear the rushing water from here. We 
introduced ourselves to Deputy McKenna. He in turn introduced us 
to a nervous looking man standing off to one side.

Turns out he was our hiker, John Cable. I judged him to be 
hugging 50. His hair was thinning on top. One arm was wrapped 
around his ribs, the other patted his head as if he needed 
reassurance that some hair still remained.

The sheriff instructed him to 'lead on'. We followed the intrepid 
hiker as he started up the trail flanking the falls. The trail was 
steep 
and wooden steps were inlaid into the soil in a haphazard fashion 
as we rose higher on the trail.

There was wooden fence all along the trail. I imagined that was 
supposed to be some sort of safety feature although it wouldn't be 
hard to jump over it.  We passed several lookouts on our way up. I 
was sorry we didn't have the time to just stop and stare.


We were nearly to the top, when he veered off sharply to the right. 
We wove our way through several picnic tables that were set up in 
a clearing and entered another tree line. A mere two feet or so 
back, we saw him.

He lay crumpled on his side, his eyes open in stark surprise or 
terror, I couldn't tell which. The hiker told us he'd been covered 
with the blanket, which he'd removed from his face and then 
thrown away from the rest of his body when he'd been shocked at 
what he saw. There was blood all over his running shorts and tee 
shirt.  So much in fact that I couldn't even tell what his injuries 
were. "Anyone move the body yet?" I asked.

There was a chorus of, 'nopes.'

Scully pulled gloves out of her trench coat and tossed me a pair. 
We snapped on the latex. It was time to go to work, even if her ass 
as she bent over was the most alluring distraction. 'Eyes on the job, 
Mulder,' I chided myself.

Damn, it was going to be another really long day.

XXXXXXXXXX

KENT FALLS
KENT, CT

Scully left the scene with the coroner that had been called in and 
rode with them to the New Milford Hospital. Kent did not have a 
hospital or any facilities suitable for doing an autopsy.

Upon closer examination, it was clear where all the blood had 
come from. Whoever killed him had sliced the poor boy's 
equipment off. All the men at the scene were involuntarily crossing 
their legs in sympathy. I was no exception.

I mean, really. How pissed off did you have to be? That was just 
plain cruel. For most men, they would rather be dead than be 
mutilated like that. He'd been young too. I wondered how much 
he'd even got to enjoy the pleasures of sex. My heart went out to 
him.

I combed the area and found a small piece of red fabric, about an 
inch square. I bagged it along with a fork, a glass, and what 
appeared to be bits of turkey or chicken that were found on the 
ground. It looked as though someone had stopped here to eat.

Whoever killed the kid had made a hasty retreat and hadn't tidied 
up as well as they should. "Whoever did this was panicked 
afterwards," I said out loud.

The sheriff peered at me as I knelt down on my hands and knees, 
examining the ground. "Why do you say that?"

"It wasn't a professional. They didn't clean up after themselves."

"Lots of picnics up here. No telling whether those things are from 
our killer or someone who had lunch up here at another time."

"I think it's recent. The bits of turkey aren't spoiled. If this glass 
was here a while, it would be more soiled. I can see the 
fingerprints on it. I'll check them out. I'm hoping it's our killer and 
not our victim who left those prints."

The sheriff nodded sagely, trying to look thoughtful and wise in 
front of his deputies. 'It wasn't working,' I thought ruefully. 
Another fifteen minutes and I was fairly confident that I'd found 
everything there was to find.

"Are we done here?" Deputy Harrison asked, his legs still pressed 
tightly together as he leaned against a tree.

"Yeah, that's it for now. We'll see what Scully turns up on the 
autopsy. Meanwhile, I'm going to go the hospital as well and 
interview some staff members."

"What for?" the sheriff asked.

I pinned him with my gaze and he tried hard to stare me down, but 
he couldn't. He looked away and I said, "Because Sheriff, in case 
you've forgotten, we still don't know who killed Christina Fuller. 
Now, we don't know who killed this kid."

"Mark Johnson," Deputy Harrison supplied.

"Right. Mark Johnson. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to depersonalize 
him."

The Deputy nodded in acknowledgement. I liked him more than I 
had at first. He was still a wide-eyed rookie, but he had potential, 
unlike his boss. He hadn't acted giddy at the crime scene as he had 
when Ron Graceson had come in. Of course, he hadn't been staring 
at the reality of violent crime at the time.

I sighed, knowing I should cut them some slack. In a small town 
like this, murders were not a regular occurrence and now they'd 
had three in a matter of a couple weeks.

"Tell me, Sheriff. Has anything significant changed in the town 
lately?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Anybody new in town? New businesses, that sort of 
thing."

"Not that I can think of. Old biddy Cranston opened a new flower 
shop but I think that's it. Alan that runs the hardware store hired a 
new kid last week. I don't think he lives here in town. Never seen 
him before. Why? You thinking we have a drifter or new person in 
town doing the murders?"

"I'm not sure. The strange thing is that these murders were all 
committed by different people."

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"Different methods, different signatures," I said absently.

"Excuse me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm a profiler. The method in which a killer kills is 
called the M.O.  It stands for," I began.

"Modus Operendi," the sheriff answered. "I know you think I'm a 
total hick, Agent Mulder, but I did go through the police academy. 
Granted, it was many years ago. Just because we don't have 
murders every day like you do in the big city, doesn't mean that 
we're morons," he chastised me.

"I'm sorry, sheriff. I didn't mean to make it sound that way. I really 
didn't. I just get in an investigative mode and forget to whom I'm 
talking. Sometimes talking out loud helps me."

"All right. I'll take that. Go on. What else are you thinking?" He 
waved at me to follow as we began the long hike back down the 
trail to the picnic area. We talked as we went.

"The good news is that I don't think you have a serial killer."

Deputy Harrison was following behind us, along with the other 
deputy, whose name had already escaped me.  "That IS good 
news," he said. "I was wondering about that."

"No, Andy," I replied. "Generally a serial killer will have what we 
call a signature. They will kill the same way every time and leave 
something at the scene to mark it as theirs. They want credit for 
their crimes. Sometimes it's a way they pose the body, sometimes 
it's an item, like a playing card or something significant to their 
reasoning. In these cases the M.O. is different in each one.

"The first one was bludgeoned and stabbed to death with 
something. These last two were killed with knives," the sheriff 
reminded me. "Knives, all three times."

"True, but Rebecca was also beaten with a fist, which indicates a 
couple of things. One, her attacker was experiencing an uncommon 
amount of rage. It was unnecessary to beat her, he just did it 
because it gave him some sort of satisfaction and released that 
rage. Ron fits that profile of a stronger man with an anger 
problem."

"That's sick," Deputy Harrison mumbled behind us.

"Yes, it is. In addition, Rebecca experienced what we call the blitz 
attack. She was surprised by the attack and the killer was in a 
frenzy, hitting her multiple times, many more than was needed to 
kill her. That also indicates out of control rage. She was also bound 
and immobilized. Another part of the M.O.  Judging by the 
wounds, her attacker was larger and stronger, meaning it was a 
man. I have no trouble believing Ron did this it?

"I'm with you so far," the Sheriff said.

"Okay, then we have Christina Fuller. According to her autopsy, 
she was somehow lured to the side of the road and dragged from 
her car. Different M.O.  No blitz attack here. He used a con. There 
was a struggle, meaning she put up a hell of a fight before she went 
down. Rebecca never got the chance to fight.

"Christina was stabbed in the back, indicating that she was running 
from her attacker. Therefore, we can assume he didn't bind her in 
any way. He didn't immobilize her. Although she was stabbed 
three times, only one killed her, the blow that hit her heart. The 
other two were misses; one in her shoulder blade and one that 
bounced off a rib. It also indicates she was trying to get away and 
struggling. If she were a bound or immobilized target, he wouldn't 
have missed.

"Once she was dead, he left her there over the bank, near the 
entrance to the reservoir and left. Judging by the depth of the stab 
wounds, I'm still thinking it was a man, although not one as strong 
and big as the one that attacked Rebecca. Not a total frenzy of 
overkill here. He didn't stab her more times than necessary, just 
enough to kill her. Probably to shut her up or because he panicked 
when he couldn't subdue her or con her. He underestimated 
Christina."

"No blitz attack or frenzy there," the Sheriff commented, picking 
up on my line of thought.  "Ron is a big boy, for sure."

"Exactly. Now you have this one. He has his throat slit and 
somebody pulled a Lorena Bobbit on him. No struggle. He was 
surprised, but not beaten, panicked but didn't run. He wasn't 
stabbed multiple times and he wasn't stabbed because he was 
fleeing. He knew his attacker."

Deputy Harrison coughed behind us, clearly still disturbed at this 
aspect of the case. I almost smiled but managed to contain it. "So 
what do you think about this one?" he asked.

"First off, there was surprise for sure. Any man who knows 
someone is heading for his penis is going to protect himself."

"True," the sheriff said blandly.

"Second, his throat was slit after his penis was cut off, meaning the 
killer wanted him to suffer. We're dealing with someone different 
in this case than the others. There was anger for sure, but the 
blanket covering him shows some remorse. There seems to be 
much more control than the previous two. I'm thinking more a 
crime of passion here."

"Crime of passion. You think that strapping young lad was gay?" 
the sheriff asked, laughing at the mere thought of it.

I looked at him. "Stranger things have happened, but no, that's not 
what I meant."

"What did you mean then?"

I hooked my thumb over my shoulder. "Your assuming the killers 
are all male. This killer was a woman."

"WHAT?" he cried, stopping suddenly. I skidded slightly on the 
dirt in my dress shoes but stopped with him.

"Yes, Sheriff. Cutting a throat doesn't take much strength, unlike 
stabbing, which does. Cutting off a penis is a woman's domain. By 
the looks of the wound, a very sharp knife was used. She probably 
wouldn't have been strong enough to stab him through the chest. 
He would have been able to overpower her. She surprised him by 
cutting off his penis. While he was going into shock from blood 
loss and panicking over the loss of his most precious body part, she 
slit his throat.  It's almost like she wanted to put him out of his 
misery."

Everyone stood there staring at me, stunned at the revelation. It 
had never occurred to them that their killer was a woman. I wanted 
to shake my head in amazement at their naivety but again, 
managed to refrain.

"Jesus Christ!" the sheriff swore. "You sure about that?"

I nodded. "I can't be one hundred percent sure, but yeah. If I had to 
place a bet, I'd say we have a third killer. That's unprecedented 
around here. Something is going on. A peaceful town like this 
doesn't all of a sudden produce three separate killers."

"What do you think it could be?" he asked.

I shrugged.

Deputy Harrison mumbled, "Must be something in the water."

"What did you say?" I asked.

"I said it must be something in the water. I was being sarcastic, 
didn't mean it literally."

"He might have something there. Can you have your water supply 
tested?"

"Are you serious?" the sheriff asked.

"Yes. Can't hurt. Maybe there's some sort of drug being put into 
the town water supply that makes certain people violent."

"Town water supply?" he asked as if I'd made a really odd request.

"Yes.  Is that a problem?"

"Yes," he said, and offered no more.

"Why is that, sheriff?" Geez, it was like pulling teeth to get a 
straight answer sometimes. I was in no mood.

He smiled. "Cause we haven't got any town water supply. This is 
the country, Mr. Mulder. Everybody has a well."

"Even the businesses?" I asked.

He nodded, still smiling; glad he'd gotten one up on me. The 
Deputies were smiling too. The sheriff threw open his arms. 
"Welcome to God's country."

We all chuckled and made our way to our cars. Before entering our 
cars, I asked, "Why did you use that phrase though?"

The deputy shrugged and said, "I don't know. It's been on my 
mind, I guess. Me and the little woman been rocking the springs 
lately, if you know what I mean." He chuckled at his own 
innuendo. "I asked what got into her all of a sudden and she just 
laughed and said, 'must be something in the water'."

"You weren't 'rocking the springs before'?" I asked.

"Well, sure, sometimes. But lately, she's insatiable." He grinned 
from ear to ear. "I'm not complainin'!"

Everyone chuckled. I paused, getting a bad feeling.  I looked at the 
other deputy and the sheriff and asked, "You two married?"

"Yeah," they both said in unison.

"Same thing at your houses?" I pushed.

The younger deputy blushed. The sheriff just gave me a loopy 
smile. "Yeah, now that you mention it. The wife has been pretty 
frisky lately. Me too. We hadn't gotten it on in months. Then about 
three weeks ago she started getting frisky. The fact of the matter is 
that since she went through menopause, I'm used to begging for it," 
he admitted with a self-deprecating grin.

Deputy Harrison creased his brow. "That's about the time Charlene 
started tickling the ivories too." He looked at me. "You think 
there's something to that?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. It seems like an awful coincidence, 
though. Don't you think?"

"What about you?" Deputy Harrison asked.

"What about me?" I responded.

"You're trouser snake been getting any action?"

These people were bold. I bit my lip. Then again, I was asking 
them about their sex lives. I supposed it was a natural question. On 
the other hand, Scully would probably kill me if I told anyone 
about our new relationship. Hell, I didn't even know what was 
going on yet. "I'm not married," I replied.

They all grinned at each other. "So?" the sheriff responded.

"I'm going to the hospital," I told him again as we reached the 
parking lot. "I have my cell phone if anything turns up."

"All right," the sheriff replied. "Go get 'em tiger," he said 
playfully. I heard him snickering as he mumbled, "Town water 
supply!" Then his head disappeared into his cruiser.

I sighed and backed the car out, and headed out onto the main 
road. At the center of town, I turned onto Route 7 and took in the 
scenery as I rode through the outskirts of Kent, into and through 
Gaylordsville, skirting through a corner of a town called Sherman 
and finally arriving in New Milford.

I saw the Veteran's Bridge coming up on my left. It was one of the 
landmarks given on the directions that I'd gotten from the coroner 
before he left with Scully. I turned left and crossed the bridge, 
glancing down at the wavy waters of the Hudson River.  Once 
across, I was delayed while a train whizzed by on the tracks that 
cut straight across the main road.  Once past, the gates rose and I 
proceeded into the center of New Milford, taking in the town park, 
and white washed porches. I swung left onto Route 202 and went 
two blocks or so before coming to a light. New Milford Hospital 
loomed large on my left just through the intersection. Well, at least 
it hadn't been hard to find.