From: Nikki <menageri@linkline.com>
Date: Sat, 04 Aug 2001 10:54:25 -0700
Subject: NEW - Tine Rua - WIP - Part 13 of ?
Source: xff

PART THIRTEEN - Rated PG-13 for language and violent imagery

Mulder was frowning at the phone.  "Uh huh.  Yeah.  What
else?"
 Scully pressed the talk button on her phone and ended the
call with Skinner.  The AD had calmed down considerably
since their last conversation, although he was clearly not
happy with the latest developments.  He was especially
unhappy with the Deputy Sanger's blatant suspicion of Mulder
and had promised to speak to her superior.  'The various
agencies have to work together to solve this," he had
emphasized.  "This isn't a pissing match."
 Scully had been mostly forthright with her boss.  She had
told him in detail about Phobe's actions and demeanor.
Scully had also told Skinner that she now firmly believed
Phoebe had been abducted from the sheriff's car and had
escaped from whoever had taken her.  With trepidation, she
had asked Skinner to allow them to pursue the case, and he
had agreed, with the provision that they keep him informed
every step of the way.  She had promised and he had said he
would turn up the heat on his sources to see what they could
tell him about this case Phoebe had been excused from.
Scully had thanked him and declined to mention that Mulder
was on the other phone with the Gunmen pursuing his own line
enquiry.
 Mulder handed his phone to her.
 "Frohike wants to talk to you," he said, deadpan, and
Scully arched an eyebrow.  What was new?  Frohike *always*
wanted to talk to her.  She took the phone.
 "What's up?" she asked, rather briskly.  She really wasn't
in the mood for suggestive banter.
 "He's telling the truth, you know," the little man said
solemnly.  Scully's eyebrow twitched again.
 "About what?"
 "About Phoebe.  He hasn't had anything to do with her since
that arson guy case five years ago."
 A smile spread across Scully's face.  He was such a strange
little guy, this Frohike. Even as he swore his unwavering
devotion to her, he always hastened to defend Mulder over
any possible accusation.
 "I know," she said softly.  "I believe that."
 "You do?" Frohike heaved a relieved sigh.  "Good.  Because
that bitch has messed with him too much already."
 "Really?" Scully mused.  "He told you about it."
 "It's what he hasn't said that tells the story," Byers
chimed in.
 "She burned him bad," Langley said.  "She got her claws in
deep, no doubt about it."
 Scully wanted to laugh at their earnest defense of their
hero, but she bit her lip.  It was so like these guys.
Loyal to a fault.
 "I couldn't agree more," she said, keeping her voice firm.
"And that's part of the reason we need your help.  I want
this done with and her back on a plane to England as soon as
possible."
 "We're working on it," Langley said.  "I'm almost into the
Yard's records, but it may take a while to track this down.
I doubt the info we need is going to be spelled out in her
personnel file."
 "I've got a contact over there that can get me the
unofficial scuttlebutt," Frohike chimed in.  "She had to
really step over the line to be put on administrative
leave.  Her family's minor royalty and you don't call a
golden girl on the carpet unless you've got a really good
reason."
 "The State Department is involved in this as well," Byers
said. "They're watching this case very closely but telling
the U.S. agencies to handle it with kid gloves.  We may be
able to find out something from someone on the Hill as
well."
 "You guys are amazing," Scully said, shaking her head.  "Is
there anyone you don't have a way to glean information
from?"
 "Nope," Frohike said proudly and she knew all three of them
were smiling.  Scully was sparse with her compliments so
they were to be taken to heart.
 "Okay, our phones are on."
 "We'll call the minute we have anything," Byers promised.
 Scully disconnected the call and looked up to find Mulder
watching her, his hands resting lightly on his hips.  A
shaft of afternoon sunlight streamed in through the living
room window, basking him in a golden glow.  His hazel eyes
seemed greener, his hair had just a tiny hint of red to it.
He was gorgeous, and she felt an overwhelming urge to kiss
him.
 It must have reflected on her face, because a huge smile
suffused his and he stepped closer until there were scant
inches between them.  He leaned over and brushed her ear
with his lips.
 "I want to kiss you, too," he breathed and she shivered in
spite of herself.  How in the world had they not done this
all these years?  Already her body was readying itself for
him and she found herself shifting uncomfortably in her
suddenly tight jeans.
 "I'm sure Deputy Sanger would be happy to include that
tidbit in her report," Scully whispered back, just barely
letting her lips graze his earlobe and getting a tremble in
response.  She grinned.  This was fun, who cared if the
deputies saw them?
 "I'm just about don't care," he said, but pulled back a
little to flick a glance at the phalanx of deputies still
swarming on the porch.  "I guess I should have made cookies
and lemonade."
 Scully snorted.  "Yeah, because we always get treated like
that when we descend on someone's house."  She turned to
watch the technicians dusting the room for prints, focusing
on the wall Phoebe had hidden behind.  "It does give you a
different perspective.  Like a doctor or a nurse having to
be the patient."
 "You've done that too many times," Mulder said and she saw
the guilt flash in his eyes.  She tapped him lightly on the
chest with her fist.
 "Don't go there, Mulder.  I'm a big girl. I make my own
choices and take the consequence, just like you."
 He titled his head to one side and offered her a goofy
grin.  "So, you're saying that I'm a big girl?"
 She rolled her eyes at his lame joke and then leaned
forward to pin him with her eyes.
 "I certainly hope not."
 His eyes widened at her double entendre and she laughed at
him.  He laughed too and then leered at her.
 "Well, Scully, there are a lot of strange things about me,
but that's not one of them.  I am a one hundred percent bona
fide American male."
 She grinned.  "I'm very glad to hear that, Mulder.  Very
glad."
 They stood and grinned at each other like children with a
naughty plan until Deputy Sanger came into the room.
 "We're just about finished.  I trust I can expect you down
at the station to give a formal statement later today, Agent
Scully?"
 Scully turned and gave the woman her best nonchalant face.
 "Of course."
 They watched as Sanger crossed the room to her forensics
team.
 "What now?" Scully asked, her eyes crawling back to her
partner.
 He shrugged.  "I don't know.  Phoebe's got to know they're
going to stake out the house, so I don't think she'll risk
coming back here."  He ran a hand through his hair.  "But if
she still wants to talk to me and she's on foot, she's not
going to go very far."
 "Is there anywhere she would think she could meet up with
you?  A place you might have mentioned to her when you were
at Oxford?"
 Mulder blew out a frustrated sigh.
 "I don't know.  I wasn't up here that much to begin with,
and I don't know what I would have mentioned to her.  I
don't think I told her much about my dad."
 Scully winced internally, thinking about Phoebe's cruel
words.  "He used to prattle on and on about how his dad
ignored himit was quite boring, actually."  A renewed sense
of fury engulfed her.  Phoebe might be in trouble, but she
was still a bitch and more than ever Scully just wanted all
this over with and Phoebe out of their lives.  Their lives,
not just Mulder's.  Not anymore.

Having seen the last of the deputies off the property and
waving at the two stationed down the street, they were off
in search of lunch when Mulder's phone rang.  He handed it
to Scully.
 "Hello?"
 "It's me," Byers said.  "We've got some preliminary
information for you."
 "Go ahead," Scully said, sitting forward in her seat.
 "The case Phoebe was working on was a murder spree of four
English women, ranging in age from late twenties to late
thirties.  All four women were found strangled, with their
tongues cut out and their hands in handcuffs.  From what I
can tell, the guy did a real hatchet job on the tongues.
The only connection between the four women was that they had
dated the same man, an American ex-NYPD Sergeant by the name
of John Jacob Milling.  Supposedly all four women had dumped
him, claiming he was possessive and jealous.  Two filed
complaints with their local constabulary but nothing every
became of the complaints."
 "Where does Phoebe come in?"  Scully asked.  So far this
was the same basic information that Phoebe had given her.
 "Phoebe was the Inspector on scene for the third and fourth
murders, and that was when they put together that they had a
serial murder and that Milling was the connection.  Phoebe
became the lead investigator on the case, but she apparently
wasn't convinced that Milling was their killer.  We haven't
found out the details of why she was taken off the case, but
the official reasons for her suspension was 'failure to
execute her duties' and 'conduct unbecoming an inspector'."
 "I tapped into NYPD," Frohike said.  "Milling retired on a
full pension but he was basically shoved out the door."
 "Why?" Scully asked.
 "Too many excessive force complaints.  They start all the
way back in 1975, although back then the cops had a little
more leeway in how they handled their suspects, so not a lot
was made of it.  Then he had three complaints in '89 and
they put him on a desk for a couple of years.  He worked
active cases again in '92, seemed to keep his nose clean for
a while, then had three more complaints in '95.  He had
twenty-five years in by then, so they had him quietly
retire."
 "So, no formal sanctions or anything?"  Scully was scowling
at the phone.  Thin blue line, my ass.  How can they condone
crap like this over and over again?
 "He was written up a couple of times, got a slap on the
wrist, that was all.  There were two law suits filed and
both were settled out of court."  Frohike paused.  "I
noticed that half of the complaints were from women.  I
think that's pretty unusual."
 "It is," Scully said.  "So, any idea why he moved to
England?"
 "His grandfather is English," Langley put in.  "And he's
stinking rich, too.  Looks like Mills moved there to take
over his grandfather's printing business.  Milling's father
died relatively young and the old man doesn't have any other
heirs."
 "I wonder why he waited to move," Scully mused.  "Why work
as a cop for 25 years if you're the heir to a fortune?"
 "Maybe he got off on the power," Frohike said.  "If he
likes to slap around women he can get his jollies at work."
 "Does he have a record?  A criminal record?"  Scully
asked.  "I would think the violence would spill into his
personal life."
 "He's been married twice," Byers said.  "The second wife
had a restraining order taken out against him.  But no
criminal record."
 "Do you have the wives' contact information?"
 "Yeah," Byers said.  "I don't know if it's recent."
 "Find out," Scully said.  "I want to talk to those women.
And I want to know exactly what Phoebe did to get thrown off
the case.  Something doesn't track there.  And email me what
records you do have, especially anything from those women's
autopsies."
 "Will do," Frohike said and they hung up.
 Scully clasped the phone in her hands as Mulder parked in
front of small cafi.  Phoebe's refusal to see Milling as the
killer was bothering her.  The circumstantial evidence was
overwhelming, even if she didn't know about his violent past
at the NYPD.  Why would Phoebe be so blind?
 Mulder sat and watched her expectantly.  Scully shot him a
rueful glance.
 "Sorry, just trying to assimilate the info."
 He unsnapped his seatbelt.  "Let's go inside and you can
fill me in."


Continued in Part 14...

PART FOURTEEN - Rated G


Mulder bit into his hamburger and nodded as Scully told him
her questions.
 "Phoebe's not stupid, Mulder."  She said lifting a forkful
of salad.  "Why would she not think Milling was the killer?"

 He swallowed and sat back from the table.  "Maybe she
didn't want to."
 Scully made an inquiring sound in her throat as she
chewed.  Mulder went on.
 "Maybe she had a reason for not wanting to suspect him."
 "You think she knew him?"
 "Possibly."  He paused.  "Maybe she was even involved with
him."
 Scully stared at him.  "Dating him?  That's a pretty big
jump, Mulder."
 "It is, but it would make sense." Mulder leaned forward,
putting his elbows on the table and pushing his plate away.
"Think about it, Scully.  He's a former cop.  He did the job
for 25 years.  It makes sense that he would gravitate to
police officials there.  Its the brotherhood thing, you
know," he said, making a face which Scully mirrored.  "And
he sounds like the type that would appeal to her.  Lots of
money, macho, arrogant.  Maybe Phoebe got in over her head."

 Scully sat back from her plate .  "I know this is off the
topic, Mulder, but do you ever wonder why she got involved
with you?  I mean, you don't fit the profile.  You came from
a comfortable background, but nothing like what she was used
to.  You're not macho, although," she grinned at him, "You
can be damnably arrogant at times."
 He studied her for a moment and she realized that he had
thought about it and that he was deciding how much to tell
her.  She met his gaze and waited.  He sat back in his
chair.
 "I have thought about it, and you're right, I don't fit her
type."  His eyes roamed the small cafi.  "I think maybe I
represented something that she did want, but something that
she didn't want to let herself have."  He blew out a
breath.  "I don't want to sound 'arrogant'" he twitched an
eyebrow at her and she smiled.  "But maybe I gave her
something that other guys didn't."  He paused again.  "I
cared about her.  About her as a person.  What she liked,
what she thought.  I don't know if many other of her men
did."
 Scully nodded, encouraging him to go on.  He was opening an
old wound here and she wanted him to know that she
appreciated it.  And that she cared.
 "Phoebe made it really clear that it was all a game to
her.  The other guys in her life got that."  He looked down
at the table.  "I didn't.  I was all sincerity and
earnestness."  He laughed, but it was a mirthless sound.  "I
really was a clueless dork. I wanted her to care about me,
so I cared about her."
 Scully swallowed hard and reached across the table and laid
her hand on his arm.
 "You were, and are, a nice guy, Mulder.  And as much as I
hate it, the old saying is true. Nice guys finish last."
 Mulder squeezed her hand.  "Not if it means that I wind up
being with you, Scully."  He tilted his head and his hazel
eyes shone at her.  "I dont know if that means Im not a
nice guy anymore, or if that means I just got lucky.  But
being with you puts me in first place, not last."
 Scully felt tears prick behind her eyes and she blinked
furiously to disperse them. Her eyes glistened nonetheless
and the beloved lines of his face blurred.
 "Mulder," she said hoarsely.  "That is the nicest thing you
have ever said to me."
 He smiled.  "I'm going to top it.  Just wait."
 She laughed, clearing her eyes.  "Okay, just dont make me
wait seven years, okay?"
 "Nah.  Only four or five."
 The waitress arrived to refill their coffee and they pulled
their hands apart and went back to eating.  Scully polished
off her salad and sat sipping her coffee.
 "So, if I follow you," she began.  "You think Phoebe was
involved with Milling and she refused to see him as the
killer.  She got pulled off her case for refusing to pursue
him-"
 "Or because the brass found out she was involved with a
suspect," Mulder interjected.
 "And then Milling decided to go after her?"  Scully shook
her head. "If she defended him, why try to hurt her?"
 "Maybe she finally got wise.  Maybe she found
incontrovertible proof of his guilt.  I don't know, Scully.
But I think she came to America to find out more about him,
to investigate him and that means at the very least she was
entertaining the notion that he was guilty."
 "Maybe she came her to clear him?"  Scully wondered.
 Mulder shook his head.  "No.  There's nothing here that can
prove he's innocent.  There's nothing here that can prove
him guilty, either, I'm pretty sure.  But there is
information here that points to a pattern of violence,
especially against women."
 "I want to talk to his ex-wives," Scully said.  "I think
they can shed a lot of light on what this guy is about."
 "I agree," Mulder said.  "And I don't think sitting around
her waiting for Phoebe is going to get us anywhere."
 "So, New York?" Scully asked.  "I need to run it by
Skinner."
 "I think so.  If we want to know what is motivating Phoebe,
we have to know the story with this Milling."
 Scully watched him closely as she asked her next question.
 "What about Phoebe?  IF she's in trouble, should we go
running off to NYC?"
 Mulder glanced down at his coffee cup and then back up at
her.  Sadness weighed in his eyes.
 "I don't like leaving her here, Scully," he said softly.
"But I can't protect her if I can't find her."  He paused.
"And I can't help her if she's threatening to shoot you.
This is the best I can do."
 Scully reached over and gripped his hand.
 "Then we'll do it."

 Scully gave her statement at the sheriff's department and
didn't miss the thinly veiled hostility in the room.  Deputy
Sanger had not been parsimonious with her opinions.
Apparently everyone in a three county area thought Scully
had intentionally let a would-be cop killer go free.
 As she proofed and signed her statement, she was aware of
Mulder at her back and she knew he was staring down the
deputy on the other side of the desk.  Mulder could be so
impervious to slights against himself, but he was
old-fashioned about ones against Scully.  Even as he knew
she had developed a hide nearly as thick as his own, he felt
that she shouldn't have to take it.  She smiled to herself
as she signed her name with a flourish.  Right now it felt
very good to have someone automatically, one hundred percent
in her corner.
 The walked down the steps of the station and out to their
car without talking.  Skinner had approved the trip to New
York and they were going to head back to the house and pack
up.  Mulder had already called the moving company and
postponed the moving truck indefinitely.  Who knew how long
this was going to take? But, Scully mused, it wasn't like
the furniture was going anywhere in the meantime.  Besides
which, she wanted time to look it over closely.  She
wondered if French Revival and Queen Anne furniture could be
mixed?
 The were tooling down main street and Scully was admiring
the quaint store fronts of the various boutiques when Mulder
suddenly pulled into a parking space.  She looked at him in
surprise and he grinned at her as he turned off the car and
released his seatbelt.
 "I almost forgot," he said.  "Come on."  He gestured for
her to get out of the car as he unfolded the long length of
his legs and climbed out himself.
 He took her hand and led her down the sidewalk to a small
storefront with a green valance.  The stained glass in the
door depicted a cornucopia and Scully knew it had to be very
old and valuable.  The detail and colors were exquisite.
She glanced at the lettering on the large storefront
window.  Sevigny's Fine Jewelry.
 A small silver bell rang as the door opened and for some
reason it reminded Scully of the scene in "It's A Wonderful
Life".  Everytime a bell rings, an angel gets their wings.
She smiled.
 The shop was small but immaculate.  Dark wood molding
framed the top and bottom of each wall.  Built-in wooden
cases, oak, if she was not mistaken, lined the room.
Several glass cases clustered around the center of the room
and were ringed with maroon velvet chairs.  Brilliant
Oriental rugs were scattered around on the floor.
 There was no one in the store and Scully turned around
slowly, taking it all in.  Jewels glinted at her from behind
locked glass.  Even from a distance she could see that
everything there was high quality.
 An old man popped his head through the maroon curtain at
the back of the store.
 "Fox!" the old man exclaimed.  "Fox Mulder, I don't believe
it!"
 Mulder grinned and started towards the back of the store as
the man, white haired and bespectacled, literally bounded
forward to envelope Mulder into a bear hug.  When the man,
and Scully presumed this was the infamous Mr. Sevigny, stood
up straight, he was a couple of inches taller than Mulder.
 Sevigny kissed Mulder on both cheeks and then held the
younger man's face between his palms.
 "Damnation, Son," he said.  "You're a fine looking man.
You must have three wives and twenty children by now."
 Mulder laughed and blushed and shook his head.
 "Not even one, Sevigny."
 The older man shook his head.  "Foolish women.  Must be the
only type you meet."  He peered into Mulder's face.  "Unless
you're the fool.  Are you a fool, Fox?"
 Mulder laughed again and glanced over his shoulder at
Scully who felt herself blush.  "Yeah, Sevigny. For a long
time now."
 Sevigny was looking at her now and Scully willed herself to
walk forward.  Why am I so nervous? She chided herself.
It's just some old friend of his father's.  It's not like
I'm meeting the family for the first time.  But then, she
reasoned, this old man was probably as close to family as
Mulder had left.
 Sevigny stepped past Mulder and looked her up and down.
Mulder turned and stood next to him and Sevigny shot him a
sly look under his lashes before returning his silvery eyes
to Scully.
 "Scully, I want to you to meet Anton Sevigny.  Sevigny,
this is my partner, Dana Scully."
 "Partner?"  Sevigny grunted.  "What the devil do you mean?"

 "We're in the FBI together," Scully said, somewhat lamely.
 Sevigny trained his eyes on her.  "Horse feathers.  Fox
would not bring me his 'partner'."  He pivoted to look up at
Fox.  "When's the wedding?"
 "Sevigny," Mulder protested weakly, his face getting
redder.  "We're not engaged.  I just thought Scully would
like to meet you and I haven't seen you in a while"
 Sevigny ignored him.  "He's going to ask you, young lady.
Don't worry about it.  And you'll get a nice ring, or I'll
know the reason why.  Just tell me what you like and I'll
make it perfect."
 "Uh, t-thank you," Scully stammered, not quite meeting
Mulder's eyes.  Oh God, why had Mulder brought her here?
They hadn't even slept together yet and this old man had
them walking down the aisle.
 Sevigny looked from one to the other.  "You're going to
make nice kids," he said.  "Red-heads, I bet."  He watched,
bemused, as neither agent said a word.  He looked back at
Mulder.  "So, you're selling Bill's house.  Not going to
settle on the Vineyard, then?"
 Mulder shifted uncomfortably.  "He died there, Sevigny.  I
just don't feel comfortable there."
 Sevigny waved a hand, a plain gold wedding band flashing in
the light.  "He lived there first, Fox.  I know, I know,
it's just a house.  But you belong here.  You've got roots
here."
 Mulder shrugged.  "How've you been Sevigny?  Still running
the store."
 The older man snorted and gestured for them to sit in the
velvet chairs.  "Who's going to run it but me?  Martha runs
the house and Mikhail, well, he wants to play with his cars
and chase women."  Sevigny shot an apologetic look at
Scully.  "My son is a playboy.  Nothing is serious to him."
Sevigny shrugged.  "He will die penniless and without a
legacy.  What can I do?"
 "He's not that bad," Mulder said.  "He's just a
happy-go-lucky kinda guy."
 "He's lazy!" Sevigny said fiercely.  "Not like you.  You
had good grades, you play sports, you build a career.
Mikhail, he is always a child."  Another shrug.  "I can not
worry anymore.  When I die, no more Sevigny's."
 "That would be a loss," Mulder said softly and Sevigny shot
forward in his chair.
 "Yes, and Im an old man, Fox."  He jabbed a thumb at
Scully.  "You want to get her a ring to wear forever, you
better hurry it up."  He sat back and looked at Fox.
"You're not ready yet, huh?  What happened with the last
one?  The one you told me about the last time you come
here?"
 Mulder stuttered and Scully noticed that the red on his
cheeks was returning.  "What?  I wasn't seeing anyoneit's
been five years, I think"
 Sevigny's lips twitched in amusement and he raised his eyes
heavenwards.  "Fox, always you are a careful man."  He
looked at Scully.  "He was always a good boy.  No trouble
for his parents and they did not know how good they had it.
Look at MY son, I say.  Always in trouble.  Count your
blessings!"
He looked back at Mulder. "Careful is good, Fox, but too
careful is bad."  He gestured at Scully.  "This is she, is
it not? The one you told me about."   He tsk tsked at
Mulder.  "So many years wasted.  What are you waiting for?"
Mulder was studiously avoiding her eyes and Scully felt her
heart go out to him.  He had wanted to share a piece of his
childhood with her.  To introduce her to a friend, and
instead found his heart and desires being laid bare before
her.
Scully leaned forward and rested her hand on Sevigny's arm
and he turned his silvery eyes on her face.
 "He's waiting for me, Mr. Sevigny.  I haven't made it easy
for him."  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mulder's
surprise, and his gratitude, as she spoke.
 "But you are here," Sevigny said stubbornly, gesturing to
his shop.  She smiled at him.
 "Yes, we are."  They shared a look then, Sevigny and her,
and she saw that he understood.  Maybe the cart was before
the horse, but what harm was there?  Let them flirt with the
possibilities and maybe it would lead to reality.
 "What kind of jewelry do you like?" Sevigny asked.  "I only
see one gold cross.  Very delicate.  It suits you."
 "Platinum band, emerald cut, about a carat," Mulder rattled
off and Scully's eyes flew to his.  Hazel orbs twinkled back
at her.  He had remembered every detail.  Of course he had.
That was Mulder.
 Sevigny was on his feet, energized.  He bounded to a nearby
case and pulling a key from the jumble fastened to his
waist, unlocked the case and withdrew a ring, mounted on
black velvet stand.  He swooped down on Scully and before
she could utter a sound, he had taken her left hand and
slipped the ring onto her finger.
 "Perfect!" Sevigny said.
 Scully stared down at the ring and her mouth fell open.
The diamond, white and clear, blazed fire on her finger.  It
sat there, pressed against her flesh like it had always been
there and always would.  The metal, cold at first, was
already warming to her skin, and the weight, which had
surprised her, was already feeling comfortable.  She turned
her hand slightly, this way and then that, watching as the
diamond flashed and sparked.  She had never had a diamond on
her finger before, and had never really imagined what it
would look like.  The wedding dress she might wear, the
church, the vows.  She had imagined them all.  But she had
never wondered what kind of ring she would wear.  Never
wondered what is would feel like.
 Sevigny was making a contented humming noise in his throat
and she looked up at him, suddenly conscious of must be a
stunned look on her face.  She couldn't quite bring herself
to look at Mulder. She didn't want the question on her face
and she was afraid to see it on his.  She'd imagined being
asked many many times in her life.  She had even wondered
what it would like for Mulder to propose.  But never in any
of her incarnations had the man asked her in the jewelry
store.
 "It's beautiful," she said simply, her eyes dropping back
to the ring.  She was stalling and she knew it.  She could
feel Mulder's gaze on her and she knew she couldn't resist
the clarion call for long.  He wanted her eyes and her soul,
and she was afraid.  Yes, she wanted the question and she
wanted the man.  But not here, not like this.  It was small
and petty and she knew that, but she had only been half
joking when she had told Mulder over the phone that she
wanted roses and wine and romance.  She planned to only do
this once and she wanted it to be right.
 "I think we chose well, don't you?"  Mulder's tone was
light and she risked a glance at him and was gratified to
see him regarding with calm, slightly amused eyes.  Thank
you, she thought.  Thank you for not pushing.
 "Yes."  She titled her head at Mulder.  "Maybe you should
take over when Sevigny retires, Mulder.  You seem to have a
knack for this."
 Sevigny chortled at this and did a little jig.
 "He always makes the girls happy, this Fox.  They always
like him."
 Mulder rolled his eyes and shook his head. Scully laughed.
 "So, he was a lady killer, huh?  All the girls following
him around."
 Sevigny frowned.  "Lady killer, no.  Fox, always he was
courteous. Polite."  Sevigny grinned. "But always, so
handsome.  Yes, girls always like him."
 Mulder got to his feet.  "I think we need to go now,
Scully."
 She laughed and grinned at him as she got to her feet.
 "Getting a little hot in here, Mulder?  A little too close
to home?"
 "Yeah, that's it," Mulder said.  Scully went to pull the
ring off her finger but was stopped by the warm touch of
Mulder's finger on hers.  She froze as his fingers deftly
slipped the band from her finger and she couldn't help but
mentally reverse the process.  The thought of Mulder putting
the ring on her finger made her shiver.  He paused, titling
the ring back and forth, watching the diamond flash, before
handing it to Sevigny.  As the older man turned away,
Mulder's eyes sought hers.
 "I liked the way it looked on your finger," he said
softly.  "Like it belonged there."
 Scully felt her breath catch and wondered if it would be
possible to freeze time right then.  To hold forever the
tender, wistful look on his face. She knew he was wondering
the same things she was.  Could they do this?  Could their
new intimacy really lead to the kind of relationship they
both thought beyond their reach?  It made her want to cry
and smile at the same time.
 They said good-bye to Sevigny and promised to visit again
before they finished clearing out the house.  With her hand
in Mulder's, Scully allowed him to lead her from the store.
As the door swung shut behind her, she glimpsed Sevigny
moving towards the back of the store, the ring and its stand
in his hand.  A warm glow filled her chest as she realized
he was putting the ring away for safe-keeping.  He was
saving it for them.

Continued in Part 15....


PART FIFTEEN - Rated PG

It was almost dark by the time they had packed the car.
After a brief conversation, they had decided to drive to the
city in lieu of flying.  Although they had both presented
good reasons why driving was the better choice, neither one
voiced the one that really made the decision.  It would be
more time alone together.  Once they got to the city, who
knew what would happen or who they would encounter. But for
a few hours on the road it would just be the two of them,
and they both felt a need for it.
 Scully checked that her cell phone was in her jacket pocket
for the umpteenth time and her eyes swept over the living
room.  It was still ringed with boxes and she grimaced as
she realized just how little she and Mulder had accomplished
over the weekend.  Well, at least as pertained to packing.
She could hear him walking in the hallway upstairs, going
into each room to make sure the windows were closed and the
lights off.  They had no idea when they would be able to
come back.
He came down the stairs quickly, his eyes sweeping over the
living room and coming to rest on Scully.
 "I guess I won't get this on the market this week," he said
nonchalantly, but Scully had the distinct impression that he
was watching her closely.  She shrugged.
 "I don't think you're going to have any trouble selling it
no matter when you put it on the market," Scully said.
"There is always more demand than supply for houses like
these."
 Mulder stopped in front of her and she tipped her head back
to look up into his face.  His hazel eyes were soft and she
knew her own blue ones were shining up at him.
 "I don't have to sell it, Scully," he said quietly.  "If
you like it, then I'll keep it."
 Her eyes widened and she felt her lips part, but she didn't
know what to say.  She had not expected this.  That eidetic
memory he was blessed and cursed with would never let him
forget what had happened in this house.  Finding his father
bleeding on the bathroom floor, calling Scully, his mind
twisted by drugs, his hands covered with his father's
blood.  Those images were burned on his brain.
 She stared up at him, wondering what to say.  She did like
this house, but it was more than that.  It was part of his
past, part of his family, and she liked being able to touch
it.  But not at the cost he would have to pay for it.
 "We can make new memories," Mulder said.  "The old ones
don't have to dominate this place."
 She pressed her fingers against his chest and felt it rise
and fall with his breath.  She knew there was little that
Mulder wouldn't do for her.  He had proved that over and
over again.  But this was more intimate, more personal than
other times.  He was offering her a place for them to be
together.  He was offering her a future.
 She rubbed her fingers along his sternum and looked up into
his waiting face.
 "Let's think about it," she said, and her voice wavered.
"Good memories don't always out-weigh the bad, and I don't
want any ghosts, Mulder."
 He smiled then and she knew what he was going to say before
he said it.
 "Ghosts, Scully?  You don't believe in ghosts."
 She smiled back.
 "Maybe. Maybe not.  But you do, and that's who I'm
concerned about."
 He took her hand in his and raised it to his lips.  She
gasped as his lips grazed lightly over her fingertips, his
eyes never leaving hers.  My God, the man was a master of
seduction.
 "I'm going to be just fine," he said.  His lips trailed
down her fingers and he kissed her palm, pressing into her
flesh.  His tongue darted out and licked the center of her
hand and her fingers flexed around his face.  She felt a
rush of heat suffuse her.
 "Mulder," she said, her voice husky.  "If we're going to
New York tonight, you had better stop that right now."
 He grinned and planted a firmer kiss on her palm before
gently releasing her hand.  "Rain check?"
 She arched an eyebrow at him.  "Mm hmm."

 They took Mulder's car and after a brief stop to gas up,
they were on the road.  The radio played classic rock softly
as they sped through the night.  They didn't talk much and
Scully had long ago put aside the emailed information from
the Gunmen.  The autopsy information hadn't really shed much
light on the case and she wasn't in the mood to stare at the
few grainy photos that they had printed out on Bill Mulder's
antiquated printer.  Apparently the boys had felt some
levity had been needed as one of the attachments had been a
rather ribald comic strip.  It, of course, had taken the
longest to download and she didn't even want to know what
her cellular bill would be after that.
 They were about halfway to the city when Mulder pulled into
a quick mart gas station.
 "Coffee break," he said, climbing out the car.
 "Pit stop," she replied and got out as well.  She didn't
want to contemplate the state of the women's restrooms, but
nor did she want to hold her bladder all the way to
Manhattan.
 She was pleasantly surprised to find the women's room clean
and well lit.  There was even hand soap in the dispenser and
she took a minute to run her fingers through her hair and
check her light make-up.
 She returned the key to the attendant and went outside to
find Mulder leaning against the car sipping his coffee.  She
could see a matching cup in a holder inside the car.  He
turned to watch her walk up and purposefully she let her
eyes wander over his long, lean form.  Jeans, white t-shirt,
black leather jacket, hair nicely mussed by the breeze.  God
damn, he was trying to kill her.
 "Are you trying to kill me?" he murmured as her eyes
finally make their way to his.  "Or could we just pull over
on some back road and release some of my tension?"
 She opened the car door, her eyebrows arching at him.
"Your tension?  What about my tension, Mulder?  You're the
one in tight jeans and a leather jacket."
 He grinned like a boy.  "You like?  Really?"
 She rolled her eyes and ducked to climb in the car.  "As if
you need to ask."
 Mulder chuckled and climbed in beside her.  "I am going to
wear this jacket for the rest of my life," he said and
Scully laughed.  She leaned over and lightly punched his
arm.
 "I can just see you, eighty years old, tooling around in
your wheelchair in that jacket."
 He snapped on his seatbelt and twitched an eyebrow at her.
"Will you still find me sexy when I'm old and wrinkled,
Scully?"
 Her eyes sparkled at him.  "Attraction starts in the mind,
Mulder, and I can't imagine you not sexy as long as you've
got your wits about you."
 "So, back road it is?"  He started the car and she shook
her head.
 "Drive, Mulder.  We have work to do."
 He made a big production of sighing and looking
disappointed as he put the car into gear and they eased out
of the gas station.  She couldn't help but smile as a little
shot of joy zipped through her veins.  If this part was so
much fun, she couldn't wait for the culmination.
 As soon as they were back on the road, he reached over and
took her hand and she twined her fingers through his.  They
were so good together, and despite all the worries and
reservations that she knew they both still had, it was going
to work out.  They had both seen too much and been through
too much to expect perfection or even normalcy.  They had
unique jobs and those jobs took a unique toll on them both.
She didn't have a clue how they were going to handle this at
work, and she knew that was going to be a sticky question.
Skinner wasn't going to be easy to fool, if they decided to
take that route, and it flew in the face of the fantasies
that had taken over her brain.  You couldn't have the same
address as your partner and expect people not to notice.
Then there was her family.  She mentally winced as she
imagined Bill's response.  He had been dubious at first when
she had insisted that she and Mulder were just partners and
friends, but eventually he had believed her.  He had seen
what she had been desperate to hide, even from herself, that
Mulder meant so much more to her.  He wouldn't be happy to
learn that she had faced her fears and embraced what her
heart wanted.  Yes, Bill was going to be a problem, and she
was going to have to enlist her mother's aid, as well as
Tara's, to help control it.  The problem was, she wasn't
sure how either women would take the news themselves.
Maggie liked Fox.  She had been moved by his devotion to
Scully when she had been abducted, and although Mulder had
told her little about that time, Maggie had mentioned it
several times.  Missy had told Maggie that Mulder was the
one who brought Scully back, that it was his strength and
his love that had convinced her to choose life over death.
Either way, Maggie Scully was grateful, and she also knew
more about her daughter's heart than Scully would have
liked.  But Maggie had become more protective of Scully
since Missy's death and she would have greatly preferred it
if both her daughter and Fox would leave the FBI for a
safer, quieter life.  She didn't quite blame Mulder for
Scully's cancer or her bareness, but she didn't quite
exonerate him either.  It didn't help that Mulder took the
blame for both squarely on his shoulders.   They would have
to talk about that more.  If they're being involved meant he
would take on even more guilt every time something happened
to her, then they had to re-think things.  She was not going
to let him subjugate her like that.  Equals then, now and
always.  Or else.
Mulder slipped his hand away to take a sip of coffee and did
the same.  The hot, bittersweetness coated her mouth and she
smiled against the rim of the cup.  He had loaded it with
cream and real sugar, eschewing her preferred NutraSweet.
Ah yes, the man did respect her, but he never stopped
pushing, either.  She suspected she was going to have to
start stocking her freezer with hamburger and burritos and
all sorts of "real food" as Mulder would say.  On the other
hand, she was pretty sure that if faced with the choice of a
tofutti dreamsicle or nothing, he would learn to eat healthy
once in a while.
She was still holding her cup so Mulder's hand dropped to
his thigh after he replaced his cup in the holder.  In the
dim light from the road, she could see the outline of his
leg and the long fingers splayed against it.  She remembered
those fingers gripping her hips, pulling her against him as
he arched up underneath her.  Her face flushed and she
squeezed her cup.  If only Deputy Sanger hadn't interrupted
them.
"Mulder, you drive like a snail."
Scully froze as the saccharine sweet voice touched her ears
at the same time that the cold steel of her gun pressed
behind her ear.  Mulder swore and the car swerved as he
twisted in his seat to glare at Phoebe.


Continued in Part 16...

PART SIXTEEN - RATED PG-13 for language, description of
violence


"Eyes forward, please," Phoebe said smoothly.  "I'd hate to
come this far only to die in an auto accident."
"God damnit, Phoebe!" Mulder swore again as he pulled the
car back under control and glared at her in the rearview
mirror.  "What the fuck are you doing here?"
"It's pretty obvious, isn't it?"  Phoebe said smugly.  "I'm
hitching a ride."
"I thought you only traveled first class," Mulder snarled.
"That trunk must have been rather cramped."
"Oh, it was, and her luggage is damnably heavy,"  Phoebe
pressed the gun harder against Scully's nape for emphasis.
"I think I pulled my back just shifting it around so I could
climb in the boot."
"My apologies," Scully said sarcastically and was rewarded
with another shove of the gun.  Mulder caught the motion and
suddenly the car was swerving sharply to the right and
grinding to a halt.  Mulder twisted in his seat to stab
Phoebe with his eyes.
"Don't push me, Mulder," Phoebe snapped.  "Keep driving.
We're going to New York."
"We're not going anywhere until you take that gun off of
her," Mulder said between his teeth.
"How quaint," Phoebe sneered.  "Chivalry is alive and well.
Be a white knight on your own time, Mulder.  Now drive."
He slowly shook his head.  "No.  You need me for some
reason.  Well, you're not getting one iota of cooperation
until you take that gun off of Scully."
Phoebe's eyes were getting wild and she shoved the back of
Scully's head with the gun.  Scully's head snapped forward,
her chin banging into her chest.  Her hands clenched into
fists and for the hundredth time that day, she wished she
had brought her back-up weapon from D.C.
"You're not in a position to give orders, Mulder.  Push me
too far and I'll-"
"No, you won't," Mulder said with a calmness that he
couldn't have felt.  "You know if you shoot her nothing will
stop me from killing you, Phoebe.  Nothing."  He stared
deeply into her eyes.  "Now, I'll help you.  That's why
we're going to New York.  But I'm not taking the chance that
we hit a bump and you accidentally blow the back of her head
off."
Phoebe's lips drew back in a grimacing laugh.  "God, you are
SO noble, Mulder.  Always concerned for the lady."
"I'm no lady," Scully said low.  "And I intend to prove that
to you at the first opportunity.  But he's right.  The road
is bumpy and you're obviously exhausted.  You could
accidentally pull the trigger and kill either one of us."
Phoebe snorted, but pulled the gun back from Scully's head.
She shrugged.  "Fine.  Have it your way, then.  But I've
still got it cocked, so don't get any wise ideas."
"Fine," Mulder turned back around in his seat and Scully
could feel his eyes on her.  She met his gaze and nodded
once, briefly, to show him that she was fine.  Pissed, but
fine.  She could see the anger in his eyes as well.  Phoebe
was right in that she needed to keep the gun.  All bets were
off with Mulder and he would overpower her the first chance
he got.
Mulder pulled back onto the road, his eye flicking between
the pavement ahead and Phoebe in the rearview mirror.  The
British woman sat back in her seat and out of the corner of
her eye, Scully could see the gleam of the gun in her hand.
Her wrists were still encircled with dried blood.
"What happened to you?"  Scully asked, then remembered
Phoebe's earlier complaint about her questions.
"I've whacked a cop on the head and made off, isn't that
perfectly obvious?"  Phoebe sneered.
"Milling is here, isn't he?"  Mulder said, catching her eyes
in the mirror.  "He followed you to the States."
"Incorrect, my dear Watson," Phoebe said tiredly.  "I
followed him."
"Why?"
"To stop him."
"Is that why he is trying to kill you?"  Mulder persisted.
There was no answer from Phoebe and Scully turned a little
in her seat and was surprised to see tears brimming in the
other woman's red-rimmed eyes.  Phoebe looked back at her ,
anger flashing in her eyes at Scully's discovery.  She waved
the gun at Scully and Scully turned back around.
"Did you confront him?"  Mulder pushed.  Phoebe barked out a
laugh.
"Just how stupid do you think I am, Mulder?  Give me some
credit.  I may have slept with a serial killer, but I know
better than call him on the carpet."  She sighed.  "I don't
know how he found out I followed him.  He flew into New
York, I flew into DC.  I didn't know he was on to me until
he forced the sheriff off the road."
"But he didn't kill you," Scully said simply and Phoebe
laughed again and sat forward.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Agent Scully.  I know how badly
you want me dead."
"You're not that important to me," Scully said blandly.  Not
yet, but she was getting close.  Phoebe chuckled.
"Overestimating my importance am I?  Well, be cheered.  He
tried. His other women weren't trained in hand-to-hand, you
see.  He really ought to have known better."
"I still don't understand why you're doing this on your own,
Phoebe," Mulder said, drawing the conversation back to where
he wanted it and away from Scully.  "Why not have the Yard
contact the FBI and let them bring him in?"
"When?"  Phoebe shot back.  "Those bloody idiots are more
concerned with how it all looks than stopping a killer.  His
grandfather has a lot of money and influence."
"So does yours," Mulder said grimly.
"My family has nothing to do with this," Phoebe said firmly.

Mulder looked at her in the mirror again and Scully felt
something shuttle between them.  For all her bravada about
Mulder just being an idle amusement, Scully wondered just
how much Fox Mulder had gotten under Phoebe's thick skin.
"Why were you kicked off the case?"  Mulder continued
doggedly.  They were getting close to the city and he needed
answers.
Phoebe snorted and threw herself back against the seat.
"For impeding the investigation.  For sleeping with a
suspect."
"Did you?"
"Of course I did.  I'd been boffing John for two months
before I pulled that case in Kent and then the other one.  I
had no idea he was involved."  She laughed bitterly.  "I
know a lot of people think I'm not picky about my lovers,
but I really don't fancy murderers, you know?"
"How did you impede the investigation?"  Mulder asked,
slowly the car slightly.
"When I pulled the first case in Kent, it rang a bell.  I
had seen a couple of reports of other women murdered in the
same way, just months before.  I rang up the locals and had
the files sent to me.  I was seeing John at the time and he
knew all about it.  He made a big production of telling me
that he knew the third victim, Lucy Wells.  Said he had
dated her a year before.  He acted all worried that his name
would get in the papers, how it would affect his ailing
grandfather, and asked me to keep his part of it out."
Phoebe turned and looked out the side window of the car.
"Like a besotted idiot, I did it.  No one else knew that she
had been seeing him.  I was working like the devil to
connect the three cases when the fourth woman was killed.
That case was in my jurisdiction too and I knew right off it
was the same guy.  But I couldn't find anything to put them
together.  He was smart, you see.  The first woman he was
involved with right after he moved to England, almost five
years ago.  Her friends and such had forgotten all about
him, although she was one of the women who filed a complaint
on him.  His grandfather got is squelched and we didn't know
about that until later."
"The second woman he was involved with right after the
first, and again, it was so long ago that no one thought
about him.  She'd had a more recent boyfriend with a record
and we were looking to connect him up but couldn't make it
go."
"Lucy Wells had filed a complaint against him and John told
me all about it.  Even showed me the report that the bobbies
wrote up.  It was a him versus her thing.  She said he
stalked her and threatened her outside her flat, he said he
was just trying to get some of his things out of her place.
John knew enough people by then that he made that go away on
his own."
She paused then and stared silently out the window for
several moments.  "He's very charming, Johnny.  He pulled in
a lot of police people.  He was one of them, you know."
"So what happened with the fourth victim?"  Mulder nudged
her.  Phoebe looked at him in the mirror.
"Marissa Stokes.  She was his mistake.  He was still seeing
her when he started seeing me, so it had only been a few
months.  She dumped him, like the other women had.."  She
paused again.  "He picked me on purpose, you see." She
laughed.  "Played me, he did.  He knew what area I covered,
and knew that both Lucy and Marissa's cases would come to
me.  He planned it all out.  It was rather brilliant,
really."
"How did you find him out?" Mulder asked, more gently this
time.  Phoebe's voice was starting to waver and her emotions
were leaking through in ways she would not want.  The gun in
her hand was still very much a threat.
"Pictures.  We went over her flat with a fine tooth comb.  I
was crazy with it, really.  I knew I was missing something,
but I just couldn't put a finger on it.  He was very
careful.  No prints, no clues, nothing.  We had a couple of
fibers, but nothing to match them to.  He wore different
clothes every time.  The only thing he kept the same was the
way he killed them.  Strangled, raped, and then he cut their
tongues out."  Phoebe shivered, her voice barely above a
whisper.  "He killed two women and came and slept in my
bed."
Scully and Mulder shared a look and in spite of herself,
Scully felt her heart softening towards her nemesis.  Phoebe
was in over her head this time.  She had met someone who was
colder than her and it was a rude shock.  It was always an
abrupt awakening to discover you were not at the top of the
food chain.
Mulder nodded his agreement with her thoughts and then
looked up at Phoebe in the mirror.  She was looking at
nothing, her eyes unfocused, replaying memories only she
could see.  Mulder slowed the car even more.
"Pictures?"  he prompted. Phoebe's eyes met his in the
mirror and she swiped at her face.
"Yes.  I went back to her apartment myself and went over it
again.  I found a knapsack in her closet with a camera in it
along with a beach towel and some shorts. It looked like she
had flung it there.  There was film in the camera so I took
it and had it developed."  She stopped and pursed her lips.
"There were pictures of John and her at the beach.  I dated
the pictures based on a concert notice on a billboard in the
parking lot.   They had been taken only a couple of months
before.  That's when I knew it was him."
"What did you do?"  Mulder asked.
"I fucking screamed, that's what I did," Phoebe said.  "I
went out of my bloody mind for a whole day.  I just walked
round and round the city trying to figure out how I could
have been so bloody stupid and wondering what the hell I was
going to bloody do about it."
She snorted.  "You can just imagine the delight of my
co-workers, you know?  I knew they would be delighted to see
me fuck-up so badly.  And there was the press, I knew they
would have a field day with it.  'Minor Royalty in Yard
Shags Serial Killer'.  Pleasant."
"Did you turn him in?"
She sighed.  "Yes, but not right away.  I wanted to do some
digging.  I called up the police where the other two women
were killed and had them poke around a bit, see if anything
with John popped up.  They finally found the one report made
on him.  And I called the families and friends again to see
if they had heard of him.  Of course they remembered him
then, and talked about how jealous and controlling he'd
been."
"So, I had my connection.  They'd all dumped him and he'd
harassed them to one point or another afterwards.  As soon
as he found a new woman, he'd leave off bothering the old
one."
"I made excuses not to see him for two days, but I knew he
was getting suspicious, so I had to make a move.  I went to
my manager and told him what I knew."  She snorted again.
"Do you think I'd get some credit, or maybe even a thank
you?  No.  First I get chewed because I went back to the
apartment alone.  Then I get it for taking the camera and
film without telling anyone and for not giving the pictures
over as soon as I got them back."
"So, they suspended me and put some sorry bugger in my
place.  They didn't even wait to read over all the
information, they just stormed into Johnny's flat and
arrested him.  They could've had the upper hand if they'd
waited.  I could've set him up and we could've got him red
handed, but they wouldn't listen to me."
"Did they think you were involved?"  Mulder asked, checking
her in the mirror.
"No, not really.  Although they made some noise about it, it
was just to trump up the charges against me.  They said I
couldn't be on the investigation because I was 'personally
involved'.  They botched it, though.  Johnny's too smart.
He didn't keep his clothes that he used and he kept his
mouth shut.  Granddaddy's fancy barrister showed up and got
him sprung straight away."
"Did he come after you?"
"No, not right away.  He knew I was the one that whistled on
him, though.  He still had connections and there were plenty
of people that thought I had set him up over a lover's
quarrel.  He played that one a lot."  She laughed.  "There
are some daft idiots that actually think I killed those
women because I was jealous of their past relationships with
Johnny."
"Were you?  Jealous?"  Mulder ventured.  Phoebe shot him a
scornful look.
"Mulder, you know me better than that.  I don't care who a
man has had, it's who he's with now that matters.  I've
never had a problem keeping a man, you know. It's getting
rid of them that can be tiresome."
"So I recall," Mulder said quietly and Scully felt her heart
constrict.  Out of the corner of her eye, Scully saw Phoebe
lift her gun.
"You're going a bit slow there, Mulder.  Even with the kilos
to miles difference, I know you're under the limit.  Let's
step on it, shall we?"

Continued in Part 17...

PART SEVENTEEN - RATED PG-13 for language and sexual
innuendo


Mulder complied and pushed the accelerator.  Silence reigned
in the car as the three digested Phoebe's tale. Scully
wasn't sure how much she believed it. Phoebe's version had
her an innocent victim, an unknowing dupe, and she had a lot
of trouble swallowing that.  She could believe that Phoebe's
co-workers at the Yard had jumped at the chance to malign
her.  Phoebe wasn't much of a team player.  Come to think of
it, Scully, mused, neither am I.  Plenty of people at the
Bureau seemed to get a kick out of my misfortunes.  She
could and did dismiss them as fatuous jerks, but it still
stung.
"So, why are you going to New York?"
"Johnny made two mistakes.  The film was one.  The second
was using cheap condoms."  Phoebe laughed and her voice
oozed scorn.  "There were traces of semen found in Marissa.
Not a lot, just enough to suggest a leak, or a broken
condom.  There isn't enough evidence yet to force Johnny to
give a blood sample for comparison, but there is something
that we did find out from the semen.  The killer has
hepatitis.  Hepatitis, as you know, can not be cured, only
treated.  All I need is medical records showing that he has
it, and we'll have enough evidence to make him give a
sample.  Then we'll have a match and he's as good as
caught."
"Have you been tested?"  Scully asked and then literally bit
her tongue.  She should have kept her mouth shut.  Phoebe,
as Scully expected, glared at her.
"No point.  It's too soon.  If I have it, it could take
months to show up."
"There are newer, more sensitive tests."
"Later," Phoebe snapped.  "It won't bloody matter if he
kills me first."
"Why do you think he came back to the States?"  Mulder
asked.  They were getting into the city now, and all he
could do was head for the hotel unless Phoebe said
otherwise.  She wasn't offering up her agenda just yet and
they needed to hear the rest of the story.
"To destroy his records," Phoebe said simply, her eyes
taking in the New York skyline.  "He knows once we get them,
he can be tested and it's all over."
"Why not just run?" Mulder said.  "He's got the money."
"His grandfather's got the money," Phoebe corrected.  "And
he may support his grandson, but he isn't going to continue
to do so in the face of overwhelming evidence.  He also
isn't going to finance an escape.  Granddad is from the old
school of honor and justice.  He'll expect Johnny to stay
and defend his innocence."
"So why not let the Yard get the records?"  Scully
interjected.  "They know about the hepatitis, right?"
"Yes, but it's all very sticky, Agent Scully.  The New York
Police Department doesn't like having one of theirs being
accused of murder.  They want to see evidence, they want
proof that he's involved before they'll give up the
records.  Wouldn't want to besmirch their stellar
reputation, you know. Without the records, we don't have
proof.  It's a Catch-22"
"Have you told them what you're looking for?"  Scully dared
to turn around.  "If you tell them the killer has hepatitis
and Milling does, then they know you're likely on the right
track."
"I have no idea what they've been told," Phoebe said
coolly.  "If the Inspectors on the case are smart, they'll
be vague.  I wouldn't put it past the US officials to
destroy the records just to save face."
Scully felt her face get hot.  The woman's contempt for
virtually everyone and everything was really beginning to
wear on her.  Apparently only Phoebe Green was good enough
for Phoebe Green.
"So why do you need Mulder?"  Scully snapped.  "Why chase
him around the country and get him in hot water?"
 Phoebe smiled archly then and Scully could see that she
enjoyed having gotten a rise out of her.  Last one, Scully
swore to herself.  She won't get the better of me again.
 "I need Mulder to get into the files for me.  I hadn't
thought about going to the ex-wives, but that might work as
well.  They would know what doctors to contact if the
information isn't in his personnel files."
 "I doubt that it is," Mulder said grimly.  "I don't think
an officer with hepatitis would be allowed to work on the
street."
 "You'd be surprised," Scully murmured.  "It's considered a
civil right."
 "To infect people if you get hurt while on a dangerous
job?"
 "Mulder,"  Scully explained.  "People with AIDS can work in
food service or in hospitals. It's the same thing.  They
don't present a danger in and of themselves and they can not
be denied the right to pursue their career because of a
medical condition."
 Phoebe made a face.  "Remind me not to eat in any more
restaurants here," she said.  Scully scowled at her.
 "The risk of transmission of AIDS or hepatitis in the
manner you are suggesting is virtually nil.  There has to be
contact of an open wound with bodily fluid and it has be
instantaneous, not minutes or hours later."
 "Whatever,"  Phoebe said.  "So, Mulder, where exactly is
this hotel that we're staying in?"
 Mulder shot Scully a glance and his lips thinned in
frustration.  He hadn't known exactly how this was going to
work, but he had hoped Phoebe had decided that she didn't
need him after all.  The contact information for the
ex-wives was on the seat next to her.
 "It's the Marriott, just off Times Square."
 "Swanky," Phoebe said derisively.
 "I don't have your trust fund,"  Mulder said caustically.
"Besides, it's a big hotel.  I'd rather not draw attention
to us."
 "I'm not complaining,"  Phoebe said. "I'll even pay you
back if we make it through all this."
 "If?"  Mulder said, arching an eyebrow and risking a glance
in the mirror despite the growing traffic.  "Don't you mean
when?"
 Phoebe shrugged and pain reflected in her eyes.  "He means
to kill me, Mulder.  And he's proven rather good at that so
far."
 Mulder didn't reply and Scully kept her silence as well.
It was strange to see Phoebe thrown off her stride, and not
nearly as satisfying as Scully had expected it to be.  The
fact that Phoebe was holding a gun on them was somewhat
dampening her appreciation, Scully reasoned.  In another
circumstance, Scully would be rather smug about seeing the
indomitable Ms. Green brought so low.  It wasn't a very
charitable thought, but there was just too much water under
the bridge and Mulder still wore the scars from that woman's
claws.
 As they pulled in front of the hotel, Scully's cell phone
rang and all three people in the car froze.  A bellhop
approached the car with a gleaming luggage rack and Mulder
held up a hand, indicating that he should wait.
 "Let it ring," Phoebe said, the tension in her voice
slicing through the second trill.
 "It'll raise questions if she doesn't answer," Mulder said.

 "She can call them back once we're in the room," Phoebe
snapped.  "Now, I'm going to put the gun in my pocket, and
we're going to go check in like normal little people.  I'm
warning both of you, if you try something funny, I'll
shoot."
 Mulder turned around in his seat and once again, pinned her
with his stare.  "No you won't Phoebe, because you would
wind up in the hands of the NYPD and that's as good as
dead.  I don't know if you've thought about this, but you're
right where 'Johnny' wants you.  I said I would help you,
and I will.  But the bullshit with the gun stops now."
 He didn't wait for her response but opened the door and
climbed out.  Scully bit back the smile that threatened to
curve her lips and did the same.
The check-in went as smoothly as Phoebe had asked.  Scully's
eyes opened wide in surprise as the girl at the counter
confirmed the reservation for a two bedroom suite.  Mulder
caught her eye and shrugged, embarrassed.  Scully shot a
glance at Phoebe, who had watched the silent exchange and
was infuriated by the other woman's smirk.
They took the elevator to the suite in silence.  The quiet
chime sounded as the doors opened and Mulder led them down
the plushy carpeted hallway to the room.  The electronic
keycard slipped in and out and the lock popped open.  Mulder
stepped aside and gestured for both women to enter before
him.  Scully took the lead and marched into the room.
Her heart sank as she took in the finely appointed living
room and the gleaming wooden bar.  The room was beautiful
and was obviously costing Mulder a fortune. If Phoebe
herself had not been there, Scully might have tossed aside
her earlier concerns and this might have very well been the
site of some 'tension relief'.  Without a word, Scully
continued into one of the bedrooms and looked around.  A
king sized poster bed dominated the room. A cream chaise
lounge sat before a large window with a view of the square
and an entertainment center occupied most  of another wall.
She pivoted to walk into the bathroom and groaned inwardly
at the Jacuzzi tub that would fit two nicely.  There was
even a corner shelf that would hold a bottle of wine and
some candles.
She went back into the living room in time to see Mulder
tipping the bellhop and closing the door.  Phoebe was moving
restlessly about the room and Scully took a moment to
appraise her.  She had gotten a change of clothes somewhere;
probably from breaking into a summer home.  They hung on her
petite frame.  She was mostly cleaned up, but dark red
circlets on her wrists and a bruise on her right cheek
suggested what she had been through.
"You should let me look at your wrists," Scully said, almost
involuntarily.  "They could be infected."
Phoebe turned to look at her and Scully could feel the hate
rolling off of her.  It seemed that no matter what tact she
took, it offended Phoebe.
"I took care.  Im fine."
"Scully's a doctor," Mulder said.  "She carries a medical
kit with her."
"Of course she does," Phoebe said. "Probably has some
tranquilizers with her, too."
Scully rolled her eyes.  "I have some sleeping pills, yes,
but nothing injectable.  If you don't want the help, that's
fine with me."
Scully crossed the room and hoisted her suitcase.  She
walked towards the room she had already investigated.
"I guess that's your room," Phoebe said to Mulder.  "Unless
you'd like to share my bed."
"I'd rather sleep on the floor," Mulder shot back.  Scully
reappeared in the doorway.
"You're sleeping in here," Scully said firmly.
"Ooh, Mulder, you better seize the opportunity," Phoebe
purred.  "Somehow I don't think she orders you into her bed
very often."
Mulder's eyes blazed at her and Phoebe threw back her head
and laughed.
"How did you become such a loser, Fox?  You had great
promise.  You really did."
Mulder picked up his suitcase and carried it into the room
with Scully's.  Scully stood in the doorway, her arms folded
across her chest.
"Now what?"  Scully asked to neither and both of them.  "It
seems we're at a stalemate."
"Tonight, we sleep," Phoebe said.  "Unless of course you and
Fox have other plans."  She laughed at Scully's stoneface.
"Just keep it down, will you?  It's been a long couple of
days."
Mulder stood behind Scully in the doorway and she knew his
hand was on his gun.  He may have thrown Phoebe off her
original plan, but he didn't trust her with a weapon.
"Tomorrow Mulder and I are going to go see the lovely people
at the NYPD."
"What makes you think I can get any of that information?"
Mulder demanded.  "I'm not exactly big on networking, as you
know."
"You'll have a way," Phoebe demurred.  "You always do, when
properly motivated."
"And me?"
"You're going to stay here and mind your business.  Once I
have the information I need, I'll go straight to the airport
and be out of your hair."
"What about Milling?"  Scully demanded.  "Do you expect him
to sit by and watch you nail him?"
Phoebe gave her a drop-dead look.  "I'll handle John if he
shows up.  Don't worry about him."
"Fine.  Let's get some sleep," Mulder said, turning back
towards the bedroom.
"Not so fast," Phoebe said, indicating the gun in her
pocket.  Mulder's lips tightened and his eyes flashed.  "I
just need some insurance that you won't pull a fast one on
me.  First, I need the phones in your room.  One in the
bedroom and I'm willing to bet, one in the powder room."
Mulder pivoted and strode to the phone beside the bed.  He
unclipped the phone from the line and carried it to the
living room where he tossed it on the couch.  Scully did the
same with the phone from the bathroom.  They stood and
stared at Phoebe.
"Now your cell phones," Phoebe said, smiling.  "No midnight
calls."
Mulder sighed heavily and pulled the phone out of his
pocket.
"Don't you think you're a bit paranoid, Phoebe?  We could
have stopped this several times if we'd wanted to."
"I just don't want you going anywhere until morning, is
all," Phoebe said smoothly.  Mulder dropped his phone on the
couch and reluctantly, Scully did the same.  "There, now
that didn't hurt too badly , did it?  Now, you two lovebirds
just go get cozy in your room and Im going to block the
door off for you.  Can't have you leaving on me, now can I?"

Scully turned and shrugged at Mulder before stepping back
into the bedroom.  Phoebe advanced on them like a cat
stalking its prey and reached out to pull the door closed.
"Have a good night kids.  Don't do anything I wouldn't."
She winked at Scully.  "Remember what I said, Dana.  He'll
try *anything* once."

Continued in Part 18 unless you're all bored.....

PART EIGHTEEN - RATED R for sexual situations


The door closed in their faces and Scully, who hadn't
realized she was holding her breath, released it in a long
sigh.
"I don't know what pisses me off more, Mulder.  The fact
that she's holding us at gunpoint using my gun or the fact
that once I do get it away from her, I am still not going to
be able to do what I want to her."
She twisted to look up at Mulder and saw him regarding her
with wary, sad eyes.
"What?  Mulder, what's wrong?"
"What did she say to you, Scully?  When she was at the
house."
Scully frowned and crossed her arms across her chest again.
She didn't want to get into that now.  She was tired and it
was pointless anyway.  Phoebe had said whatever she thought
would hurt.
"Nothing worth repeating, Mulder.  She was just trying to
get a rise out of me."
"Did she?"
"Once.  Then I decided not to play and she lost interest."
"You didn't mention this earlier."
Scully shifted from foot to foot and looked up at him.  "It
wasn't relevant.  She's was pretty out of it, Mulder.
Shock, I think."
"I want to know what she said," he persisted.
Scully shook her head and walked over to her suitcase and
lifted it onto the luggage rack in the corner.
"I told you, Mulder.  Nothing.  She was just prattling on
and on.  I wasn't really listening."
She popped open her suitcase and started rummaging through
for her toilet articles.  God, she was tired.  Had it only
been this morning that Phoebe had held her at gunpoint at
the house?  It felt like a week ago.  And was it still today
that they had been joking and flirting at Sevigny's?  She
glanced down at her bare hand and thought about the diamond
glinting on her finger.
Mulder came up behind her and she felt his fingers close
around her shoulders.  Gently but firmly, he turned her to
face him.
"I need to know what she said to you, Scully.  Phoebe is a
master manipulator.  She can take one kernel of truth and
turn it into something else all together.  I don't want her
lies to be between us."
Scully clutched her make-up bag and nightshirt and looked
him deeply in the eyes.
"She's not, Mulder.  I know what she is and I knew what game
she was playing.  I didn't believe her.  I don't believe
her.  She's just trying to get at me anyway she can."
"She's jealous," Mulder said simply and Scully nodded.  "I
don't know why," he continued.  "She's the one who threw me
away."
"Phoebe's like a wild predator.  She stakes a claim to
something and whether she wants it or not, the key is not
letting anyone else have it.  Just the fact that someone
else wants something makes her want to take it away."
Scully tipped her head as she regarded him.  "She finds our
relationship humorous.  She thinks we're the biggest couple
of losers in the world because we haven't become lovers
yet."
"How does she know that?" Mulder asked slowly.  Scully
shrugged.
"She deduced it.  Body language speaks volumes, Mulder.  You
know that.  And who knows what she overheard when she was
hiding in the trunk of the car.  Enough to put the pieces
together."
"I'm sure she finds us very amusing."
"Oh yes," Scully continued.  "She thinks I'm an Ice Maiden
and you're a loser because we didn't screw each other's
brains out the first day we worked together.  We're sexual
incompetents, and I can't imagine being much lower in
Phoebe's estimation."
Mulder scowled.  "Sex is about the only thing Phoebe can
count on in a relationship.  She either quashes anything
higher or runs from it."
"So, you think we're ahead of the game?"
Mulder ran a finger across her cheek and down along her
jaw.  "Do you doubt it?"
"No, I don't."

Mulder let Scully use the bathroom first and she came into
the bedroom to find him stretched across the bed flipping
channels on the television.  She busied herself putting her
clothes away as she heard him go into the bathroom.  With a
sigh, she turned to face the bed and nervously pushed a
strand of hair behind her ear.  This could have been so
different and it just made her want to scream that it was
going to be this awkward instead.
She walked to the foot of the bed, trying to decide which
side to sleep on.  Mulder had pulled out a pillow on the
right side, so she chose the left and pulled back the
covers.  The mattress dipped somewhat under her slight
weight and she smiled.  The mattress was firm, but not
hard.  At least she would be comfortable.
She turned off the bedside lamp on her side and picked up
the remote control. She had thought about closing her eyes
and feigning sleep, but that wouldn't be fair.  They had to
face this if they wanted to get through it.
She was half watching the Planet's Funniest Animals on
Animal Planet when Mulder came out of the bathroom.  She
watched out of the corner of her eye as he put his things
back into his luggage and turned back towards the bed.  He
was wearing his boxer shorts and nothing else.  She
swallowed and looked back at the TV.  Pushing forty and
still had a six pack.  God Almighty, how was she going to
get through this night?
The bed dipped as Mulder settled in and she handed him the
remote.  He took it and clicked off the TV.  They sat,
looking at each other, Mulder's face in shadow as the lamp
behind him backlit his features.
"Are you okay with this?"  He asked softly.
She nodded and offered him a genuine smile.  "Yes.  I
just"  she blushed and looked down briefly before looking
back up at him.  "If she wasn't on the other side of the
wall, I'd be a lot better about it, though."
He smiled slowly and then leaned forward to brush his lips
tantalizingly over hers.  Her eyes fluttered closed and she
pressed her lips against his, deepening their kiss.  Her
hand reached up to cup the back of his head and Mulder's
mouth opened to grant her tongue entry.
They sat kissing like that for several minutes.  His fingers
stroked her arm and she played with the fine hairs at the
base of his neck.  She pulled his lower lip between her
teeth and nibbled on it.  Mulder's breath caught and she
smiled against his lips.
He pulled back slightly to look at her, his eyes wide and
dark with desire.  They were both breathing heavily and she
licked her cooling lips, already missing the weight of his
mouth on hers.
"I could do this forever," he whispered.  Scully smiled and
nodded, not trusting herself to speak.  "I don't care what
anyone else thinks, this is worth waiting for."
Scully's smile broadened and she leaned forward and kissed
him again.  Her tongue darted forward and his responded in
kind.  She pulled his tongue into her mouth, sucking lightly
on it and felt the gentle pressure of Mulder pushing her
down on the bed.  She acquiesced happily, pulling him down
on top of her as she sank back into the pillows.  The upper
half of his body covered hers and she could feel his heart
beating as his chest pressed against her breasts.
Mulder's hands skimmed over her shoulder, across her
clavicle and back up to cup her face.  Free to run her hands
over his back, she did so, reveling in the breadth of his
shoulders, the tapering to his narrow waist and flat, hard
stomach.  One of Mulder's fingers was teasing her nipple now
and she pressed herself into his hand.  Oh God, he felt so
good and she couldn't get enough of this feeling.  She
thrust her tongue more deeply into his mouth and felt,
rather than, heard his answering groan.  A tight, hot need
was filling her center and she ached to feed it.  To just
let go and give her body what it wanted so desperately.
As if reading her mind, Mulder's hands stilled on her body
and ever so gently, he pulled back from their kiss until
their lips separately with a soft pop.  She looked up at him
silently, waiting for his explanation and knowing what it
would be.
"This may be my undoing," he said, his voice husky with
desire.  "But I know we are both going to regret it if we
let this happen here."
She nodded wordlessly.  He was right.  She would hate
herself in the morning, and would be none too happy with
him, either.  There was no way they would be able to keep it
from Phoebe and if there was ever anything in the world that
Scully did not want to share with anyone else, it was this.
"I'm sorry," Mulder said.  "I shouldn't have started this.
I've just gotten both of us wound up."
She reached up and stroked his face.  "Mulder, you could
have come out of the bathroom with toilet paper stuck on
your foot, toothpaste in your eyebrows and half your hair
shaved off, and I would still have been wound up."
He laughed and grabbed her in a fierce hug which she happily
returned.
"I love you," he said and then pulled back to look her in
the face, realizing what he had said.  She stared at him,
open mouthed.  She knew it, of course.  And she knew that he
had wanted to say it.  But neither of them had planned for
it to be now.  She saw the worry in his eyes, the
hesitation, and knew that he was panicked that he had ruined
it. That he had not waited for the perfect moment that she
wanted.
I love you, he had said.  With his whole heart.  With the
love in his eyes and his strong arms holding her close.  It
was the perfect moment.
"I love you, too," she whispered, her voice choked with
sudden tears.  "I'm so glad that we've finally gotten to say
it."
"You don't mind?" There were tears in his eyes, too, and she
shook her head and kissed him fiercely before pulling back
to take his face in his hands.
"It's real.  What could be more perfect?"
He pulled her into his arms again and she pressed her nose
against his chest and felt his lips on her shoulder.
"I love you, Mulder.  Anytime, anywhere."

Continued in Part 19...

PART NINETEEN - Rated  PG-13 for language and minor sexual
innuendo

Morning came too early and for once, Scully was inclined to
just stay in bed.  She had woken to find Mulder on his back
next to her, one hand resting on her thigh.  She had
carefully moved his hand and curled herself around him,
placing her head on his chest.  She closed her eyes and
concentrated on the gentle rise and fall beneath her as he
breathed.
A few minutes later she heard a noise at the bedroom door
and raised her head in time to see Phoebe opening the door.
She had obviously showered and had found clothes somewhere
for she was back to her normal stylish self in a tailored
suit.
"Rise and shine lovebirds," Phoebe said, managing to make
the appellation sound pathetic.  "We've got work to do."
Mulder's eyes slit open and he turned his head to squint at
Phoebe.
"Get out," he growled and closed his eyes again.  Phoebe
rolled her eyes and went out, firmly pulling the door closed
behind her.
"I can't decide, Mulder," Scully said amiably.  "If I really
just hate her, or if I pity her for being such a bloodless
bitch as well."
Mulder chuckled and wrapped his arm around her and
squeezed.  She hugged him back with her body.
"I guess we better get moving," Scully muttered.  "I'd hate
to get shot with my own gun."
Mulder grunted and watched as Scully pulled herself into a
sitting position.  She swung her legs over the edge of the
bed and was startled when he snaked out his arm and tugged
her backwards into his embrace.
"Mulder!" she squealed.  His lips tugged at her earlobe.
"Don't I get a good morning kiss?"  His voice was gravelly
in her ear and she shivered.
"Eww!"  Scully said, wrinkling her nose.  "Not with my
breath.  I'd have to revive you."
"I don't care," he said, his lips nuzzling at her neck.  She
pulled away from him.
"I do.  We're not at that point yet, Mulder.  I don't want
to put you off before-"
"Before you get me off?"  He asked, a grin suffusing his
voice.  She elbowed him and he laughed.  "Ow."
She turned and gave him her best 'glacial' look, which only
served to make him laugh more.  She took in his bed head do
and his twinkling eyes and couldn't fight the smile
anymore.  She shook her head and went to her suitcase.

She was combing her hair in the mirror when Mulder emerged
from the bathroom.  True to male form, he had forgotten
several things when he went in to shower and this was his
third trip out.  She eyed the tight towel around his waist
appreciatively and reminded herself to keep her mind on the
task at hand.  She was back to dealing with Miss Perfect
Phoebe now and it wouldn't do to look shabby.
A few minutes later Mulder reappeared in his boxers and a
dress shirt.  She watched in the mirror unabashed as he
pulled out a pair of dress pants and pulled them on.  As was
the norm with them, they were doing things backwards.  You
usually had sex with a person before you slept in a bed
together and watched each other get dressed.  They were such
common, yet intimate things, and Scully found that as much
as the actual romance, it was a large part of what she
craved.  She wanted that familiarity.  She wanted to know
the expression on his face when his eyes opened first thing
in the morning.
He was tying his tie now and she went to him, replacing his
hands with her small ones.  Deftly, she tied the tie at just
the right length as he watched her, his hazel eyes bright.
"I'm going to get very spoiled if you do that for me every
morning," he said.  She smiled up at him.
"Deal, as long as I get some input on your ties."
He screwed up his face in an exaggerated pout.  "You don't
like my ties, Scully?"
"You don't like your ties, Mulder.  You wear them to piss
off authority figures."
He tilted his head and regarded her with a lazy smile.
"Who's the shrink here?  I think I'm being profiled."
She patted his tie into place and batted her eyelashes at
him.
"Mulder, if I didn't know that about you by now, I'd have to
have the IQ of a amoebae."

They went into the living room a united front and as Scully
glanced over at Mulder she realized they had unintentionally
both worn dark blue suits.  She was sure Phoebe was going to
have something to say about that.
Said person was sitting at the bar talking on Mulder's cell
phone.  They stood and watched her as she finished a
conversation with someone she obviously knew well.  Finally,
Phoebe hung up and smiled at them.
"Aren't you cute?  Matching."
"Cut the small talk, Phoebe.  Let's figure out what we're
going to do."  Mulder circled the couch and sat down,
looking for all the world like he was going to discuss
dinner plans.  Scully perched on the couch arm and regarded
Phoebe with cool eyes.
"I've verified that the ex-wives are at the addresses your
friendsthe Gunmen? Sent you."
"I could have told you that," Scully said.  "We verified
them yesterday."
Phoebe shrugged.  "Insurance.  So, first we go to the NYPD.
I assume you've thought of someone you can contact, Mulder?"

"I have someone in mind.  I need my phone to reach him."
Mulder looked pointedly at the phone on the bar under
Phoebe's hand.  She smiled and tossed it to him. He caught
it easily in one hand.  "I'm not guaranteeing that I can get
anything, Phoebe.  Milling worked in Brooklyn and my guy is
in Manhattan.  He should be able to pull some strings, but I
don't know how long it will take."
"I don't have the luxury of time," Phoebe snapped.  "I need
that information today.  One way or the other."
Mulder dialed the phone and the two women listened in
silence as he talked to his friend.  The conversation was
friendly, but to the point, and Scully wondered who Mulder
was talking to and how they knew each other.
Mulder disconnected the call and looked from Phoebe to
Scully.  "He has a friend in the right division that can get
us access to Milling's records.  He doesnt think there's
going to be much in the way of medical records, though.
Unless the medical condition was the direct result of
something on the job, they don't usually include it in
personnel files."
"It has to be somewhere," Phoebe insisted.  "You Americans
are totally anal about keeping records in case anyone wants
to sue."
"The records are going to be kept at a doctor's office,"
Scully said.  "Or at an insurance company, although they
don't usually keep individual records on file for that
long."
"There have to be 20,000 doctors in this city," Phoebe
snapped.  "What am I supposed to do, go door to door?"
"I think the ex-wives are the best bet," Scully reiterated.
"They may not be willing to give us much else if Milling has
contacted them, but they might be willing to tell us who his
doctor was."
Phoebe trained her eyes on Mulder.  "Fine.  When do we meet
with your guy?"
"He said he would have something for me in an hour.  He
suggested we head over to the borough that Milling worked at
and he would be in touch by the time we got there."
"Right.  If we have no luck there, then we'll go to the
ex-wives."
Mulder eyed her speculatively.  "I think we should leave the
wives to Scully," he said.
"What?" Phoebe exclaimed. "Why?  No.  I don't trust her."
"You don't have a choice," Mulder said firmly.  "Think about
it, Phoebe.  These are middle class New York working women.
They're going to take one look at you in your designer suits
and your diamond jewelry and clam right up."
"And she's any better?  The Ice Queen?"
Mulder chuckled.  "Isn't that your nickname at the Yard?
Scully's American.  She's from a military, working class
background.  They'll be able to relate better to her."
Phoebe narrowed her eyes at him.  "You're just trying to
split us up.  She could go and call the Bureau or the cops."

Mulder shook his head.  "Not likely.  I said I would help
you, and I will.  This is the best way."
Phoebe eyed Scully suspiciously and Scully did her best to
return a bored look.  The truth was, she wasn't happy about
being separated from Mulder.  She didn't trust Phoebe an
inch and there was a good chance that Milling would have
former co-workers on the look-out for Phoebe.  If Milling
showed up to nab her, Scully wanted Mulder to have back up.
She watched Mulder as he watched Phoebe and she wondered if
that was part of his plan.  To keep her out of harm's way.
She wouldn't stand for that.  But then again, Milling might
just as well be at his ex-wives.  If they realized the women
could have valuable information, it stood to reason that he
might think the same.  She gave herself a mental shake.
Mulder wasn't trying to protect her or ditch her.  He was
presenting the most logical plan.
"Maybe I should go with her," Phoebe said slowly.  "I can
trust your word, I think.  But her," she flicked a glance at
Scully.  "I don't trust at all."
"No deal," Mulder said smoothly.  "You'll kill each other
halfway across the Brooklyn Bridge."
Scully laughed at the insulted look on Phoebe's face and she
couldn't help but smirk at Phoebe.
"He's right," Scully said.  "There's no way we could go to
those women and not have them see the animosity between us.
They need to be put at ease, not frightened."
Phoebe shifted uncomfortably in her pumps and looked from
agent to agent.  She seemed to come to a decision and
sighed.
"Alright.  Let's go then.  Where shall we meet?"
Mulder stood and Scully followed suit.
"First I need my phone and Scully needs her gun and her
phone."  He paused.  "I assume you  acquired a gun for
yourself along with all your fancy clothes."
Phoebe made a face at him.  "Yes, I did. You're not the only
one with connections."  She went behind the bar and pulled
out their phones and Scully's gun, along with the extra
clips.  "You noticed that I let you keep your gun last
night, Mulder."
"Of course you did," he said, slipping his phone into his
pocket and handing Scully hers.  "You also didn't barricade
our door very strongly.  You wanted me to be able to come to
your defense in case Milling found us."
Color stained Phoebe's cheeks as she stared at him.
"Sometimes I forget," she murmured appreciatively.  "Just
how quick you are."

Continued in part 20...

PART TWENTY - RATED PG-13


Mulder watched New York creep by as the taxi inched its way
towards Brooklyn.  Beside him Phoebe tried unsuccessfully
not to fidget and made an exasperated sound in her throat.
"Why don't they build some more bloody roads?  I haven't
been to a place yet that didn't have snarled traffic."
"You got a speeding ticket in Tisbury, didn't you?"
Phoebe pulled a face.  "That isn't a place, it's a spot on
the road.  Really, Mulder, when you talked about how small
and quaint it was, I thought you were exaggerating. What an
excruciatingly boring place to grow up."
"It had its moment," he said blandly.  He had no intention
of discussing his childhood with Phoebe.  Not again.
She gave him a sardonic smile as if she could read his
thoughts.  She placed a hand on his thigh.
"I do want to thank you for helping me, Fox.  I don't know
where I would be without you."
He picked up her hand and placed it on the seat between
them.
"You'd be using your feminine wiles on some unsuspecting
NYPD officer in order to get into those files."
She snorted.  "I wouldn't know who to start with.  That's
why I need you."
He turned to look at her then, his hazel eyes flat and
emotionless.  Phoebe swallowed and returned his gaze.
"I don't know why exactly you've dragged me into this,"
Mulder said slowly. "But playing the simpering female
doesn't suite you Phoebes, so drop it."  He returned to
looking out the window, impervious to Phoebe's lingering
gaze.

Mulder's friend called just as Phoebe paid the cabby.  Their
conversation was brief and when he was done, Mulder gestured
for Phoebe to follow him.  He took the steps into the police
station by twos and she hurried in her heels to catch him.
Inside the station, Mulder made a beeline for a sergeant
behind the counter.  He fished out his badge and flashed it
at the older man behind the glass.
"Fox Mulder, FBI.  I'm here to see Jarod Coonts."
The sergeant pressed his face close to the glass to read
Mulder's badge and nodded.  He picked up the phone and
spoke.  When he put the phone down he gestured for Mulder to
take a seat.
"He'll be down in a minute."
"Thanks."  Mulder took a seat in one of the worn chairs and
gestured for Phoebe to do the same.  She shook her head,
preferring to stand, but Mulder arched an eyebrow and
gestured again.  She frowned at him and sat.
"I don't want to draw any more attention to us than is
necessary," Mulder said sotto voce.  "And you definitely do
not fit in around here."
"I'll take that as a compliment," Phoebe said lightly.
Mulder blinked.
"Don't."
 They had waited for a few minutes when a tall, thin man in
his late twenties came down the steps and approached them.
 "Fox Mulder?"  Mulder got to his feet and extended his
hand.  The younger man clasped it, his palm damp and
clammy.  Coonts nodded to Phoebe who nodded back.  "This
way," he said.
 They followed him to the third floor and through a rabbit's
warren of offices and cubicles, each more careworn than the
last.  At last they reached a small office at the end of the
hallway.  Coonts opened the door and ushered them in.  He
closed the door behind him and pushed his wire rimmed
glasses up the bridge of his nose.
 "I pulled the files you need," he said softly, as though
afraid someone would hear.  "Normally, they would be stored
downtown already, but Millings was sort of a special case."
He glanced around the stuffy room, lined with filing
cabinets and featuring a lone wooden desk and chair.  "You
can only have a few minutes. No one is supposed to have
access to these files, but I can't control who comes and
goes in this hallway."
 "We'll need to make copies," Phoebe said.  "Is there a copy
about?"
 He shook his head.  "Pick out what you want and I'll go run
it off."  He looked directly at Mulder now.  "If you get
caught, it's my job.  You understand?  I'm just doing this
for Matt."
 "I appreciate it," Mulder said soothingly. "We'll be
quick."
 "I'll be back in ten minutes to get what you want copied.
The files are on the desk."  He slipped out the door and
closed it behind him again.
 "Let's have at it," Phoebe said, snatching a file off the
table.  "God, look at all this paperwork.  No one merits
this much ink."
 Mulder picked up the other file and flipped through it
quickly.  As he had suspected, there were no medical
records.  He did note the medical insurance company Milling
used his last four years on the force.  This folder
contained write-ups of the last three excessive use
complaints against Milling and Mulder pulled them out to be
copied.  There might be something there that would fit with
the attacks in England.
 Next to him, Phoebe was absorbed in her file.  Mulder
watched her eyes fly across a page, a myriad of emotions
flitting across her features.  There was something wrong
with Phoebe's story, he was sure of that.  He didn't know
what, but he was determined to find out.
 Phoebe pulled out several pages including a staff shot of
Milling in uniform.  Coonts knocked once on the door and
entered.  Phoebe handed him her pages and Mulder did the
same.  Coonts vanished through the door.
 "Did you find any medical records?"  Mulder asked
carefully.
 Phoebe pursed her lips and shook her head.  "Nothing except
a report of him suffering a broken leg when he was still a
rookie."
 "What did you have Coonts copy then?"
 "General background info.  Things we might need once we nab
him.  You?"
 Mulder nodded.  "Ah, just the last three excessive force
complaints filed against him.  I thought you might find some
correlation between those and the attacks on the women."  He
watched Phoebe carefully as she nodded her agreement, but
her mind seemed to be elsewhere.  She tapped her foot
impatiently as they waited for Coonts to return.
 When the young man did come back, his eyes were wide with
panic.  He came in quickly and closed the door behind him.
 "Someone is here looking for you," he hissed.  "The desk
sergeant just called up here asking if you were still here."

 "What did you say?"  Phoebe demanded.
 "I told them you left a couple of minutes ago."
 "Piss," Phoebe snapped.  "Now we have to sneak out the
back.  Do you have a back stairs?"
 "Yes," Coonts said, nodding vigorously.  "It lets out into
the alley."
 Phoebe took the copies from him.  "Mulder, let's go."
 Mulder leaned against the desk and crossed his arms.
"Who's looking for us?" he asked Coonts, ignoring Phoebe's
glare.
 "I don't know.  Some Inspector somebody, from England."
Coonts looked at Phoebe.  "You're British too, aren't you?"
 "Mulder!  We don't have time for this. Let's go."
 Mulder didn't move.  "Who's looking for us, Phoebe?  Who
knows we're here?"
"I don't know!"  Phoebe hissed.  "It's probably John,
impersonating someone from the Yard."
 "Uh huh," Mulder appeared to consider this thoughtfully.
"Maybe I should go down and talk to him.  I could arrest
him."
 "We don't have any proof yet," Phoebe insisted.  She was in
front of Mulder now, her fingernails digging into his arm
through his suit jacket.  "We need to get out of here, NOW!"

 Mulder allowed her to pull him to his feet and out the
door.  Coonts directed them to a back staircase and vanished
into another office, the files tucked under his arm.
 Phoebe rushed down the stairs, glancing back over her
shoulder impatiently as Mulder calmly walked down the
stairs.  On the ground floor, she opened the door, looked
both ways and tugged him across the hallway and out the
exit.  As Coonts had said, they were in an alley.  The heavy
fire door closed and locked behind them.  Mulder looked up
and down the alley.
 "Now what?"
 Phoebe whirled to glare at him.  "Now we go the opposite
way we came and we find a cab and get out of here."
 He shrugged.  "Fine with me."  Phoebe started down the
alley away from the front of the police station and Mulder
followed at a leisurely stroll.  Something was definitely up
with Phoebe, and he was getting closer to solving the puzzle
every minute.

 Scully sat sipping her lukewarm, bitter coffee and nodded
in what she hoped was a reasonable facsimile of interest.
Mary Elizabeth Milling had a whole lifetime of woes to share
and having found an interested party, she was planning on
voicing them all.
 "John was a good man, he really was," Mary insisted as she
stirred her coffee.  "He just had an awful temper.  Didn't
drink, didn't smoke."  She paused.  "Didn't run around that
I knew of.  You just didnt want to piss him off."
 "What happened if you did?" Scully probed.
 Mary sighed and shot Scully a look under her lashes.  "If I
was a betting woman, I'd guess you've never had a man lay
his hands on you."
 Scully stiffened although she wasn't sure why.  On the one
hand, Mary was right.  No man that Scully had ever been
involved with had ever hit her.  On the other hand, plenty
of men had struck her, and worse.  Was the difference in the
relationship or was it that Scully didn't wear the badge of
victim that Mary somehow thought she should?
 "You'd be wrong," Scully said, deciding not to split
hairs.  She'd been punched, shoved, even shot.  It counted.
The pain was certainly the same.
 Mary's eyes widened and she shifted from a slight aloofness
to warm sympathy.  "Then you know what I mean.  I'd say
something.  Maybe about getting a plumber in or not having
enough money for something and he's just go off.  One minute
he'd be sitting at the table reading the paper and the next
he'd be smacking me.  I never knew what it would be that set
him off."
 "Did you ever call the police?"
 Mary snorted and took another long drink of his coffee.
"He was the police, Agent Scully," she said.  "His buddies
were going to be the ones that showed up when I called 911.
Wasn't no point."
 "So, did you leave him, or did he leave you?"  Scully
surreptitiously glanced at her watch.  She was supposed to
meet Julie, Millings' second wife at noon and with traffic
she was going to be cutting it close.
 "He left me."  Mary shrugged and stared down into her
coffee.  "I was upset but then I wasn't.  We were just
living together by then, you know.  He had his work.  I had
mine.  We didn't have anything in common anymore."
 "No children then?" Scully asked, although her info on
Milling said that he had no children.
 Mary shook her head sadly.  "Nope, and that was my one
regret.  I gave my best years to John, I did.  By the time
we split up I was pushing thirty, and well," she made a
face. "I'd lost my looks by then.  I'd have liked to had a
baby or two, but John couldn't have them and he wouldn't
even consider adoption."
 Scully's ears perked.  Milling was sterile.  That was
news.  She wondered if it had anything to do with the
hepatitis, but that didn't sound right.  It didn't usually
affect the reproductive system.
 "How was his health otherwise?"  Scully asked, glancing at
her watch again.  She was going to be late.
 Mary shrugged.  "Healthy as a damn horse.  Didn't even get
colds, which always pissed me off.  He'd come home carrying
some damn bug and I'd get it, but never him.  He always had
a pile of sick days saved up."
 Scully was listening closely now.  Milling was never sick?
No colds even?  People with hepatitis had compromised immune
systems and were easy targets for cold and flu bugs.
 "Did he have a regular doctor?"
 "Not to speak of.  He didn't go to the doctor except to
have his annual physical and the department always took care
of that."
 "Did he take any medications?"
 Mary frowned at her, confused by the rush of questions
about doctors.
 "The British cop who called me asked all the same
questions.  I told her all this," she said.  "He wouldn't
even take a vitamin. Said he didn't need any of that junk.
Why are you so interested in his health?"
 "Just getting background," Scully said quickly.  "A member
of Scotland Yard called you?"  Mary nodded.  "Was it Phoebe
Green by any chance?"  Mary nodded again and Scully pursed
her lips.  Why, all of the sudden, did she feel like she was
chasing her tail? She crumpled her napkin and stuffed it
into her half-empty coffee cup.  If she caught a cab right
away, she might still be on time to a second pointless
interview.
 "So John's in trouble in England?"  Mary was biting her
lip.  "His grandfather is some big wig over there, I guess.
John never met him, but they used to send Christmas cards
back and forth."
 Scully was standing now and smiling distractedly at Mary.
Realizing her audience was leaving, Mary stood as well.
 "I hope I was able to help you."
 "You did," Scully said warmly, stepping around the end of
the table.  "I appreciate you using your break to talk to
me."
"It's nothing," Mary waved a hand dismissively.  "I usually
spend it in the break room reading old magazines anyway.
Just something to get away from those damn phones for a
minute."
 Scully stretched out a hand and took Mary's.  "I appreciate
it.  If I have any other questions, I can call you?"
 "Sure.  Uh, if you talk to John, tell him I said hi, okay?
He was an okay guy, you know?"
 "I will.  Thanks."  Scully let go of her hand and headed
for the diner door.

Continued in Part 21...

PART TWENTY-ONE- RATED PG



Julie Ashcroft  DeJardines Milling Stanz was night and day
from Mary Milling.  Tall, gazelle-like and elegant, she
ushered Scully into her sitting room and offered tea.
 "No thank you," Scully demurred, taking a seat on the
damask sofa.  "I'd just like to ask you some questions about
your ex-husband, John."
 Julie shot a look through an archway into a formal dining
room.  Satisfied that no one was around she smiled
graciously.
 "Of course, what can I tell you?"
 Scully flipped open her notebook.  "You were married for
almost five years, is that right?"
 "Yes."
 "You divorced in November of 1994, shortly before he
retired from the NYPD?"
 "Retired?"  Julie smiled and it was not so warm as before.
"That was what they called it.  But to answer your question,
yes, we divorced in November of '94."
 Scully gazed at her frankly.  "His departure from the force
was not a retirement?"
 Julie settled back into her chair more and folded her slim
hands in her lap.
 "Oh no, it was a retirement.  John had been on the force
for twenty-five years when he left, so it was certainly a
retirement in that sense.  What I mean, is that he didn't
want to go.  His superiorssuggested that it was time."
 "Do you know why?"
 Julie met Scully's eyes straight on.  "He beat up three
women his last year on the job.  He was becoming a
liability."
 "You don't seem to have a problem with that," Scully
noted.  Julie shrugged.
 "It was a side of him that I never saw.  I didn't ask a lot
of questions.  John maintained that the women had resisted
arrest and he was just doing his job.  I had no reason to
think otherwise."
 "So John was upset when he was 'retired'?"
 "Yes.  It had been his whole life.  He didnt know what to
do without the department."
 Scully frowned. "Why did the two of you divorce?"
Julie regarded her with cool blue eyes framed by carefully
coated black lashes.  Scully waited while the woman decided
how honest to be.
 "John didn't keep his promise," Julie finally said.  "When
I met him he told me that he was the sole heir to a printing
fortune in London.  He had all sorts of books and pictures
with his grandfather in them.  Newspaper clippings, that
sort of thing. At the time, he failed to tell me that he'd
never met his grandfather."  She shifted in her chair and
offered Scully a small smile.  "This is going to sound very
cold to you, Agent Scully, but I married John because of his
grandfather."
 "You thought John was rich?"
 "No," Julie said firmly, "I thought he was going to be
rich.  You see, Agent Scully, I come from what was once a
well-respected New York family.  My father lost everything
in the market crash in the 80s." She smiled bitterly.  "John
used to say that my family had been rich for five minutes
and I had never forgotten it.  He was basically right.  I
grew up in a rarified world, Ms. Scully.  Boarding schools,
private dance lessons, fancy clothes, vacations to Europe.
I was in my twenties when my family went broke."
 She paused and looked out the window overlooking Central
Park.  "My father committed suicide and my mother just
curled up inside a bottle of gin.  My sister and I were left
to fend for ourselves."  She smiled bitterly.  "Imagine my
shock at having to support myself after having grown up with
servants all my life.  I was bitter.  And determined to get
back all that I had lost."
 "And you thought John could do that for you?" Scully asked
carefully.
 "Yes.  I had married an older man that my father had done
business with.  Jack Des Jardines.  He had a lot of money
and he gave me anything I wanted."  Julie trained her eyes
on Scully.  "He also beat the shit out of me whenever he
felt like it.  I stayed with him for two years.  Then I met
John.  I was ready to hear a fairy tale and that's what he
told me.  I had a flagrant affair with John and Jack threw
me out and divorced me.  There had been a prenup so I didn't
get much except some art and jewelry that I managed to sneak
out."  She paused again, a smile playing along her lips.
 "I married John two days after my divorce finalized. I was
envisioning royal parties and balls at Buckingham Palace.
Quite naove.  Once we married, I realized that John had left
out some important details.  I was furious, of course.  But
John convinced me that I was the key to getting to his
grandfather.  John had been raised working class by his
father who had been estranged from the grandfather for
years.  John said my upbringing and poise would help
convince his grandfather that he was nothing like his
father.  That we would fit right into his grandfather's
highbrow society life.
 "It didn't work?"  Scully said, fascinated with Julie's
story.
 "No, not that John didn't try.  He wrote letters, offered
to come and visit.  His grandfather was very cautious, as he
should have been.  John was nothing to him, really.  But
John was his only living heir and  it was worth a shot."
 "So you left him when you realized the grandfather wasn't
going to accept him into the family fold?"
 Julie shrugged.  "I was tired of being poor.  The money
from my jewels and artwork had run out and we were living on
John's paycheck. I'd traded one prison for another.  My
sister, Isabel, married a real estate developer and was
doing well.  She introduced me to my current husband at a
party in the Hamptons."
 "You traded up," Scully said factually.  She couldn't
believe that this woman used herself as a pawn to get
material things.  It was too bizarre.
 "Yes," Julie granted Scully a quasi embarrassed look.  "I
did.  Leon had money and position and he didn't have a
reputation as a wife beater."
 "No strings?"
 Julie smiled.  "Oh yes, there are always strings.  He
wanted children.  I've given him two and he's happy."
 Scully couldn't help but shake her head.  She spoke of her
children as if they were commodities.  They were, actually.
Two kids equals a penthouse on the upper West Side and
untold wealth.  She couldn't help but wonder how the
children would feel when they realized their price and she
was sure that they would know it one day.
 "So, you think me a terrible person," Julie said, watching
Scully.  Scully snapped back to the present, realizing she
had allowed Julie to take her way off the subject.
 "John, was he healthy?"  She decided to plunge in.  Julie
did not appear afraid to tackle any subject.
 The other woman frowned and titled her head to one side, a
long fingernail tapping her chin.
 "Yes, I would say so.  He was quite a fitness buff, always
working out."
 "Did he have any chronic illnesses?  Anything he needed to
take medication for?"
 "No, not that I remember.  He didn't especially like
doctors, I do remember that."
 "Did he have a regular doctor?" Scully pressed. She just
needed one name.
 "Um, yes, I suppose.  It was my old family doctor,
actually.  I think John saw him once or twice for sinusitis,
but that was about it."
 "Could I get his name and number?"  Julie shot her a
quizzical look but got to her feet.
 "I gave it to the other woman.  Do you still need it?"
Scully felt her face burn.  She was going to have some words
with Phoebe when she got back to the hotel.  This whole
ex-wives thing had been an excuse to get Scully out of the
way.  She wondered exactly why.
Seeing her face, Julie decided to ignore her own questions.
" Let me get it for you."
 Scully sat and took in the room as she waited for Julie to
return.  It was all tastefully done in muted tones and
ornate woodwork.  Looking from piece to piece she couldn't
fault anything she saw, but it was justtoo much.  The room
screamed, 'Look at us, we're rich'.  It didn't feel like a
home.
 "Here you go," Julie handed her a slip of engraved
stationary with a name and number written on it in flowing
script.  "And here's a picture of John and I shortly after
we got married."
 Scully took the photo, obviously taken by someone who knew
what they were doing with a camera.  John Milling stared
back at her, his brawny arms wrapped around his slip of a
wife.  The strong set of his jaw and the possessive way he
held his wife suggested a man used to getting his way.
 Scully got to her feet and offered the picture back to
Julie.  She waved it away.
 "You can keep it.  Maybe it will help you."
 "You don't want it back?"  Scully asked.  Julie made a
face.
 "I had it in a box of old things.  I don't even know why I
kept it.  Habit, I guess."  She smiled.  "It doesn't belong
in my life now."
 Scully tucked the picture inside the stationary.  "Thank
you."
 Julie tilted her head to one side, her hands clasped
loosely at her waist. "So, he finally go through to the old
man?  Inherited his fortune?"
 Scully shook her head. "Not exactly.  His grandfather is
still alive, but John lives in London and helps run the
business.  It's inferred that he will inherit one day and
his grandfather apparently suffered a stroke last year."
 Julie nodded, listening.  "Well, I'm glad John got what he
wanted.  But he's in some sort of trouble?  Something with
the law."
 Scully nodded.  "Yes.  Scotland Yard is investigating him.
The FBI is just assisting on this side of the pond , so to
speak."
 "I see," Julie's eyes narrowed.  "It must be something big
if they have to go looking all the way over here."  She
straightened and offered Scully a polite smile. "I wish him
the best."
 "I'll pass that along if I speak to him," Scully said,
moving towards the door.

Continued in Part 22...

Tine Rua - WIP - Part 22 of ?

As soon as she was on the street, Scully dialed Mulder's
cell.  His voice mail picked up and she left him a brief
message, telling him to meet her back at the hotel.  She
didnt tell him that she had news, because she really
didn't. What she had was no news.  She glanced at the name
on the paper; Dr. Stouss, with a Manhattan number. She would
try to see him later this afternoon, but she had a feeling
she would find nothing.  John Milling did not sound like a
man who had had hepatitis.  At least not when he lived in
New York.

 She let herself into the suite with the key card Mulder had
given her and surveyed the room.  The maid had been in and
everything was back in its place.  She did a quick sweep of
the suite and then went into Phoebe's room.
 A leather Coach duffel bag sat on the luggage rack and
Scully tugged it open to peer inside. Several sets of
expensive bra and panty sets were on top.  Underneath were
slacks and light sweaters, all exclusive labels.  Scully
closed the bag and went to the closet.  Five designer suits
hung in a row with coordinating pumps on the floor.  Whoever
Phoebe's connection was, they knew her size and her taste to
a tee.
 Scully snooped through the rest of the room and finding
nothing else besides a set of toiletries, returned to the
living room.  She glanced at her watch.  She had expected
Mulder and Phoebe to finish before she had.  She took out
her phone and dialed again.  The voice mail picked up and
she left him another message.

 Ten minutes ticked by, then twenty.  Scully pulled out her
phone and realized that she had a message waiting.  She
dialed her voice mail and listened to the message from
Frohike from the night before.  She punched in the speed
dial and listened to the phone ring.
 Frohike answered on the third ring.  "Melvin's Pizza."
 "I want one with everything," Scully said.  "Including
Phoebe Green's head."
 Frohike chuckled.  "Wearing on your nerves, is she?  I
can't imagine."
 "You said you had more information for us," Scully said,
getting to the point.  She shouldn't have slipped in that
about Phoebe.  God only knew what Frohike would tell the
others, much less Mulder, about her comment.
 "Yeah.  I found out why Phoebe got bounced from the case.
You sittin' down?  She was involved with Milling.  They'd
been lovers for months when she caught the third case.  They
also said she obstructed justice by withholding evidence.
She's in deep."
 Scully sighed.  "I know all that."
 She could practically hear Frohike's forehead crease.  "You
do?"  He sounded wounded.
 "Yes.  Ms. Green favored us with her presence, on the drive
to the city."
 "You've got Phoebe?"
 "Not exactly," Scully hedged, realizing she was on a far
from secure phone line.  "She pulled a gun - my gun - on us
and locked us in the room last night."
 "Where is she now?"
 Scully blew out a stream of air in frustration.  "I don't
know.  Mulder's with her and he's not answering his phone."
 There was a pause as neither one knew what to say.  Mulder
could take care of himself, but he did have a penchant for
getting into bad situations.  And Phoebe wasn't exactly
stable at the moment.
 "Do you have any idea where they went?"
 Scully paced around the room, stopping to look out the
window at the dirty New York streets.  "Yes and no.  I have
an idea.  But I don't know who they went to talk to."
 "What can we do?"  Byers chimed in.  Scully had heard a
click on the line a moment before and realized she had a
whole audience.
 "I don't know.  Nothing."  She tapped her foot against the
carpet.  "Find me something on Phoebe.  There is something
not right about this whole case.  About her story.  Send me
everything you can find about this case, no matter how small
or insignificant."
 "Coming at you now," Langley said, and she could hear the
tapping on the keyboard in the background.  "There are some
pretty big files."
 Scully turned to the desk in the corner.  "I'm pretty sure
they've got high speed internet access here.  I'll look over
the files and call you if I have any questions."
 "We'll keep digging," Frohike said.  "I have a bad feeling
about this."
 Langley snorted.  "Yeah, right.  You're just sulking 'cause
Mulder's in the Big Apple with two hot women."
"Stuff it, Miss Clairol," Frohike snapped, then softened his
voice to Scully.  "We'll be in touch, Scully."
 "Hey, this is my natural color," Scully heard Langley say
as she hung up the phone. She rolled her eyes.  Great.  She
had a lunatic Inspector, a missing Mulder and the three
Stooges on her hands.  When this was over, she was going to
need a real vacation.

 She had called Milling's old doctor and had gotten about as
far as she had expected.  Any doctor on Park Avenue had a
big enough lawyer to not worry about a measly FBI agent
wanting to push the limits of patient confidentiality.
Without a warrant, he wouldn't even confirm that Milling had
ever been his patient.
 She scrolled through the files that the Gunmen had sent
her, looking for something to answer the uneasy prickling at
the back of her neck.  To say that she didn't trust Phoebe
was an understatement, but she did believe that the other
woman's life was in danger.  It was plain that she needed
help, the question was why Mulder?
 She glanced at her watch again.  It was almost two o'clock
and there was no sign of Mulder or Phoebe.  She paced around
the room, trying to decide what to do.  She knew what
station house Mulder and Phoebe had been headed to, but had
no idea who they were going to meet with.  She stopped in
front of her computer and tapped her fingers on the gleaming
wood of the desk.  Another glance at her watch verified that
a whopping minute had gone by since her last check.
 She picked up the phone and dialed information for
Brooklyn.  Within minutes she was put through to the front
desk of the station.
 "My name is Special Agent Dana Scully with the FBI.  I'm
trying to track down another agent who was there this
morning.  His name is Fox Mulder."
 "Yeah, he was here," the sergeant said.  "Came in with a
woman."
 "Yes, a redhead, " Scully said with a grimace.  Of course
the man would remember Phoebe.  Most men did.  "Do you know
who they met with?"
 "Jarod Coonts in records.  Popular guy today."
 "I see.  Could I be transferred to his extension?"
 "Sure.  Let me see if he's back from lunch."
 The phone clicked a couple of times and a young man came on
the line.
 "Jarod Coonts."  His voice wavered.
 "Mr. Coonts, my name is Dana Scully.  I'm Fox Mulder's
partner.  I understand that you spoke with him this
morning."
 "Uh, yeah," his voice cracked.  She could imagine the panic
on his face.
 "Mr. Coonts, I don't want to put you on the spot, I was
just wondering if Agent Mulder mentioned where he was going
when he left."
 "Uh, no.  He didn't.  The woman with him was in a big hurry
to leave, though.  They went down the back stairs."
 "They went out the back?"  Scully frowned. What the hell
was going on?
 "Yeah, some people from Scotland Yard were downstairs."  He
said Scotland Yard like it was mythical place.  "She didn't
want to talk to them and she almost dragged him down the
stairs."
 "What did the people from the Yard want?" Scully asked.  He
hesitated.
 "I'm not sure I should tell you."
 "I'm working on this case with Agent Mulder, Mr. Coonts.
You can tell me anything."
 "Look," his voice dropped to almost a whisper.  "I'm
putting my neck on the line doing this, okay?  I did it for
a friend. That's all.  Those people from England came
looking for Agent Mulder and they knew he was asking about
the Officer Milling.  They told me that Agent Mulder wasn't
on the case, that I shouldn't help him if he asked to see me
again."
 "I understand you're in a bad position," Agent Scully said
soothingly.  "But Scotland Yard has no jurisdiction in New
York.  Agent Mulder is assigned to the case for the FBI.  Do
you know if Agent Mulder found what he wanted in the, uh,
material he looked at?"
 "I don't know," Coonts voice was even softer.  "I ran off
some things for them, but it didn't seem like anything
important.  Just background stuff on Officer Milling.  His
address, his next of kin, stuff like that.  And some
incident reports.  That was all."
 "Any medical records?"
 "No," he sounded bewildered.  "We don't keep medical
records in the personnel files."
 "I see.  Did you tell the Scotland Yard people where Agent
Mulder went?"
 "No.  I-I told them that he asked to see records and I said
no and he left.  I don't think they believed me, but when
they started getting pushy my boss told them they had to get
a court order to get any information about our officers.
They got pissed and left."
 "Okay. Thank you for your time and help, Mr. Coonts. I
appreciate it."
 "Sure.  You're welcome."

Continued in Part 23...

PART TWENTY-THREE - RATED PG-13

Mulder matched his long strides to Phoebe's quicker ones as
they walked down the sidewalk.  He watched her out of the
corner of his eye and noted the frown and pursed lips.
Phoebe was worried.  Worried enough to duck out the back and
run for cover.  He wondered if he should have gone down and
talked to the Scotland Yard people.  Something told him John
Milling wouldn't try to walk into his old precinct and
impersonate an Englishman.
"Where are we going?" Mulder asked and Phoebe started in
surprise.  She stopped and looked at him.
"I'm not sure."  She waved the copies from Coonts at him.
"There's not a whole lot to go on here."
"So, let's sit down and look at what we do have," Mulder
said, and spying a small deli across the street, took her
elbow and steered her towards it.
They sat at a small table in the back, well away from the
windows.  Phoebe reluctantly handed him the sheaf of papers
and he went through them one by one before sitting back in
his chair.
"Why did you copy his initial job application and his next
of kin information?"
She shrugged and avoided his eyes.  "Another avenue to find
people who know his medical history."
Mulder nodded.  "Have you considered the possibility that he
contracted the hepatitis since he moved to England?"
"Of course, I have!"  Phoebe snapped.  "I went through his
flat and"  she froze as she realized she was admitting to a
crime.  Mulder smiled grimly.  He wasn't surprised.  She
threw him a defiant look and went on.  "I talked to his
doctor in London.  He doesn't know anything about John
having hepatitis."
"Maybe he doesn't have it," Mulder said smoothly, watching
closely for her reaction.  He got a big one.
"What?  Are you suggesting that he's not the killer?  He is
the killer, Mulder.  There's no question about that."
"But if he doesn't have hepatitis, then how can he be?"
Phoebe waved her hands.  "Just because he's not getting
treatment doesn't mean he doesn't have it, Mulder.  Or maybe
he went to another doctor I don't know about to hide his
dirty little secret.  Or maybe, maybe, the semen sample is
from someone else."
"Then you have no line of evidence," Mulder said and
Phoebe's eyes flashed angrily.
"You think I don't know that?  It's him, Mulder, and I'm
going to nail him.  There have to be records, somewhere!"
Mulder drummed his fingers on the tabletop and worried at
his bottom lip with his teeth.  Phoebe was looking out the
front of the deli as if expecting someone to come through
the front door after her.
"You're lying," Mulder said bluntly.  Phoebe's eyes flew to
his.  He didn't blink.  "You've been lying all along."
Wordlessly, Phoebe yanked back the sleeve of her suit and
thrust her ravaged wrist under his nose.
"Do you think I did this to myself?" she demanded.  "Do you
think I gave myself these bruises?"
"No," Mulder drawled, still watching her closely.  "But I
don't think you're telling me the whole story."
Her face was flushed and her eyes were sparkling at him.
Involuntarily, a memory flashed in his mind of a similar
sight.  Only the circumstances had been much different and
the reason for the flush and sparkle had certainly not been
anger.  He banished the image from his mind and focused on
the woman in front of him.  Now was not the time to let his
emotions lead him astray.
"I've told you what's important," Phoebe insisted.  She
glanced out the window again.  "I think we should go back to
the hotel and see what Scully has found out from his
ex-wives."
Mulder pulled out his wallet and put money on the table for
their drinks.  Phoebe was still looking out the window.  He
gathered up the copies and stood.  To his surprise, Phoebe
snatched the papers back as she got to her feet.  He
twitched an eyebrow at her but said nothing as he followed
her to the door.
They walked to the corner and hailed a cab.  After a couple
of tries a driver pulled up and Mulder opened the door for
her. Phoebe climbed in and he started to follow.  Just as he
ducked his head, a shove sent him sprawling onto the seat.
Before he could react, another body pushed his across the
seat, up against Phoebe, and the door slammed.  Mulder
looked up into the face of a man he presumed was John
Milling.  A 9 mm was balanced in his beefy hand.
"6903 Astoria, in Queens," the man barked at the cabby.
"Don't try anything," he said quietly to Mulder and Phoebe.
Mulder nodded and shifted himself into a more upright
position.  He was crushed against Phoebe and he felt her
wiggle in discomfort.  With the three of them in the
backseat it was close quarters.  Reluctantly, he realized he
was going to have to get closer still to Phoebe.
"I'm going to raise my arm," Mulder said to Milling.  "Just
to make it more comfortable."  Milling nodded, his blue eyes
darting from Mulder's face to Phoebe's pale one.  Slowly,
Mulder raised his left arm and let it fall around Phoebe's
shoulders.  She snuggled next to him, letting her hand fall
on his thigh as she had earlier that morning.  Mulder
shifted in the seat and turned his head to look at Milling.
"What's in Queens?"
"You'll find out soon enough," Milling growled.  "No
talking."
Mulder turned back to look at Phoebe.  A thin film of sweat
slicked her face and she licked her lips nervously.  He
noted that she had slipped the copies into her bag.  He
looked forward then, through the windshield of the cab.
Scully was going to kill him for this.

Her phone rang and she snatched it up before the first trill
ended.
"Mulder?" she barked into the phone.
"It's me, Scully," Skinner said.  "Where is Agent Mulder?"
Scully cursed her impulsive greeting.  "I don't know, Sir."
"He ditched you?"  Anger creeped into the AD's voice.
Scully winced.
"No, sir.  We split up to work on the case and I haven't
been able to reach him."
"I see.  Where did he go?"
Scully closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.  As always, it
was left to her to walk the thin line between truth and
trust with their boss.  Mulder had agreed that they needed
to stay in touch with Skinner, but she knew he would not
want her to tell the senior agent about Phoebe.
"To the precinct where Milling worked. He had a contact,
someone who could get him access to the records that Phoebe
wanted."
"I see."
"I've talked to both of Millings ex-wives.  I didn't really
find out much."
"When was Agent Mulder due back?"
Scully glanced at her watch.  "We didn't have a set time.
I'm not really that concerned, Sir.  It may have taken him a
while to get access to the records."
"I'll pretend to believe that statement as long as you do,"
Skinner said, dryly.  "I may have some information that can
help you."
Scully sat up. "I'm all ears, sir."
"Phoebe Green was pulled off the case because she was
involved with Milling."   Scully slumped.  It was all
re-hash of what she already knew.  But Skinner continued.
"She's been charged with withholding evidence and
obstructing the investigation."
"I see," Scully said.
"I've got some more news on Milling.  Customs has him coming
back into the country via JFK five days ago.  No one has
seen him since.  Scotland Yard got permission from the
Justice Department to send a team over and they arrived
yesterday."
"They were at the Brooklyn precinct today," Scully said.
"Asking about Mulder."  She paused.  "But not about Phoebe."

"I told you, Agent Scully.  Someone, whether it's the
Tisbury police, or someone else, has been telling the Yard
that Mulder is the onus behind the US portion of the
investigation.  I'm having a hard time selling the whole
Phoebe coercion story to the brass."
"That's because everyone is trying to save their own ass!"
Scully snapped.  "Scotland Yard doesn't want to admit
they've got an Inspector out of control. The NYPD doesn't
want to admit they had a rogue cop and the Bureau is only
too happy to serve up Mulder as the bad guy because of his
past reputation."
"I can't disagree with you, Agent Scully.  But that is still
what we have to deal with."
Scully clenched her teeth, seething.  She wanted to walk
away from this.  Right now.  To hell with Phoebe and her
maniac boyfriend.  To hell with the Yard and the Bureau and
all of them.  Mulder had sought out a lot of trouble in his
life, and more than once she had warned him; he who lives by
the sword, dies by it.  But this time he - they - had been
minding their own business, and they didn't deserve this
crap.
"There's something else," Skinner said when she made no
reply.  "I don't know if it's significant, but my sources
tell me that Phoebe had been acting erratically even before
this case.  Apparently there was a big scandal with her
family earlier this year."
Scully was all ears again.  "Go on," she said.
"Several million pounds was embezzled from her family trust.
The man still hasn't been caught.
Scully bit her lip to keep from laughing.  "Phoebe's broke?"

"Not by the average person's definition," Skinner said.
"But compared to what she was used to, yes."
Scully's mind whirled over the possibilities.  What had
Phoebe said to her about Mulder?  That now he was well-to-do
and unencumbered?  Did Phoebe want him back for his money?
Even as she thought it, Scully pushed the idea aside.  Even
if he sold both of his parents' homes and all their
possessions, he still wouldn't be rich by Phoebe's
standards.  Not even by half.
"I'm not sure what that means, either, Sir," she said.  "But
I'll keep it mind."
"Keep me posted," Skinner said and they disconnected.
Scully sat in her chair and absently chewed on a thumbnail.
Phoebe without money.  She couldn't even imagine it. Her
thoughts went to Julie.  She had been born with a silver
spoon in her mouth too, and she had done what Scully
basically considered to be pimping both herself and her
children to get back into that silver lined world.  What
would Phoebe do to stay there?
Suddenly, a feeling a panic swept over her.  She had to talk
to Mulder. Now.  They had to compare notes and she had to
get him away from Phoebe. There were too many loose ends and
she needed his analytical mind to bring them together. She
dialed his number again and got his voice mail.  Damn it.
Where was he?
Her email chimed and she glanced at the computer.  Langley
had sent something else.  She clicked to open it.

Scully,
 We did some more snooping on Milling.  After he retired, he
opened a detective agency with another former cop.  We've
attached a copy of their license and some info.  Maybe the
other guy is still around and can give you info on Milling.
We've also attached two press clippings from the London
Times about Milling being suspected as the killer.  Hope
this helps.


The Guys

Scully opened the first attachment and scanned it.  It was a
private detective license granted by the State of New York.
First Defense Detective Agency, owner/operators John Alan
Milling and Michael Jacob Cole.  There was an address in
Queens.
She opened the second attachment.  It was a brief article,
apparently in a law enforcement magazine about the First
Defense Detective Agency just opening in New York.  Mike
Cole and John Milling were both former NYPD retired now
taking their skills into the private sector.
The third attachment was a London Times headline about a
suspect in the serial killings.  Milling's name was not
mentioned.  The fourth attachment was an article from two
days later, naming Milling as the suspect and Phoebe Green
as the lead investigator.  Scully scrolled through the
article, finding nothing new.  A picture started to load at
the bottom and she waited while the black and white image
focused and sharpened.  It showed a man dressed in a suit
and topcoat striding purposefully out of an office
building.  The caption read 'Chief suspect in the Handcuff
serial killings, John Milling, leaving the posh offices of
Milling Publishing'
Scully stared at the man's face.  It was broad, with a
strong nose and piercing eyes.  He was heavily built,
swarthy even, despite the elegant clothes.  Her eyes went
back to the face.  She pulled the picture Julie had given
her out of her bag and held it up to the screen.
It was not the same man.

Continued in Part 24...

PART TWENTY-FOUR- RATED NC-17 for language and sexual
assault.  The scene is not overly graphic, but the scenes
are there and I don't want anyone surprised.



Mulder watched with slightly narrowed eyes as Milling tied
Phoebe's hands together with a piece of rope.  He jerked the
last knot extra hard and Phoebe gasped in pain. A half smile
played across the man's lips as he checked and re-checked
his knots. Satisfied that she wasn't going anywhere, he
stepped back to survey his work.
The dusty basement offices of the old brownstone were dimly
lit by sunshine filtering through the dirty windows set high
in the wall.  Almost feels like home, Mulder mused as his
eyes swept over the room.
This was the far back office in the so-called suite that
Milling had unlocked with a key.  He had marched them
through a reception area and down a short hallway past
another office to this one.  A large Formica topped desk and
a heavy, high backed black leather office chair caked in
dust were the only pieces of furniture.
Phoebe was tied to the chair.  Her eyes blazed up at Milling
as he stood over her and she made a sound low in her
throat.  No doubt she was cursing him with aristocratic
flair, but the bandana gag prevented her from sharing her
thoughts.
Mulder looked at his own hands, cuffed together in front of
his body.  Another set of cuffs looped through the first and
attached to the ancient radiator set into the wall.  Mulder
sat on the floor, his right should pressed up against the
radiator.  A matching bandana gag was forcing his jaws apart
and they had already started to ache.
"Now that went well," Milling said, smirking at both of
them.  "I appreciate cooperation.  I really do."
Two pairs of eyes tracked him as he went to Phoebe's bag on
the desk.  He opened it and dumped out everything.  Quickly
he pushed aside her cosmetics, stuffed her gun in his belt
next to Mulder's and opened the sheaf of papers.  His face
darkened as he flipped through them.  He spun around to
glare at Phoebe.
"You nosy little bitch," he snapped.  "I'm going to castrate
that puke, Coonts."  He threw the papers down on the desk
and leaned over Phoebe.  "You know, don't you?  Little Miss
Inspector?  Miss Scotland Yard?  You think you've got it all
figured out, don't you?"
Phoebe held his gaze but Mulder could see the tension in her
face and body.  Whatever her reasons for keeping Mulder in
the dark, she was really and truly afraid of Milling and
that put a cold chill down his spine.  He couldn't recall
ever having seen Phoebe scared of anyone before.
Milling turned to look at Mulder.  "And you.  What the fuck
is your problem, huh?  The great Fox Mulder."  He paused and
guffawed.  "You think I didn't know who you were?  As soon
as I heard Miss Busybody here was in the States, I knew who
she'd coming running to."  He stalked across the room to
Mulder until the toes of his Italian loafers nudged against
Mulder's leg.  When Mulder pulled his leg away, Milling
kicked him.  Hard.   "You have any fucking idea how much she
talks about you?"
Mulder met his gaze evenly and tried to keep his face
passive.  Even if he had not been gagged, his normal smart
ass retort would have stayed unspoken.  He didn't have a
bead on Milling yet and there was no knowing how he would
react to a challenge.
Milling kicked him again  before turning to look back at
Phoebe.  "Look at her, would you?" he said softly.  "What a
fucking great piece of ass."  He smiled, as though at old
memories.  "And a fucking animal in bed."  He pivoted back
to Mulder.  "But you know that, don't you, Lover Boy? Pissed
me off, having to hear about it all the damn time."
Milling walked across the room to Phoebe whose eyes were
trained on his face.  Milling cupped her hand in his face
and Phoebe jerked her head away.  He laughed and grabbed her
jaw, forcing her to look up at him.
"I got you right where I want you, Phoebes," he said
softly.  "And we're going to have some fun before it's
over.  Okay?  You were there. You know what kind of fun Im
talking about, don't you?"  His fingers bit into her skin.
Phoebe stared back at him, but tears glistened in her eyes.
Grainy images of the crime scenes sharpened in Mulder's mind
and knew they were blazing across Phoebe's memory.  She had
stood in those apartments and seen those women first hand.
Now she had to be seeing herself in their place.
Milling leaned over until his face was even with hers.  He
leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her forehead,
her nose and against her lips stretched by the gag.  Phoebe
closed her eyes and swallowed hard.  Mulder forced himself
to watch.
"You could have stayed out of it, Phoebes.  But no, you had
to come chasing me across the pond."  His finger traced the
same trail that his lips had taken only to continue over her
chin, down her throat to her breasts.  He gripped her right
breast in his large hand and squeezed hard.  Phoebe made a
sound of pain and he smiled.
"Whatsa matter, Phoebe?  Don't want to play rough now?  You
like it rough, remember?"  He leaned over quickly and bit
her breast, drawing a gasp from Phoebe.  She tried to twist
her body away from him and only succeeded in making the
chair slowly spin.  He gripped the edge of the chair and
sent it spinning quickly, standing back to watch as she spun
to a stop.  He cocked an index finger at her, leering as he
did so.
"We're gonna have fun.  Later."  He turned to look around
the room and seeming satisfied with what he found, picked up
the sheaf of papers on the desk and walked to the door.
"I'll be back in a little while.  You kids have fun now."
He winked.  "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."  He grinned
at Phoebe.  "But then, there isn't anything you haven't done
with either one of us, is there Phoebe?"  He offered a
jaunty salute and pulled the door closed.  A key turned the
deadbolt and they listened as his footsteps died.
 Phoebe jerked herself around in the chair, testing her
bonds.  Mulder watched quietly as she did so.  He had
already tried pulling against the radiator and knew that it
was set solidly into the floor. There was no way either it
or the cuffs were going to give.
 Phoebe contorted her body, pushing and straining against
the ropes that wound around her torso and legs.  Milling had
done a thorough job and Mulder wanted to tell her to stop,
to save her strength.  For what, he wasn't exactly sure.
 He surveyed the room again, looking for something to help
them.  The room was bare and he wondered it hadn't always
been.  The sign on the reception door had read First Defense
Detective Agency.  Had Milling been a part of the agency or
had it been a front for something else?  Maybe he had
founded it after his "retirement".  But why keep the offices
for so long?  And why keep them when you were living an
ocean away?
 He heard Phoebe grunt with exertion and looked back over at
her.  She was twisting, trying to reach her feet but the
bonds were too tight.  Their eyes met and hers were filled
with frustration.  She jerked her hands at her feet, trying
to indicate something to Mulder.  He shook his head.
 Phoebe threw her body forward causing the chair to jerk
forward a couple of inches.  A light flashed in her eyes and
she did it again.  Inch by inch, she urged the chair across
the room to Mulder until the casters were next to his hip.
He looked up at her, waiting.
 Phoebe twisted the chair around until her right leg was
next to him.  She bobbed her head at him, her eyes going to
her ankle.  He frowned and she repeated the look before her
eyes flew back to him.  He stretched his hands as far as the
cuffs would allow and was stopped several inches short of
her leg.
 Phoebe made a noise in her throat and hopped the chair
closer to Mulder, the cold steel of the base pressing
against his leg.  He twisted around, pulling his lower body
back to let her bring the chair closer.  They strained and
grunted until his fingers brushed her pants leg.  She made a
high noise in her throat and he knew he was in the right
place.  His fingers numbing from lack of blood, he stretched
them until they caught the hem of her pants and pushed the
fabric up.  Sweat beaded up on his brow and a drop slid into
his eye, stinging.
His fingers crept upwards along her leg, the nap of her
nylons rough to the touch.  Suddenly, he could feel the edge
of a hard, narrow object outside the stocking.  He strained
further, his hands screaming in protest as his fingers
closed around the outline of a knife.  He gripped the
leather of the holster and tugged it down until the handle
of the knife slid against his fingers.  More sweat coursed
down his face as he pulled the blade free.
 He leaned back for a moment, shaking the perspiration out
of his eyes and was surprised to find himself breathing
hard.  Above him, Phoebe was huffing too and their eyes
locked.  Relief filled hers and something else that he
couldn't name.
 He licked his lips and positioned the knife in his left
hand.  The single piece of rope tying her to the chair
snaked up and around her body.  Steadying his hand as best
he could Mulder attacked the closest part of the rope,
sawing it back and forth and feeling the weight lifting in
his chest as each strand popped free.
 The last strand broke and Phoebe exploded into motion.  She
flailed against the bonds and lashed out first with her feet
and then her arms as the rope gave way and fell to the
floor.  She shot out of the chair and kicked it away before
turning back to Mulder.  Her hands, tied tight with a
separate rope, were still bound in front of her and she
crouched in front of him to let him saw them off.
 Her hands free, Phoebe reached up and yanked the gag out of
her mouth.
 "Ow, fuck!  Fuck!"  she nearly screamed.  "That BASTARD!"
She rubbed her mouth vigorously.  "I feel as if I've eaten a
bag of cotton balls."
 Mulder made a sound and she looked down at him as if
suddenly remembering that he was there.  She knelt in front
of him and pulled the gag from his mouth.  He spit out the
fibers of cotton that stuck to his lips and tongue and
worked his jaw from side to side.
 "You really know how to pick 'em, Phoebes," he said, still
stretching his jaw.
 "Right," she said tersely.  He looked up at her and was
surprised to see fury shining in her eyes.
 "Phoebe?" he asked tentatively.  This was not the reaction
he had expected.  She shook her head violently and stared at
him, a muscle in her jaw twitching.  He looked over her
shoulder at the desk and then back to her.  "Do you have a
key for these type of cuffs?"
 She looked down at his hands still imprisoned by the steel
bracelets.   "No.  I didn't bring cuffs with me to the
states.  They'll have to be cut off."
 Mulder nodded his head towards the desk.  "My phone is
there.  Call Scully.   She'll get people here ASAP."
 Phoebe got to her feet and went to the desk.  He watched as
she slowly picked up his phone and then put it down.
 "Phoebe?"  He felt a twitch in his chest.  "Phoebe, call
Scully."
 She turned to look at him, her eyes wide and dark and he
saw a glimpse of the fury that had reigned there moments
ago.  What the fuck is going on with her?  He thought.  What
hasn't she told me?
 "I can't," Phoebe said firmly.  She shook her head for
emphasis.  "I can't call Scully, Mulder.  I can't let you
leave here."
 "What?"  He stared at her as if she had just announced she
was the Virgin Mary. "The hell you can't!"
 "I've got to do something first.  I have to."  She had
turned away from him and was gathering her things and
putting them back into her bag.  "I'll be back as soon as I
can."  She stopped.  "No, I'll send someone.  I'll call
Scully when it's time."
 "Time for what?"  Mulder growled. "What the hell are you
talking about, Phoebe?"
 She had the bag over her shoulder now and was straightening
her jacket and hair.  Her injured wrists, newly reddened by
the latest assault, were hidden back under her designer
jacket.
 "Phoebe, damnit, you can't leave me here.  What do you
think he's going to do when he comes back here and finds you
gone?  He's going to be pissed, Phoebe, and he's going to
take it out on me."
 "No he won't," she said firmly.  "He won't come back here.
As soon as he finds out that I'm gone, he'll come after me.
He'll forget you're even here."
 "Why?"  Mulder's eyes narrowed on her.  "What the fuck is
going on, Phoebe?  Tell me, damnit.  I'm tired of being in
the dark."
 She crossed the room to him decisively, her steps firm and
sure.  She crouched next to him and to his surprise, took
his face in her hand much as Milling had done to her minutes
ago.  Mulder stared up at her, not bothering to hide the
anger and frustration in his eyes.
 "I am so bloody tired of being humiliated," she muttered,
her eyes roving over his face.  He could feel her breath on
his face and was about to ask her to explain her comment
when she swiftly lowered her head and her lips claimed his.
 Mulder felt his body tense involuntarily as he tried to
pull back.  But Phoebe had a firm grip on his chin and her
lips plundered his, forcing his mouth open.  Her tongue
darted into his mouth and assailed it, sweeping over his
tongue and teeth.  He tried to twist his head and she bit
his lip, causing him to jump.  The warm copper taste of his
blood coated their tongues and she made a content sound in
her throat before pulling her mouth from his.
 He stared up at her dilated eyes and bruised lips and found
himself flashing on another memory from so many years ago.
Phoebe rising above him framed by the bare trees in the
park, moonlight spilling shadows over her face as she
gripped him with her inner muscles and ground him against
the unyielding snow.
 "So you do remember," she murmured triumphantly and a small
smile curved her lips.  "I didn't think you could forget how
good we were together."
 "That was a lifetime ago," he said willing his breathing to
slow.  Somehow, he had to get her to trust him enough to
tell him what was going on.  Only then could he convince her
to call someone for help.
 She leaned over him and the fingers of her left hand slowly
crept up his thigh to his hip where they painted circles
against the cloth, pressing deeper and deeper into his flesh
with each stroke.
 "No, Fox, only a few years.  Not so long ago."
 Her breath brushed against his face and he felt his stomach
lurch.  Did she even know she was mimicking Milling?  And so
the abused becomes the abuser.
Her fingers wandered across his hip to his lower abdomen,
inching closer and closer to his zipper.  Mulder tensed, but
willed himself to breathe slowly and deeply.
 "I remember it all very clearly," she was saying, her lips
brushing against his ear.  In spite of himself the hair on
the back of his neck rose and felt a corresponding twitch in
his crotch as his body betrayed him.  Her fingers slid
closer and he turned his face to look up into her half-open
eyes.
 "Don't do this, Phoebe," he said softly.  "Don't."
 Her eyes snapped open then and they filled with anger.
They stared wordlessly at each other for several moments,
her hand scant inches from his crotch.  He saw her chest
rise and fall with several quick breaths and color stained
her cheeks.
 Her right hand, which had relaxed its grip on his face
resumed its previous task and she anchored his head.
 "Don't do what?" she said through clenched teeth.  "Don't
do this?"
 Mulder gasped as her left hand closed around his cock and
gripped tightly.  He felt his breath coming in gaps as she
slid her hand up and down his rapidly hardening length,
squeezing and tugging him at just the right times.  He
gritted his teeth and mentally berated his traitor body.
 "Don't tell me you don't like that," she said, punctuating
each word.  "Because the body doesn't lie."
 "Yes it does," he ground out, his hazel eyes blazing at
her.  "I'd have the same reaction if I was rubbing up
against a tree."
 She slapped him, rocking his head back.  He closed his eyes
against the stinging, grateful that it had replaced the
pressure on his crotch.  Slowly he opened his eyes and
brought his head forward until they were eye to eye again.
Phoebe's eyes were brimming with tears but anger was all
over her face.  She smiled suddenly through it all, twisting
her face into a funhouse mirror image of a smile.
 "If I only had the time, Mulder.  I'd prove you wrong."
She got to her feet.  "But I have things to do and very
little time."  She strode to the door, and snapped the
deadbolt open.  She turned back to look at him, the door in
her hand, and tears glistened brightly in her eyes.  "I'll
see you around, Mulder.  I've been to see you twice now.
It's your turn."
 She turned and walked out the door, pulling it closed
behind her.  Mulder blew out a breath of air and let his
head fall back against the cold steel of the radiator.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  I apologize for taking so long to post these
parts.  Life intruded this week (how dare it!) and I didnt
get to write until today.  These sections are longer than
normal to make up, though, so please forgive me and keep
reading.  For those who have asked that I haven't replied to
(cringing in embarassment, I'm sorry I haven't written you
back) yes, I will reveal the meaning of the title in the
story. We are entering the home stretch for those of you
wondering when the heck this thing is ever going to end. As
always, all mistakes are mine, no beta has touched these
pages...

Continued in Part 25...