From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org
Date: 28 Jun 2007 21:08:41 -0000
Subject: Behind the Looking Glass by Wendiae Part
Source: direct

Reply To: Wendiae@yahoo.com


Behind the Looking Glass 
by Wendiae
MSR
Rated R
Spoliers; Never Again.

Summary: After returning from Philadelphia Scully is 
unsure of her reaction to Mulder's anger and takes an 
assignment away from him unintentionally placing herself 
in grave danger. 

Note: This is a finished story. I will post it in parts, 
the first this week and the following two in the next 
two weeks. 

Feedback would be treasured at wendiae@yahoo.com
--------------------------------------------------------------



Thursday November 12th 0423
----------------------------


*Bored* Scully thought for the hundredth time that hour. It wasn't 
the first thing she had expected when she had accepting this 
assignment but for the last six days it had been her overriding 
emotion.  

*Fear*
*Suspicion*
*Anxiety*

Maybe but tedium no. 

The novelty of undercover work had worn off within the first 24 
hours and now as much as  she had to refused to admit it she realised
part of her reason for being here was to distract herself from him. 

She missed her apartment. She missed her car. Her own clothes. She 
missed him.  

It didn't help that his fury at her recent trip to Philadelphia 
though now diminished to simering rage had apparently not faded 
enough to enquire about her whereabouts. 

Six days and no word. Katherine Hall had dutifully turned up to work 
at Boston ER returned home to her one bedroom department but nothing 
out of the ordinary had happened. No sociopaths with a penchant for 
redheads and no apologetic partner. 

She sighed as she turned the key in the lock grateful that another 
graveyard shift had ended. She glanced at the clock as her trainers 
made contact with the wooden floor; 4am. Wanting to avoid the glare 
of the overhead lights she flicked on identical lamps that both 
appeared to have been wired in the fifties. The lounge was spacious 
but furniture sparse, an overstuffed and slightly threadbare sofa, a 
table, four chairs and a computer desk. Still unused to not finding 
her own furniture behind the front door Scully took it all in  for 
a moment. The bedroom lay a short walk down the hallway to her left 
but her eyes finally fell on a stack of files sitting on the table. 

Katherine Hall's life filled the thinnest file and was dull. Well 
maybe that was a little  unfair but certainly Scully's version of 
it was. Katherine was being stalked. She was 28  years old, 5 foot 4 
and a bottle dyed red head. Not a perfect match but what was 
striking was that her face was remarkably similar to Scully's. 
Tenuous she had thought at first but  the case had piqued her 
interest. Katherine worked nights as an ER nurse, she had no  
family but owned a one bedroom apartment and a cat. For the 
last two weeks Katherine thought she being watched and when she 
told the police they took in her appearance, recent events and 
believed her. 

Enter SAC Perkins, a task force of twenty agents, twice as many 
local PD and six dead women Scully mentally dramatised. 

She glanced again at the table of files and then the bedroom, Dana
 Scully won over Katherine Hall and she pulled up a chair. 

Katherine's stalker seemed to have lost interest leaving Scully 
with little involvement in  the investigation and more time with 
her own thoughts. 

Each file under Katherine's was larger than the first, a testament 
to time since death she pondered.  More evidence pieced together 
the longer the crime unsolved. Anne Marsden had waited the longest 
for justice. The details of her autopsy report she didn't need to  
review, it read the same as those sitting above it. Multiple 
abrasions to both wrists and ankles, trace evidence collected 
from the wounds and the pattern consistent with rope bindings. 
The configuration and colouring of the bruising suggests 
prolonged captivity. They were words she could have dictated 
herself. 

Abruptly Scully flipped open Katherine's file forcibly stopping 
the narrative of violent death. Focus on the living she thought, 
it wasn't her usual approach but then this wasn't a usual case and 
the last six days had made her uneasy. Bored and uneasy.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Thursday November 12th 
09:30
Washington DC
-----------------------

  "Where is she?" 

It was becoming his standard opening line and on hospital staff and 
local law enforcement it was worked.

On Walter Skinner it did not.

  "Get out of my office Agent Mulder." Each word low and exact.

As always Mulder ignored orders. The first two days it had been 
the weekend, Monday he  figured she  was avoiding him at Quantico, 
Tuesday he thought at a stretch she was still  there. He had been 
annoyed that she had turned her phone off. When she wasn't back 
by day five, Wednesday he began to panic. Today was Thursday.

  "Tell me where she is." He repeated louder but with some of 
the anger replaced by pleading. 

His boss didn't answer, instead he kept his eyes focused on his 
paperwork and his expression featureless. 

Mulder remained still, mentally debating the value of baiting him 
further. Even in her  absence Scully's voice whispered in his ear 
cautioning him. Clenching and unclenching his  fists he stood 
for a minute longer then abruptly turned to leave. 

  "Agent Scully has been temporarily reassigned." Skinners quiet 
reply caught him as he reached the door.

  "Where?" He said without turning.

  "That will be all Agent Mulder."

He walked quickly through the bustle of the Hoover building 
corridors. As usual the  elevator to the basement offered him 
solitude.

  "Goddamit Scully." he said out loud as the lift doors closed. 

Once the Philadelphian physician had given her the all clear and 
he knew that she would  survive the nausea that had seemed to have 
taken up permanent residence in his stomach subsided only to 
replaced by something darker. He let it simmer, avoiding any 
self recrimination or analysis at first. But the Oxford 
educated psychologist in him couldn't leave it for long. 

All this because I didn't get you a desk. 

That wasn't fair but he had wanted to provoke her. Wanted her 
to shout back to offer him some explanation or insight.

She had answered him quietly but with finality, the subject 
apparently was closed for discussion.

With only his thoughts he was left to his own conclusions. Maybe 
he didn't know his usually cautious partner as well as he thought 
he did. Maybe this act of rebellion was a regular occurrence. 
But maybe it was a reflection on her life, her job, his files.

Not everything is about you, she had said. But maybe this was.

  "If you wanted my attention Scully, you have it." He mumbled 
angrily to no one. You always have his brain added automatically.

Now she was gone again, only this time he didn't know where, 
though he suspected why. Whatever he should have said five days 
ago he hadn't. 

He didn't suppose that she had gone on a beach trip with an Ed 
clone, but he knew she was feeling reckless and that worried him. 
He had enough personal experience to know in their line of work 
it was easy to find a dangerous situation when you wanted to.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Thursday November 12th 
12:15
Boston

------------------------------

Scully was due to meet her contact at midday. Less than three 
hours sleep and a temperature forecast below zero had make her 
grumpy. She suspected Claude was about to make her mood worse. 
A narcotics detective her primary contact had been chosen for 
is lack of connection with homicide and the FBI certainly not 
for his personal charm.

Claude seemed to base his professional demeanour on he grittier 
side of NYPD blue and he  wasn't interested in playing the good 
cop. It didn't help she suspected that he aspired to work in 
homicide but babysitting her as he had put it, was likely the 
closest he would come. 

She missed her partner. He would have grinned when she requested 
he sneak her into the morgue. 

Ooh Agent Scully rule breaking are you trying to corrupt me. 
She could see his smile, hear the seductive tone he reserved for 
those moments she managed to surprise him.

But Mulder was in DC and she was in Boston and Claude wasn't 
amused. He had looked at her  as if she had suggested committing 
murder herself. 

Claude didn't think women had much of a place in law enforcement. 

With your current role that isn't allowed Miss Scully. Was his 
irritated reply, managing  all at once to convey that he felt she 
best served his city by looking pretty, being  vulnerable and 
leaving the real investigating to the boys. Irked Scully had managed 
to bite her tongue only with the thought that he was actually about 
as much use to this investigation as she currently felt. 

Her slight sense of satisfaction had vanished when she then had 
to report that she had nothing to report. Claude had nodded 
curtly and made a hasty exit arranging to meet her at a different 
time and different place two days later. 

So now she sat as far back from the windows as she could 
eyeing the roadside dinner with its garish decoration and 
sparse patrons wondering why he was late. Thirty minutes and two  
cups of coffee late. She couldn't bring herself to order anything 
else from the laminated pick by picture menu.  

To her left was the bar with its slightly frayed stools, dead 
ahead the front door and to the right a row of tables. But it 
was the payphone in the corner that caught her  
attention.  

Mulder.

It would be a breach of protocol. She remembered the recent 
short briefing work and the more detailed theory from her days of 
training.

Do not phone a friend, contact no one from your real life. 

But he didn't even know she was here. A sudden stab of guilt 
caught her off guard. She could have told him, maybe not the 
details but the reason for her absence. Her subconscious argued 
back, this was Mulder, if he had wanted to find her he would have. 

She had been angry. Angry with herself, her poor judgement. 
Angry with Mulder, maybe irrationally so but he hadn't been 
there to stop her and he hadn't been sympathetic. He had been 
hurt and he lashed out so she left. 

A bit of time apart she rationalised. Time for her to calm 
down, work things through so that they made sense to her 
before she had to face him again. 

Had she? Could she call him up and listen to his voice and 
not be disappointed to hear the cold disdain that had last 
greeted her. Could she find the words to mend things.

She pushed the coins that lay on the table with an unmanicured 
finger, her subconscious sorted out the quarters from the rest.

One call, she thought. 

The door opened loudly and a gust of cold wind rushed through 
the diner. A man dressed in a suit that still managed to be 
two sizes too big for him despite his 250 pound frame entered. 
His face was flushed and Scully assumed he had been rushing, 
the balding hair stuck out with perspiration. 

Scully took her hands away from the change and placed them in 
her lap. 

 "Miss Scully." Claude said curtly as he slid heavily into the 
seat opposite hers. 

She nodded acknowledging his presence then looked round 
searching for any sign he may have been followed.

  "We do not think you interest Carlos." He started abruptly. 
She caught the hidden undercurrent that suggested she was 
doing things wrong.

Carlos wasn't the monsters real name but although Claude 
didn't seem to mind addressing  her accurately in public he 
seemed to have reservations about doing them same with their  
killer. 

  "In fact your services may no longer by required." 

She wasn't sure he entirely meant this but it lifted her spirits. 

  "Tell me about the investigation." 

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Thursday 12th November 
14:32
Washington DC


-------------------------

It was still working hours when Mulder turned up at the 
gunmen's headquarters. He tried her cellphone for 
the hundredth time before ringing their buzzer. The 
reply was still the same, the network informed him again 
that the customer he sought was not available. 

He clipped the phone shut as he punched the bell. It was 
a few seconds before Langley's voice sounding oddly tinny answered. 

  "Let me in." He replied anxiety making him irritable.

The buzzer answered him and he made his way quickly through 
the rabbit warren warehouse  that housed the gunman's liar. 
Byer's met him at their front door looking serious. 

  "Did you get it." Mulder said by way of greeting. 

  "Good afternoon Agent Mulder." Byer's replied formally as 
Mulder pushed passed him and paced to the centre of the large room. 

As always it looked like a cross between a NASA command centre 
and a student dormitory. Langley hovered over a printer and 
seemed to be collating a number of pages. Frohike had swung around 
on his chair and was now rocking back and forwards looking like he 
had something to say.

  "Did you get it?" He tried again.

  "Mulder she's safe." Byer's answered warily shutting the door 
and as always looking oddly out of place in his pressed suit.

   "Its a temporary reassignment, she should be back in a few 
weeks." 

He left didn't question Mulder's sudden urgency nor did he ask 
why his partner had not told him where she was going. The bond 
between Mulder and Dana Scully was not one Byer's understood, 
he didn't think that even they did. As much as Mulder would 
talk for hours about alien abduction his relationship with his 
partner had always been a subject that was strictly off limits. 
Accessing Scully's personal files had felt like a violation,  
especially when he had read the latest entries. 

  "I need to find her John."

Frohike and Langley exchanged a glance that Mulder chose to 
ignore.

Byers paused for an instant and Mulder watched as he seemed to 
fight some sort of internal battle. Apparently Mulder and his 
demands won out over integrity.

  "Boston." 

Byers nodded towards Langley. "

  "She's working with the Boston office." He continued.

Langley shuffled the sheets of paper together and added them 
to a candy stripped file, allowing Mulder time to briefly 
wonder how they got hold of one of his folders before passing 
it all to him. 

  "Did she choose this." He asked without opening the folder, 
wondering angrily why he was finding this out from Byers 
instead of Scully

  "She's working with an Agent Perkins and his team 
assisting on a serial killer case." Byer's avoided his question.

Some of the tension ebbed from Mulder's shoulders. A pathology 
consult he thought. She was angry and had run off to Boston to 
lick her wounds. Maybe she just needed sometime alone. He wondered 
about following her, whether she would welcome his help. He could 
just imagine his stubborn partner greeting him with reserve, 
distance and then completely ignoring the events that had driven 
them apart. 

Denial thy name is Scully.

He noticed Frohike and Langley were still exchanging looks. 

  "What." He said irked.

They remained silent for a minute longer. 

  "She's working undercover." Frohike said at last and too quickly.

  "What." Mulder repeated much louder. 

  "Read the file Mulder." Byers contributed softly. 

Mulder turned on him his eyes blazing.

  "Summarize for me." He answered caustically.

Byers sighed and gestured for Mulder to take a seat on one of the 
slightly stained sofas. Mulder didn't move an inch.

  "There have been six murders in the last two years."

  "That's a long time frame, how did they link them?" 
Mulder interrupted straight away. Byers gave him a look 
that suggested he sympathised with Skinner. 
 
  "All women, they were held captive, raped and murdered. Two in 
the last two months." Byers stopped and seemed to be searching for 
how to continue. He swallowed back bile and looked at his feet, 
violent death didn't agree with him. 

  "A little sketchy on details John." Mulder said softer this time. 

  "Read the file Mulder." He repeated.

Nodding and making a decision Mulder started to leave.

  "I'll read it on the plane. 

  "Mulder." Frohike stopped him before he reached the door, 
an odd note in his voice. Mulder turned around to see both 
Byers and Langley glaring at their colleague. He began to wish
 they would stop doing that but he saw Frohike was holding 
something. He was sure he knew what it was.

Frohike got up and slowly handed him another plainer file 
a serious expression on his face. Mulder felt his heart beat 
speed up and his palms sweat. Forcing his eyes downwards the 
one and only title word confirmed his suspicion. 

Philadelphia. 

He understood the tension in the room, his friends had got 
more information than they expected when he asked them to 
find his partner. They must have argued about sharing it. 

  "Have you read this?" He asked the shorter man at the same 
time realising his fingers were shaking.

Frohike nodded not meeting his friends eyes.

  "Whatever it says she wasn't unfaithful to me." He said quietly.

--------------------------------------------------------------- 

Thursday 12th November
15:02
Katherine Hall's apartment, Boston
------------------------------------

Scully returned from her meeting with Claude exhausted. The 
combination of graveyard shifts and midday outings did 
not go well. Forced by necessity to brave the local grocery  
stores she had gotten lost and it was nearing three in the 
afternoon by the time she returned home. 

Katherine's small apartment looked exactly as it had when 
she had left. She sighed and deposited the small bag of 
purchases on the table. A quick glance at her watch and a  
mental calculation told her she had to be back at work in 
five hours. Not bothering to unpack the bag she headed for 
the bedroom determined to get a few hours sleep before her  
alarm roused her.  

----------------------------------------------------------

Thursday 12th November 
21:10
Washington DC Airport
---------------------- 

Mulder was glad for the half empty plane. It gave him the 
opportunity to read through the Boston case file without 
the worry that anyone would catch a glance at the grisly 
crime  scene photo's. And they were gruesome. But it wasn't 
the blood, vacant eyes or unnatural body position that 
caught his eyes. For the first half hour he couldn't look 
at the victims as a profiler, all he saw was their hair, 
different shades but all bright and all red. 

Shuffling the glossy images to the back of the file and 
hiding them away for the tenth time he began to read 
the autopsy reports. 

Anne, Tanya-Rae, Jamiela, Sara, Eleanor and Freya. He 
forcibl stopped himself from adding Dana to the end of the 
list. They had all died the same way and now that he had  
read the file he understood why the link between their 
deaths had been made. 

These six women had been abducted, stolen away from their 
lives and held at the will of a monster. They had not 
died quickly, in fact they had not even died the same 
day, three to four days had been the medical examiners 
estimation. He had played with them, marked them as his
 own. Mulder wondered if he had given them hope of survival 
as he tortured them. Had he coaxed and cajoled them 
promising freedom for submission. There had been marks by 
each women's temples, the coroner thought they were 
finger impressions, Mulder wondered if they were blind 
folded. There were no trace fibres found in the 
oropharnyx. No gag, he had wanted to hear them scream, 
to hear them beg but not to see their eyes. Mulder 
mentally stored this contradiction as he continued to 
read through the pages. The ropes that bound their 
wrists and ankles had been loosely tied allowing them 
to struggle but the knife marks were precise linear 
cuts with no evidence of hesitation. He added this 
piece of information to the profile that was beginning 
to form in his mind. 

The air stewardess interrupted his line of thought by 
offering him a beverage. He shuffled the pages out of 
sight and asked for a coffee guessing accurately he 
would be in for a long night.

He ran out of air time before he had managed to get 
more than half way through the file. What he had read 
was disturbing but no more so than a hundred other 
similar files he had studied. The hairs on the back 
of his neck still prickled at the thought of his partner  
being offered as bait but he had managed to create 
some sort of professional detachment, he hoped he 
could maintain it until he got himself involved in 
the investigation. 


------------------------------------------------------
Friday 13th November 
05:25
Boston FBI HQ
--------------------------

Mulder managed to wait until 5:30am before turning up 
at the Boston field office. It was a testament to the 
brutality of these killings that there were already at 
least five agents  behind their desks. Remembering his 
days with the BSU he wondered how many had been there  
overnight. They all ignored his entrance. 

Mulder picked the youngest and least bright eyed of 
the men in the room.

  "Where's SAC Perkins?" He questioned.

The man looked momentarily surprised but this was a big 
task force and new faces appeared all the time. 

  "Not here yet." He answered. 

  "Mulder." Mulder showed his ID and offered his hand. 
After a momentary pause the other man shook it.

  "Stevens, Richard Stevens. Behavioural Sciences." 

  "This is the latest stuff." Mulder pointed towards a 
desk at the front of the room stack precariously high 
with folders. 

Richard Stevens nodded then without further thought 
turned his head back to the pad of spider scrawl beneath 
his right hand. 

Mulder made his way to the front of the room and paused 
for a moment next to a series of white boards that 
plotted out a timeline. On what had been a blank wall 
was a photo gallery, the once smiling faces of the victims 
oddly mixed in with the scenes of their deaths in what 
could have been a gruesome game of snap. He was glad to 
see his partners face was not among either group. 

What had appeared a chaotic mess from the back of the 
room was more ordered close up. Information on the 
previous victims was stacked furthest to the right. Next 
to it was the suspect pool. The VICAP files were next, 
they were easy to spot as they were coloured differently 
and all too familiar. Last was a slimmer pile and 
although it was labelled surveillance the date on the top 
folder gave it away. The day after he had last sat 
opposite his partner and cruelly questioned her life choices. 

Mulder picked up the last stack and weaved his way back 
across the bullpen to find an empty space. 

Glancing around to ensure no one was paying him too much 
attention he flicked the cover open. Although it was 
expected he still had press his lips together to prevent 
an obvious expression of surprise. 

It was Scully. Only it wasn't. He allowed himself a 
second to wonder how it had only been a week since 
he saw her last. 

The photo before him wasn't so very different to the 
version he was used to, just less finished. He already 
knew the background on Scully's character, an ER nurse 
lived alone, fit the physical profile. The picture before 
him was Scully without make-up, hair less polished half 
caught up in a band but escaping falling over her forehead. 
The eyes were the same, sky blue and deep as always but 
perhaps even in snapshot he thought he saw a hint of 
sadness.  

He turned the photo over so he wasn't distracted by it 
and begun reading the rest of the file in earnest. The 
address and her shift pattern he already had memorised 
but why this killer was stalking Katherine Hall and 
whether he would do so now she was Dana Scully he didn't 
know. 

By 6:30am Mulder had read all the short reports filed 
by Detective Claude Morris. Although he knew it was 
not good news for the investigation he was relieved by 
the lack of information they contained. He knew where 
she was and for the moment she was safe. 

He flipped her photograph back over again.

  "But why are you here?." he whispered his fingers 
resting on the picture. 

The wall of similar smiling faces caught the corner 
of his eye and as well as he did and didn't know his 
partner he realised he already had part of the answer. 
For them.  

  "Okay." He murmured making a decision, that was 
enough for the time being the rest he would figure 
out later. 

He shuffled the pages of Scully's file back together 
replacing the photo last then returning it. The 
office was still quiet, there had been one or two more 
arrivals since his but no one seemed interested in 
his presence. 

Mulder eyed the other folders. Start at the beginning 
he thought ruefully focusing on the largest stack and 
purposely ignoring the VICAP pile. 

Remembering how he had obtained his version of the 
case file Mulder spent the rest of the morning filling 
in the gaps. He dissected the lives of six women then 
more reluctantly did the same with their deaths. Anne 
had been first, she worked regular shifts at K-mart, 
she at been snatched as she braved the cold Boston 
night to walk home. Tanya-Rae was the youngest, just 18 
a student, she disappeared after an evening out with 
friends. Jamielia was a stripper she left a young 
daughter and she was the only victim taken from her home.  
She had let her killer in. Sara, the oldest in her 
fifties but bright pillar box red hair and a nose stud. 
Eleanor and Freya lived in the same neighbourhood and 
could have walked by each other but Mulder doubted they 
had ever meet. Eleanor was a full time soccer mum, Freya 
went to work in the city each morning dressed in Donna 
Karen suits that would have rivialed Scully's.

If there was a link that went beyond physical appearance 
he couldn't find it. These women had been as different 
in life as they had been similar in death. 

Their autopsies had been harder to read. It hadn't 
helped that Scully wasn't sitting next to him to explain 
the clinical complexities. It also hadn't helped that 
his mind conspired against him, playing tricks replacing 
each name with hers.

He hated these cases at the best of times. The monsters 
he usually chased didn't usually walk the streets unnoticed, 
didn't drink at starbucks or watch prime time TV. It was 
the  humanity that made the inhumanity so much harder to 
accept. 

Wherever these women had been stolen from they had been 
taken elsewhere. They had been  bound, ankles and wrists. 
The pathologist thought the ropes had been adjusted 
accounting for the multiple abrasions. Mulder thought 
they had struggled, the ropes tight enough around their 
limbs to prevent any real chance of escape but with enough 
length that they could fight. He could picture a petite 
redhead lying on a bed limbs bound at all four corners eyes 
covered. Had they ever seen their attacker or had they just 
heard his voice. Was the room cold, he imagined the woman 
screaming and begging to live. Had he wanted her to beg 
or did he sometimes slip in silently had survey his handiwork 
while the woman sobbed unaware she was being watched. 

The first two Anne and Tanya they had been the most brutally 
beaten. Mulder flipped to the autopsy photo's in each the 
facial features were so badly damaged it would have been 
near to impossible too match them to their antemortem 
appearance. The bruises were beginning to heal the pathology 
report told him in Scully's voice. Not a precise science but 
maybe three to four days. He read the paragraphs detailing 
the sexual assault, the pathologist had been graphic in his 
description. Rape occurred most likely within the first few 
hours of abduction. There was extensive vaginal and perineal 
trauma but healing had begun. Semen had been collected from 
the bodies of each victim and could be used to match the 
murders but did not fit any DNA profile on record. 

There were defence wounds, skin scrapings under the 
finger nails of the victims gave up epithelial cells, the 
DNA matched the other samples. Mulder's subconscious briefly 
wondered how they had managed to fight and scratch their 
attacker when bound. Had he raped them then tied them down, 
that didn't seem to make sense. 

Trace evidence had found soap on their skin, their injuries 
had been cleansed, the blood wiped away. He paused and 
wondered again, did he think he was hiding forensics or was 
this part of his ritual. 

It was the last wounds that chilled him the most, abdominal 
horizontal incisions through skin, derma, subcutaneous fat 
and in places down to the rectus sheath. Never through into  
the peritoneal cavity. He read on for further clarification. 
The wounds it seemed were almost surgical in precision and 
conflicted with the raw brutality of the initial attack.  
The first women had hesitation cuts the next didn't, their 
perpetrator was learning. 

Mulder spread photos of the abdominal lacerations over the 
desk each woman had them but the patterns didn't match. 
He left them fanned in a gruesome arc and continued reading. 
The had all died the same way, the right carotid had been 
transacted, exsanguination and death would have been fast.  
Another contradiction he mused eyes drawn back to the 
incisions. He rearranged the images so they were in 
chronological order. There were more cuts he realised, 
the later victims had more cuts, still as carefully 
controlled. 

He shut his eyelids and saw a woman screaming her body 
red with blood as bright as her hair, both a stark 
contrast to the surface on which she lay. Disturbed to 
realise how quickly he had slipped into profiling this 
monster he opened them again. 

When he did there was a man standing in front of him fists 
bunched at his sides, his eyes were narrowed and expression 
wasn't one of welcome. He looked like Skinner with hair 
Mulder thought. It wasn't hard to guess his name. 

  "Lost Agent Mulder." SAC Perkins said with surprising 
restraint. 

  "No." Mulder replied equally softly purposely leaning 
back in his chair trying to belie an air of calm.

  "Correct me if I'm wrong but you are not part of this 
task force."

Despite the fact that he looked like he wanted to Perkins 
didn't lose his cool. Probably in his mid forties he was 
young to have been placed at the head of a high profile  
investigation like this. Ambition he wondered or just 
hard work and intelligence. Judging from the fact that 
he had yet to kick Mulder out or try and arrest him with 
interfering with a federal investigation he decided somewhat 
arrogantly it may be the later.

  "The profile is wrong." Mulder challenged, thinking 
about Scully but avoiding a more obvious opening line. 

Perkins gave him a look of scepticism that would have 
rivalled Scully, but as so often with his partner there 
was a definite spark of interest underneath.

  "Not being involved in this investigation how 
could you possibly know that?" 

Perkins folded his arms over chest.

Mulder took a quick glance back at towards the VICAP 
files, he hadn't actually read the full profile but he 
knew the form it would take. They all started the same way, 
white male, age 35 to 45, lives alone. This would continue; 
average intelligence and appearance.  
They would have concluded from his victim pool that he could 
blend in socially. The brutality of the attacks would lead 
to statements such as hatred towards women, maybe a lack of 
male influence in early childhood. Anger and self control 
problems, likely a history of violence towards women. 

It wasn't a just a trick of distraction when he had stated 
the inaccuracy, his mornings reading wasn't making sense. 
And there was Scully. Beautiful, red headed, petite and if  
not physically then emotional vulnerable right now. 
Their killer had shown no interest in her at all and for 
that he was thankful but objectively he didn't understand it. 

  "I think this case is more complicated than anyone has 
realised yet." Mulder edged slowly. 

  "Aside from accessing classified information how many 
other regulations have you ignored?" 

SAC Perkins still hadn't raised his voice and for a moment 
Mulder worried that he had misjudged him. Maybe he was 
just enjoying the suspense.

  "Just this morning.." Mulder did a quick mental 
calculation. "Four." He replied.

He paused to give emphasis to his next words.

  "But none of those have involved contacting an undercover 
agent." 

Perkins nodded. 

  "Your reputation precedes you Agent Mulder." 

Mulder sighed and rocked forwards in the chair ready to 
give into frustration and abandon this mental game of 
chess. Perkins had made it four minutes without mentioning 
little green men that was better than usual, he had even 
listened to a few sentences but the rest of the conversation 
Mulder knew by heart and his side in it wasn't usually required. 

Special agent in charge Edward Perkins then did something 
few people but Scully could do, he surprised him. Shaking his 
head as he noticed Mulder's assumption he continued.

  "Your reputation as a profiler agent Mulder."

Mulder had half opened his mouth to tell Perkins not to 
bother but he stopped before even uttering a word. 

  "AD Skinner called me last night, Agent Scully warned me, 
but that's not why your still here. I want to catch this son 
of a bitch probably more than you do, as much as your partner 
does. I suspect you can help with that. But I am not stupid, 
I will not be fucked with. You work from the office, you report 
to me and you do not contact her in anyway. Be very careful, 
one mistake and you will be on the first plane back to 
Washington." 

Perkins concluded his speech and for once Mulder found the 
urge to argue relatively easy to resist.

  "Thank you Sir." He replied instead. 

Perkins nodded and turned to leave him with his stolen 
pictures.

  "Mulder, the VICAP files are the blue ones. Read them 
please."

The man who had agreed to use his partner to bait a killer 
walked away and against his better judgement Mulder decided 
he liked him. 


-------------------------------------------------------------------

Friday 13th November 
13:45
Residence of Katherine Hall
---------------------------


Scully shoved the kitchen door open with her hip 
balancing the grocery bags in her arms, several tomato's 
wobbled preciously but stayed within the confines of 
the paper. She carelessly dropped the packages onto the 
kitchen counter. The tomato's made another bid for freedom 
this time succeeding and rolling across the floor.

  "Damn" Scully muttered but made no move to retrieve them. 

Instead she closed her eyes, rested her hands next to the 
bag and sighed. She was tired, the lack of sleep was 
catching up. Yesterdays meeting with Claude had spurred her 
into action but another cold unproductive morning had sapped her 
strength. 

Be seen, she remembered the briefing and the list of places 
Katherine frequented. Stay in the public eye but be seen. 
We just want to know who this guy is don't given him opportunity. 

Opportunity to do what Scully had asked. She hadn't read the 
autopsy reports then. 

It was gone noon by the time she retuned to the small 
apartment. The morning had been uneventful, she had pursued 
the local shops walking up and down Katherine's local streets  
so many times that a kindly old lady had asked her if she was 
lost. She had been vigilant and was confident that the women 
was the only one who had noticed her. Finally she had bought 
enough food to restock the bare cupboards, at least when Katherine
returned she wouldn't go hungry Scully mused, finally capturing 
the escapee tomatoes. 

Slowly emptying the bags and filling the cupboards she eyed
 the original contents, a tub of peanut butter, several tins 
of baked beans, some cleaning products and what could have  
once been vegetable matter. In the draw next to the sink 
was a pile of takeout menu's that would have put Mulder's to 
shame. Katherine was not big on cooking then, she decided  
ignoring the thoughts about Mulder and his culinary tastes. 

Interest piqued by the empty cupboards Scully opened a 
few more drawers. The first contained a pile of bills 
larger than the take out menu's. Most of the envelopes were  
unopened. The next a collection of what to Scully looked 
like junk but to Katherine may have meant something. She 
continued to poke around the kitchen but found nothing she 
could identify as of interest. 

She looked at the clock, five and forty five minutes hours 
until work. Sleep she decided could wait a bit longer. A 
search of the living room revealed little. The sofa gave up  
fifty cents and a few receipts, the TV cabinet contained 
more unopened bills. The small side board surprisingly was 
packed with shoes, Scully wondered briefly if there was any  
significance in this, judging from the disorder that 
permeated the rest of Katherine's life she decided not. 
The computer she ignored, Katherine's original was in the 
forensic labs and a replica sat in its place. An upgraded 
replica, Scully had the option of emailing her reports in 
should she feel the urgency. She felt no desire to meet with  
Claude but unfortunately suspected that didn't rate as urgent. 

Five and a half hours to go, she sighed and gave up realising 
she hadn't even known what she was looking for. How 
Mulderesque she thought smiling slightly as her tired brain  
thought of him before she remembered the circumstances of their 
last meeting. 

Her muscles ached and reflexively she placed her hands over 
her lumbar spine and arched her back trying to pull some 
of the tension out. Under her fingers the right side prickled 
and reminded her of the recently marked skin. The tattoo still 
didn't feel like hers. She had glanced at the picture in the
Philadelphia file, the close up gave her a better view of the 
image than a mirror could. Rubbing her hand over it now she 
remembered how the colours stood out against her pale skin. 
The police photo hadn't been well framed it was not possible 
from the image alone to tell which part of her body had been 
marked. She wondered if Mulder had considered this, guessed 
at the location, if he had he certainly hadn't asked. 

She twisted slightly still trying to relax the stubbornly 
knotted muscle. The pain did not improve, she started to 
head for her suitcase and the ever present supply of Tylenol 
but realised half way across the room it wasn't there. 
Katherine she already knew saw no need to stock anything 
other than peanut butter and baked beans. 

A hot bath she decided, a hot bath and a brief nap before 
returning to the work at the ER.  
She started to make her way into the cramped bathroom 
allowing herself a few seconds of longing for her own 
claw foot porcelain. A glance at the tub and she decided 
to make use to the meagre cleaning supplies before soaking 
in it. She found the kitchen cleaner next to some chopped 
tomato's. Close enough she thought as she rummaged under 
the sink for a cloth. The undersink was surprisingly stocked, 
a few professional journals, what looked like a scarf, 
rubber gloves. Struck again with the absurdity of Katherine 
Hall's storage arrangements Scully was about to shut the 
door when a leather bound book caught her eye. It was tucked 
behind the S bend of the sink, almost completely hidden by 
the odd collection of objects in front. Scully pulled it at 
it, it took some force to remove and she realised it must have 
been put there deliberately. Hidden she thought, wondering 
for what possible reason and at the same time reconsidering 
her opinion on Katherine's haphazard organisation. 

Her bath temporarily forgotten Scully studied the object 
in her hands. The book was small, black leather bound and 
shut with a miniature lock. It looked like a slightly gothic  
teenage journal. She stood and rummaged through her makeup 
case retrieving a hair pin. A few seconds of fumbling and 
the lock gave in. 

She had half expected a diary but the instead she found 
an address book. There were at least twenty pages of names, 
addresses, phone numbers, dates and times. Scully read  
through the first few pages, it looked like Katherine kept 
a record of the men she saw. In addition to the contact 
details some of the entries contained descriptions of physical  
appearance or particular talents. She raised an eyebrow 
to no one imparticular. If Katherine's life was dull it 
seemed she was definitely doing it wrong. She smiled slightly 
at a particularly colourful if none too flattering account of 
Mary's impression of a man labelled only as Michael from 
accounts. The corner of her lips were still turned when she  
had the sudden and darker thought that if Mary knew her 
stalker then their killer may be in her phone book. 

She wondered briefly about switching on her cellphone and 
ringing the information in directly. 

Was it that important? After several minutes of indecision 
she thought it could wait. Katherine Hall had been 
interviewed many times, Scully had even meet her briefly. The 
task force would probably have this information already. 

She closed the leather bound book and placed it in full 
view on the table. It looked oddly out of place and Scully 
decided it was probably because Katherine had gone to such 
lengths to hide it. 

Remembering the kitchen towel purchased whilst grocery 
shopping she grabbed it and the cleaning spray and headed 
for the bathroom. The bath wasn't really that grimy but 
Scully felt better for having scrubbed it. She filled the 
tub with water adding a squeeze of shampoo in replacement 
of her expensively scented bubble bath. 

Five hours to go she thought stepping into the tub. As 
usual she had made the water too warm but for once she 
didn't mind the feeling of hot needles tingling against 
her skin. It matched the sensation that radiated from 
her lower back and distracted her from it. Settling her 
head back against the plastic tub she wondered again at 
the location of Katherine's little black book. Had she 
felt investigation into that part of her life was one 
step too far. Had she felt ashamed. There were a lot of 
names in that book she had read but a few. Scully realised 
with a start that in some respect she could understand  
this women whose life was so different from her own. 
The water cooled and the skin on her back burned again. 
She remembered sitting across the desk from him, his desk, 
her eyes to the floor ashamed but not prepared to admit 
it. He was her best friend, her closest confidante but 
she couldn't bring herself to tell him about even one man 
she had slept with. 

Thinking disjointedly about Ed and Mulder she dozed off 
in the bath her neck strained at an awkward angle and the 
water gradually cooling.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Part 2 
-----------------------------------------------------------

Friday 13th November
14:30
Boston FBI HQ
--------------------------

As was with tradition with serial cases they were 
high profile and joint jurisdiction. The local PD 
caught the cases first, usually a seasoned homicide 
detective made the link, a minor detail, a remembered 
MO and individual atrocities were joined together. 
The information spread throughout the force at about 
the time it was being classified top secret. Invariably 
the chief of police liaised with the head of homicide 
and the decision to call for help was made. This 
killer had not crossed federal lines, the case was not  
automatically the FBI's jurisdiction they were there 
at the request of the local law enforcement. 

It wasn't an usual situation but it made for a closer 
working relationships than normal. Mulder was already 
figuring out how to bend the rules Perkins had set him. 
Work from the office, well Claude Morris had an office 
and Mulder was dying to pay it a visit. 

By early afternoon the bullpen was full and Mulder 
had made his corner of it his own. If anyone was 
questioning his presence they hadn't done it to his face. 

He had done as Perkins had requested and actually read 
the profiles. He had almost laughed out loud when the 
lines of text matched those he had imagined in his head. 
He had also as requested started listing his own insights 
into the mind of a monster. There was as little pattern 
or sense in the few scribbled sentences beneath his hand 
as there was in the photo's now neatly stacked to his left. 

Now he was getting itchy feet. Perkins had not reappeared 
since their brief but memorable encounter this morning. 
Deciding that he should have specified which when he told 
Mulder to work from the office he grabbed his coat and 
made for the exit. 

Mulder drove quickly to Boston PD headquarters. The air 
outside the car was icy cold and it looked like it might 
snow. He forced himself to ignore the signs that pointed 
towards the emergency room. She wouldn't be there now 
anyway he rationalised, her shifts were nights and he 
hoped she was safe asleep warm at the address he had 
memorised. 

Twenty minutes after he set off he found himself pulling 
into a space reserved for visitors. The Boston PD 
building was old and imposing. The architecture looked 
nineteenth century and was a stark contrast to the new 
federal buildings. He ignored the chill of the wind and 
made his way towards the main entrance, as he approached 
he found he wasn't the only visitor. The steps though 
slippery with ice were also covered with news crews. 

He silently cursed as he realised he had timed his arrival 
to match the chief of police's press conference. The 
ubiquitous police stand with microphones was present but 
there was no one behind it yet. He set his sights on the 
entrance and walked slowly towards it. Trying as best he 
could for a man with red rimmed exhausted eyes dressed 
in a wrinkled Armani suit and trench coat to appear 
unconnected with the investigation. 

He was pleased that none of the journalists challenged 
him directly but he had felt their stares following him, 
wondering. Mulder made a mental note to leave via the 
back entrance. 

The entrance hall was crowded and not as grand as its 
exterior. Mulder eager to find Morris quickly found a 
receptionist. 

  "Which department, Agent..?" The grey-haired woman 
asked before he could introduce himself.

  "Mulder." He completed for her, realising it really 
was that obvious. 

He flashed his ID and continued.
  
  "Narcotics. Detective Morris." 

  "Do you have an appointment?" The woman asked him at 
the same times her fingers tapping at the keyboard then 
retrieving a newly printed visitor pass. It was clearly a 
routine she was used to, she barely looked down.

  "Yes." Mulder lied reading her name tag. 

Shelia handed him a clipboard with one hand and placed 
the visitor ID on the counter with the other.

He signed in and thanked her taking up the ID and 
clipping it to his lapel. Visitor it announced loudly 
declaring his name in much smaller letters. 

  "Third floor, stairs that way but you'll need to 
pass through security first." She  motioned first 
in one directed then the other.

Mulder nodded and thanked her again setting off in 
the direction she indicated. 

The narcotics department was easy to find. Boston PD 
were meticulous about their signs, he had encountered 
one at the top of each set of stairs and each time the 
wide corridors split. Homicide had caught his eye more 
than once. 

There was no efficient receptionist to greet him as he 
pushed through the door that guarded the entrance to the 
narcotics block. He wandered slowly along the narrower 
hallway reading the names on the office doors, none of 
them said Morris. Used to the layout of law enforcement 
buildings he continued until he found the open office space. 
The detectives that worked here as in homicide were plain 
clothed. There was still no indication of where Morris might 
be so feeling a spark of impatience Mulder approached the 
first man he saw.

  "Mulder. FBI." He stated flatly. "I'm looking for 
Detective Morris."

The man looked up from his desk clearly surprised to be 
interrupted it took him a minute to respond. 

  "I don't think he is here." He answered finally.  

  "If he was, where would he be?" Mulder realised he was 
being rude but continued anyway. 

  "Desk in the far corner, next to the water cooler. big
sign that says Morris by the in tray." 

Deserved that Mulder thought absently as he nodded his 
thanks and made off to find Morris's location. 

It was as advertised in the corner and labelled as such. 
There was a post it note attached to the computer monitor 
that immediately caught his attention. Dana Scully 10am 
Saturday followed by an address. Mulder memorised it. 
He continued a quick visual search, the desk outdid his 
for messiness. Files were stacked precariously high each 
side. Two empty coffee cups and what Mulder assumed were 
crumbs sat behind the keyboard. He looked for a file to  
match the post it but couldn't find one. Mulder was 
debating the risks of sliding into the seat and conducting 
a more thorough search when a voice interrupted his train 
of thought.

  "Can I help you?" 

The tone suggested that its owner wished to do anything 
but. Mulder turned to face a man who was roughly his 
height but at least sixty pounds heavier. He had deep set 
eyes and a receding hairline. He was clearly trying to 
look menacing but largely due to the presence of a donut 
in his left hand was not pulling it off. Mulder took in 
the donut, matched it to the crumbs and decided this must 
be Claude Morris. 

  "Detective Morris." He began, trying to throw the man 
off balance. "I want to speak with you about Agent Scully."

Morris read his visitor tag making Mulder curse and 
wish he had had the foresight to remove it.

  "Agent Mulder. I don't think I am supposed to talk to 
you." 

Morris looked smug, ignoring Mulder he pulled back his 
chair and sat himself heavily at the desk. For a moment 
Mulder wondered if Perkins had warned the man but quickly 
decided  that the leader of this investigation should 
have better things to do with his time. 

  "In fact I don't think your even supposed to be in this 
state." 

Scully, he thought wondering exactly what she had told him. 

   "BSU consult." Mulder replied curtly, hoping two things, 
that the mystic of profiling  would impress Morris and more 
importantly that he would relay this information to Scully. 
Morris still eyed him with suspicion forcing Mulder to 
conclude that the man was probably not as foolish as had 
been his first impression.

  "Any information you could give me.."

Morris cut him off.

  "Read my reports Agent Mulder, there is no information 
and frankly this whole thing seems to me to be a waste of time."

The particular information Mulder had really wanted was 
whether she felt alone, whether she was scared, whether 
she had mentioned him, missed him. Morris didn't seem like 
the sensitive type so he abandoned this line of questioning.

  "Tell me about the surveillance arrangements?" 

Mulder tried again but the phone on Morris's desk choose that 
moment to ring. 

  "Excuse me, I have some real work to do."

Morris spun his chair surprisingly easily for a big man and 
picked up the receiver. Faced with the detectives back Mulder 
concluded that this conversation was over. 

He managed to make it back to reception without getting 
diverted by the lure of homicide. It wasn't until he reached 
the lobby that he remembered the press conference. The room  
that had been busy before was packed now. A tall uniformed 
man with white hair and serious eyes was giving last minute 
instructions to what he assumed was most of the homicide  
department. The man Mulder recognised as the chief of police, 
the gunmen where nothing if not thorough and this would 
not be the first press conference. 

Chief Ryan, Mulder recalled his name from the files, left 
the building to greet the awaiting press. Some of the more 
senior members of his squad followed him. Mulder held back 
watching the briefing from the lobby.

The chief of police was following standard procedure giving 
a little information, reassuring the public whilst calling 
for caution. It didn't really matter what he said Mulder 
mused the press would create a culture of panic anyway, they 
always did with these cases. 

  "Agent Mulder."  

surprised he turned to see a man looking up at him. 

  "Famous in my own time." Mulder muttered mentally preparing 
for another confrontation.

  "Lieutenant Sam Trent." The man stuck out his hand, Mulder 
shook it.

  "Fox Mulder." He replied unnecessarily. 

  "Can I help you?" Mulder asked when the man didn't immediately 
continue.

Sam Trent flicked his eyes outside then back again he was 
nervous about being seen talking to him. 

  "Actually, I was wondering if you could help us." Trent 
replied. 

  "Apparently that's why I'm here." Mulder answered 
somewhat despondently. 

Trent glanced back to the press conference, they seemed to 
be concluding.

  "Maybe we could talk in the office." He suggested. 

Mulder followed the younger man back into the building. Samuel 
Trent, he ran the name through his head, he had read it somewhere 
in the case files the man was obviously involved in the 
investigation but he couldn't recall how. They made their way 
into a room that looked like a larger and more lived in version 
on the FBI office.

Sam Trent who had yet to speak again weaved them through the 
desks until they stood in front of a wall of photographs. 
Some he recognised from earlier others were new but they  
were all variations on the same theme, rape and murder. 

  "I've worked homicide for four years." lieutenant Trent 
began keeping his eyes trained forwards. My partner and I 
caught the first case, Anne Marsden, two years ago. We also  
worked the last two."

Mulder watched the man glance from one photograph to the next.

  "It took us too long to link these together." Trent added 
and although Mulder sensed this wasn't directed at him he 
couldn't help but agree. The Boston PD task force had been set 
up after the fourth Murder, the federal government had been 
involved at the fifth, neither had prevented the sixth.

  Trent turned to Mulder his grey eyes looked tired.

  "Agent Mulder.." 

  "Just Mulder.

  "Take a look at these pictures." Trent directed him to a series 
of six photographs that were surprisingly similar to the ones he 
had puzzled over earlier. He was looking at the bodies of the six 
victims in time order. 

  "I'm not a profiler, but I've worked with VICAP enough times." 

Trent seemed hesitant again.

  "These pictures are backwards." He then said quickly.

That got Mulder's attention. He stepped in closer searching each 
image again. 

  "Like I said, I'm not a profiler." Trent repeated pausing just 
long enough for Mulder to add in mentally but you are. 

  "Anne and Tanya, they were beaten so badly dental records were 
needed to help identify them, but the last victim Eleanor Reddage." 
He pointed towards her image. "Her face was barely touched, infact 
she had the least broken bones and bruises of all six."

Mulder nodded realising this was something his subconscious had 
already picked up on.


  "Serials decompensate." Trent continued. "He's doing it backwards.

  "They also learn." Mulder replied thoughtfully, remembering the 
lack of hesitation cuts on the abdomens of the latest victims. 
He paused for a moment letting his synapses tick over on their own. 

  "But they don't tend to do both at once."  

His neurons continued to fire making associations that wouldn't 
quite connect. 

Trent was talking but Mulder was only half listening.

   "I don't think the BSU have got it right this time and the 
problem is although this guy leaves plenty of trace without a 
suspect pool the forensics is next to useless. Agent Mulder, we 
need to know where to look."

Mulder caught the gist of the statement but his mind focused 
on the part about evidence.

  "He's organised." Mulder said abruptly. "Why leave all that 
evidence?"

Trent didn't seem fazed by the sudden change in direction.

  "He doesn't think we can catch him?" He countered. 

  "Then why the soap?" Mulder said remembering the autopsy 
details, asking himself as much has the man standing next to 
him. "Why bother?"

Their killer was a series of dichotomies. For a moment Mulder 
remembered his old DSM IV textbook full of ICD-10 codes. 

Trent's cellular phone rung loudly and the man took two steps 
back turning slightly to answer it.

Mulder mentally reread the sub classification of schizophrenia 
and dissociatative disorder. True dissociatative identity 
disorder was rare, so rare that most psychologists doubted it 
even existed. Mulder had never really been that interested in 
the debate but wondered for a moment if their killer could be 
suffering from some form of the condition. 

Mulder's eidetic memory had made it through the diagnostic 
criteria and was half way through the associated symptoms 
when Trent turned back to him, his expression abruptly derailed 
Mulder's train of thought. Mulder knew what was coming next. 

  "There's been another death." Trent said right on cue.

  "I'm coming with you." 

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Mulder could maybe have argued that going to the Boston PD 
headquarters was not forbidden.  
He suspected it would be more difficult to explain his 
presence as the first federal agent at the freshest crime 
scene. Still he hadn't hesitated when Trent curtly nodded and  
gestured to follow him. 

Mulder insisted on taking his rental car, following behind 
Trent's unmarked vehicle. 

He had asked Trent the name of the victim but he the 
detective hadn't known. The physical description matched 
those of previous. 

Scully. 

She was all he could think about since their rapid exit 
from the building. He had lasted  five minutes into the 
journey before he tried her cellphone again, it was still 
turned off. 

He had been told she was safe, that the killer had no 
interest in her. It wasn't her. The rational part of his 
brain knew it was unlikely, their killer held his victims 
three or four days before throwing out their broken battered 
bodies. Scully had checked in with Claude yesterday morning.

The seventh victim was found within two miles of the other 
six. All partially hidden in woodland but never too far 
from discovery by a horrified jogger or dog walker. 

The area had been a crime scene for at least an hour Mulder 
mentally calculated estimating from the number of people, 
blue lights and evidence tents. He parked up behind Trent but  
lost the homicide detective in the midst of unfamiliar 
faces. Instead of looking for him he made his way to what 
in a different context could have been a garden gazebo. 

Refusing to hesitate he pushed back the plastic and ducked 
into the tent. The body had not been moved, the vacant eyes 
seemed to be staring right at him.

It wasn't Scully. He let out a breath that he hadn't realised 
he had been holding. Trent reappeared at his side. 

  "Leigh Curtis." He said, Mulder assumed it was the 
victim name. "Its the same man." The detective added 
unnecessarily.

  "This is how they were all found?" Mulder asked having 
seen the pictures but not attended any of the previous scenes.

  "Yes." It was another man that answered. He was tall, 
taller than Trent and about the same height as Mulder. 
Mulder guessed his age to be around his own but he had more 
creases and his hair that once must have been black was salt 
and pepper. 

  "Thomas Morgan" The man said before Mulder asked. 

  "My partner." Trent added. 

  "Mulder." He volunteered only his last name as he shook 
the man's hand, Thomas Morgan asked for no more information.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Friday 13th November 
18:40
Residence of Katherine Hall
---------------------------


Scully was standing opposite Ed. His fingers were 
wrapped around her biceps leaving what felt like icy 
handprints. His eyes were looking straight through her 
as if she wasn't even there.

She said his name but his gaze didn't move. She said 
it louder and then gasped as she realised ice crystals 
were forming on his eyes. They covered his eyelids 
completely obstructing his vision.  She tried to pull 
away but the grip on her arms was too strong. 

Panicked she shouted again, this time her partners 
name. In an instant the face in front of her changed. 
It was Mulder holding her. His lips were blue and his 
skin covered in frost but he was looking straight at her.

  "I see you Scully." He said gently.

She gasped and sat up shivering, confused and disorientated. 

  "Jesus." She took several deep steadying breaths then 
climbed out of the freezing tub, legs shaky.

There were three towels hooked over the one rail. Still 
trembling she grabbed them all and wrapped one around 
her hair and the others around her body. 

The heating hadn't come on and she silently cursed 
herself for not having checked the timer before falling 
asleep in the bath. Making her way quickly through the small  
apartment she found it and  flicked it straight to constant.

It was dark outside, day had turned to night as she slept. 
Still shivering she made her way back to the main room. 
The mantel clock announced 6:45pm.  An hour before she had to  
leave for work. Her bag was on the sofa and she remembered 
she had left it there when searching for her makeup case 
earlier. The thought reminded her of the book. It sat  
innocently enough on the table, unmoved from where she had 
put it. She grabbed some clothes from the holdall and changed 
quickly in the middle of the lounge, wrapping a few extra 
layers around her shoulders. 

The apartment was dark and still disturbed from her strange 
dream she hurriedly flicked on all the lights. Halfway down 
the hallway she noticed a pile of post pushed through the  
front door. She scooped it up and placed it with the rest 
of the letters she had accumulated in the short period of 
time she had been Katherine Hall. A newspaper with today's 
date caught her attention. Serial killer stalks the streets 
the Boston Post announced. She took the paper back to the 
sofa and continued to read the front page story.  
There was a brief but surprisingly accurate account of the 
victims followed by a summary of the police investigation 
thus far. It left her in no doubt as to the writers thoughts  
on their competency. She turned to page five for the latest 
Boston PD statement. It was the standard fair that she had 
heard time and time again, even recited herself on occasion. 
She sighed feeling disheartened and almost missed it.  

Scully startled and leant forward staring into the picture 
in front of her. Her heart raced and her now warmed skin 
all of a sudden felt cold again. 

Chief Ryan was standing at the podium behind the Boston 
PD insignia. He was in front of the police headquarters 
but it wasn't that that caught her eye. Behind the bullet 
proof glass of the revolving door was a tall figure 
standing talking to a shorter man. His features were 
grainy and indistinct but even in black and white she 
would have recognised the profile anywhere.  

Mulder.

Had Skinner sent him or had he simply followed her. He 
hadn't spoken with her but then even Mulder knew better 
than to turn up on her doorstep when she was working 
undercover. Didn't he? She briefly recalled her previous 
anxiety about his lack contact then dismissed it.

Had he forgiven her.

She drew her eyes away from her partner and scrutinised 
the man he spoke with. Shorter than Mulder by nearly six 
inches and much thinner. She thought he had sandy coloured 
hair but couldn't tell. His expression was one of 
trepidation. Boston PD most likely, he wore no visitors tag. 
Scully wondered what they were talking about but as always 
her partners features were unreadable. 

Once the initial shock had subsided she decided that 
felt better than she had in a week. Glancing again at the 
clock she realised it was almost time to leave. Scully 
grabbed her coat, scarf and gloves pulling them on in 
anticipation of the icy chill outside. She placed the 
paper on the table photo up reassured by the image. The 
black book still sat there. On a whim she grabbed it and 
pushed it into her handbag taking up the last of the  
space there. She had been undecided before but now she 
had a plan, the hospital had a mailing system and she had 
just figured out who to send it to. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

Friday 13th November
19:32
Residence of Leigh Curtis
-------------------------

Mulder had been careful to leave the crime scene before 
anyone could challenge his presence there. He had considered 
returning to the federal offices for all of twenty seconds 
then instead opted to take a look at Leigh Curtis apartment. 
Trent had accosted him as he made his way back to his rental 
car. The detective seemed keen to follow him. Mulder had 
automatically been defensive but the man was persistent and 
he had to concede Trent's presence at the victims house would 
make it easier to explain his own. 

So now he found himself following Trent's taillights 
wondering if it was too cold for snow as they navigated 
the night darkened streets. He continued his mental comparison 
of the freezing point of water and that of Boston's smog 
filled clouds forcibly distracting himself from thoughts of 
death and violence long enough not to get lost. Scully would have  
laughed at him.

It was nearly an hours drive back into the city, rush hour 
slowed the traffic but eventually Trent pulled up in front 
of a high rise apartment block. The area they had arrived in 
was improvised, that much fit with the little he knew about 
Leigh's life. The building was in poor repair, a state that 
had not be improved by the graffiti on its walls nor the 
garbage outside the main entrance. 

Mulder watched for a second as Trent exited his vehicle, 
the cold wind must have caught him off guard he cursed and 
pulled his scarf over his nose and mouth. Abruptly Mulder  
pushed his door open shivering in sympathy when the icy air 
rushed in. Trent had his cell to his ear and was apparently 
saying the Boston PD equivalent of open sesame because when  
Mulder reached the top step the buzzer sounded allowing then 
entrance.

  "Fifth floor." Trent said loudly as they entered the relative 
quite of the foyer. 

Mulder nodded and after a quick glance around opted for 
the stairs over the elevator. 

The rundown hallways were empty until they reached the 
fifth floor once where a pair of uniformed officers meet 
them and nodded their greeting. 

Leigh Curtis had lived in a small two bedroom department 
that had no central heating. The living room was crowded 
with uniformed and plain clothes police alike. A quick survey 
and Mulder was fairly sure there was no one from the BSU present. 

  "Why are we here?" Trent asked making Mulder wonder why 
if he didn't know he had waited the journey to enquire.

  "I want to know how he picks them." He answered absently 
fishing in his pocket and finding gloves. 

  "What makes you think he does?" Trent replied evenly

Mulder could see his point, the women who had disappeared 
had all been taking during a moment of opportunity. All 
except the last, second last he mentally corrected. They didn't 
know yet where the Leigh Curtis was stolen from. Still he was 
sure they were chosen. 

He shook his head.

  "For a start all the victims have matching physical 
appearances."

  "There are a lot of red heads in Boston." Trent countered. 

Mulder wandered over to the table and started sifting 
through the dead woman's post. 

  "It's more than that, there's something about the violence 
that's personal. He has learnt to leave their appearance 
intact it means something to him."

The letters were all junk or bills. He shuffled them back 
into a pile and then moved on to a bookcase behind the table. 

   "And there is my partner." He continued quietly eyes 
facing forward, it was the first time he had mentioned 
Scully's involvement to Trent.

Trent said nothing instead staring at row of dusty 
hardbacks. 

  "Katherine Hall was being watched so is she." Mulder 
clarified. 

  "If Agent Scully is being stalked then why.." The 
detective replied voice low.

  "I don't know." Mulder cut him off before he could ask 
why his partner was still alive. Realising Trent had known 
her name he turned his full attention to the man next to him. 
 
  "Morris talks." Trent apparently pre-empted his question.

  "Not to me." Mulder muttered.

  "She is why you're here?" Trent questioned looking back at him. 

  "Yes." Mulder answered simply wondering what Trent had 
assumed about his relationship with Dana Scully. The 
inflection in the detectives voice suggested he thought that 
it they were more than partners. Was he right? They weren't 
lovers but he had felt every bit the scorned spouse in 
Philadelphia. His bitterness and anger made even worse when 
he realised he had no right to them. 

Trent didn't ask him to elaborate. Instead he nodded wandered 
off leaving Mulder to stare at the bookcase. He must of 
stared for a while as when Trent returned he held a file and  
had flipped through to the middle. 

  "Leigh Curtis." The detective said with purpose snapping 
Mulder away from his distracted thoughts. 

  "She was 29, lived alone, worked as a waitress. She was 
last seen five days ago. No one had reported her missing. 
we're interviewing friends at the moment. She didn't have any  
family."

  "Liked Beethoven and Picasso." Mulder ran a gloved hand 
over the book titles pulling several forward and raising an 
eyebrow. 

Turning and glancing around the room Mulder spotted the 
stereo and made his way over to the CD collection. The 
music was all classical. 

The apartment had emptied out Trent followed as Mulder 
walked through the small hallway towards Leigh Curtis's 
bedroom. There were several cheap art prints framed and 
placed on the walls, the lighting  was poor and the colours 
reflected the orange of the street lamps outside. The 
bedroom was at the end of the passage and in contrast to 
the rest of the sparse apartment it was comfortably furnished. 

To the left of the door was a wardrobe and another bookcase. 
More books on art sat neatly lining the shelves. Trent had 
wandered to the dressing table and was shifting through what 
looked to be a  diary. A pile of picture frames leaning 
against the bedside table caught Mulder's attention. He 
flipped through them. They were all figurative drawings, the  
frames and the paper were cheap but the images were good. 
It took Mulder a minute to realise that they were drawn by Leigh. 

  "Mulder take a look at this." Trent spoke from across the room. 

The detective was still holding the diary in one hand in 
the other he held a thin spiral bound book. He offered the 
later to Mulder.

Mulder accepted and was taken aback by the title.

  "Phone sex?" He asked unnecessarily the image was explicit 
enough. 

  "Hints and tips." Trent replied dryly. "Looks like she was 
worked a few numbers." The detective held the diary open showing 
Mulder a list of premium line numbers. The diary itself contained 
various names and times of what he assumed were clients. 

  "Fine art and phone sex." Mulder repeated.  

  "Do you think our guys in here?" Trent asked skimming through 
a few more pages. 

Mulder shook his head, he didn't but couldn't say why. He 
glanced around his attention caught by another of Leigh's 
drawings, this one hung on the way opposite the bed.

  "She was talented." Trent commented.

Looking at the picture Mulder was inclined to agree he glanced 
back to see if the detective was referring to the artwork or 
making assumptions based upon the length of her client list. 
Trent had the diary shut. 

  "How many other residents of this block would know the difference 
between Michelangelo and Raphael." Trent muttered. 

Mulder was about to say something about mutant turtles when 
the picture frame caught his attention. It was more ornate 
than the others, made of wood and painted in a gold paint
that was wearing off. The frame was carved to leave an intricate 
weave of fretwork around the glass. Like those in the hall it 
reflected the amber glow of the street. The shadows that were cast 
by the overhead bulb created vertical lines on the wall obscuring 
it.  

Looking closer Mulder realised that the shadow to the bottom left 
wasn't one. The picture had been moved. It must have been hung 
for some time as the old magnolia paint beneath it was much lighter 
than the rest of the wall. He took a step closer. A similar 
pattern was apparent around the other corners of the frame.

  "Have they dusted in here yet?" He asked Trent who had appeared 
by his side.  

  "No."

He was right the room was missing the fine sheen of powder 
the forensics team left as they searched for prints. 

Leaning forward Mulder gripped the sides of the painting and 
lifted it from the wall. The back was sealed with masking tape. 
He ran a gloved finger along the join it didn't look like it 
had been recently interrupted.

  "Mulder." 

Trent was staring at a mark on the wall prying at it with 
his hand. A cloud of brick dust fell to the floor landing on 
the wooden boards. The wall was old and it gave away easily  
revealing a small cavity and a lens. 

  "Shit." Trent said quietly.

Mulder shared his sentiment, embedded in the wall was a small 
wireless camera.

  "So she was being watched too."

---------------------------------------------------------------

Friday 13th November
21:40
Boston FBI HQ
----------------------


It was late when Mulder arrived back at the office. He had 
driven back slowly carefully navigating the unfamiliar roads 
and pondering the camera. Talking to Boston PD he had found  
out more about Leigh Curtis whilst the forensic team carefully 
extracted their find from the wall. 

Her life was an interesting contradiction. She survived in 
poverty but made a good living from her premium rate customers. 
The money apparently was being used to fund a college education 
and a penchant for fine art. He had looked at her photo and made 
the same assumption everyone else had but it seemed Leigh wasn't 
your average waitress. Their killer had known this. He suspected 
that it was the complexity of her life that intrigued her observer.  

Boston headquarters bullpen was nearly empty, no one had looked 
up when he arrived. Mulder  
sat down heavily at the desk he had made his own aware that 
there was a connection he hadn't worked out yet. The mess of 
papers and photo's were where he had left them but sitting on 
top of them was a package. The wrapping suggested it had been 
delivered by courier. Intrigued he turned it over suddenly 
drawing in a breath as he read his name in a handwriting as 
familiar as his own. 

Scully.

He tore through the packaging heart racing wondering what 
she could have sent. He half expected a letter but had no 
idea what the prose would contain. An apology maybe or would  
she try with angry words to send him home. He was surprised when 
a leather diary fell on his desk. There was a note attached it 
read Katherine's, S. He turned the note over searching for more 
words. There were none. He felt a vague sense of disappointment at 
the lack of personal message. 

He looked again at the diary. The lock had been picked he 
assumed by his partner. He opened the book and began to read 
through the pages. Names he thought absently, lots of names. 
It seemed that there was more to Katherine Hall the quiet ER 
nurse than her file suggested. 

He suddenly thought of the camera pointed at Leigh Curtis's 
bed and his heart sped up a notch. Was Scully being watched 
in the same way. His first and most urgent thought was that 
he had to warn her. He rummaged through the files finding 
Katherine's photo comparing it to a mental image of Scully. 
The resemblance was striking. He recalled what the forensic 
team had told him about the resolution of the camera, wireless 
and relying on battery power the images would be grainy. He 
hoped that their killer hadn't noticed the switch. 

Despite his initial reaction he resisted the impulse to go 
to her. Forcing himself to think he realised that she was at 
work, tonight's shift didn't finish until 3am. The phone on his 
desk caught his attention grabbing it he hit 0 hoping that Boston 
had a 24 hour switchboard. 

  "SAC Perkins." He requested when he was answered on the third 
ring.

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Saturday 14th November
03:45
Residence of Katherine Hall
----------------------------

Scully turned the key in the lock feeling some small sense 
of victory. Her mind was still in the ER and maybe that 
was what distracted her. 

Though qualified as a medical doctor Dana Scully was not 
a registered nurse, and this in part accounted for her 
recent tedium. Forced by hospital bureaucracy to do nothing 
more than observe and from a distance at that tonight she had 
convinced the somewhat harassed resident into letting her suture. 
A minor victory maybe and less fun when the object of attention 
wouldn't hold still but it felt like the most useful thing she 
had achieved in weeks. 

Thus thoughts elsewhere she was slow to react as a hand covered 
her mouth and another pulled her right wrist behind her back. 
Surprised she barely let out a sound. Her heartbeat pounded 
loudly in her ears as she was abruptly spun round and pressed 
against the door she had just closed. 

Her assailants breathing got louder and she realised he was 
leaning towards her ear. 

   "You need to be more careful Katy" He whispered.

Then even lower. 

   "Don't say my name."

He relaxed his grip but didn't step back.

Scully turned to find herself face to face and inches from 
her partner. She opened her mouth to speak but he pressed 
two fingers to her lips in a gentler imitation of his previous 
grasp.

She understood the signal if not the reason behind it, she 
nodded biting her tongue to hold back a torrent of angry 
questions. 

  "I've missed you." He announced loudly. 

Taken back she paused lips still slightly parted.

  "You don't return my calls." Her partner continued, voice 
raised. 

His eyes were fixed on hers intense as always, she closed her 
mouth, her anger ebbing away as she tried to follow unsure 
were he was taking this.  

  "You disappeared, you left me." She countered just as loudly 
a slight question in her voice as she hoped it was the correct 
response. 

Mulder nodded slightly indicating that she seemed to have the 
gist of things. 

  "How dare you." She continued with more enthusiasm. "How dare 
you come back here like this."

Mulder's hands which had been idle at his sides found hers wrists, 
giving her only an instant to wonder what they were doing there 
before he began to tug her through the apartment.

  "You Bastard." She pulled away from his grasp, only half 
pretending. 

She realised they had reached the bedroom door and abruptly 
Mulder stopped his eyes burning into hers, his best do you 
trust me look. He released her only to grasp her shoulders 
and used his hands and body to turn her back to the door. 

Her heart rate which had never really slowed speeded up a 
notch. Her partner eyed her warily for a moment longer then 
seemed to make a decision. He laced one hand into her hair and 
used the other to rattle the door handle loudly, pretending to 
fumbled with the latch.

   "Smile for the camera" he said directly into her ear.

She didn't have time to work out what he meant before he 
pushed her propelling them both through the door. For an 
instant she thought they would end up on the floor in a tangle 
of arms and limbs but Mulder twisted so for the second time her 
back was against a door. 

Despite his body leaning into hers, his breath coming in short 
pants that she could feel rather than hear his next move was 
still completely unexpected. 

He pressed his lips to hers. 

Stunned she gasped and raised her hands to his chest not 
sure what to do with them then deciding on pushing hard. 
It was about as effective as pressing against a brick wall.  
Instead all she succeeded in doing was noticing the smooth 
muscle under her fingers. Traitorously her palms moulded the 
plains of his chest and the tension faded from her arms,  
replaced instead by a fine tremor.  

The hand behind her head moulded to her scalp tilting her 
face towards his. Sensing her quiescence his free hand found 
its way to the curve of her hip. 

He took his mouth from hers and in the dark she tried to 
read his features. 

Smile for the camera she thought finally hearing his words. 
He obviously wanted to put on an act for someone. Her anger 
flared. Typical Mulder she thought as the higher centres of  
her brain started ticking over again. No explanation, trust 
without question, follow without doubt. 

  "Miss me then." He said mocking, provoking and sliding his 
hand lower.

  "No" Anger seemed to be what he wanted, that she could 
do easily. 

  "Liar" He answered at the same time roughly tugging her 
lips back up towards his but stopping short of touching. 

  "This is what you wanted, isn't it?" 

The darkness made it more difficult to see his eyes, they 
seemed black rimless, bottomless pits half full of apology 
and half challenge. 

Suddenly furious a thought occurred to her. Who are you 
talking to Mulder, Katherine or me. 

  "Bastard." She hissed, mostly meaning it and catching a 
hint of a smile flicker on his lips. 

He held her firmer, leant forwards, his cheek pressing hers 
and spoke loudly towards her ear. 

  "I've seen you with them, different names but all the same 
man." 

The diary she realised, he must have received the package. 
Then he spoke much quieter, each word enunciated and brushing 
her ear.

  "He wasn't me."

  "Let me go." She struggled but found it impossible to escape. 

  "No." He replied firmly running his hand over the curve of 
her waist. "I want to talk."

  "Then let me go." She repeated distracted by the feel of his 
fingers. 

  "No you'll run away again." 

She heard genuine hurt in his voice and was surprised by the 
stab of guilt she felt. The hand in her hair slide forward 
and cupped her cheek. It was mesmerising having him hold her 
like this. She glanced up at him to find him watching her 
with an intensity that took her breath away. 

  "I don't owe you an apology." She said quietly trying to 
resist the magnetic force that seemed to be pulling her 
towards him. 

  "Apologize anyway." He answered inching closer. 

She pressed back finding there was nowhere to go. Her 
palms still rested on his chest and she could feel his 
heat through the layers of clothing. 

She shook her head and then sharply drew in breath as she 
realised her lips brushed his as she moved. 

  "You wanted this right?" He murmured against her skin. 

Did she? She had wondered in her hours of self recrimination. 
She wasn't blind Mulder was an attractive man but more than 
that he was passionate, brilliant and he cared for her. Had 
she wanted him, she had thought about him as Ed had touched 
her. But her relationship with Mulder was complicated. She 
recalled their first meeting, he had been wary of her, 
challenged her presence in his world. Since then she had earned 
his trust and respect as he had hers and that wasn't worth 
risking. Was it?

  "I.." She hesitated and before she could speak again he pressed 
his lips to hers. 

It was nothing more than a chaste kiss but her lips tingled and 
her skin felt alive. In a  whole night with Ed she hadn't felt 
like this.

He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. She 
realised that her breath was coming in short gasps and her 
hands were visibly shaking. 

This time she kissed him. It was like throwing petrol on a fire. 
All of a sudden she found herself crushed against the door 
the air knocked out of her lungs. She gasped but her partner 
just exacerbated the situation by kissing her more thoroughly. 
He pressed one leg between hers tilting her head back and forth 
to allow himself better access to her mouth. His tongue duelled 
with hers, a more arduous continuation of their verbal sparing. 

It took her a full five minutes of tangled senses and bodies 
before she realised that despite his earlier confidence his 
lips had merely covered hers, moulding and mimicking passion.

An actors embrace. 

She pulled back fighting to reoxygenate the part of her brain 
that would but a stop to  this, suddenly embarrassed at her 
oversight. Taking several ragged breaths she began to search 
for the words that would turn the world the correct way up. 

Before she found a single syllable he threw her of balance 
again. Spinning them round and backing her up to the bed. 
They stopped abruptly as her the back of her knees hit the  
mattress and he leant into her.

Say something she thought again but was distracted, wondering 
why he was pushing at her shoulders. She had forgotten she was 
still wearing her coat. Once disentangled he threw it and in 
the dark she couldn't see where it landed. He quickly lost 
his jacket, never once taking his eyes from hers the intensity 
familiar and frightening at the same time.  

  "Did you say my name?" He asked abruptly and this time she 
knew he wasn't asking Katherine.

It was almost enough provocation to give up the act but at 
the same moment perhaps pre-empting her reaction he shoved 
her backwards, following and pressing her slight form into 
the bumpy mattress. His lips found the sensitive skin where 
the angle of her mandible met her neck. He invaded her senses, 
crushed her resistance along with her skin and body. She was 
sure he was leaving marks along her clavicle.

Is this real Mulder?

She arched her neck closing her eyes and subconsciously 
offering him better access. But instead he paused breathing 
heavily in the darkness. She could feel the restraint in his  
muscles. 

  "Did he make you scream?" He said with less emotion 
and an odd emphasize to the last word, more command than 
question. 

She squeezed her eyes tighter shut hiding.

Mulder raked his hands violently over her body at the 
same time careful to keep his touch gossamer light. He 
kept his lips close to her neck, deciding to worry the 
flesh there with his teeth. As his fingers travelled the 
length of her arms he grasped her wrists raising them 
above her head and pinning them there. 

Then he bit down on her earlobe. Deciding to follow his 
command Scully moaned, immediately feeling uncomfortable.

His hands pressed harder and he shook his head slightly 
against her temple. Trying not to think about his skin 
against hers she took this as a sign of could do better. 

She tried again more enthusiastically. He lips dipped 
below her collar bone and back up and she added a 
jumble of load gasps. 

  "Throw me out." He whispered in her ear letting her 
voice mask his own. 

Gladly, she thought all of a sudden wanting to regain 
control. She opened her mouth to comply only to find 
him kissing her, a bruising crushing embrace that for a 
second made her forget her next line.

  "No." She finally managed but lacked conviction. 

He tried to kiss her again, eyes dark and dangerous 
and for a moment she wondered if he really wanted to stop.

  "No, get off." 

She struggled trying to free her arms but was 
surprised by how strong he was. He took one hand 
away from hers and ran it provocatively from thigh 
to just beneath her breast.

  He mumbled something that could have been her name 
and she almost forgot herself. 

Almost, but she struggled again and this time she felt 
him relax his grip. Scrambling over the sheets she 
climbed to the floor and stood on shaky legs. 

  "Get out." She said loudly unable to meet his eyes. 

He too stood and faced her from the other side of the bed. 

  "Katy.." He started.

  "Get out." She repeated still staring at the floor.

He stooped to pick up his jacket then took the three steps 
around the room back to her. He stopped close but didn't touch 
her. 

Scully was alarmed to realises the tremble that ran through 
her muscles was real. 

   "It should have been me." 

He left her standing there hair a mess, lips swollen and 
bruised not wanting to look around should it seem she was 
searching for a camera, not wanting to stand still should  
she start to think.

After what seemed like the longest time her eyes focused 
on the bed. Pushing away thoughts of Mulder and the scrape 
of his stubble on her skin she tried to work out what to do 
next. 

Small steps Dana she thought, she couldn't sleep here not 
with someone watching her and not with the memory of his 
lips over hers. Gradually her synapses reconnected. 

  "Bastard. Damn you." She whispered confused and hurt 
enough without needing to act. 

She started pretending to sob but real tears came. 
Angrily she tore the bedding from the mattress leaving
it in a heap on the floor. Searching in the dark her 
hands came across a vase, a makeup box, the contents of 
half a bookcase. She threw them all towards the bed.  
Then collapsed with the effort hugging her knees hiding 
her face. 

Eventually the tears real and pretend subsided she stood 
retrieving the largely unscathed comforter a quick look at 
her handiwork convinced her it was sufficient to explain why 
she would be sleeping on the sofa. 

She left quickly closing the door behind her.
------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 3
-----------------------------------------------------------
By the morning Scully decided she had made some sense of it. 
Mulder had obviously wanted someone's attention. On reflection 
it hadn't been hers. It had nothing to do with her. Nothing to 
do with them.

She summarised in her head for the hundredth time, a few 
short sentences, easy to repeat, rationalising everything 
away. The explanation was obvious, simple, succinct and 
logical. 

But her partner was none of those things and her reasoning
 didn't account for the permanent ball of lead that had taken 
up residence where her gut used to be, why her skin felt 
different or why it wasn't quite her reflection that had 
stared back from the mirror. The slightly swollen lips, red 
sclera, stubble scratched skin would soon fade but something 
deeper and more permanent had changed. 

She closed her eyes and stopped concentrating for a moment, 
immediately his voice replaced her mantra.

Mulder was the only person that could make her feel so many 
different things at once. The man was a walking contradiction 
and last night he had played havoc with her emotions. 

She poked at the untouched bowl of cereal then moved the 
full mug of coffee three inches to the right. She tried to 
shut out him out with walls of logic but even in absence it 
seemed he was persistent.

She picked up the full fat milk carton and hovered it over 
the mug then changed her mind and tipped some into her cereal.

Did you say my name the absent Mulder rasped in her ear. Her 
hand jerked and the milk split over the table. At that 
instant he had been asking about Ed. Whether he meant it or 
not his words were a comment on Philadelphia

Not out loud she thought answering his question before she 
could stop herself. But in her head she had, she never 
intended to tell him. She certainly had not expected him 
to ask but as ever Mulder was spookily perceptive. 

She sighed and gave up on breakfast rising to get a cloth 
to clean the milk from the table. It was then she realised 
her files were missing. 

Mulder.

Too tired to feel angry she threw the cereal away and 
returned to the same chair moving the coffee cup again and 
staring at the empty space. 

She realised regardless of her better judgement, the phantom 
voice in her ear, the redness over clavicle that she couldn't 
stop touching she needed to see him. 

They needed to talk about the case. 

Mulder would know what to do. Mulder did know what to and in 
his usual cryptic manner had told her last night.

He obviously thought that her bedroom had was being watched. 
He was acting for someone, their killer she presumed. That 
much was easy to work out and she already had. He wanted to 
draw the attention of a monster. He wanted to make her more 
interesting to a psychopath. They could of just argued, 
shouting matches with him she was good at. They could have 
discussed world politics, her day at work, created some 
inventive story to explain the presence of a new man in 
Katherine's life. He hadn't, not even close. 

But why passionate reunion, why had he chosen to press her 
back into the door and place his lips over hers. Her face 
flushed at the memory. 

She had the absurd thought that from then on they were free 
falling. Mulder had always had trouble keeping his personal 
and professional life separate and recently so had she. He 
may have started acting but her intuition told her that the 
anger and jealously had been real. What was bothering her was 
that she couldn't work out how much of the passion was fake. 

She glanced at the clock, her morning meeting with Claude 
was getting nearer. Mulder she decided would have to wait. 
------------------------------------------------------------

Scully navigated her way through the frozen roads. She was 
careful for her gloved hands not to slip on the steering wheel 
and equally cautious for the car not to slide on the ice. 
Saturday morning and the impending snow had reduced the 
amount of traffic and for that she was grateful. 

Saturday morning also brought with it three days off and 
Scully had yet to decide what she should be doing with the 
time. 

She changed lanes smoothly navigating from memory. She hadn't 
packed any turtle necks and as she glanced in the rear view 
mirror she could see some of the stubble scraped skin just 
visible above her neck line. She tightened her hands on the 
wheel resisting the temptation to run her fingers over the 
abrasions again. Purposely forcing away all thoughts of her 
partner she tried to focus on her impending meeting with 
Claude.  

It was beginning to snow, she was distracted from her 
unproductive thoughts by having to pay more attention to the 
road. The address Claude had given her was committed to memory 
and hidden in her purse should she need directions, so far 
she hadn't. 

It was only 09:45 when she pulled into the parking lot of 
yet another small all American diner. Despite her interrupted 
night her nervous energy had made her early. She flipped the 
heating onto full and glanced around her before braving the 
snow. There were a few other cars in the parking lot, she 
studied them for a moment wondering if any of them belonged 
to a killer then realised she had no idea what the average 
monster might drive. 

Sighing upset by her illogical reflections and despondent 
that she had yet to figure out her feelings on her partners 
latest bout of irrational behaviour she pushed open the car 
door. Despite her multiple layers of clothing the chill still 
caught her off guard. She had left her scarf and hat on the 
passenger seat purposely letting her fiery hair fly around 
her face. The combination of wayward strands and the cold 
made her eyes water obscuring her vision. 

Scully entered the diner head dipped shaking the snow from 
her hair leaving it tangled and wild. She quickly wiped her 
eyes and nose with the back of her hand reddening them even 
more. It was a full three minutes before she looked up to 
find him watching her. 

Mulder.  

For a moment she had the near overwhelming desire to turn 
around and flee. His eyes meet hers and she read apology 
there. Deciding she had nowhere to go she made her way 
slowly to the booth and slide into the seat opposite him. 

  "Sorry." He said very slowly the hazel stare as intense 
as it had ever been. 

Sorry for what she wondered anger sparking again. Sorry 
for what he had said. Sorry for what he had done.

  "Did you come alone?" She replied, keeping each word 
low and managing to hold the tremor out of her voice. 

  "There is no one listening." He answered equally softly 
catching her hidden meaning. "There may be someone watching." 
He finished his lips barely moving.

She understood, he didn't believe their killer could hear 
them but he obviously thought they could be seen. Scully 
resisted the temptation to look around. 

  "Why?" She said instead unable to come up with a more 
specific question. 

  "George." He said, still quiet. "He hasn't seen Katy 
for a while they didn't part on good terms. He still has 
feelings for her but things.. are complicated." Mulder 
replied in monotone, avoiding the question and her eyes.

He looked up at her again.

  "He likes to watch." This time she realised he was 
talking about their killer. She nodded, prompting him to 
go on.
 
  "They were being filmed, I think I know how he picks 
them."

  "Sex?" She asked surprised she managed to get out the 
word and instantly wondering how far he would have gone 
last night. 

Mulder shook his head quickly for once his expression 
transparent his train of thought obviously matching hers. 

  "It's not that simple, I don't understand him yet Scully, 
but I know he watches." 

That was better, he was beginning to sound more like her 
partner. 

  "Its not just about sex, its human interaction, our 
killer is a voyeur."

  "The autopsy reports confirmed they were all raped." 
She replied sounding more like Agent Scully. "He does 
more than watch."

   "He's a loner, he lives through others, the more 
eventful their lives the more interested he is."

Typical Mulder, double meaning in everything, he was 
describing their monster and explaining himself at the 
same time. 

She let him go on.

  "He gets jealous, watching what he can't have so he 
punishes them." 

  "Your theory differs from VICAP's interpretation of 
events?" She replied wondering why she had avoided using 
the word profile. 

Mulder nodded and grinned for the first time. 

  "BSU don't buy it, they just see the violence but he is 
patient, self restrained even. That doesn't fit their 
profile so they ignore it."  

  "You didn't have permission to..contact me." She couldn't 
help but hesitate searching for the appropriate descriptive.

   "Yes, no, sort of." Mulder answered quickly. "Perkins 
bought the idea, he just didn't think it should be me."

Perkins was probably right Scully thought traitorously. 
Mulder had fallen silent and she choose that moment to study 
her still gloved hands. 

When she looked up she realised his gaze was focused below 
her face, eyes intent on the reddened skin at the base of 
her neck. She opened her mouth to start to speak but something 
in his expression stopped her. Not looking up he reached across 
the small table and pulled back her woollen lapel. He had 
removed his gloves and when he ran his fingers along her clavicle 
the touch of his skin against hers was electric. 

Just the raw nerve endings reacting to light touch she told 
herself but it didn't explain her rapid breathing or why his 
fingers trembled.

  "It probably shouldn't have been" She whispered reluctant 
to break to the spell.

  "I'm sorry." He repeated removing his hand. "I was angry, 
I went too far." 

She shook her head slightly.

  "Broken capillaries will heal Mulder, its just with us 
its complicated." 

He smiled slightly, almost his usual ironic grin. 

  "Yes, complicated." He agreed but he didn't seem entirely 
convinced.

  "Okay so now we have his attention what now?" Scully tried 
to redirect the conversation thinking a meeting with Claude 
may have been easier. 

  "We keep it."

She said nothing.

  "And please, be careful."

  "Mulder.." She was about to launch into her usual I'm a 
federal agent I can look after myself speech but he had heard 
it before and he had easily overpowered her last night. 

  "Whatever else he may be when it comes to abduction.." Scully 
mentally replaced the word with kidnapping "..he is an opportunist."

She scrolled through the previous murders, taken whilst out 
walking a dog, returning from a late night out, putting out the 
trash. Always outside, always alone. Only one women had been stolen  
from her bed, one of the last. She choose to ignore that thought.

  "I thought you said he was organised, self controlled, that 
doesn't fit."

  "No." He hesitated, this time a pause she was used to, he was 
deciding how much to share.

  "Dissociative identity disorder." He said slowly. Scully arched 
an eyebrow in a move that was so typically her he had to bite his 
lip to stop himself from telling her not to.

  "Its incredibly rare, there are some schools of thought that 
deny it truly exists." She countered calmly. 

He nodded. 

  "There are too many inconsistencies in the MO, one minute 
he's organised the next brutal, its like I'm profiling two 
different people."

His use of the word profiling wasn't lost on Scully. She had 
her suspicions about how he had got involved the investigation 
but he hadn't confirmed how until now. She stared at him for 
a moment, measuring the depth of the circles under his eyes, 
the unkempt hair, the stubble that was still present. Mulder's 
ability to get inside the head of a monster made her uneasy. 
There was no rumbled shirt or skewed tie, he had opted for a 
black sweater and his ubiquitous dark leather coat. After a few 
minutes of scrutiny the physician in her was reassured. He looked 
no worse than she.

  "Hey, I didn't mention possession." He murmured in his best 
am I joking voice and she realised she had been caught. 

   "Possession?" Off guard she replied without thinking.

  "Yeah, you know, the exorcist, out of body experience, mind 
control" Only Mulder could make those words sound seductive. 
He leant back. "In fact now that I think of it.."

  "Why did you come here this morning Mulder?" She derailed 
his speech before she learnt more than she ever needed to know 
about outer body experience. 

  "Morris was washing his hair." He half smiled pleased they 
had regained some of their easy rapport. 

Scully simply stared.

  "I missed you." He used the same flippant tone but this time 
she detected a hint of truth underneath the sarcasm.

  "And we need to buy some time, we need to keep his attention 
focused on us until we figure the rest of this out." 

She didn't miss the lack of reference to the rest of the 
task force either. As usual, them against the world, it felt 
oddly familiar. 

  "So the purpose of this morning's meeting?" She prompted 
again. 

  "Katherine realises she made a terrible mistake excluding 
George from her life, begs for forgiveness." He grinned 
slightly, clearly having thought through this little speech 
and enjoying it. 

  "He considers it for a while, negotiates some terms, 
she readily agrees and they get back together." 

  "Terms?" She questioned half exasperated. 

He was quiet then looked at her expression serious.

  "She doesn't leave his sight, he stays with her." He 
paused again. "I do not want to use you as bait."

  "That's not your decision." She said voice still soft 
but suddenly irritated again, it was precisely what she 
had agreed to a week earlier. She didn't want his permission 
then and certainly didn't need it now.

  "I have had the same training as you." This time she did 
recount her I am a federal agent lines. He sat quietly until 
she had finished. She expected him to argue.
 
  "Go shopping." He said instead derailing her.

  "What?"

  "Go shopping, stay in the mall. Buy something from 
Victoria's secrets, nothing too revealing please"

  "What?" He gave her an fed up look that suggested it 
was standard practice for her FBI partner to request her 
to purchase lingerie. 

  "Okay, fine." Her brain caught up with his reasoning, 
keep his attention.

He nodded curtly and made as if to stand. Without 
thinking she placed her hand over his stopping him from 
leaving.

  "One condition." She said quickly. "I want to see the 
last victim."

Mulder leant back. 

  "The autopsy has already been completed." He said, but 
she could see he was considering how to fulfil her request. 

She nodded for the first time in the last fifteen minutes 
pleased he wasn't Claude. 

  "I'll meet you, 3pm back here." He said finally then 
stood to leave. 

She followed him. Then regretted it was he grasped her 
hand in his as they stepped out into the snow. Instead of 
leading her towards Katherine's beat up ford he pulled her 
over to a new BMW.

  "George has done well from himself." She mumbled. 

Mulder moved his hands to her hips and gently manoeuvred 
her until she was pressed against the passenger door. He 
leant closer to her, his heat and cologne a sharp contrast 
to the ice and snow. 

  "How do you know he's watching." She said, barely a 
whisper lips not moving.

  "Come on, when I am ever wrong." He replied directly 
in her ear each word a small puff of condensation that 
she could feel.  

  "I'm going to kiss you now Scully." He continued 
without moving back. "Don't move, just pretend  
you're enjoying it." 

Despite the fact he spoke in statements not questions 
she knew he was asking her permission. She briefly 
considered pulling away not wanting to make things 
problematic than they already were. Before she could 
give the request anymore thought her body betrayed her 
and she nodded almost imperceptivity heart rate rocketing. 

One ungloved hand pushed under her coat and pulled her 
closer.

Her respiratory rate was coming close to her heart rate 
and she wished he would just get on with it. She was about 
to tell him to hurry up when he gently placed his lips 
gently at the side of hers. It was nothing more than a 
chaste kiss but her lips tingling and sparks flew down 
her spine. He placed a hand on her neck and slide it down 
to cover the reddened skin of her neck. His palm was a sharp 
contrast to the icy chill of outside air.  

With some consternation she realised her muscles were 
trembling. He leant back and hovered, face inches from 
hers. Her eyes moved to his mouth watching his full lower 
lip remembering in vivid detail how it had felt on her skin. 

She knew she should pull back but she was quickly realising 
that her ability to think along with her self control 
disappeared when he was this close. Instead she closed her 
eyes waiting and expecting to feel his lips back on hers. 

She didn't, he lifted his hand and traced her cheek. She 
looked back at him, his eyes were dark and dangerous. She 
could see the tension in his muscles and realised it was 
taking effort for him to hold back. Scully looked away 
nonsensically disappointed. He pulled away and she couldn't 
help but wonder at her frustration. She didn't really want 
him to kiss her again. Did she? 

Breathing quickly he was watching her with a mixture of 
speculation and apprehension. Almost as if he didn't 
recognise her. She likely looked as far removed from her 
usual self as possible. Hair messy and damp from the snow, 
devoid of make up, lips still swollen and stubble marks 
across her collar. She wasn't the Dana Scully he was used 
to but then she mused, it probably wasn't that that bothered 
him.  

She stared back until the icy wind brought her back to 
reality and broke the spell. 

  "3pm" She said quietly.

He nodded, barely moving expression not changing.

Scully turned and made her way to her car. She knew he 
was watching her but she forced herself not to look back. 

---------------------------------------------------------

To be honest sneaking Scully into the morgue hadn't 
been all that difficult. 

He had had her arrested. 

  "Cannabis possession Mulder?" She asked when he 
walked into the small interrogation room.

Despite the unfamiliar clothing she had made an effort 
at restoring her own image. She had combed the waves out 
of her hair and the reddened skin was hidden under what 
he suspected was a new bottle of clinique. She looked 
more like his partner.

  "Not very original" She completed the ensemble by raising 
her eyebrow. 

  "Would you have preferred indecent exposure." He asked 
poker face in place.

She looked unimpressed. In fact she had caught on quickly 
the county morgue was in this building and it was unlikely 
their killer would be brazen enough to follow her into a 
police cell. 

Her partner was now dressed in his usual attire, well 
tailored grey suit and clean shaven. He looked like a 
federal agent.  

  "Want to take these off now?" She raised her wrists 
which were still encased in steel handcuffs.

  "Ohh Agent Scully you're giving me ideas." He 
continued deadpan from the other side of the room.

She was trying to think to a reply that didn't include 
the words if you don't I'll shoot again when another 
man entered the room.

She recognised him immediately, it was the man who 
arrested her only now dressed in plain clothes. Mulder 
seemed to know him, they exchanged nods as he walked in.

  "Agent Scully." The man approached her. "Samuel 
Trent, homicide." He offered her his hand as he told 
her his real name. She jangled the hand cuffs.

  "Sorry about that." Trent replied embarrassed. He 
undid the lock giving Mulder an odd look as he did so. 
He was clearly wondering why her partner had not seen 
fit to release her. Mulder merely shrugged. 

  "Thank you." Scully replied, addressing the man before 
her. "And thank you for getting me in. I hope you don't 
get in too much trouble."

Sam Trent grinned and she immediately decided that she 
liked this man.

  "Your visit is completely authorised." He said as he 
placed the cuffs on the table.

Definitely liked this man. 

  "Have you actually met my partner." She countered.

  "Well maybe we shouldn't hang around for too long." He 
stepped back and motioned towards the door where Mulder 
still hovered. 

  "Morgue's downstairs" 

Trent directed as he followed her and Mulder out the door. 

They navigated the corridors quickly and despite the man's 
assurances Scully could see Trent tense visibly. Due to 
the weekend the building was mostly empty and to the relief 
of both men no one questioned their presence. 

They made it to the elevator without incident. Trent hit the 
button that read basement. 

  "Just like home." Mulder mumbled, making Scully smile 
and Trent throw him another odd glance. 

  "Are they all here?" Scully asked as the electronic 
indicator counted down the floor numbers.

She already knew half the answer to the question, the 
first murders were nearly two years prior, the bodies 
would not have been realised but they were no longer 
here. Six, no seven families were still waiting to bury 
their dead.

  "The last three victims." Trent answered and Scully 
sneaked another look at this man Mulder had apparently 
befriended. He was taller than she but Mulder still had 
a good six inches on him. His blond hair was giving into 
grey. He wasn't unattractive but his good looks were 
marred by age and exhaustion. She realised he was the man 
in the newspaper photo.

The elevator reached its destination and the doors slide 
open nosily. They stepped out into a corridor that could 
have belonged in any morgue Scully had ever been in. The 
signs directed them towards the reception.

Scully startled when they rounded the corner and found 
a man standing behind the desk. Mulder placed a hand on 
her arm in what she assumed was supposed to be a 
reassuring gesture but after recent events she jumped at 
his touch too.

The man was engrossed in file. He was of a similar age 
as Trent and had the same worry lines but instead of 
grey his hair was salt and pepper black and his height 
nearly matched Mulder's.

  "Tom." Trent addressed him.

The man turned and despite Trent's address focused 
surprisingly blue eyes on her.

  "You must be Agent Scully." He said taking a step 
forward and offering her his hand. She shook it thinking 
that Boston PD hired very polite cops. 

  "Tom Morgan, Sam's partner." The man continued 
when no one else made the introduction for him. 

Scully nodded slightly, realising he was obviously 
in on this too. 

  "Dana Scully." She shook his hand. 

  "There's no one here." Morgan spoke to them all. 
This too wasn't unusual, pathologists had an oncall 
rota just like the rest of the medical profession 
but barring homicide the lab was often empty at the 
weekend. 

  "Could I see the bodies please." 

Trent and Morgan exchanged a glance, apparently they 
did have some reservations about this unauthorised trip 
to the basement.

  "As well as having red hair Scully is a board certified 
pathologist." Mulder answered for her. 

Morgan raised his brows, this was obviously information 
that he had yet to share.

  "This way Dr Agent Scully." Morgan replied after a 
moment of hesitation, a hint of amusement in his voice. 

The morgue was large and there were a number of rooms 
set up for more detailed examinations, most of which 
she knew would have negative pressure ventilation and 
overhead radiology facilities.  

Morgan lead them into the largest room and she felt 
the usual chill as they stepped into the temperature 
controlled environment. There were four steel gurneys 
in a row polished, clean and thankfully empty. Scully 
wasn't sure she wanted to see any more death than 
necessary. Ahead of them was the refrigerator storage 
facilities for those who had already undergone that final  
indignity of slit from shoulder tip to sternum.

  "Bays two, five and twelve." It was Trent this time. 

Trent made no move towards the doors he had identified. 
Instead he took several steps backwards and Scully 
understood the reluctance she had heard minutes earlier.

  "You're not staying?" Mulder asked and Scully noted a 
trace of smugness in his voice.

  "No." Morgan this time. These two had obviously worked 
together a while, she wondered if she and Mulder answered 
each others questions. 

Scully nodded, not many detectives, even homicide like 
to hang around the morgue. Even Mulder who wouldn't 
blanch at poking and prodding anything he thought was 
extraterrestrial had avoided the autopsy bay when she 
had first met him. 

  "I may need some help." 

Mulder nodded, confirming his intention to remain. 

Good she thought, he could do some more explaining. 

Trent detached his pager from his belt and handed it to 
Mulder. 

  "Cell phones don't work down here." He said by way 
of explanation. "Any sign of trouble I'll set the bleeper 
off." 

  "Thanks." Mulder accepted it. 

Trent turned to Scully.

  "The changing rooms are through there." He indicated a 
door to their left. "Nice to meet you Dana."

Morgan and Trent disappeared footsteps in synch leaving 
her alone with her partner. Scully headed towards the door 
Trent had indicated, Mulder took two steps to follow. 

  "Mulder.." She started to warn.

  "You know there have been four documented cases of 
dissociative disorder where more than one personality 
exhibited psychopathic tendencies." He followed her 
through the door.

They entered the standard morgue changing room, 
Scully grabbed a set of medium scrubs and disappeared 
behind a wall of lockers. Thankfully Mulder made no 
move to follow her. 

  "One man even claimed to be possessed, of course by 
several different demons, one of which being Satan himself. 
He killed only Catholics."  

She changed quickly, only half listening to his rambling 
dialogue. He was nervous she realised remembering the 
dark eyes that had followed her from the diner.
 
  "It makes for interesting reading especially the part 
about Azrael, an Islamic interpretation of the angel of 
death, the funny thing is that particular personality 
even spoke Arabic."

Dressed from head to toe in scrubs and holding her plastic 
shoes in her hand Scully reappeared to find him leaning 
against the wall purposely looking away from the direction 
in which she had headed.

  "Does this have anything to do with our current case?" 
She asked, mostly to shut him up. 

  "Maybe." He replied looking down at her their height 
difference exaggerated by her lack of shoes.

  "I thought you were going to help?" She commented 
on his attire, she had yet to ever convince him to change 
into scrubs and assist but it amused her to try.

  "From a distance." He countered handing her a blue 
paper hat.

She accepted haphazardly placing it over her hair, 
with no band to tie it back most escaped.  

Scully stepped past him and grasped the door handle 
ready to pull it open. His hand on her shoulder stopped her. 

She gasped before she could stop herself. For a moment 
she was reminded of a small store room somewhere north 
of the artic circle. His touch had taken her breath away 
then as well, His fingers ran up her neck.
 
  "Mulder." She started warily mouth suddenly dry. 

  "Your hair Scully." He interrupted quickly. "It gives 
you away."

She stood statue still hand on the door whilst he tucked 
the errant strands under the surgical cap.

  "Done." He said quietly.

Scully quickly pulled the door open and made a rapid exit. 
Her partner followed more slowly.

  "Monty, I choose door number two." Mulder spoke from 
across the room. 

Scully pulled back the handle with one practiced motion, 
the draw slide smoothly on its rails coming to an abrupt 
stop. The body was covered with a opaque plastic shroud 
that told Scully that the trace evidence had already been 
collected. She quickly moved onto the other two draws 
repeating the motion.

The last draw contained the latest victim, her naked body 
was immediately exposed as the gurney slide out. Scully 
recognised her as one of the newly dead. 

Mulder took two steps closer and peered at the women on 
the trolley. He waited patiently whilst his partner gently 
explored the body with her gloved hands. Moving hair and 
limbs mentally cataloguing the horrors that Leigh Curtis 
had endured. Scully look at chest and realised Mulder had 
been right when he said the autopsy had been completed. 
She continued down to the woman's  abdomen and gasped. 
For once the precision Y cut didn't look out of place, 
it matched the surgical incisions that laced the abdomen. 
She looked around for an instrument tray finding one under 
one of the empty gurneys. Likely someone would notice it 
had gone missing but she pulled open the sterile wrapper 
anyway. 

Mulder watched patiently whilst took the forceps and probed 
the wounds, identifying the layers of tissue as she looked 
deeper. Skin, dermis, fascia, external oblique and internal 
oblique none through to the peritoneum. 

  "Who ever did this had some knowledge of anatomy." She 
said out loud. 

Mulder remained quiet. 

  "Never through the peritoneum." 

  "The abdominal cavity?" He prompted already knowing the 
answer but wanting to hear her explanation.

  "The internal organs are well protected, skin, connective 
tissue, muscle the last barrier is the peritoneum itself, 
here." She grasped the thin now grey tissue with the forceps 
and held it to show him.

To his credit Mulder leant close enough to get a good look 
at what she was holding.

  "Why bother?" He asked retreating again.

Scully shrugged as she continued her evaluation. 

  "To keep them alive" she suggested. "A few centimetres 
deeper, perforate the bowel and untreated peritonitis is 
rapidly fatal.

  "How rapid?" 

  "A few days."

He looked at her as she realised the flaw in her logic, these 
women were all killed within a few days anyway, there was no 
need to be so careful. 

  "What symptoms would someone with peritonitis have?" He 
asked anyway.

  "Abdominal pain, pyrexia, eventually septicaemia, 
hypotension, tachycardia, reduced GCS, coma and death."

Her partner remained silent for a moment looking 
contemplative. She moved on to the neck wound. It was 
another surgical incision but delivered without the 
control of the others he had severed carotid artery and 
external jugular alike. This wound was designed to kill. 

  "No one could have survived this." She said voicing 
her thoughts aloud.
   
  "To keep them fighting." Mulder said suddenly. She 
looked up away from the body for the first time since 
opening the draw.

  "Mulder this would have been instantly fatal." 

He shook his head slightly.

  "Not that, the others." It was more statement than 
question and she knew better than to interrupt him. 

She returned her attention back to the women before her, 
this time mentally categorising the bruising on her neck 
and upper limbs. She agreed with the pathologist, there 
was evidence of healing. The face was remarkably untouched. 
The abrasions continued down the woman's body, mostly on 
her arms and legs. Scully had autopsied rape victims before, 
it was a familiar pattern but she could see her partners 
point the abdominal wounds were of a completely different 
nature to the others. She focused on the wrists, there were 
rope marks.

  "Mulder.." She began to speak to him but when she looked 
up he wasn't there.

Slightly exasperated she moved to the next gurney and pulled 
back the sheet. Anne Marsden was about fifty pounds heavier 
than Leigh Curtis and ten years older, in life they were 
probably very different but in death they were almost 
identical. 

She was repeating the cursory exam when her partner 
returned carrying a plastic case. 

  "Mulder you're right this makes no sense. Take away 
the surgical incisions the rope bindings and these women 
have injuries consistent with a textbook rape case."

  "Say that again." He replied distracted by fumbling with 
the case he had found.

  "Rape victims are held down, abrasions are due to blunt 
trauma and present on the medial portion of the thigh, 
the volar surfaces of the arms and there is significant 
vaginal and perineal trauma."

  "No, the part about me being right." He answered half 
heartedly not looking up.

The lock on the case snapped and he pulled it open to 
reveal a video camera. 

  "Are you listening to me." Scully asked irritated as 
he turned the machine over deciding which button was on. 

  "They were raped then tied down then cut." He 
summarised so succulently that it irritated her even more. 

  "What's with the camcorder." She asked a few seconds 
later when he had said nothing else.

  "An experiment."

He elaborated no further so she moved onto the first 
victim. This woman appeared to have sustained significant 
maxillofacial trauma to go with the rest of her injuries 
but otherwise there was no difference. 

Mulder had paced to the corner of the room and held 
the camera towards the victim. He was staring intently 
at the view finder but the lack of red light suggested 
he wasn't actually recording anything. 

  "Come here for a second Scully." 

Intrigued by his strange behaviour if nothing else she 
snapped her gloves off and went to join him.

  "You think they still were being watched?" She asked 
as she reached his side. He nodded and held the camera 
down so she to could see what he saw. 

  "This is just a theory, a real theory one that doesn't 
involve aliens, ghosts or Elvis. I think he films them 
as he does it, but he doesn't want to get in the picture. 
The very definition of voyeurism is watching from distance"

He glanced down at her.

  "Filming them struggling that's easy enough but its 
the abdominal wounds I didn't understand."

Scully looked up from the camera to her partner. 
 
  "I wondered if it was the abdomen itself that interested 
him, a sort of variation on foot fetishism. But maybe 
its just the easiest part of the body to focus on."

He adjusted the zoom and fixed it on Leigh Curtis's 
mutilated stomach. 

  "But these women would have been fighting. trying 
to get away." Scully countered.

  "Precisely." Mulder answered, "To some extent they 
could move their arms and legs much more, far more 
difficult for him to keep himself out of the picture, 
a lot easier to miss the shot."

He returned to rummage in the plastic case finding and 
uncoiling a tripod. He set the camera on it and glanced 
around the room.  

Scully watched as his eyes focused on the empty gurney.

  "No." She said immediately, following his train of 
thought. "Absolutely not, I am not getting on that thing 
so you can point some camera at me."
 
He merely raised an eyebrow and leaving the camera 
grasping her now ungloved hand and tugging her over 
a desk instead. It must have been surplus to requirements 
as there was little paperwork and no computer on it. 
In one sweep he pushed all the files to the floor and 
startled her by grabbing her by the waist and setting 
her down in the empty space. 

  "Always wanted to do that." He murmured. 

To who she wondered.

  "You didn't happen to keep those handcuffs did you?" 
He said in the same offhand tone this time looking 
directly at her. 

Scully stared at him for a second then started to climb 
down. His hand on her waist again stopped her. When 
had he started touching her so much. Since he had kissed 
her every brush of his hands she felt acutely. She 
searched his face wondering if he felt it too. There was 
nothing in his expression that revealed the answer. But 
then he had always touched her, his hand in hers, fingers  
under her chin or brushing away her hair. Maybe it was just 
natural for him. She glanced down at his fingers were 
they meet the scrub top. Or maybe he was aware, careful, 
always conscious of boundaries. 

  "Just for a moment?" He asked softly.

She realised he had moved his other hand to gently hold 
the fabric on the other side of her middle. He was 
standing square in front of her, had kept his distance 
but was still close enough that she glanced up she was 
looking him straight in the eyes. 

  "You don't get to keep the tape." She answered finally.

He smiled and left to adjust the camera. Taking a breath 
she forced herself to lie down on the desk. It was large 
enough that she could stretch out without reaching the 
edges. She turned her head to watch her partners 
movements feeling suddenly very self conscious. Not 
sure what else to do with them she crossed her hands 
over her stomach. 

Mulder increased the height of the tripod and moved 
forward two foot. She resisted the temptation to flee. 
Finally satisfied with the angle Mulder walked back over 
to her. He gave her his best trust me look and took hold 
of her hands, gently he raised them above her head and 
rested them next to one another. Remaining silent she 
watched him again as he left to look through the view  
finder. 

She knew from the autopsy reports and the women lying 
across the room that this wasn't the position they were 
tortured in. Their arms and legs were bound at opposite 
corners. 

  "Okay." He mumbled from the other side of the room. 

She kept still as he hit record and paced back.

  "Left to right?" He asked her, wanting confirmation 
of the direction of injury.

  "Yes." Scully answered finding it strange to be 
talking up to him from this position. 

He looked back at the camera and she realised he was 
also wondering which side the killer stood. With his 
back to the camcorder he decided and thus positioned 
himself as such. He glanced back at and adjusted his 
position several times, finally shifting so that he 
stood oblique to her body half turned away but keeping 
his face hidden. 

Using his index finger he drew invisible lines just 
above her abdomen. After several minutes he stopped 
and went to watch the footage. 

  "It doesn't explain all the cuts." He decided finally. 

  "All the cuts were oblique but in different 
directions." Scully contributed, resting her hands  
back on her abdomen but remaining on the table. 

Mulder nodded absently and she realised he was mentally 
scrolling through the autopsy pictures.

  "He must have changed position."

He returned to stand beside her this time closer to 
her upper body still at the same angle. Beginning to 
feel slightly less ridiculous she raised her hands 
again.

  "The pathologist didn't comment on the order of 
the lacerations." She said as her partner repeated the 
process of drawing imaginary lines across her middle. 

  "No." Mulder agreed. Shifting positions slightly.

  "How much pressure would he have needed?" He asked 

  "A reasonable amount." The desk was beginning to 
feel uncomfortable with her hands raised. "Skin is 
surprisingly tough. And he was careful, you can't cut 
down to muscle in one go. He would have had to make an 
initial cut then dissect downwards varying the pressure 
as he went." 

  "It would have taken time?" 

  "Yes, even for a surgeon and our killer may be an 
expert now but it wasn't to begin with."

She shifted slightly trying to arch away from the hard 
wood. 

  "Show me." He asked taking one of her hands and 
placing it over his. 

She hesitated for a second then drew a line in the air 
holding his fingers as a scalpel as best she could. 
It was an awkward angle and the lack of resistance 
made it difficult to judge pressure. Without thinking 
she pulled his hand down pressing it onto the fabric of 
her scrub top. She had incised tissue so many times it 
was instinctual to draw his hand along at the correct 
rate and force. The scrub top resisted the movement. 

Mulder absently used his free hand to push the shirt up.
Before she could stop herself she gasped as his fingers 
meet with her skin. If Mulder noticed he didn't give any 
indication.

  "Like this?" He copied her earlier movement. She let 
her hand guide his correcting and adding pressure. 

  "Once through the dermis he would have had to dissect 
the adipose tissue, most surgeons use light repetitive 
movements."

She demonstrated with his finger, the shallow gentle 
touch making her skin tingle. 

  "It can be quite vascular likely there would have 
been a lot of bleeding."

Her partner nodded staring intently as their hands. 

  "Fascia would give with little pressure but muscle 
is tougher, its easier to run with the paths of the 
muscle fibres, external and internal oblique are 
just that oblique."

She drew his hand across again. Diagonally on the right 
and then the left, pressing hard enough to prove how 
much pressure would be needed and in the process making 
her shiver. 

Finally she let his hand go and replaced both her 
arms above her head nodding slightly at him. With 
surprising accuracy he performed the series of movements 
as she had shown him. He switched sides moving level to 
her hips facing towards hers and repeated the process. 

The small electric sparks that emanated from the point 
were his skin touched hers spread to her spine. She was 
watching his face, he was concentrating she thought. 
Remembering her brief explanation, trying to break into 
the mind of a monster. She shifted again arching her 
back away from the desk. He brought his left hand  to join 
the other splaying his palm on her abdomen stopping her 
from moving too far. Surprised she drew in a breath. This 
time she must have distracted him as he became still and 
glanced at his hands as if he had no idea how they got  
there.

Her breathing was shallow and fast and she was sure he 
could feel it under his fingers, just like he would be 
able to feel the faint but fast pulsation of the abdominal 
aorta. For a long minute he didn't move. 

He took his right hand away giving up all pretence of 
holding a scalpel. He surprised her by replacing it on 
the desk effectively caging her with his arms.

  "Mulder." She said finally voice slightly shaky.

He didn't answer her so she lowered her arms and leant 
up onto her elbows, his hand still in place.

  "Mulder." She repeated. 

This time he turned to face her. His expression was 
unreadable but his pupils seemed larger and darker than 
usual. More dangerous she thought heart rate rocketing. 
How had they ended up here again.

  "Where?" He asked finally voice low.

  "Mulder, I don't know what.." She started to answer 
but was breathing too quickly too finish the sentence in 
one go. 

  "Where is it?" 

This time she realised, the tattoo, he was asking about 
the tattoo. 

  "I don't think.." she started but something in the way 
he was looking at her stopped her.

  "My lower back, on the right." She answered in a voice 
she barely recognised as her own. 

She wondered if he would touch her there, his left hand 
still rested on the right side of her abdomen. Did he 
expect her to lean forwards and expose the newly marked 
skin for his inspection.  

She remained paralysed. 

  "I saw the photo." He admitted quietly thankfully 
making no effort to see the real thing. He leant forwards 
slightly resting more of his body against the table and 
closing some of the gap between them. 

  "Did it hurt?" he whispered. She remembered the police 
image, her skin was still raw, slightly raised and 
erythematous distorting the shape.

  "Yes." She answered still shaky but managing to pull 
herself to a sitting position. Her scrub top fell back 
down and his hand slid until it matched the other, one 
either side of her hips, his body leaning towards hers. 
But although he trapped her physically it was his eyes 
and voice that held her in place.

Slowly he raised his left hand and traced her lumbar 
spine his fingertips bumping over the vertebrae. He kept 
his eyes fixed on hers.

  "Does it still hurt?" his voice was gravel.

Her chest was rising and falling too quickly and this 
time she didn't trust herself to answer. She shook her 
head. 

He inched his hand towards the still sensitive skin. Even 
through the rough fabric the feel of his fingers as he 
reached the edge was startling. She gasped. He stopped his 
slow movement and shifted until his lips were close to her 
right ear his right arm still wrapped around her. 

  "This is where I touch you Scully." 

He moved his hand slightly still keeping the fabric between 
them. It was, she realised, his hand on her back when as 
they walked. She had always wondered, a left over of a well 
bred upbringing, a possessive gesture. Every nerve ending 
was tingling. Now that his gaze was no longer locked with  
hers she shut her eyes and biting her lip tried her best 
not to turn her head to his. He began drawing circles with 
his fingertips tracing the path of the snake with accuracy. 

Her muscles tensed and relaxed, her heart pounded in her 
ears. She wanted to run but couldn't move. 

She had the sudden thought that all she had to do was turn 
her head, a little further and he would kiss her. He would 
kiss Agent Dana Scully, no pretence. And she would let him. 
She would let him press her into a cold morgue desk. Let 
him slip his hand under the scrub top and she would find  
out what it felt like to have his touch against her still 
healing nerve endings. Mulder made the decision for her. 
Keeping one hand over tattoo he placed the other at the 
base of her neck his fingers warming the skin. Leaning 
back he rested his forehead against hers. 

  "Mulder." She started barely audible.

  "I'm sorry." he replied quietly. "For whatever I didn't 
do. Tell me how we fix this."

  "There doesn't have to be anything to fix." She replied 
realising as she said the words that she was sitting on 
a table in a morgue leaning against her partner whilst a 
camcorder played in the background. It was about as far 
from normal as possible, even for them. 

He laughed a short nervous laugh and she wondered for a 
moment if he had been reading her mind.  

Mulder pulled back but kept his hands at her waist. 

  "No. I was jealous. Jealous. And angry that I had no 
right to be." He paused. "I want you to know that, I 
don't want to pretend this didn't happen. I can't."

  "Mulder. I am an adult, I had a one night stand it 
didn't go well. Please don't make this into more than 
that."

  "You did sleep with him?" He questioned quietly 
expression carefully guarded. She angrily wondered how 
long he had been waiting to ask. 

  "Don't. Don't make me feel like I betrayed you."

He took a pace backwards and stopped touching her. His 
eyes flicked to the floor and then back to hers. 

  "Didn't you?" 

She swung her legs to the floor and stood muscles tense. 

  "No." Scully replied angrily. "No. Mulder I didn't."

She took a step forward about to push past him and head 
back to the locker room. His hand caught her wrist and 
prevented her escape. Surprised she glanced down to his 
fingers then to his face. Anger, hurt and something more 
dangerous mixed in his eyes.

She considered pulling free and leaving anyway but 
something stopped her. 

  "What was last night was about Mulder, punishment?" 
She asked voice quiet again. 

  "Last night was about catching.."

  "Bullshit." She replied immediately shocking him into 
letting go of her wrist. "You kissed me Mulder not Katherine 
Hall." She continued with more confidence than she felt. 

  "I hate that he touched you and I can't." He said without 
looking at her. 

  "Is that what this is? You being territorial."
  
  "I need you Scully." 

His fingers brushed hers for a moment then fell back to 
his side. This time she didn't look down she kept her gaze 
on his. He stood so close that she had to crane her neck to 
keep looking. 

  "Sometimes I wonder if you need me at all Mulder. I'm 
your partner but sometimes I just feel like an afterthought, 
like I hold you back."

  "Is that why?" He asked still thinking about Philadelphia. 

She sighed and hung her head.   

  "You're wrong." He tried again when he realised she wasn't 
going to answer. 

Mulder placed two fingers under her chin and tilted her 
head so that she looked back at him. 

  "Scully I'm lost without you. Your logic, your reasoning 
it is what has kept me in a job. If you ever hold me back 
then its when I need stopping. I need you in everyway possible 
and you.. you barely need me at all. I think these last weeks 
showed me that."

  "Mulder, that's not.." She started but he cut her off by 
sliding his thumb over her lips. 

  "Wait, you are the only thing in my life that make sense. 
My constant, my touchstone and if I've taken that for 
granted I'm sorry." He paused and swallowed dryly taking a 
breath before continuing. 

  "I get it Scully you were hurt and alone but it shouldn't 
have been some stranger you turned to. It should have been me."

She watched his eyes as he spoke the intensity took her breath 
away. 

  "I do need you." She said finally.

He closed his eyes for a long moment.

  "Yes, but is it in the same way?" He whispered in reply, 
sounding as if he didn't want to hear her answer. 

  "Every way possible." She answered quietly and watched as 
something akin to relief passed over his features. 

  "Territorial?" He said repeating her earlier words. 

She nodded mouth suddenly too dry too speak. His hand slide 
to cup her cheek. She shut her eyes and leant into his palm. 
Scully stood still reluctant to pull away from the warmth of 
his hand. 

  "What we have is important to me Mulder." She said 
finally. "Last night I don't want it to jeopardize our 
relationship." 

  "I'm scared of that too Scully but I think it may be 
too late." He whispered.

She glanced at him sharply and found a slight smile 
playing on his lips. 

  "I told you I don't want to pretend nothing happened." 

  "Nothing did." She replied honestly. "Nothing real."

He regarded her for a moment his eyes dark and intense. 
The hand that had cupped her cheek slid into her hair 
and suddenly tugged roughly. Off guard she stumbled 
forwards ungracefully leaning heavily against him. He 
brought his other hand to steady her placing it over her 
back and pressing her closer.

Her mouth went dry and her muscles trembled and she had 
the absurd thought that if he wasn't holding her legs 
would simply give beneath her. Warmth radiated from him 
and sent sparks across her skin. 

  "Nothing real?" He asked his lips almost brushing hers. 

He held her long enough for her to realise how much she 
wanted to feel him. Then without warning he crushed his 
lips to hers. She gasped but the sound was muffled as he 
invaded her mouth. The hand on her slide upwards and 
tightened angling her head as he pleased. She felt 
surrounded, possessed. He held nothing back and surprised 
she found herself responding with a matching passion. 

She reached a hand behind his neck, entwining her fingers 
in his hair. Violently she tugged on the strands trying to 
pull him closer. Her other hand slide over his back the 
pads of her fingers digging in so forcefully it must have 
caused him some discomfort. He didn't protest instead he 
took a step forwards forcing her to stumble backwards. 

The morgue desk hit the backs of her thighs. Lips still 
locked with hers his hand found its way from her back to 
her chest, first resting over her sternum then sliding to 
cup her breast. Her flesh ached where he touched her and his 
thumb on her nipple was almost overwhelming. She moaned 
loudly. 

The desk was still biting into her legs and barely breaking 
contact he grasped her waist and sat her back on the wood. 
Leaning forward he stepped between her legs and she welcomed 
him. His hand went to her back again abruptly pulled her 
towards him so that she was pressed up against his hips. 
Thrown off balance she placed a hand behind her preventing 
her from falling backwards and letting her keep her mouth 
against his. 

He moved and in her desire blurred brain she realised she 
could feel him hard against her. 

  "Oh." She mumbled surprised and he repeated the motion.  

  "Mulder." She gasped. 

He stopped still holding her but relaxing his grip. She 
stared a him her hair in a mess, her breathing too fast 
and her pupils too large. 

He was staring back eyes dangerous and full of desire that 
he no longer tried to hide. His expression made her 
breathe even faster. She thought for a moment he might 
push her back on the table and touch her until she forgot 
where they were. 

Instead he stood back and let her go. Though bereft at 
his loss she could understand why, it was difficult to 
think when they touched. 

  "Nothing?" He asked again eyes locked on hers. 

  "You felt nothing?" His voice was gravel, purposefully 
low and seductive. 

She opened her mouth to answer but he cut her off. 

  "Wait. Scully, what we have is important to me too. But 
what we could have is more so. I see that.." His eyes flicked 
to her lips before he finished. "..now. 

  "Scully if you ask we can pretend this is nothing. At that 
I think we both have a lot of practice."

  "Mulder.." Voice shaking, she started to reply again her 
skin still tingling every nerve ending on fire. He didn't 
touch her but even with her eyes shut she could feel him. 
Part of her wondered why he was still talking and not kissing 
her, she couldn't think straight.   

He shook his head still careful to keep his distance. 

  "Don't answer yet." He paused and smiled slightly. "Think 
about it.. away from me. "

She wondered if he had been reading her mind. She took 
a deep breath steadying herself and her emotions before 
trusting herself to speak.

  "Okay." She managed quietly. 

He took a step away from her half turning to walk away. 
She surprised herself by grabbing his arm and reaching up 
to fleetingly press her lips to his. They touched for only 
seconds but sparks still flew. 

  "Maybe.. not nothing." She said quietly then let him go.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------

Part 4 
-----------------------------------------------------------


Mulder had found his corner of the office as he had left it. 
Unlike the county morgue the federal buildings were still a 
hive of activity. SAC Perkins was thankfully absent. Mulder 
assumed by now that he would know about his endeavours, he 
didn't think he would be happy.  

Scully had returned to Katherine's one bedded apartment and 
despite his desire to accompany her there he felt he owed 
Perkins a finished profile. His partner had agreed reminding 
him that whilst she might take his theory on faith alone 
others would not.

As it turned out the more investigating he had done the more 
his ideas made sense. It seemed there was more to each of 
their victims than meet the eye. It wasn't sex, although 
Katherine Hall certainly had a very active sex life and Leigh 
Curtis made money from adult chat lines the others had 
different secrets. 

Trent had called an hour after his arrival to inform him that 
the forensic teams had found similar cameras at Eleanor and 
Freya's homes. Both in the bedroom. Mulder had thanked him and 
added the information to his report. 

Voyeurism. He ran the word through his mind again. He had it 
mostly figured out but there was still something about the 
violence that didn't fit with the premeditation. Ignoring the 
nagging doubt he finished the concluding paragraphs and hit 
save. 

Perkins choose that moment to reappear. The older man made 
straight for him. 

  "Which part of no did you not understand." The agent 
immediately referred to their last conversation and his 
forbidden contact with his partner.  

  "It had to be me." Mulder replied quiet but unapologetic. 

Perkins sighed and Mulder noticed the red eyes and rumpled suit. 

  "Scully trusts me and I'm beginning to understand him." he 
added. 

The man pulled a chair over and sat heavily, leaning back. 

  "I've got a team looking into how those camera's got into the 
victims bedrooms."

Mulder nodded, that made sense but he doubted that their killer 
would have left enough evidence to track him that way.

  "We're also interviewing half the electronics suppliers in 
Boston." 

Perkins sighed again, he looked like he didn't have the energy 
to be angry.

  "It won't be enough." Mulder replied feeling unexpectedly 
guilty for his latest blatant disregard of orders.

  "No." Perkins agreed. He looked up with tired eyes. "Tell 
me how to catch him."

Mulder remained quiet. He had an opinion on that, one he had 
given much thought to and one he was still desperately searching 
for an alterative to. 

  "Scully." He said eventually deciding he owed this man 
honesty. "I think that she is our best chance."

Perkins nodded then stood and straightened his spine. 

  "I'll expect a copy of your report on my desk tonight." He 
said formally and turned to walk away. 

--------------------------------------------------------------

Officer Harry Johnson was fed up. Traffic was not his favourite 
department but it seemed that the right of passage for all 
rookies was to work where no one else wanted to. Well almost 
no one else, he glanced over at his companion for the night. 
Pearce Santosa as his name would suggest was half Latino and 
half American and though still only in his fifties nearing 
retirement. He was currently peacefully snoring in the passenger 
seat of the patrol car. 

Initially irrigated by his current partners slumber Johnson had 
despondently decided he couldn't really blame him. Six hours on 
the beat, a graveyard shift and even in a city as large as Boston
things were quiet. They had had three calls all to motorists that 
had lost control on the icy streets and slide off the road, none 
had been hurt and none had needed their assistance. The night sky 
was beginning to snow and Johnson anticipated that the rest of the 
shift would likely be as exciting as the start. 

He flipped the heater on, checked the radio was working; it was and 
debated waking Santosa to suggest picking up coffee. He was shaking 
the man none to gently when a dark ford raced passed them.

  "Shit" Santosa said suddenly making Johnson wonder if he was 
referring to the speeding vehicle or merely objecting to being woken 
up. Either way he ignored him and pressed his foot down hard on the 
accelerator pulling out after the car. The tail spun out as he over 
steered back onto the main road.

  "Shit" His partner repeated and hit the switch that turned on 
the sirens and blue lights. 

The ford showed no signs of slowing but continued its erratic 
high speed path down one of Boston's streets.

Johnson pushed harder with his right foot getting close enough 
to read the plates. His companion now fully awake picked up 
the radio and transmitted their location, the plate and requested 
backup.

The car in front of them ran a stop sign and Johnson followed 
without hesitation. He was shifting in his seat in anticipation 
of a prolonged chase when the ford turned abruptly to the left. 
The driver apparently completely underestimated the icy road and 
spun several times coming to a slightly dented rest next to a 
pedestrian crossing. 

Officer Johnson was out of his seat gun in hand in seconds. He 
approached the ford with caution that turned out to be unnecessary. 
The man in the drivers seat sat very still hands on the steering 
wheel, feet still shifting on the pedals. 

  "Boston PD. Step out of the car sir." 

The man made no move. 

  "Sir." Johnson tired again, hearing his partner on the radio 
behind him. 

After he got no response for a second time Johnson pulled the door 
pointing the gun at the man as he did. He seemed to be in his early 
forties, dishevelled and even from two foot away reeked of alcohol. 

   "Get out the car." He tried again grasping the man's upper 
arm. Wordlessly the man complied and  Johnson led him to the 
patrol car. Johnson searched his prisoner finding no weapons 
but his jacket pocket contained several large plastic bags filled 
with what could have been sugar. Satisfied the man was unarmed he 
pushed him into the back of the patrol car. Once seated the 
interior light caught the man's eyes. His pupils were pinpoints.

  "He's high" He mumbled to his partner. Santosa nodded and began 
to interrogate the man, standard questions, name, address, date 
of birth. 

Johnson looked again at the plastic bags then picked up the 
radio and asked for the drugs team. The operator informed him 
she was patching him through. After several minutes of static 
he was answered. 

  "Narcotics, Detective Claude Morris." 

----------------------------------------------------------------

Mulder had been distracted and it took longer than he anticipated 
to formalise his profile for Perkins. His heart rate increased 
in proportion to the distance he covered. He jumped from thought 
to thought without pattern and he realised with some consternation 
he was nervous. 

The hard won honesty of the afternoon played on his mind. As 
inappropriate as it had been to have that conversation in a 
morgue it had been relatively safe. But now they were going alone, 
well as alone they could be with a killer listening in. 

It didn't help that she answered the door wearing a floor length 
blue silk night gown. 

  "I took your advice." She said quietly when he said nothing 
at all.

  "Great time to start listening to me." He mumbled in reply 
half provocation half nervous tension.

She shut the door as he made his way into the middle of the 
room. Her holdall bag was open and he noticed the clothes she 
had worn earlier were stuffed in the top. He was pleased to 
realise she had changed in the living room. 

  "I.." He started but she surprised him by pressing a finger 
to her lips and quieting him. She  took several steps across 
the room and knelt next to an old stereo. Mulder watched in 
fascination as the satin moved around her body. 

Scully hit a button and the speakers started playing Amy 
Whinehouse loudly. She shrugged apologetically indicating 
her lack of choice. 

Satisfied that they wouldn't be overheard she closed the gap 
between them. He was still wearing his dark woollen coat and 
heavy shoes. Their height difference was exaggerated by her 
bare feet she placed a hand behind his neck guiding him so 
that she could speak directly into his ear.

  "How do we do this?" 

  "Dance with me." He said loudly suddenly wanting a reason to 
touch her.

Despite the fact that he had assured her there were no camera's 
in the living room she found herself leaning into him and swaying. 

  "What does he want?" She replied quietly.

Her partner placed a hand on the her back in an imitation of 
his earlier caress. He absently ran his fingers upwards over 
the gown until reached skin. She shivered, suddenly acutely 
aware that he was fully dressed and she wore only thin midnight 
blue silk. Mulder mistakenly thought she was cold and pulled his 
coat around her. The intimacy of the gesture made her tremble 
even more.

  "Have you thought about this?" He asked. 

  "Yes." She said breathless distracted by the warmth of his 
body next to hers. 

  "I would prefer that this was my apartment." He said softly 
enough to be lost in the music. 

So would I she thought her body traitorously moulding to his.

  "What's wrong with my sofa?" she said quiet again. He heard 
the hidden question, was his presence here enough could they 
forego venturing near the camera altogether.

He shook his head slightly and leant back to look at her. This 
had been so much easier when he was angry, adrenaline had given 
him courage. Now stripped of resentment and pretence he was 
terrified. From her expression so was she. 

Why was this so difficult?

  "I'm afraid that if we start this I won't be able to 
stop." He mumbled. 

Her hands that had rested lightly at his waist snaked 
upwards and stopped with her palms pressed against his 
back. She leant her cheek against his shirt and for some 
reason he was surprised to discover he could rest his chin 
on top of her head. 

  "What do we to catch him?" She repeated words muffled 
and audible only to him. 

She continued to avoid the issue and his courage failed 
him altogether. 

  "We argue and then we go to sleep." He said gently.

  "Not very exciting." 

They were still swaying slightly as his partner brought 
one hand around and placed it on his chest. This time it 
was she who leant back observing him with startlingly blue 
eyes.

  "You could walk around the bedroom dressed in that." He 
suggested unnerved by the intensity of her gaze.

  "You could take your coat off." She slide her hands up to 
his shoulders pushing at the offending garment to emphasize 
her point. 

  "I don't think that would have the same affect." He mumbled 
helping her remove the item then discarding it in a pile on 
the floor.

Amy Whinehouse became quiet as one track ended and the next 
began. She choose that moment to tug at his tie.

  "Trying to undress me?" He asked breaking the temporary 
silence his voice sounding shaky even to his own ears. 

The volume of the stereo increased again.

  "Have you thought about it?" She whispered surprising 
herself. 

Since when had she become the aggressor. She had hardly 
expected Mulder to walk in here throw her on the bed and 
rip her clothes off. In fact she knew they had to avoid 
the bedroom altogether. Their conversation this afternoon 
might have clarified things but it had made this all the 
more difficult. She knew as soon as he had touched her she 
couldn't pretend. 

  "Yes." His turn to whisper, eyes dark and rimless in the 
dim light. 

  "It was easier when we were angry." He continued as she 
threw his tie to join his coat but made no move to remove 
anything else. 

She shook her head slightly inching closer to him. 

  "It was easier when we had an excuse." 

Slowly she leant forwards finally reaching up on her toes 
to brush her lips at the side of his. He stood completely 
still not even daring to breath. Scully repeated the 
action several times but when he showed no sign of 
participating she began to move away. He stopped her 
abruptly with a hand on the back of her neck. 

  "I hoped for an answer but I didn't come here for this." 
He said quietly and into her ear. "I had a plan, we were 
going to argue and I would sleep in your bed alone." 

  "Shut up Mu.."

She began to say his name and in one swift move he closed 
his mouth over hers. Immediately he was lost. The kiss 
began as slow dance but that mimicked the motion of their 
bodies. It ended with them stumbling backwards her legs 
hitting the sofa. He drew back breathing heavily watching 
her with fascination, the blue eyes were darker than he 
was used to pupils large and lids half closed. He ran a 
hand experimentally from her neck to the small of her back. 
She shivered and this time he didn't think she was cold. 

Scully paused when she felt the couch behind her. Her skin 
tingled, she could feel the tension building in her body. 
She could understand his earlier statement, if I start I 
don't know if I can stop. she hesitated suddenly unsure of 
herself.

Mulder made the decision for her pressing his lips to hers 
he grasped her bare upper arms and lowered them both to 
the couch. He sat next to her and continued with gentle 
insistence until she was supine trapped between him and 
the backrest. He propped himself on one elbow leaning on 
his side so that she looked up at him. 

Scully turned her head, her hair fell over her face and 
he pushed it back leaving his hand cupping her cheek. She 
chanced a glance into his eyes and was stunned by the raw 
hunger she saw there.

  "This is real isn't it." He asked voice husky.

  "Yes" She replied closing her eyes as he ran his hand 
down her neck then trailed it over her sternum.  "Very."

He brushed his fingertips back and forth venturing to the 
edge of her plunging neck line but no further. Unable to 
stop herself she shifted her hips and arched towards him.

  "Was it like this with him?"

There was no malice in his voice but she opened her eyes 
expecting to see jealously marring his features anyway. 
Instead he was watching the path of his finger as it 
worried the lace and silk fabric his expression full of 
wonder.  
   
  "No." 

He seemed to take her answer as permission. Very slowly 
he ran his hand over her breast teasing the aching flesh. 
Her nipple hardened pebbling against the satin. He rolled 
his thumb over it making her gasp. He repeated the motion 
and she repeated the noise.

  "No." She said again finally. "Nothing like this."

Sliding his fingers around to her rib cage he braced himself 
and leant over her replacing the hand on her sternum with 
his mouth. 

  "Jesus." She murmured sliding a hand into the smooth 
strands of his hair and shifting again. He placed butterfly 
kisses up to her clavicle than back down. 

He was holding back, she could feel the tension in his arms 
and body, a sharp contrast to the feather light touch. She 
wanted to tell him to let go that she wanted to feel as much 
as he wanted to touch but she didn't know him this way, as a 
friend and a partner yes but not as a lover. Yet, her mind 
added and she jerked at the thought. She must have distracted 
him as he looked up face basked in shadow, eyes dark and 
dangerous. Her heart sped up a fraction.

  "Come here." She urged him back towards her mouth. He 
complied leaning over her caging her with his arms.  

  "You were right." She murmured arching her back and brushing 
against his chest.

  "Again?" He mumbled lips against hers. 

  "It should have been you." 

Her hands flattened against his broad shoulders and pressed 
him against her. He ended up half over her and half on his 
side. He looked down, she had shut her eyes and was worrying 
her lower lip with her teeth. He could feel the repetitive 
subtle shift of her hips. Mesmerized he starred at her 
realising she really wanted this.

  "Make me forget that it wasn't." Her voice was low, seductive 
and nothing like he had ever heard it before. 

For a moment he lost it. He rolled her beneath him and slanted 
his mouth to hers. She meet his urgency with her own revealing 
in the feeling of his hands in her hair and his tongue duelling 
with hers. She repositioned her legs so that his hips fell 
between them. Even through the layers of fabric she could feel 
him hard against her thigh. He choose that moment to slip both 
hands under her shoulders lifting and letting her head fall back. 
Without warning he placed his mouth over her nipple his tongue 
hot even through the silk.

The sensation was overwhelming she moaned loudly fingers clawing 
against his back. Her skin felt tight, stretched and tense. He 
switched sides replacing his lips with his fingers as he did. 
Unconsciously he moved his hips in time with hers each subtle 
shift bringing him in brief contact with her centre. He 
increased the pressure and she made another series of inarticulate 
sounds. Encouraging him she raised a leg and hooked it over his 
eliciting a gasp of his own in response. He took his hand away 
from her breast and she missed the contact until he replaced it 
at her knee roughly running his fingers under the night gown. The 
silk crumpled and bunched just below her hips. 

Scully was aware that she was twisting beneath him, tossing her 
head back and forth. Did it count if you kept your clothes on 
she wondered absently breathing in small shallow breaths. The 
pads of his fingers dug into the fleshy part of her hip. He 
caught her mouth again pinning her still. She whimpered and he 
swallowed the sound. 

Outside a police siren sounded loudly audible even over the stereo. 
All of a sudden it was a sharp reminder of seven dead woman, where 
they were. And enough to break the spell. She stopped moving and he 
leant back breathing heavily feeling the rapid rise and fall of her 
chest beneath him. 

  "We can't" He said choked.

She remained still watching him with wide eyes, looking as if she 
had no idea how they had ended up tangled together. He could 
almost read her mind, she had let the walls down, for less than 
five minutes she hadn't been in control. But then again he 
realised neither had he.

  "I want.." He trailed off. He wanted to forgot again and press 
her into the couch and remove all memories of Ed Jerse with his 
hands and tongue. 

  "Let go" She replied quietly. Mulder watched the flash of doubt, 
the fight flight reaction that spread across her face. 

He shook his head refusing to let her up.

  "You don't get to regret this." He said. 

Still watching her he began to think clearly for the first time 
since she had opened the door. He had come here to bait a killer 
but as soon as she had pressed her lips to his he had been lost. 
The camera was in the bedroom and whilst he certainly wasn't 
prepared to repeat their passionate encounter there they would 
have to venture that way sooner or later. The music was still 
loud and he thought with some consternation unless their 
perpetrator had a penchant for modern jazz they had done nothing 
to get his attention. 

He sat back pulling her up and onto his lap. She resisted 
initially then slowly relaxed into him as he brushed gentle 
hands over her back.

  "I'm sorry." She mumbled sounding embarrassed. 

  "No." He whispered voice still masked by the stereo. 

  "Its not just that we..got carried away. I..I don't know how 
to be with you this way."

He placed his hands either side of her face and leant back enough 
to look into her eyes. They were crystal clear, pupils still 
overlarge. Seized by a sudden tenderness he touched his lips to 
hers. She was still for a moment then responded in kind. 

  "You were doing just fine a few minutes ago." 

She blushed but this time didn't pull away. He smiled wondering 
if he had ever made her blush before. He glanced at the clock on 
the mantle it was nearly 2:30am. 

  "We should get some sleep." He said remembering his original 
intentions.

Scully nodded slowly in anticipation of a wakeful night lying 
next to a man she had been ready to make love to and watched 
by a murderer. 

  "You should stay out here." Mulder seemed to be able to read 
her mind. 

Predictinng and not wanting him to protest she slid from his 
grasp and turned the stereo off.

  "Come to bed with me." She said voice purposely low, seductive 
and loud. 

The room now quiet he didn't argue but she suspected it took will 
power not to. She moved back to him and took his hand gently 
tugging and pulling him up from the sofa. 

I trust you. She told him with her eyes. 

Scully walked slowly towards the bedroom without relaxing her 
grasp on his hand. She had replaced the covers on the bed and 
it stood illuminated by the small bedside light looking innocent 
enough. She resisted the temptation to search for the hidden 
camera instead making a line straight for the duvet pulling it 
back in one smooth movement. Mulder came to stand behind her. 
He flipped the light off plunging them into darkness. 

  "Turn around." He said quietly. 

She complied. He kissed her gently positioning himself between 
her and where he imagined the camera to be. His lips moulded 
to hers and despite herself she felt another pang of arousal. 
He took her hands in his and for a moment she wondered what he 
was doing, then he placed them on his top button. 

Surprised her fingers trembled. Now she thought of it she didn't 
suppose he was going to sleep in his clothes. Clumsily she 
unhooked the button, then slide her fingers down to the next 
one and repeated the process. Having undone the last she made 
no move to rid him of his shirt. Instead he shook it off and 
let it fall to the floor. Her eyes traced the hard muscle of 
his chest. She had seen him half naked before but absurdly 
she realised never standing up. It made him seem larger somehow 
like he took up more space in the world. 

She sat heavily on the bed and raised her fingers to his belt. 
His hands stopped her then he undid  it himself quickly removing 
his pants, socks and shoes to stand only in grey boxer shorts. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

Trent got the call before 4am. He had groaned and considered not 
answering it mentally calculating how many hours sleep he had 
had in the last week. But detectives involved in serial homicides 
generally know better than to avoid night time phone calls. 

He rolled out of bed without disturbing his wife and briefly read 
the display before hitting the answer button. 

He expected his partners voice to sound sleep disturbed and 
despondent. He expected the news that they had found victim 
eight and was already preparing for another day knowing Boston 
PD had failed another young woman. 

He did not expect Thomas Morgan fully awake excited 'we got a 
name'.

  "What." He responded loudly enough to rouse his sleeping 
partner, He placed a hand on her shoulder and from a response 
born of long familiarity his wife turned and continued her slumber. 

Fully alert Trent padded quickly into his living room and repeated 
his earlier exclamation of surprise.

  "Traffic violation prints match, unfortunately he got away before 
they could bring him in." Morgan summarised.

  "When?" Trent again, still too surprised to come up with more 
than one word questions. 

  "About an hour ago."

  "Feds aware?" 

Trent pulled out a fresh shirt and contemplated whether he had 
time to shower. 

  "All over it." 

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Surprisingly it turned out that Mulder was pleased he had snuck 
out of his partners bed before she woke. She had fallen asleep 
quickly, at first holding herself rigid and distant. He had 
touched her soothing away her reservations with feather light 
caresses. Gradually she had turned and moulded her body into his. 

He had cursed himself as he walked away wondering why camera or 
no camera he had taken his hands from their resting place, dressed 
and exited into the freezing Boston night. 

He hadn't gone far. Until his phone rang he had sat in his BMW 
periodically turning the heating on and off watching the darkened 
windows. 

When the cell trilled his first thought was it was her. It wasn't 
often anyone else called but he quickly dismissed it and punched 
the answer button, 

SAC Perkins next words stunned him. 

Reluctant to leave her but knowing he must he had shifted the 
car into drive and made his way to the address the older agent 
had given him. Still early the streets were deserted and thankfully 
the snow which initially looked like it was going to settle had 
melted away. He had thought twice enroot worried he would be 
recognised but decided that the place would already be crawling 
with law enforcement and their killer would not be reckless enough 
to return. 

As it turned out Mulder found himself in an area not dissimilar to 
Leigh Curtis's residence. He did several double takes before he 
convinced himself it wasn't actually the same building. Like before 
his arrival had been preceded by Boston PD. This time his presence 
was authorised and he had no problem passing by the uniformed 
officer guarding the front door.

Perkins had been sketchy on details. A name was all he had said, 
that and an address. The apartment was surprisingly deserted and 
Mulder assumed this was because most of the task force were out 
looking for its owner. 

He recalled Scully and despite Perkins assurance of stepped up 
surveillance felt uneasy. 

  "Mulder." 

He turned to see Trent eyeing him with speculation. Apparently 
the other man was aware of his previous whereabouts. 

  "Should you be here?" 

  "He's not coming back." Mulder replied with confidence 
reluctant to get into a discussion about his partner. 

Trent hesitated for a moment then decided to accept his 
decision. He paced the few steps to stand beside him avoiding 
empty beer cans and pizza boxes in the process. 

  "Nice place huh."

Mulder looked around, whereas Leigh's small apartment whilst 
poor had been clean and tidy this place was larger but quite 
the opposite. The sofa was stained and sagging in the middle 
where springs had given into rust. There was a scratched table 
with matching chairs. No pictures hung on the wall nor shelves. 
But what was more striking was the cartons, cans and cigarette 
butts that adorned every surface. The only new item was the 
television and it stood on what looked like a beer crate. 

It was not the home of an organised and controlled killer. 

  "Prints definitely matched?" 

Trent nodded then repeated the confirmation verbally.

  "The guy left plenty of trace, the prints are his. We've got 
the lab techs out of bed and running epithelials from here to 
confirm but.."

Trent trailed off letting Mulder draw his own conclusions, 
fingerprint analysis was an accurate science, DNA matching 
even more so there could be little doubt that they had found 
their man. 

  "And he lived here? He didn't rent it out?" 

  "We talked to the neighbours, he lived here." Trent answered 
patiently. 

Mulder said nothing. The detective took the opportunity to 
disappear and collect some PD files from the uniformed officer 
at the entrance. On returning he handed them to Mulder.

Gary Reynolds.

The first announced. The name sounded harmless enough, the face 
that looked up at him when he flipped open the folder would 
blend in anywhere. Age thirty seven he read mentally ticking 
of another match with his profile. No previous arrests, this 
he had already known his prints were not in AFIS until tonight. 
He scrolled through his employment history, it consisted of a 
list of manual jobs none of which he seemed to keep for very long. 
He was about to delve deeper when Trent interrupted him. 

  "Open the other." The detective said quietly offering to take 
the first folder.

Mulder handed it to him. The second was a manila folder that on 
first inspection contained sheets of plastic. It took him a moment 
to realise that the contents had been sealed in evidence bags. 

Photos. he found as he pulled them out. Photo's of Leigh first, 
walking home, talking to a woman he didn't recognise her head 
thrown back in laughter. He skimmed through, each of the victims 
were there, moments from their lives observed from a distance the 
invasion of privacy caught on camera. The last pictures caught 
him off guard. 

Scully. When she had first arrived in Boston on her way to work 
maybe. Then none until after he had meet her in the diner, in 
this one her eyes still shining, lips reddened and hair blazing.

He tightened his grip unwittingly crumpling the edges then 
remembered these were evidence and forcibly relaxed. 

Trent was watching him carefully eyeing him as one might watch 
a dangerous animal ready for him to  pounce. Mulder held his 
temper and stared closer at the pictures.

  "There are dates and places." The detective said gently 
apparently still wary of his reaction. 

Mulder turned over Scully's picture and read the address of 
the small apartment on the back. Silently he ran a finger over 
the lines he had memorised days earlier. Abruptly he shuffled 
the photos back.

  "These weren't developed by Kodak." He said tensely.

Trent took another look and decided he was inclined to agree. 
The pictures were large, they barely fit into the A4 sized folder 
but more than that their content would likely have aroused 
suspicion. 

  "No." He agreed. "But they do look professional." 

Mulder nodded.

  "Anyone find a camera? This place have a darkroom?" He asked 
all at once and Trent began to understand his earlier enquires 
about Reynolds having alternative accommodation. 

  "No."

  "He doesn't bring them here." Mulder stated flatly. 

  "Mulder forensics have hardly begun, we can't confirm or 
disprove that yet." The detectives words sounded feeble even to 
himself. His gut was telling him they were searching the wrong 
location. 

  "Does Perkins know about the photo's, about Scully." 

  "Yes." 

Mulder turned to meet Trent's grey eyes.  

  "She should come in" He said earnestly pulling out his cell 
phone and preparing to call the head of the investigation. 

Trent's hand on his arm stopped him. 

  "This guy has evaded capture for two years, he has killed at 
least seven times. At the moment the only place we have to look 
is here and at her apartment. What would she want you to do.?"

Mulder briefly considered angrily pulling his arm away and 
making the call anyway but the quiet insistence in the other 
man's voice stopped him. Trent was good at his job, he knew 
that already. Now he could see why, there was a hardness in 
the mans countenance that suggested he was used to making tough 
decisions. 
 
  "What are you doing here Lieutenant Trent?" Mulder asked 
eyes narrowed. 

  "Stopping you from doing something stupid." Trent replied 
evenly. 

--------------------------------------------------------------

Scully woke slowly still drowsy from lack of sleep. Despite 
the recent late nights her habit of awaking before dawn remained. 
She stretched out feeling silk against her skin, the negligee 
had tangled around her hips as she slept. The air around her 
was cold and she hugged the covers. Caught between slumber and 
wakefulness it took her a full five minute to recall the events 
of the previous evening. 

When she did her muscles tightened. She consciously forced 
herself to relax and slowly turned. The sheets were rumpled and 
still smelt of him but her partner was missing. Scully sighed and 
closed her eyes, fleeting images flickered in front of her eyelids. 
Despite her reservations she had fallen asleep quickly and under 
the blanket of darkness and the comfort of half slumber she had 
found herself wrapped in him. 

She could recall the sweep of his hands over her hips and the flat 
of her stomach remembering how at the time she had wondered if she 
was dreaming.

Reluctant to leave the warmth of the blankets she tried to clear her 
mind but his presence was insistent. Sighing and wondering where he 
was she climbed out of bed and shivering as the cold air meet with 
her bare skin. 

Consciously forcing herself not to look around she exited the 
bedroom and made for her holdall bag on the lounge floor. The 
living room looked as it had done the night before. A quick visual 
survey and she was sure he had left her no note or clue as to his 
whereabouts. 

Her eyes fell on the sofa. The cushions were rumpled and forced 
in the corners. She remembered with complete clarity how they 
had got that way. She felt her face flush and her skin tingle 
anew. 

Deliberately distracting herself she glanced away. Her eyes fell 
on the computer. Purposefully she  strode towards it and flicked 
the machine on hoping Mulder knew she checked her emails each 
morning. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------


Mulder had seethed quietly for the best part of an hour but he 
hadn't returned to Scully's residence. Instead he had hunted the 
apartment for information about Reynolds hidden life. Trent had 
remained, to all appearances conducting his own search but Mulder 
felt his eyes on him from time to time. 

He had hoped to find the evidence he sought to allay the nagging 
doubt in the back of his mind. What he found had confused him even 
more. Reynolds had been a fan of pornography, violent pornography. 
His gloved hands had flicked through images of women tied and 
bound submissive, they had offended even his sensibilities. He 
had also found traces of a substance that looked like cocaine. 
The forensic team had bagged it for analysis.  

What he hadn't found was a video camera, rope bindings or a knife. 
He thought back to Reynolds traffic violation. Speeding and not 
just a little he was doing twice the limit and ignoring the stop 
signs. The PD had confirmed he was high. Mulder had been reminded 
of Ted Bundy who if it wasn't for a broken taillight would have 
gotten away with his atrocities but apparently the comparison was 
poor. Bundy hadn't meant to draw attention to himself Reynolds 
simply hadn't cared.

His doubts had magnified and although he could peg Reynolds for a 
violent rapist and maybe killer he couldn't see him as self 
controlled. He couldn't see him stalking his victims, watching them 
from afar nor could he see him installing and watching the video 
camera footage. It was as if they had solved half the puzzle. 

Partly because he had become despondent and partly because forensics 
had gotten fed up with his presence he had left Reynolds apartment 
before dawn. Trent had watched him and Mulder had assured him he was 
heading back to the FBI office and not to Scully's.

Despite his good intentions he had considered returning to her. He 
wondered if she was still in bed. For a moment he imagined sliding 
in beside her waking her with his mouth and hands. It still made his 
head spin that he could. 

His cell had trilled again and derailed any more amorous thoughts. 
A man whose voice he didn't recognised answered. He identified 
himself as Agent Harris and brusquely announced Perkins planned 
a briefing at 6am and his presence their was required. 

Mulder glanced at the dashboard. It told him that the outside 
temperature was minus 4 degrees Celsius and the time was 05:45. 
Decision made for him he pointed the car in the direction of the 
federal buildings. 

Traffic was gradually beginning to build in anticipation of the 
morning rush hour but he still completed the journey in less 
than fifteen minutes. The office was more packed than he had 
seen it before, at least thirty agents were sitting at desks or 
milling between them. Mulder found his own corner at the back 
and sat heavily in the chair. It was still pitched black outside 
and despite the overhead lighting he had to switch the desk 
light on to read the files he had left there.

His eidetic memory could easily recall his profile word for word. 
He could repeat the process with the BSU's alternative. Still 
sometimes it felt better to read letters on paper. He noted with 
some consternation that the BSU had come closer to illustrating 
Reynolds character.

Perkins was late starting his conference. When he did arrive he 
was with several senior homicide dectetives and another agent Mulder 
didn't recognise. 

They began by recounting the events of the morning for those who 
were unaware. Mulder remained perched on his seat at the back. 
Perkins continued with a description of the man they were hunting. 
Someone had apparently found some more pictures of their suspect 
and had used the projector to display them. Paper copies were 
passed around, Mulder disgarded his on the desk.

He outlined the search for Reynolds assigning tasks to almost 
everyone in the room. When it seemed like the conference was 
drawing to a close and their had been no mention of his partner 
or the missing evidence Mulder could keep quiet no longer. 

  "Where does he take them?" He asked loudly from the back of 
the room standing arms folded. 

  "Agent Mulder.." Perkins started.

  "He doesn't use his apartment. What about the camera's, where 
did he learn how to install and run them? Where does he watch 
from?"

Perkins narrowed his eyes but kept his calm. 

  "All good questions when we find him we'll make sure to ask." 
He replied with veiled sarcasm.

  "Where do the photo's come from?" Mulder continued undeterred.

  "Reynolds is a violent killer our first priority is to catch 
the bastard," One of the homoicide dectectives interuptted 
enthusiastically. 

Perkins narrowed his eyes at him as well.

  "Scully, does she even know? She could be in danger?"

  "Agent Mulder." This time Perkins voice was sharp and full of 
warning. 

  "Dismissed." The SAC spoke more softy to the rest of the group 
most of whom had been listening to the exchange with interest. 

Mulder didn't move and as the room began to empty Perkins 
addressed him again. 
  
  "A word." He motioned for the other agent to come closer.

  "It doesn't fit Sir." Mulder tried a more polite approach. 
The other man raised an eyebrow suggesting it was a little late 
for that. 

  "Scully has been told." Perkins said quietly. "The computer 
is secure, she knows to check her email each morning, we've 
sent her his details."

  "He has her picture. She shouldn't stay there." Mulder tried 
with limited success not to plead.

  "And she has his. Look we offered but Agent Scully feels she 
can help by remaining where she is and I am inclined to agree." 

  "Bait." Mulder said angrily. The office had all but emptied 
out and only a few heads turned at his exclaimation. 

  "Mulder you just told the whole task force we are looking 
for the wrong man, if your right then how is she in anymore 
danger."

  "I didn't say that." He replied more quietly. "But it doesn't 
fit."

  "This is the best lead we have, the only lead we have had and 
the forensic evidence can't be faulted. Reynolds was in Boston 
four hours ago I intend to use all my resources to find him."

Mulder hesitated then nodded briskly beginning to realise this 
was an arguement he wasn't going to win. Besides for all his 
unanswered questions he knew the best source of information on 
Reynolds was the man himself. They did need to find him. He 
twisted ready to return to his corner of the bullpen.

  "All my resources Mulder." Perkins repeated in a voice that 
made him wish he had just kept quiet. 

  "You will be liaising with PD, there is a lieutenant Trent who 
has requested federal help with their side of the search."

----------------------------------------------------------------

Mulder made the now familiar journey between the FBI headquarters 
and Boston PD. It was rush hour and it took him longer than it 
had previously. He parked haphazardly and hurried through the 
entrance flashing his badge at the receptionist and not waiting 
for a visitor tag.  

Enroute he had gone through the details of Perkins briefing, 
the part before his interruption. The man had been thorough. 
Boston PD and federal officers were speaking to everyone and 
anyone who had ever meet the man. Road blocks had been set up 
and every avenue of public transport was being watched. 

He wasn't sure yet what Trent's part in the scheme was but he 
was hoping he could convince him to help guard Scully. 

He spotted Trent sitting at his desk bending over. He strode 
towards him milling over the lines he had practiced in his head. 

  "Fuck." Trent said in time with his arrival. Mulder was taken 
aback and forgot what he was about to say.

  "Good morning to you too." He replied instead. 

  "Fuck." Trent repeated and handed him a copy of the Boston Post.

The headline startled him 'Massive manhunt in progress as serial 
killer named' 72pt bold letters announced. 

  "That's not going to help." Mulder commented dryly. 

  "No. How do these bastards do it. This was printed only hours 
after we knew, they've even got a picture of him."

Mulder flicked to page two and three where the story continued. 
Gary Reynolds image was indeed in full colour on the second page. 

  "Has anyone spoken to the editor?" He asked without raising 
his eyes from the page. 
 
  "Not yet, we only found out twenty minutes ago." Trent replied 
a hint of question in his voice. 

  "I thought you would want to head back over to Agent Scully's." 
The detective continued.

He did, but remembering Trent's little speech earlier he 
reconsidered, maybe the best way to protect his partner was 
to solve this.

He shrugged. 

  "I'm behaving and no one else is going to look into this." He 
waved the paper realising his statement begged the question as to 
why he wanted to. Luckily Trent choose not to ask. Instead he picked 
up his jacket and prepared to follow Mulder out the building.

  "Where's Morgan?" Mulder asked as an afterthought he hadn't seen 
much of Trent's partner in the last few days. 

  "Stakeout." Trent replied brusquely.

Mulder was about to ask where when he realised he already knew the 
answer.

  "Thank you." He said quietly. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Getting a meeting with the editor of the Boston Post had not been 
easy. Mulder had considered waiving his gun to see if that would 
speed up the process. Luckily the PA had informed them they could 
go in just before his patience finally snapped.  

Despite the Post being a local paper Boston was a big city and 
chief editors office reflected this. The man that met them was 
distinguished, well dressed and sat behind an expensive desk. 
He looked thoroughly annoyed. 

Either deciding to take the lead or simply worried about what 
Mulder would say Trent made the introductions. 

William Royston, editor and chief managed to reform his features 
into an expressionless mask and shook both men's hands. 

  "What can I do for you gentleman?" He asked as Mulder and 
Trent took chairs opposite.

Mulder raised an eyebrow in imitation of Scully's best sceptical 
look.
 
  "I think you already know why we are here." He said slowly.

To his credit Royston didn't feign ignorance. 

  "We don't reveal our sources." He replied.

  "Come on Mr. Royston your headline was going to print at about 
the same time our labs made the connection." Trent spoke this time.

  "I'm not sure I like what you are implying Mr. Trent." The editor 
answered choosing not to use Trent's proper title. 

Mulder held up the paper. The by-line was a pseudonym the 
newspaper it seemed was a tight knit community, as well as not 
revealing their sources it appeared they didn't always name their 
reporters.
 
  "I want to talk to the author." He demanded.

  "He won't reveal the source either." Royston said with 
confidence leaning back in his leather chair. 

  "Then I want all the rough drafts, the photo's and everything 
else this man has contributed to your paper." 

  "I'm sorry.." The older man started and Mulder could predict 
his speech, whilst the Boston Post would obviously provide all 
the help the law required they would be of no use at all.

Mulder interrupted him by pulling a folder from his briefcase. 
He threw it on Royston's expensive desk knocking over a lamp. 
The action had the desired affect, photo's spilled out in all 
directions. 

The editor had his hand half away to retrieve his light but 
stopped abruptly when he caught sight of the images. 

Staring up at him were seven dead women. The pictures spared 
no gruesome detail. Royston closed his eyes for a moment and 
looked away.

  "We could subpoena you." Mulder said quietly. "I'm sure the 
judge would take one look at these and grant us a warrant. 
Any one with a shred of humanity would."

Royston was still avoiding glancing down. 

  "Look at them Mr Royston." Mulder continued still quiet but 
forceful. 

He paused until the man finally examined the photo's. Trent 
also had fallen quiet.

  "Do you know their names? Their mothers do, their husbands, 
children."

  "This conversation is nothing but stalling."  

Royston was silent again, the expressionless mask had cracked 
and Trent realised with some satisfaction the shock tactics 
appeared to be working. 

  "You can have the files." He said finally defeated. 
"Everything we have on this story."

Mulder nodded but made no move to retrieve the crime scene 
pictures. He paused leaving the editor in suspense for a 
moment.

  "That will do for now." He said finally standing to leave. 

Royston remained seated as Trent also stood. Mulder paced to 
the door as the detective scooped up the pictures. 

  "Wouldn't want these appearing in print now." He said quietly.

Ten minutes later they found themselves in possession of a 
large folder of printed documents and several CD's containing 
the electronic equivalents.

  "Well that was effective." Trent commented as they walked 
back into cold and towards the car. "You certainly have a way 
with people." 

Mulder interrupted the later statement as an admonishment for 
the lack of warning he had displayed preceding his stunt with 
the photo's. 

  "I don't think we made any friends in their Mulder." Trent 
continued as when Mulder didn't reply. 

Trent climbed into the driving seat as Mulder slide into the 
passenger side. Choosing to ignore the dectectives last remarks 
he waved the folder at him. 

  "Your office or mine?"

---------------------------------------------------------------

Mulder fanned the documents out in front of him. Three hours 
later he had read them all. Trent had informed him several 
times that there was no news regarding Reynolds and more 
importantly Scully was fine. 

There was nothing in the text that rung alarm bells. The 
reporter certainly had his facts right and though that 
suggested an informant he couldn't see how that helped them 
with their current situation. 

There were no photo's in the file and he assumed they must 
keep digital copies. He fished in his briefcase and retrieved 
his laptop. 

The CD whirled in the drive for a moment then gave him the 
option of several hundred jpegs. The images were identified 
by number only. He sorted them into the most recent then 
began opening them. The first ten were of Gary Reynolds.

His heart rate rocketed as he opened image after image. 

  "Trent." He called not taking his eyes from the screen. 

There was no answer.  

---------------------------------------------------------------

Agent Perkins surveyed the scene before him. He should have felt 
something, death after all no matter whose was death. He had 
driven an hour out of Boston and along with several other 
agents parked up at a roadside cafe. A biker hangout he noted 
taking in the exterior decor and the group of leather clad 
motorists eyeing them with suspicion.

The body was lying on the frozen ground contorted at an impossible 
angle. Perkins could count at least ten gunshot wounds. The eyes 
were still wide open forever caught in the moment he had 
recognised as his last.

So this is how it ends Perkins thought. 

He decided he did feel something, anti-climax. The diner was 
miles away from the city, the few witnesses would likely never 
speak to the feds. The only indication as to why was a bloodied 
newspaper its headline barely visible.

Gary Reynolds had been found, he had even meet justice Perkins 
thought though this wasn't something he was going share. 

Only it wasn't the FBI or the PD that had carried it out. 
Reynolds would never reach the inside of a courtroom. He would 
never stand before a jury of his peers and be judged. The 
Boston Post had printed his picture and someone with what 
appeared to be a 45 calibre shot gun had proclaimed a sentence. 

  "Its him." A fellow agent appeared at his side and stated the 
obvious.

Perkins nodded and snapped open his cell phone. 

------------------------------------------------------------------

Scully paced nervously. Five hours after reading the name Gary 
Reynolds she was beginning to reconsider the sense of staying 
put. She was also wondering where her partner was. Whatever his 
reason for leaving in the middle of the night she had expected 
him to come back. He must know by now.

She assumed Perkins had warned him off returning but when had 
Mulder ever followed orders. Scully looked again at the image 
of Reynolds on her email memorising the face. Her gun that had 
been hidden at the bottom of the holdall was now loaded and 
sat in full view on the coffee table. 

The mail had been brief she had been told they had a name, a 
description and a picture. There was the option of staying put 
or going into protective custody. The later she hadn't 
considered. The trouble was that now she had been in the small 
apartment for half the day and there had been no further 
instruction. She was starting to get cabin fever. 

She had made herself a sandwich then thrown it away too 
anxious to eat. Now she was back to sitting on the overstuffed 
sofa TV on mute but channel hoping nonetheless. Despite the 
fact that she was listening intently for any noise the ring 
of the phone still made her jump. 

Scully stared at it for several moments, she had been 
instructed not to answer Katherine's home line for fear of 
alerting those who didn't know of the swap. Deciding the 
current circumstances were sufficient to disregard this 
piece of advice she grabbed the receiver. Avoiding her 
usual response she merely waited for the person on the 
other end of the line to speak.

  "He's dead." 

Scully didn't immediately recognise the voice and for an 
instant her heart stood still as she thought of Mulder.

  "Agent Scully?" Her caller asked when she had still said 
nothing.

SAC Perkins her mind finally decided and she let out an audible 
sigh of relief.

  "Yes sir."

  "Reynolds was killed this morning. we're sending someone to 
pick you up."

  "How was he.." She began to ask for specifics now hoping 
Mulder had nothing to do with it.  

  "We'll debrief later." Perkins cut her of.

  "Thank you." She replied as the other agent was punching 
the end call button. 

Scully rested the receiver back in its cradle and lent back 
on the sofa enjoying the feeling of relief. Anxiety and nervous 
energy draining away she realised how exhausted she was. She 
closed her eyes only momentarily but her body had other ideas 
and she drifted off into a light sleep.

A loud knocking on the door roused her what seemed like only 
minutes later. 

Disorientated she stood and stumbled towards the door. Expecting 
Mulder she ignored the peephole and her gun and threw it wide 
open.

A man dressed in the typical grab of a field forensics agent 
greeted her. He was about Mulder's height but heavier set with 
dark hair and oddly coloured eyes. One blue and the other brown. 
Over his shoulder was a camera. 

  "You ready?" He asked. 

Wondering why Mulder hadn't come to get her himself she mumbled 
almost and turned to collect her bag and weapon. 

There was a sudden movement behind her and she realised too 
late. An arm grabbed hers and twisted it painfully behind her 
back and another snaked around her throat making her choke.

  "Let go." She gasped automatically.

Her assailant tugged harder depriving her brain of oxygen and 
making her vision swim. He was strong, much stronger than she. 

Do not pass out. She told herself and with little success 
tried to pull his arm away from her throat.

  "Agent Scully isn't it?"  He asked from behind her ear.

She assumed it was a rhetorical question and wasn't in position 
to answer anyway. She aimed a kick to his shin but he managed to 
move out the way.

  "I've been watching you." 

Her head began to feel light and the spots before her eyes 
grew larger. Frantic she twisted her free hand behind her and 
aimed a blow upwards. The angle was awkward but she caught him 
off guard and managed to hit him in the groin. Surprised her 
assailant loosened his grip enough for her to pull free. She 
started to run for the coffee table and her gun but his hand 
on her ankle sent her reeling and her instead of retrieving her 
weapon her head collided with the wooden edge. 

He pulled her back and pinned her to the floor. One of his hands 
held hers above her head, his knees either side of her thighs. 
A trickle of blood ran down her forehead.

  "I don't think so." The man said breathing hard. 

She tried to wriggle out from his grasp but her efforts were 
futile. In her mind she could see the mutilated bodies of seven 
other women. She could read the autopsy reports word for word. 
Her gun was out of reach and everyone thought her safe, panic 
began to overpower rational thought. 

He took his other hand and brushed it through her hair. The 
gesture was such a perverse imitation of the way Mulder had 
touched her only hours before that she bit back a sob.

  "No, please." 

The fabric of her sweater had become bunched in the struggle 
revealing the pale skin of her abdomen. His eyes drifted 
downwards and focused on it. 

Remembering the bodies lying in the county morgue Scully saw 
what he was seeing. A jolt of terror ran through her. He 
smiled at her and she felt bile rise in her throat. 

Her assailant struggled with his freehand trying to retrieve 
something from one of the pockets in his jacket. 

  "I had to go to some effort for you." 

The last thing she saw before the world faded to black was a 
hypodermic needle. 

---------------------------------------------------------------

Part 5
----------------------------------------------------------

  "Trent" Mulder tried again anxiety making him irritated. 

Where had the detective gone? 

He glanced up from the computer and through the window of 
the small office into the bullpen. They had returned to the 
Boston PD headquarters and he had chosen this particular spot 
because it was quiet. 

There were a great deal more people outside than there had been 
when he arrived and watching them he got the impression that 
something had happened. 

Trent reappeared leaning into the small space from the door 
frame. 

  "He's dead." He said quickly. "Reynolds is dead." 

  "What." Mulder immediately replied glancing from the screen 
to the man standing before him. 

  "Shot this morning." Trent pushed the door fully open and 
paced into the room. 

  "How? How did we find him?" He asked quickly.

  "We didn't, that story in the Post someone else got to him 
first put ten shotgun rounds into him."

  "Shit" Mulder answered, standing and grabbing his computer 
roughly disconnecting it from its power supply.

He caught a glimpse of movement behind Trent and recognised the
figure as Thomas Morgan.

  "Shit." He repeated again. "Scully, where is she?" 

  "Mulder?" Trent asked not understanding the other mans 
behaviour. "Reynolds is dead, she's safe."

  "Tell the surveillance units to go in and pick her up." Mulder 
demanded pulling his coat on.

Trent hesitated.

  "Trent." He said voice full of warning.

  "They have been called off."

  "Come on." Mulder pushed passed him and began to run towards 
the exit. The uneasy feeling that had started as a nagging at 
the back of his mind was now full blown fear. 

  "Mulder." Trent called after him. 

He paused halfway across the room and shouted back not caring 
who heard.

  "Its not Reynolds, he wasn't alone." 

Trent looked blankly for a moment and Mulder wanted to shake 
him.

  "Our killer has Scully's picture and her guard just went 
home." 

Mulder turned on his heel and ran for the door not caring 
if Trent followed or not. He had to get to her. His bag hit 
against his side bashing the laptop but he didn't slow or 
leave it behind. The  digital photos were too important. 

Trent caught up with him as he started the engine of his 
rental.

  "Mulder." He shouted stopping him by banging on the window.

He paused long enough to let the other man climb into the 
passenger side.

  "I've got uniformed units on the way." The detective 
informed him out of breath. "Now, are you going to tell me 
why."

Mulder threw the car into gear and skidded out of the car 
park. He pulled onto the man road cursing the volume of 
traffic that greeted him. 

  "The photo's" He said before Trent could ask again. "The 
CD contained pictures of Reynolds, the image they ran it 
was cropped from a larger picture."

He paused pulling out and over taking the vehicle in front 
of them. 

  "They were surveillance photos, taken from a distance. 
Reynolds was being watched as well."

  "Shit" Trent echoed Mulder's earlier statement instantly 
recalling the photo's of the victims. 

Mulder nodded as the other man made the connection he had 
already figured out. Reynolds didn't own a camera or a 
darkroom because he didn't take the pictures. They were 
given to him, given to him by the man who eventually killed 
those seven women. 

It explained the contradictions in his profile. He cursed 
himself for not seeing it earlier. He was profiling two 
people. 

Mulder pulled out his cell phone causing the car to swerve 
as he manoeuvred one handed. Trent gripped hold of the edge 
of his seat. 

He hit 1# on the speed dial. It went straight to voicemail. 
His heart sped up a notch. If Scully knew Reynolds was dead 
and Trent assured him she did why hadn't she turned on her 
phone. He tried again on the apartment number, this time it 
rang but after several minutes Katherine's voice mail message 
answered him. 

Trent pulled out his own phone and made several calls to the 
PD and FBI hierarchy. From the side of conversation Mulder 
could hear he gathered that the reaction on the other end 
varied from disbelief to scepticism. 

The journey to Katherine's apartment should have taken 
twenty minutes. Despite the fact the skies were now grey 
and it was beginning to snow Mulder made it in ten. He 
pulled up to the curb carelessly and was out of the car 
before Trent had undone his seat belt. 

He took the stairs two at a time. The door to the apartment 
looked like it had when slide out from her bed and silently 
closed it this morning. 

  "Scully." He shouted banging on the door at the same time. 
For a moment he prayed she would throw it open and 
chastise him for making a scene. The door remained 
closed. 

Trent caught up with him as Mulder pulled his gun and 
leant back to force entrance. The lock was old and it 
gave with one forceful kick. 

  "Scully." He called again, eyes wide and searching. 
Her holdall sat by the sofa in the same position as it 
had the night prior. 

The bedroom was empty, the bed neatly made leaving no 
evidence of his presence. The bathroom was similarly 
deserted. Hung over the old wooden towel rail was the 
blue nightgown she had worn the evening before. He 
tugged it from its resting place feeling the softness 
of the silk.

His hands trembled and all at once he remembered every 
time he had found her gone not knowing if he would see 
her again. 

  "Mulder." Trent called him from the living room an odd 
note in his voice. The ball of lead in his stomach got 
heavier.

Still holding the negligee he walked slowly back into the 
living room. Trent was leaning over staring at the floor. 
Mulder stooped to see what he was looking at. There was a 
small red mark on the rug, he didn't need the forensics 
team tell him it was blood. 

  "No." He said to himself. Then followed Trent's gaze to 
the coffee table seeing the matching stain on its edge. 

Feeling numb he sat on the floor still holding the gown. 
Trent watched him sympathetically.

  "Mulder, We need to secure the scene." He said quietly.

  "I've lost her before." Mulder answered barely audible. 

  "Then you've found her too." Trent replied.

---------------------------------------------------------

It took Perkins too long to make it back into the city. 
The first phone call from the softly spoken lieutenant 
Trent had disturbed him but the second call had shaken 
him to the core. 

  "Who called off the surveillance?" Mulder hadn't 
bothered with preliminaries.

  "We had a body Mulder." It was a poor choice of words 
and he realised it straightaway. 

  "If we don't find her we'll have another." Was the 
immediate angry response. "Scully's missing there's 
evidence of a struggle at her apartment, her gun is gone."

  "We'll find her." SAC Perkins replied with a confidence 
he didn't feel. "Whatever you need Mulder." 

An hour later Perkins found Mulder back at the federal 
building in the one of the labs. He stood next to a 
technician and Samuel Trent. Projected onto a large 
electronic screen in front of them was a photo, all 
three men were studying it. Perkins assumed it came 
from the CD he now knew they had acquired from the 
Boston Post.

  "What are you looking for?" He asked quietly from the 
back of the room. 

Mulder whirled on him and for a moment the older man 
wondered if he was about to punch him. 

  "How did he convince Reynolds to kidnap for him?" 
Mulder asked instead. 

SAC Perkins could see the anguish in the mans eyes but 
Mulder managed to keep his voice neutral as he 
continued.

  "We have nothing on this man, nothing except his 
connection to Reynolds and these pictures."  

  "I've got forensics going back through the evidence 
now we know there was more than one perpetrator." Perkins 
added wanting to feel like he could do something of use.

Mulder nodded absently. 

  "Reynolds raped them, they won't find any trace except 
his. Reynolds is the body they should be looking at."

This surprised Perkins. 

  "You think our man killed him."

  "Yes." Mulder replied as if it should be obvious.

Trent was still studying the image and showed no sign 
of reacting.

  "Our man.." Mulder started parroting Perkins words 
"..sent the pictures to the Post so we would assume 
that this was a vigilante killing. I think Reynolds 
contacted him after he was pulled over last night, 
they must have arranged to meet."

  "Fuck." Perkins replied and pulled out his phone.

Trent apparently wasn't completely unaware of the 
conversation as he interrupted before the agent could 
hit any buttons.

  "Homicide has already traced all phone calls made 
from Reynolds phone, he didn't call from home, we're 
trying local phone booths but nothing yet."

  "What about the paper?" Perkins suggested instead. 

Mulder had turned back to the screen and again it was 
Trent who answered. 

  "Thomas Morgan my partner is there now with a warrant 
but the pictures were delivered anonymously. Apparently 
its not a question of refusing to reveal their sources 
they simply don't know."

  "Idiots." 

Trent was inclined to agree. 

  "There's more, these aren't the only images they've 
published from an anonymous donor."

He turned to address the man controlling the computer.

  "Harry." He said softly. 

The man hit a few buttons and the image changed. Perkins 
recognised the photo, it had been taken a few days ago, 
the chief of Boston PD was in the foreground addressing 
an audience of press and public. Harry made some more 
rapid sequence commands and the screen changed smoothly 
zooming in on the front of the building. Despite the 
reflection of the glass it was easy to make out the 
profile of both Mulder and Trent.

  "He knows who she is." Mulder said quietly eyes still 
forward. 

--------------------------------------------------------

Scully came to disorientated. Her tongue was dry, there 
was strange taste in her mouth and her vision was still 
swimming. She tried to lift her head but her muscles 
wouldn't comply and she only succeeded in rolling it 
heavily to the side. 

An opiate she thought and some sort of quick acting 
sedative, ketamine maybe. She felt Oddly disconnected 
from the outside word and she realised she must still 
have a significant amount of the drugs in her system. 

Her arms were above her head and she tugged experimentally 
trying to lower them. Something grated over her wrists and 
prevented her from moving far. 

Rope her mind supplied still with a strange amount of 
clinical detachment. 

She tried lifting her head again this time with short 
lived success. Her jeans and sweater were gone replaced 
with a white silk gown similar to that she had worn the 
night before. 

The surface she lay on was soft, a bed she realised. 
Blinking hard she looked to the left this time taking in 
the stanched white linen. 

Above her were bright lights. She made the mistake of 
looking directly into them. Everything turned white and 
the room around her disappeared. 

  "Dana." A few minutes later a voice brought her around 
for the second time.

  "Time to wake up now." The voice continued. 

She must have roused slightly.
  
  "That's better. I was worried I may have overdosed 
you." 

She looked up to find him regarding her with the strange 
blue and brown eyes. Her thoughts were disjointed and she 
couldn't seem to form a sentence. 

  "Still stoned then." He continued. 

She shut her eyes for a long moment and tried to think 
more clearly. 

  "What's your name?" She managed mouth feeling like 
sandpaper. 

He looked at her for a minute then seemed to decide it 
didn't matter if she knew. 

  "Harrison." He replied. "You didn't know that did you? 
None of you had any idea."

He sat down on the edge of the bed and ran his finger tips 
over her forehead. Scully immediately twisted away.

  "Such a shame." Her captor commented and she realised he 
was talking about the abrasion left by the coffee table. 

  "Don't touch me." 

He merely laughed. 

  "You've read the autopsy reports haven't you Agent Scully."

Despite the opiates a chill ran down her spine. She 
suppressed a shudder of terror that threatened to take 
over her completely. 

  "They must pay you well in the FBI." He continued 
conversationally.

She remained silent.

  "I mean surely it is a bit above and beyond the call of 
duty to sleep with another agent just to find me."

Mulder she thought immediately. Remembering his hands against 
her skin, his voice in her ear. She fought back tears. 

  "Or maybe it wasn't such a chore after all." He added 
watching her reaction. 

Some of the morphine induced cloudiness was receding. She 
remembered Mulder's description of this man. He watches 
then he takes away what he can't have. 

  "Did the others answer your questions?" She asked trying 
not to let fear overwhelm her. 

  "Yes." He said looking pleased with her deduction. 

  "Who was he? Did you dress like this for him or for me?" 
He ran an finger under the thin shoulder strap lifting it 
and letting it drop. The bindings at her wrists and ankles 
made it impossible to move out of his reach. 

  "It was blue." She replied defiantly, determined not to 
give him the satisfaction of answering directly.

  "I know." He answered leaning closer. She turned her head 
away. "But blood looks so much more dramatic on white, don't 
you think."

She struggled, she couldn't help it fear and dread began to 
overwhelm her. The bindings cut into the wrists and ankles 
and she realised she would have the same marks as the corpses 
in the morgue.

   "Dana." He said as if he was telling off a petulant child. 
"And I thought you were different. Fight all you like, you'll 
wear yourself out sooner or later." 

He stood and a moment later she heard the door shut.

------------------------------------------------------------

Mulder glanced at his watch for the tenth time that hour. 
Three hours since he had discovered she was missing, and 
nothing. He had requested all the data on Reynolds and 
returned upstairs to read it.

They had leads. The paper; Morgan was still following that 
one. Half the forensic scientists in the department were 
either at Scully's small apartment or re-examining the 
evidence. But so far nothing.  

It was Mulder's opinion that the only way to find Scully was 
to make the link between Reynolds and her unknown assailant. 
He had initially reassured himself in the knowledge that they 
had time. He couldn't be certain but he thought their killer 
would stick to some semblance of his previous pattern and his 
last victims and been held for three days. Every look at his 
watch and a little more time had ran out. 

How had he convinced Reynolds to help him. Mulder had wondered 
initially if it was drugs, they had complied enough information 
on the man to know he was an addict. But this didn't make 
sense. Drugs would make Reynolds unpredictable more violent 
and careless. 

It had to do with the photo's, everything had to do with the 
photo's and the video footage. 

Closing Reynolds file he decided he couldn't sit still any 
longer and headed back downstairs to the lab. He meet Trent 
hurrying in the opposite direction.

  "What?" He asked as he caught sight of the detectives 
animated expression.

  "We may have something." Trent said slightly out of breath. 
"Not all the pictures were taken in Boston."

  "Where?" He asked following Trent back down the stairs.

  "Not sure yet. We have a street name but still haven't 
matched it to a city."

Harry the young technician was still seated at the computer. 
He didn't turn when Mulder and Trent entered. 

  "There." He said by way of greeting. Focusing the screen 
on a street sign. "Quebec, Montreal" he added. "Just got 
confirmation."

He tapped some more keys and a different image appeared on 
the screen. It was the same street.

  "When did Reynolds live in Quebec?" Mulder asked having 
just read everything they knew about the man and finding no 
record of it.
 
Trent had no answer. Instead he had a more urgent question.

  "Mulder our databases aren't linked, we didn't search 
internationally."

--------------------------------------------------------------

Scully's concept of time was playing tricks on her. It seemed 
like she had been bound to the bed for days but the sun was only 
just starting to dim and her rational side estimated it had been 
less than six hours.

Her captor had not yet returned and for that she was glad. 
Following his exit she had forcibly slowed her breathing and 
calmed her mind. She stopped struggling and for the first time 
properly looked around taking in her surroundings. 

The bed and made from wrought iron. Picked for the strength 
of the bars and the availability of metal to loop rope around 
she reasoned. The mattress was surprisingly soft and the sheets 
bright white. Except for the large overhead lighting the room 
was otherwise empty. After letting her vision adjust Scully 
realised the lights were floor standing and the type you would 
expect to find in a film studio. 

The rest of the room was also surprisingly clean with whitewashed 
floor boards and white walls. Only the shabby window frame gave 
away the age of the building. She had strained her head to try 
and see outside world but the slated blinds prevented her from 
seeing anything more than the failing light. 

The special agent in her had noted that there were no traffic 
noises outside, the location was remote. She had also heard no 
footsteps overhead making her think it was a single storey 
building. 

There weren't any radiators in the room and the only heat came 
from the over head lights. 

The taste in the back of her mouth had receded and thankfully 
her mind had cleared. She thought back to Gary Reynolds and 
pieced the puzzle together. Reynolds had raped and kidnapped 
the victims but this man had inflicted the abdominal wounds 
and this man had ended their lives. She had tried to reassure 
herself with the knowledge that he hadn't harmed his previous 
victims for a few days.

Would that be enough. Could Mulder find her in time. She 
focused on her partner closing her eyes and seeing him lying 
next to her. She could recall the feel of his hands on her skin. 
She had the sudden thought that she might die here without ever 
knowing what it would be like to feel him moving over and inside 
her. Tears welled in the corner of her eyes and she bit back a sob.  

Mulder had been correct when he had predicted that the bindings 
would be loose. Enough rope to move but tight enough around 
her wrists and ankles that she couldn't slip her hands or 
feet through. She tried twisting and turning but the cord didn't 
slacken. She tried to bring her hands together in the hope that 
she could use her fingers to pry apart the knots, her hands 
wouldn't meet.

Panic threatened to overwhelm her again as she realised she 
could not escape the ties. Strength was not going to save her, 
she would have to rely on her mind. She had an advantage over 
his previous victims she had read his profile and Mulder was 
rarely wrong. She stopped struggling and started to think.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Mulder sat impatiently waiting for the return phone call. He 
had briefly considered getting on a plane to Quebec and doing 
the leg work himself but he couldn't leave the city not when 
she was still here.

The sun had long since set and snow was falling heavily now, 
he estimated by the morning at least a foot would have settled. 

It was nearing 2am but he hadn't even considered sleeping. He 
had found a map of the state and was alternating between staring 
at it and his cell phone. Trent had fallen asleep on a row of 
chairs outside the office and he didn't begrudge the man a short 
period of rest.

Perkins was still tracing down leads from the roadside cafe 
where Reynolds broken body had been found. Whether his 
reluctance to sleep was a testament of his respect for 
Scully or his guilt Mulder wasn't sure. 

He would need an isolated location he decided. Far enough that 
no one could hear their screams but accessible by car. He 
recalled the photo's, another detail had struck him in the 
last hour. They were well framed, aesthetically pleasing even. 

They are his art he thought. 

He understood the red hair, it was bright, vivid. He scrolled 
through the faces of the previous victims. All striking in 
some way. Scully even more so. He let himself think of her as 
he rarely did, shining copper hair, bright clear blue eyes 
and porcelain skin. He remembered her in those moments when 
she turned to look at him and her beauty took his breath away. 

He looked back at the map and started circling the areas of 
national park paying particular note of any spots of outstanding 
beauty. Massachusetts was a large state he realised he had 
quickly highlighted many miles. Mulder was about to pick up 
his cell to call the park service when it rang.

  "Mulder." He answered curtly.

  "Agent Mulder, my name is Lieutenant Detective Oliver Pernon. 
I work for the Ministere de la Securrite publique. Quebec 
Provincial Police" The man's voice was heavily accented and 
Mulder didn't have to hear the next sentence to know why he was 
calling. His heart speed up in nervous anticipation. 
 
  "You spoke with a colleague of mine earlier." 

  "Yes, do you have anything for me?" Mulder replied with 
barely concealed anxiety.  

  "Well maybe." Pernon answered cryptically. "We have no 
records of a Gary Reynolds living in Quebec." 

Mulder's hopes sank.

  "But we did as you suggested and ran a search of police 
reports within the area and time frame you gave us. Got 
three hits that I think might interest you. First two are 
sexual assaults never solved. We still have the DNA profile 
of the perpetrator and are running it against Reynolds."

 "Worth a look" Mulder replied automatically.

 "Last one is a bit of a long shot. About a month after 
the second assault a woman living in the same block reported 
being stalked. Anyway what with a couple of recent attacks 
on young women cops took her seriously and picked the guy up."

There was a pause as the detective consulted his notes, static 
crackled on the long distance line. 

  "Raymond Harrison Eldridge." He found the name then continued. 
"Only he claimed it wasn't her he was stalking said he was a 
private investigator and he had her neighbour pegged for the 
assaults." 

  "He could have been right as well as the neighbour skipped 
town the next day. There were no charges brought against 
Eldridge but his camera was processed as evidence. There were 
a lot of pictures on that film."

Mulder's heart rate already fast doubled. 

  "Can you send me everything you have on this guy." He said 
urgently.

  "You think there could be a link then." Pernon replied 
surprised. 

  "I'd like to speak to the officers that filed the report 
and the woman, what was her name?" Mulder continued grabbing a 
pen and tapping it repetitively on a notepad.

He heard rustling of paper on the other end.

  "Madeline Saungue" He said finally then read out an address 
and telephone number. "I'll fax the rest of the details over.

  "The photo's, can you send me copies of them too."

  "Just give me the number Agent Mulder."

Mulder recited it from memory adding his cell, the office 
line and Trent's cell just in case. Pernon took down all the 
numbers without question and bid him goodnight.

  "Detective." Mulder said quietly just before Pernon hung up. 
"Thank you."

Detective Lieutenant Pernon of the Ministere de la Securrite 
publique must have sensed his urgency as by the time he made 
it to the fax machine it was already churning out pages. He 
collated them quickly, ignoring the lines of text he searched 
for the images. When the photo's finally appeared he forgot to 
breath. 

--------------------------------------------------------------

  "Spot the difference." 

Trent woke abruptly sitting up then wishing he hadn't as the 
cheap plastic chairs dug into his back. He blinked and found 
Mulder staring at him looking like he was expecting an answer.

  "Huh."

  "Spot the difference." Mulder repeated and shoved two images 
into the detectives hands.
 
He glanced down. They were the same photo only one was in 
colour and the other in black and white. Both showed Gary 
Reynolds in Montreal. 

  "I'm assuming this isn't simply a photocopy." Trent replied 
blinking against the fluorescent office lighting. 

Mulder sat in the space he had vacated.

  "This was sent by Quebec provincial police. It was confiscated 
from a man called Eldridge in 1994. He was picked up for stalking. 
He was stalking Reynolds, they haven't confirmed it yet, but it 
has to be him."

Mulder was summarising too quickly for Trent to pick up all 
of the details. 

  "Eldrige is the killer. He blackmailed Reynolds into abducting 
for him with the evidence he had from Quebec. Pictures proving 
he was responsible for assaulting at least two women there. 

  "My God." Trent mumbled in disbelief catching the gist if 
not the details. They had found him. 

  "What else do we know about him?" 

  "Not much yet. I only got this five minutes ago. Perkins has 
about twenty agents on it though."

Mulder stood abruptly and started to head back to into the 
office, Trent noted there were more people present than when 
he had dozed off. He got up slowly and followed him.  

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Mulder strode with purpose towards his desk. A young man that he 
vaguely recognised as the agent who had introduced himself as 
Richard Stevens two days back stopped him and handed him a brief 
dossier. 

  "We've run the name through as many databases as we can think 
of, this is it so far." Stevens said quietly. 

Mulder flicked to the front page. Eldridge was forty two born in 
Vermont and independently wealthy. His family were originally from 
Texas having made their fortune in oil. Eldrige had a good 
education. He studied history of art at Princeton having gotten 
a place based on his IQ and not his father's connections. He was 
an only child and apparently hadn't killed until his parents were 
both dead, some two years previously.

  "Property?" Mulder turning the pages. 

  "A lot." Stevens apparently hadn't disappeared from earshot.

Mulder quickly realised what he meant Eldrige had apparently used 
his money to acquire what could have been an impressive portfolio. 
Only there was a pattern to it all in the Boston area and all 
remote.

If it wasn't for the fact the man held his partner captive Mulder 
would have been impressed. 

  "Thirty five in this area, that makes it more difficult." 
Trent commented counting over his shoulder. 

  "He's toying with us." Mulder replied. "Why put these in 
his own name?"

Mulder shut the dossier. 

  "I bet you there isn't anything that puts him in Boston in 
the last two years."

Stevens gaped for a moment then shook his head.

  "He is giving us enough information that we can get close 
to him but he's not going to make it that easy. He has been 
planning this for a long time."

  "We have to search these right?" Stevens asked now sounding 
uncertain. 

Mulder didn't answer instead he remembered his map and walked 
off to find it. 

  "Yes we do." Trent replied quietly. 

Stevens nodded and disappeared to make the arrangements. Trent 
caught up with Mulder in time to watch him brush the files on 
his desk onto the floor and stretch out the map fully unfolded. 

  "Mulder?" 

Mulder opened the property page of the dossier and started 
plotting the addresses on the map. 

  "Why take Scully after killing Reynolds?" Mulder asked 
marking another location with a red dot. 

Trent saw his point and wondered why no one else had asked 
that question.

  "He could have got away, likely we would have never have 
known he existed." Mulder continued still bending over the 
desk. 

  "He had a contingency plan, he chose to be hunted, to take 
one last victim."

Mulder fell silent concentrating as he completed his red 
marks. He leant back and both men studied the map. 

The dots were divided into groups of six each group evenly 
spaced around Boston. 

  "Thirty five." Trent mumbled counting again realising at 
the same time Mulder did that one group only had five. 

Mulder pulled the overhead light shining it on the area in 
question. 

  "Coincidence?" Trent asked? 

  "Design." Mulder replied evenly. 

He glanced back at the other groups they were all circular. 
Mulder took a biro and joined the dots.

--------------------------------------------------------------

It was dark outside but the overhead lamps maintained the 
light in the room close to that of day. The ropes still bit 
into her wrists and ankles but she had stopped struggling 
before the skin was worn raw. The lights also supplied a small 
amount of heat but as the night temperature dropped she found 
herself shivering goose bumps covering her exposed skin. 

A noise from beyond the room caught her attention. Involuntarily 
she froze, holding her breath as if she could hide by remaining 
statue still. She closed her eyes as the door opened. 

  "Good girl." Her captor murmured from somewhere near the door. 

She heard footsteps towards her then felt his hand on her 
ankle.

  "Not too much damage."  

This time she managed to keep still screwing her eyes tighter 
shut with the effort. 

  "Aren't you going to look at me Agent Scully."

He ran his hand up her leg and she snapped her eyes open. His 
gloved fingers were cold she realised and damp, covered in snow.

  "That's better."

Something metallic glinted reflecting the bright overhead 
lights. Despite her intentions to stay calm her breathing 
quickened. He held a knife. 

He smiled as her eyes widened, pupils dilating in a flight 
fight response. He waved the knife over her abdomen. 

In her mind she was screaming. 

  "You don't know me." She managed to stutter instead. 

He paused and diverted his gaze to her face. 

  "You said I'm different. I am, you don't know my secrets."

His eyes fell to the cross around her neck and the knife 
hand returned to his side. 

  "You want me to hear your last confession Agent Scully." 

  "In fact I probably know more about you." She replied 
voice steadier now the blade was no longer poised over her 
midrift. 

  "You're not married and never have been. You're well 
educated probably in one of the classics, good university. 
And wealthy. You don't have any close family."

She paused, trying to recall everything Mulder had said. 
At the same time she watched him looking for a reaction. 
He complied, his eyes widened and for the first time he 
looked uncertain.

  "You've been planning this. You watch and then take away 
what you can't have." She parroted Mulder's words exactly.

She thought for a moment he was going to strike her. But he 
regained control of his expression, carefully hiding the anger 
away. 

  "So he's a profiler." He said instead obviously interested. 

  "How do you know I'm not?" She replied.

He eyed her with the odd cold blue-brown stare. She forced 
herself not to look away. As long as he was talking to her 
the knife remained still.

  "It wasn't your idea, the little act for my attention." 

  "He will find you." She said with venom hoping desperately 
it was true. 

He smiled at her and she felt a chill that had nothing to 
do with the cold.  

  "No. Agent Scully. He will find you, but he will be too late." 

He brought the knife up and held it at her throat. Her heart 
pounded in her ears as she saw the bodies in the morgue, a 
clean cut through external jugular and internal carotid alike. 
He wouldn't kill her she reasoned it would be breaking pattern.

He pushed the blade against her skin hard enough that she could 
feel the sharpness of the edge but without breaking the skin. 

  "I know what you're thinking now." He whispered leaning 
forward and speaking towards her ear. 

  "You're hoping I won't change my methods, but I can 
Agent Scully. I can adapt when I need to. I all ready have."

She shut her eyes half expecting to feel the cut of the 
blade then the warmth of her own blood.

  "What's his name." He said instead.

  "Why?" She tried for strong and steady but her voice came 
out as barely audible. 

He took his free hand and ran a finger down her cheek 
forcing her to keep still else turn her head into the knife. 

  "I want to know one of your secrets."

  "George." She answered shakily repulsed by his touch. 

The blade pressed a little harder. 

  "Try again Agent Scully."

  "Mulder." She replied eventually figuring he could find it 
out anyway. "Agent Fox Mulder."

   "That wasn't so hard." He let up some of the pressure and 
she let out the breath she hadn't known she was holding. 

  "Are you sleeping with him?" 

She was about to refuse to answer but quickly remembered she 
had a vested interest in keeping him distracted. 

  "No." She replied honestly. 

  "Hmm, I would have guessed yes." 

He placed the finger back on her neck and ran it down to her 
clavicle. This time she did flinch. 

  "Do you want to?"

  "Want to what? She whispered avoiding the question. It 
felt too personal discussing her relationship with Mulder with 
a killer. Her killer her mind added involuntarily.  

The knife pressed harder. She bit her lower lip wishing if he 
was going to do it he would at least be quick. A drop of blood 
welled and rolled down her neck landing and staining the pure 
white sheets. 

Scully watched as he stared fascinated at the sharp contrast 
of red on white. She remembered his comment about the colour 
of the thin nightgown. She thought of Mulder standing over 
her pretending as the camera rolled in the background. 

  "Its more than watching isn't it, its art." She murmured

He increased the pressure causing a second and third drop 
to follow the first. Scully kept still.

  "You are beautiful Agent Scully." He replied wistfully still 
not removing the strange eyes from her neck. "Such vibrant hair, 
pale skin. So very photogenic."

She could feel every inch of the blade but it didn't hurt 
she decided, at least dying didn't hurt. She thought of Mulder 
again and tears welled in the corner of her eyes. She blinked 
them back not willing to give him the satisfaction. 

  "Aren't you going to take my picture?" She managed voice 
only breaking a little. 

  "Yes." He replied in a tone that implied he intended to 
wait until she was dead. 

He ran the finger back over her sternum. The knife left her 
neck and for a moment she felt relief. 

  "So pure" He placed the blade under her clavicle. Her 
ribs were easy to feel it wouldn't be hard to push the 
weapon between them. She imagined it piercing subclavian 
vessels, pleura, lung and finally left ventricle. "Like 
porcelain."

  "I have a tattoo." She said quickly desperate to distract 
him again. "He's never seen it."

Her words worked as he leant back and regarded her from anew. 

  "Agent Scully, you surprise me. A rebellious youth?" 

  "Its new." She answered voice still shaking.

  "Where?" 

She tugged the rope above her head it wasn't long enough to 
turn. All of a sudden she realised he would have to release 
her bindings to see. She hesitated pretending to be reluctant.

He pressed the blade into her skin and blood welled afresh. 

  "Please. No." She begged only having to put in a small amount 
of effort to sound terrified. 

  "Show me."

She let the tears fall, purposefully making herself seem more 
vulnerable. 

  "My back." She stammered. "I can't show you." She tugged on 
the ropes as if trying to turn. 

He realised the problem and seemed to consider it for a moment. 
She forced herself to look straight at him trying to convey with 
her eyes that she would do whatever he wanted. He made his 
decision and undid the rope around her left hand and ankle 
pushing her roughly on her side. 

Her heart rate rocketed. She couldn't see him or the blade and 
her muscles stiffened in anticipation of a fresh assault. She 
felt a tug on the silk and then a ripping noise as he 
shredded part of the gown. She felt the cold air on her back 
as her skin was left exposed. She could see the odd eyes, 
imagine them focused on the marked skin. She took her left 
hand and placed it with her right prying at the rope trying 
to free herself. Her skin was clammy and it made it easier. 
The rope grazed her wrist and knuckles but on the third attempt 
it slipped over her hand. She caught hold of it making it seem 
that she was still bound and prayed he hadn't noticed. 

His fingers on her tattoo made her jump but she forced herself 
to stay calm. He placed the knife where she imagined the 
snakes eye to be. She could feel the point pressing into her 
skin and imagined that he had drawn blood again. 

Her fingers tightened and relaxed on the rope. She would have 
one opportunity, she had to choose her moment carefully. 

Finally he grasped her shoulder and pulled her back flat. 
He would have to release the knife to retie her hands. Her 
back, chest and neck stung from the cuts. Her heart pounded 
in her ears. She tried not to watch the hand that held the 
weapon but couldn't help herself. He raised it above his 
head and for a horrible moment she thought she had waited 
too long. He brought the blade down in a swift stabbing 
movement ramming it into the mattress with considerable force. 
She jumped and he started to laugh.

But he let go. He used both hands to pull the rope that still 
hung from her left wrist back to the bedpost. 

Now. Her mind screamed. 

In one move she rolled and took her free right hand, grasped 
the blades handle and pulled it from its resting place. She 
swiped at him and caught his arm.

Surprised he yelped and jumped back. The rope still trailed 
from her left wrist but she ignored it and held the knife 
in both hands keeping her eyes on him. 

  "Come near me and I will use this." She warned voice low 
and steady despite her racing pulse. 

Her assailant stood several feet away holding his injured 
arm. Blood started to ooze through his fingers, she had 
managed to make a large laceration. His eyes darted around 
the room and she realised he was looking for a weapon. She 
kept her gaze steady, she had already down that survey, there 
was none. 

  "I have your gun next door. How far do you think you would 
get?" 

His arm was still oozing, blood started to drop on the floor. 

  "You should put something on that its starting to make a 
mess." Scully replied evenly choosing to ignore the fact 
that he may have a point.  

  "There is nowhere for you to go Agent Scully."

He abruptly left the room and seconds later she heard the 
key in the lock. Grunting with the effort she turned the 
knife on the ties that bound her right ankle. It took some 
force to slice through the binding. She repeated the 
processes with the left removing the piece of rope altogether. 
Quickly she stood on shaky legs and paced to the window. 
She pulled the blinds aside. Her first impression had been 
correct, the window was old and on closer inspection locked. 
It was a sash window made up of small panels encased in rotting 
wood. Thinking quickly Scully embedded the knife in the frame 
and grabbed the sheets from the bed wrapping them around her 
arm. 

In her mind she could see him returning gun in hand, she could 
hear the gunshot and feel her body falling. She suppressed the 
thought and punched the window with as much force as she could 
manage. Thankfully the old wood and glass gave out easily. 
Another few blows and there was enough of a gap for her to 
climb through. The remaining glass sliced her shoulders and 
bare feet as she did. The air outside was freezing and as 
bright as the lights in the room were it was black outside. 
It took her eyes too long to adjust and for a moment she found 
herself falling not knowing what was beneath her. 

Her landing was soft if cold. Snow she realised, nearly a 
foot had covered the ground since yesterday morning. Adjusting 
her grip on the knife and shivering she ran. Her feet quickly 
numbed. The building whatever it was for appeared to have 
no garden or fence and she quickly found herself surrounded 
by trees. The snow made it harder going, though no doubt 
protecting her from the uneven forest floor her feet sunk 
with each step and she realised with some consternation that 
her path would be easy to follow. 

From behind her she heard movement and what could have been 
her name carried in the wind.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Part 6. My aplogies for the delay! 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Twelve hours since she had gone missing. Mulder compulsively 
checked his watch he knew it was nearly five am but it was 
oo dark to see the hands. Instead he turned towards the window 
watching as shadows of trees and buildings flew past. 

He wanted to drive. If he was driving then he wouldn't have 
to think about the possibility of finding her body. He 
remembered her warm in his arms and prayed he would be able to 
hold her there again. He would know he reasoned if she was 
dead. If half his soul was missing he would be able to feel it. 

Anxiety making him irritable he turned back to their driver. HRT, 
he thought and looked like it with his bullet proof vest and 
weapon openly visible. Agent Bolton, Mulder remembered his 
introduction, the man hadn't offered his first name. 

He had planned to tell him to go faster but a glance at the 
Bolton's look of concentration and the snow covered track and 
he changed his mind. 

They were getting closer. 

Perkins had thankfully been unquestioning when Mulder had 
presented him with a location and with determination announced; 
this one. The building they were headed to was on his map the 
only one that fell along his makeshift line. He thought it might 
have been an unused farm but on closer inspection he realised 
the area was all woodland and it was likely too small. A cabin 
maybe? 

What Perkins had questioned was Mulder's intention of setting 
off on his own in a BMW without four wheel drive. So now he 
found himself in one of three unmarked landrovers with a 
selection of armed field agents. Lieutenant Samuel Trent sat 
on the back seat his expression carefully blank. Mulder had 
already watched him check his gun six times and knew the man 
was anxious too.

His radio crackled the static surprisingly loud even over the 
engine sound.

  "How do you want to play this?" Perkins voice sounded odd 
through the small speaker. 

Mulder paused before answering. His driver mistook his hesitance 
for uncertainty and tapped the GPS mumbling they were nearly 
there. 

  "Turn out the lights." Mulder said both into the microphone 
and to the man at the wheel. "Lets see if we can surprise him."

The snow clouds had hidden the moon and this far from the city 
the night was pitched black. 

  "We may miss the place." Perkins pointed out. 

  "We won't." Mulder replied with certainty. 

Agent Bolton slowed the vehicle right down and flipped the 
headlights off. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

Shivering Scully repeated the circle of footprints trying to 
create some confusion for her stalker. She heard him calling 
her name again. A little closer but not upon her yet. 

He wasn't used to hunting his prey she realised. Reynolds 
usually did the hard part for him. He obviously thought he 
was intimidating her with his taunts but actually he just 
gave away his location. 

The night was bitterly cold, ten minutes after her desperate 
race from the broken window and it had started snowing again. 
The thin white silk already ripped was soaked through. Her 
fingers were becoming as numb as her feet and holding onto the 
knife was taking more effort. 

It occurred to her for the first time that if he didn't find 
her she could die from hypothermia. She searched the landscape 
again hoping to catch a glimpse of light or to see some sign of 
life. The cabin shone like a beacon with its bright studio style 
lamps but there was nothing else. She had no idea where she 
was, she had been out for hours after he head stabbed the 
hypodermic into her arm. He could have driven her far away 
from Boston. Far away from any hope of rescue.  

There was a sudden flash of light. She blinked for a minute 
surprised wondering if it had been lightening. The phenonomen 
repeated itself, chilled she realised it was manmade. The flash 
of a camera. 

He was closer. Summoning all the strength she had left she ran. 
Half blinded by the black night sky and the sting of the wind 
she didn't realise the trees were thinning until it was too 
late. The snow was deeper here having been allowed to fall 
unhindered. Her foot landed heavily and sunk into the bank. 
Combined with her forward motion it sent her flying and she 
landed sprawled on the cold ground. 

Her muscles had stopped shaking. Shivering, the muscles 
mechanism designed to create heat was one of the first to 
shut down a person froze to death she thought absently. She 
tried to stand but slipped again. Her head hit something hard 
and for a moment the world went black. 

She came to in a flash of light. 

Scully closed numb fingers around the knife. He stood over 
her camera in one hand and gun in the other. He pointed the 
gun towards her. Her vision blurred and then cleared. Through 
the haze she realised the safety was still on. 

  "How long does it take a person to freeze?" He asked sounding 
out of breath. 

  "You've given me an new idea Agent Scully." 

He clicked the safety off and her heart sunk. 

   "The knife please." 

She considered for a moment whether she would rather be shot or 
stabbed. Neither seemed particularly appealing. Scully pulled 
herself into a sitting position and discovered with some 
consternation found she had hit her head on a thin tree, the 
only one in the clearing. 

She held the knife out blade first finding her muscles strangely 
difficult to control. He grasped her wrist and twisted it 
painfully taking the weapon from her. In one smooth move he 
brought it down against her forearm slicing through the tissue 
there. 

She cried out. 

  "Fair's fair." He said angrily struggling with something in 
his pocket. 

Warm blood ran down her arm and dripped onto snow. 

He managed to retrieve what he had been fighting with. At first 
she thought it was a second knife but she quickly realised that 
he held her handcuffs. She struggled but he easily clipped the 
cuffs around her uninjured arm snapping the other side around 
the lean tree trunk. 

She pulled herself onto her knees trying to free her hand and 
finding quickly that she couldn't. He had stood back and was 
watching her with the same fascination with which he had regarded 
her blood on the white bed sheets. 

Her right arm was still bleeding. The red mark in the snow 
spreading. He took a step towards her and raised his knife hand 
and bringing it down on the back of her neck. She felt a sharp 
pain and then everything began to fade. The last thing she 
remembered before the world disappeared was the flash of a 
camera lens. 

----------------------------------------------------------------

Perkins had wanted to ask how he had known but was reluctant 
to break radio silence. The small cabin shone from between the 
trees. 

Bolton had pulled up the landrover a good distance away and 
they had begun to slowly make their way to the wooden house. 

Mulder pressed ahead of the rest grasping his gun in his 
gloved hands. Despite every instinct telling him otherwise 
he managed to wait for the others to partially surround the 
building before turning the front door handle.  

Silence greeted him. Gun raised and heart pounding he took a 
step inside. Slowly he inched forward moving closer towards the 
light.

Like a moth to a flame he thought wondering if he had misjudged 
their killer and this was a trap. HRT agents moved with 
stealth quickly securing the rest of the cabin. The curt shake 
of Bolton's head told him they had found nothing. 

Mulder took a deep breath and nodded. Bolton pushed the door 
open and Mulder stepped forward gun poised. 

The room was empty. The brightness of the lights was blinding 
after the dark outside. It took a moment for his vision to 
adjust but when it did the first thing he saw was blood.  

Bolton must have seen it too as he mumbled into his radio. 
Trent appeared behind them. 

  "There's no one here." He said quietly in unnecessary 
confirmation. "Are we too late?" 

Mulder took two paces towards the bloodied floor boards 
then noticed the sheets in a tangle of broken glass and wood. 

  "Shit." He answered realising that the window was broken. 

He was out of the room and around the building before Trent or 
Bolton could reply. He flipped on his flash light no longer 
caring if he could be seen. There was blood in the snow. He 
began to follow the trail. Trent and Bolton caught on without 
further question. 

  "They went into the woods." Bolton instructed his radio and 
his team fanned out heading in the same direction. 

Mulder traced what could have been footsteps. He couldn't 
tell if there was one set or two. Heart racing he pushed on 
finding himself further in the woodland Trent not far behind. 
The light from the cabin receding and in the moonless sky it 
got harder to see. 

The footsteps started to take him in circles. Despite his thick 
woollen coat he found himself shivering as he stood still and 
considered which way to go. Around him he could feel the subtle 
movement of the HRT team. 

Where would she have run? He looked back seeing the cabin from 
a distance. He picked the exact opposite direction and headed 
that way. Trent followed and a few moments later they were 
rewarded with more broken snow. 

The radio crackled at his side he could hear Perkins asking if 
there was any sign of their killer. The replies were all 
negative. Mulder didn't bother answering. The marks seemed more 
erratic. She was running he realised. Someone was chasing her 
and she was running thinking that she might die out her. He 
shivered again this time it had nothing to do with the cold. 

Three paces later Mulder forgot to breath. 

Lying thirty feet in front of him was his partner. His first thought 
was she was dead, there was too much blood, her arms and legs were 
impossibly white. He couldn't see her face, he swallowed back bile 
and realised he need to see her eyes. 

Trent caught up with him and gasped. Mulder heard his sharp intake
of breath then broke into a run. The snow made it difficult and 
it took him forever to reach her. 

  "Scully." Her name was a sob on his lips as he landed heavily 
at her side.  He ripped his gloves off and grasped her shoulders 
sliding one arm under her neck. She felt like a rag doll in his 
arms.

There was movement behind him. 

  "Mulder." Trent's anxious shout came from the opposite 
direction. 

He paid no attention. Instead he searched with his hand. Her 
skin was cold but there was no knife wound on her neck. 

Trent was calling his name again. 

His fingers found her carotid artery. He could feel the pulse 
beneath his fingers. Faint and too slow but definitely present. 

  "Jesus Scully." He murmured. 

He shed his jacket and sat back on his heals. Her small form was 
easy to lift. He rolled her onto his lap wrapping her with coat. 
Her head came to rest against his chest. Her eyes were closed he 
realised. Not the vacant stare he had dreaded. He started to 
lift her but stopped when he noticed the handcuff around her 
wrist. 

There were footsteps coming towards them. 

  "Mulder." Trent shouted again.

This time he looked up. The detective had his gun drawn and was 
pointing it behind them. Mulder turned and followed the line of 
fire. He saw what Trent saw, a figure in the trees. 

  "Boston PD. Freeze." Trent shouted but his voice was stolen 
by the wind. 

The shadow raised a gun and from fifty yards away Trent fired. 
His shot was wide the figure turned and ran. Mulder made a quick 
mental calculation he was less than fifteen paces, he had a gun, 
he could probably catch up. The woman in his arm stirred and he 
knew there was no choice to make.

  "Scully." He whispered pulling her more firmly against. 

He heard Trent on the radio requesting back up. The detective 
reached his side a few minutes later. 

  "She's alive. Go." He shouted. The man nodded and set off 
in which the direction the figure had disappeared. 

Mulder fumbled from his own radio. 

  "We need a paramedic." He demanded of whoever was listening.

The small body in his arms shivered. 

  "Hey." He murmured leaning over her gently rocking back and 
forwards. "Scully?"

He looked again at the handcuffs, he hoped they were hers as 
he fished in is suit pocket hunting for his key ring. His 
fingers were numbing quickly but he managed to locate the key 
and twist it in the lock. The metal fell from her wrist and 
disappeared into the snow. 

  "I could use your help." He murmured into her hair. His 
initial elation at finding her alive was beginning to be 
replaced by fear as she wouldn't wake up.  

He held her tighter and struggled to his feet. Somewhere in 
the distance there was gun fire. Ignoring it he took an uneven 
step back towards the car. 

---------------------------------------------------------------

Scully woke up in the emergency room. She saw the bright 
overhead lighting and for a moment thought she was back in 
on that bed. She panicked and struggled. 

Someone was saying her name. A woman's voice she realised. She 
blinked and took another look at her surroundings. There was 
an intravenous line in the back of her hand. Her left arm was 
bandaged. In her panic she had pushed off a blanket that had 
been blowing warm air around her. 

The woman who had spoken replaced it and Scully decided she 
was a nurse. 

Her arm radiating a sharp shooting pain that combined with a 
splitting headache made her feel nauseas.

  "Mul.." She tried but her mouth was dry and no sound escaped. 

The nurse seemed to notice and helped her with a sip of water. 
She managed half of it then coughed. 

  "Mulder." She said again, still quiet but at least audible. 

  "The man who came in with you?" 

The woman put down the water and Scully nodded. 

  "The doctor sent him out."

Scully smiled slightly, that sounded like Mulder.
 
  "Can I see him?" She managed, a little steadier. 

The nurse whose name tag read Janet replaced the IV bag with 
another. Scully noted that the fluids were running through a 
warmer. 

  "I need to suture your arm then Dr Summers will want to talk 
to you again before we get a head CT."

  "Head CT?" She repeated dumbly. 
 
Janet begun undoing the bandages around her arm. Scully must 
have flinched as the nurse changed approach using scissors to 
remove the layers of crepe instead.

  "You've a large haematoma on the back of your head and 
your GCS on arrival was 12. That earns you a head CT."

Janet pulled back the bandages. 

  "Ohh." Scully exclaimed looking at her arm. The laceration 
was deep and about fifteen centimetres long. She didn't 
remember it happening but realised she was lucky he had 
caught the fleshy part and missed all the major structures 
and vessels. 

  "You've been talking to my partner." She added in response 
to the nurses earlier explanation. 

Janet smiled.

  "Yes, he did mention you're a doctor." She answered in a 
tone that made Scully wonder how many times he might have 
mentioned it.  

  "Can I see him. Please." She tried again. 

  "Okay." She loosely taped the dressing back. "But I still 
need to suture this." 

The woman disappeared leaving her alone in the small room. 
She shut her eyes listening to regular soft bleep of the 
heart monitor. She couldn't remember what happened. She 
recalled with clarity the terror she had felt wrists and 
ankles bound to the bed. She vaguely remembered running 
through the snow. Her body recollected the cold and she 
shivered involuntarily. Then everything went blank. 

She opened her eyes to find Mulder regarding her with a 
worried expression. 

  "Hey." He said slowly. "How are you feeling?"

  "I don't remember.." She started but he stopped her by 
putting his fingers to her lips and then sliding his hand to 
cup her face. 

  "Doesn't matter now."

  "How did you find me?" She asked surprised to find her 
voice a whisper again. 

  "Eldridge left a message." He replied cryptically running 
his thumb back and forth over her cheek. 
 
  "That's his name?" She asked barely audible finding 
herself trembling. 

  "Shh." Her partner replied leaning towards her and sliding 
the other arm behind her shoulders pulling her forward. 

  "Mulder. I'm okay." 

He rested his forehead against hers.

  "Of course you are." He mumbled lips brushing hers. "But I 
can do this now. All the times I've wanted to and now I can."
 
  "Do what Mulder?" She asked barely daring to breathe.

  "Hold you." he replied but he kissed her instead.

He felt warm and solid and without thinking she leant into 
him. He kept his touch light full of promise instead of 
passion. It was a long time before he leant back and when 
he did they were both shaking.  

  "Maybe I don't.." She started automatically.

  "Shut up Scully." He replied shifting, sitting on her bed 
and settling her more firmly against him. 

She shut her eyes feeling safe for the first time in twenty 
four hours. 

  "They need to suture my arm." She mumbled resting her head 
against his chest. 

  "Then they can work round me." He answered confidently. 

--------------------------------------------------------------

Two weeks later. 
Washington DC

----------------


Scully stared at the her front door as if glaring at 
the inert wood would make it swing open, as if Mulder 
might be waiting on the other side. It had been nearly 
two weeks since her return from Boston. Physically her 
wounds were healing. Dressed in her trademark suit, 
professional mask in the place, the only indication that 
she had been injured were the soft soled shoes the 
lacerations on her feet still forced her to wear.

She had returned to work within a week despite Mulder's 
disapproving comments. Mulder himself had been in Boston 
until yesterday. She wondered for the hundredth time if 
he was avoiding her. 

He had spoken to her nearly every evening and initially 
she had understood the need for his continued involvement 
in the investigation but as the days passed she was 
becoming less convinced. Harrison Eldridge had disappeared 
into the dark and he had not been seen since. It appeared 
neither Mulder's nor anyone else's efforts had been able 
to change that. 

Her altered status, victim not investigator, earned her 
a plane ticket home and she couldn't completely suppress 
her bitterness that Mulder had not returned with her. 
She remembered his arms around her in the resuscitation 
room of the Boson ER, his lips warm against her scalp 
whispering reassurances. Part of her wondered if her 
insecurity arose from the recent change in their 
relationship. Did she need him here as a partner or a 
lover?

Lover. The word stuck in her mind. Could she call him 
that? She could recall with clarity the feel of lips 
against hers, the look in his eyes, half wonder, half 
passion. But they weren't lovers, he hadn't said the words, 
neither had she and they had stopped short of taking that 
final step. 

Leaning forward from the sofa she retrieved a notepad and 
reread her own words, thinking for a moment she might 
have remembered the date of his return inaccurately. He had 
told her his flight number and the time of his plane two 
nights before. She wasn't mistaken, the date was yesterdays. 

Spurred into action she grabbed a pair of trainers and not 
waiting to change her pants suit pulled them on. She glanced 
at the phone for a moment before ignoring it and opening 
the front door. 

-------------------------------------------------------------

Scully walked purposefully through the hallway of 
Mulder's apartment block. The evening air was cool but 
thankfully not the icy chill or snow she had experienced 
at first hand in Boston. 

Her footsteps slowed as she reached the familiar number 
42. She took a deep breath and forcibly slowed her breathing. 
Its just Mulder she thought but somehow his name didn't 
have the reassuring affect she was used to. She paused before 
knocking, had he changed his mind? Did he think they had 
made a mistake? 

She remembered the certainty in his voice as he stood 
opposite her in a cold morgue. Suppressing her doubts she 
knocked loudly. 

It took a long time before he answered and she was about 
to leave when the door finally opened. 

Mulder was dressed in sweats and a t-shirt and looked out 
of breath. She realised he had been running. 

  "Hey," he managed, seeming surprised to see her. 

  "Hey," she parroted wondering for a moment what he would 
do if she simply kissed him. 

  "Come in," he mumbled and she realised she had been staring 
at his lips. 

Suddenly uncertain she ducked her head staring at the floor 
as she walked past him. 

  "When did you get back?" Scully asked, this time without 
looking at him. 

  "Six am." Mulder answered quietly hearing the hidden 
question, why hadn't he come to her directly? He had thought 
about it but he knew his partner well and he wasn't sure 
whether two weeks of perspective would have changed her mind. 

  "My plane was delayed, I didn't know it was possible to get 
jet lagged in the same time zone," he continued when she still 
failed to meet his eyes.

  "Eldridge?" she asked stopping in the middle of his living 
room. 

Mulder came to stand behind her and ignored her question.

  "How are you?" 

  "I'm fine." she replied immediately. 

He placed his hands on her shoulders and ran his fingers down 
her sleeves. Immediately distracted by his touch it took her 
a moment to realise that he was tugging at her coat. She 
shrugged it off and let him hang it by the door. He walked 
slowly back to her side this time facing her. 

  "Nice shoes," he said softly, placing a finger under her 
chin and tilting her face to look at him. 

She surprised herself by smiling.

  "I'm thinking of making it a permanent fashion statement," 
she answered making him grin back. 

  "I missed you," he murmured so quietly she wondered if 
she had actually heard. "I should have come back earlier."

  "You're here now," Scully replied searching his face for 
what she had seen there in Boston. 

  "So are you."

He moved his hand and cupped her cheek. Remembering the feel 
of his fingers on her skin she closed her eyes. 

  "I should have woken you this morning," he continued. 

  "Yes," she breathed, opening her eyes to stare into his.

  "I worried you might have changed your mind," he said 
honestly.

  "Mulder, I've given this.. us, a lot of thought and I 
realised that there was no decision. I already knew, I always 
have."

Without looking she caught his free hand in hers. 

  "No excuses," he mumbled, squeezing her fingers and leaning 
closer. 

Mouth suddenly dry she shook her head. His hand reached 
into her hair and he drew small circles on her skin with his 
thumb. She wasn't sure if she was trembling or he was.

  "I'm going to kiss you now Agent Scully," he breathed 
against her lips. "Just pretend you're enjoying it."

  "Shut up, Mul.."

He didn't let her finish, he pressed his lips against hers. 
Despite the fact she was expecting it sparks flew and she 
gasped. 

He didn't bother with gentle permission, his mouth possessed 
hers. 

The hand in her hair tightened and he used his other to pull 
her against him. She went willingly, taking a step forward and 
leaning the length of her body against his. Her hands found 
their way to his neck and entwined in his still sweat dampened 
hair. 

The nagging uncertainty she had felt on the journey to his 
apartment fell away with his touch. He moved against her 
shifting his body next to hers and demanding more with his 
lips. She might have moaned but he swallowed the sound. 

His hand on her back moved, caught her wrist and tugged her 
with him towards the couch. 

She didn't expect a slow seduction. She didn't want slow. She 
had spent too many years watching him, wondering. She wanted his 
eyes to burn her soul, his hands to leave invisible prints on 
her body that could never be washed away. 

He reached the sofa and drew back taking in ragged breaths of 
air. Chest rising and falling just as quickly, Scully stared up 
at him. The hunger in his gaze took what little breath she had 
away. He bent to kiss her again and she forgot why she needed 
oxygen anyway. 

For a moment she was falling but then she realised he had 
pulled her with him to the couch. They landed tangled and 
she would have laughed if his tongue had still been wrapped 
around hers. She moved righting herself and unintentionally 
pressed her hips to his. He leant his head back and groaned 
so she did it again. The world shifted again and she found 
herself straddling his thighs as he sat upright. 

His hands found their way to her hips and slid upwards under 
her jacket.

  "Take this off," he whispered, his voice sounding like it 
had been dragged over sandpaper. 

Wordlessly she nodded and shrugged out of the material letting 
it fall to the floor. 

For a moment he just stared at her. His eyes were dark and 
rimless, his expression was oddly familiar yet nothing like 
she had ever seen it before. She felt like he was looking into 
her soul. So this is what it felt like she mused, to have all 
of his passion directed solely at her. For a moment she recalled 
her dream, I see you Scully, he had said and she realised that 
he did. 

Without breaking eye contact he moved his hands so that his 
palms rested flat against her back and gradually brought his 
lips to her neck. She hadn't realised that she had been holding 
her breath until she felt his mouth moist against her skin. She 
gasped and he increased the pressure, nipping and sucking 
against the sensitive skin. 

His hands seem to scald through the thin silk of her blouse. 
Despite the building tension she leant back and let him support 
her weight. Everywhere under her he was hard muscle and skin 
held taut, in check. 

She didn't want him to hold back. She pressed her hips against 
his and was rewarding with the scrape of teeth on her shoulder. 
She did it again, harder, then gasped as he meet her momentum 
with his own. Still rocking her against him he guided her mouth 
roughly back to his own. 

  "Mulder," she managed before his lips consumed hers. 

He tongue immediately commanded entrance and she willingly 
opened to him. He kissed her without reserve. Bruising, 
demanding kisses that enflamed her skin and burned into 
her memory. 

He found the buttons on her blouse and pulled them roughly 
apart. He only managed the top two before she felt his hand 
on her sternum then pressing against her breast. The pads 
of his fingers dug into her flesh and his thumb swept over 
her nipple. 

The sensation was overwhelming, unconsciously she tossed 
her head back. His free hand caught her and brought her lips 
back to his. She felt possessed, surrounded. His grip 
tightened and he moved his pelvis more firmly. She tried 
to moan but he swallowed the sound. She tried to shift 
against him but he moved first. Rationale thought was 
becoming increasingly difficult. 

He finally broke contact for a moment breathing heavily. She 
gulped in air and started to murmur his name but her words 
her lost as the world turned upside down and she found 
herself beneath him. Automatically she parted her thighs and 
he fell heavily between them. The change in position 
increased the contact and she couldn't help herself, she 
cried out. 

There was a buzzing in her head and it took her a full 
minute to comprehend it was his cell phone. 

  "Ignore it," he rasped directly into her ear.

Gladly, she thought bringing her hands to trace the 
muscles of his back. He dipped his head and placed open 
mouth kisses along her shoulder. 

The buzzing became a ring instead and she realised his 
home phone was ringing. He groaned and his hands stilled.

  "Just.. just don't move," he managed, strained.  

He stood on shaky legs and grabbed the receiver from its 
cradle. Scully shut her eyes focusing on the way her skin 
felt alive and not hearing the conversation. The couch smelt 
like he did and inhaling the scent did nothing to assuage the 
near all consuming need. 

When she opened her eyes again he was standing next to his 
desk, phone haphazardly returned to its resting place and 
staring at her with an intensity that took her breath away.

  "Who?" she tried but the word caught in her throat.

  "Work, I hung up," he mumbled, answering anyway. 

He took a step forward, expression full of uncovered desire. 
Two paces from her he paused and it was all she could do not 
to go to him and have him throw her down on the living room 
floor. He stood silently for a moment. 

  "I need to shower," he said finally.

  "Now?" she choked in response. 

  "Twelve hours travelling and a five mile run," he murmured in 
reply. 

Their eyes seemed to be having a different conversation. The 
open hunger in his she was sure was mirrored in her own. It was 
obviously taking will power from him not to reach out to her. 
Not caring if he hadn't washed in years she started to get up, 
sure that if she touched him he would forget what he was 
thinking. 

Reading her mind he spoke quickly.

  "I..I want this to be perfect."

She stilled and looked up and him. Four years she thought 
another few minutes wouldn't make much difference. 

  "Five minutes," he added hurriedly. 

For a moment she thought he would lean to kiss her again but 
instead he walked quickly towards the bathroom. Exhaling, 
Scully leant her head back against the coach feeling the 
cool leather against her neck. Her skin tingled where he had 
touched her, every nerve ending seemed to be on fire. She 
wondered briefly if she was dreaming, if this could really 
be happening. 

She heard the sound of water as he turned the faucet on. 

Unable to remain still she stood and glanced towards the 
hallway toying with the idea of removing her clothes and 
joining him in the shower. Would he trying to kick her out 
or would he welcome her? Would he push her into the tiled 
wall and make her forget her name? She took one step 
towards the bathroom before her courage failed her. 

She smoothed her hair and looked around her searching 
for a distraction. As always Mulder's apartment was dark, 
the meagre light coming from a singular lamp and the fish 
tank. In four years she couldn't remember seeing a working 
bulb in the overhead light. 

The cushions of his couch were rumpled, she felt her 
face flush at the memory of what they had been about to do 
there.

She contemplated finding the bedroom wondering if he had 
used it in recent weeks. Somehow it seemed too presumptuous 
to clear the bed or turn down the bed sheets.

His desk was to her left and absently she took two steps 
towards it. The files were piled as high here as they were 
at work. Some she recognised from recent cases, others had 
titles she didn't know. A journal of abnormal psychology was 
hidden by the latest addition of the lone gun man and some 
other conspiracy magazine she hadn't seen before.  

She was about to turn around when a folder caught her 
attention. It was plain but the word on the cover 
immediately made her heart race; Philadelphia. 

Scully ran her finger along the paper edge realising 
with her hand was shaking. For a moment she resisted 
opening the file hoping desperately that she was mistaken 
about its contents. 

The first page was a transcript of her police interview. 
She swallowed and felt tears suddenly hot in her eyes. 
She didn't have to read the words to know what they said, 
she could recall the events vividly. She had been honest 
with the young detective who had question her, graphically, 
descriptively honest. And Mulder had read it. 

She roughly flicked through the folder sending papers 
flying and not caring. There were more police and forensic 
reports. At the back were a series of colour images, her 
injuries had been photographed as had her tattoo. 

I saw a photograph. She remembered his words. Now she 
knew where she thought angrily brushing away a tear that 
had made it to her chin. 

Scully realised the water was no longer running. Swiping 
angrily at her eyes she slammed the folder back on the 
desk. Without stopping to think she ignored her coat and 
jacket and ran for the door. 

---------------------------------------------------------

Mulder dressed quickly pulling on another pair of sweats 
and a clean grey t-shirt. He was rubbing a towel through 
his hair when he heard the front door.

  "Scully?" 

Towel still in one hand he made his way quickly to the 
living room. 

  "Scully?" he tried again, suddenly confused. 

Her jacket was still on the floor. He was about to check 
the bedroom when he noticed his desk had been disturbed. 
He didn't need to look at the pages to know which file 
she had read. 

  "Fuck." He said loudly and not bothering with shoes or 
socks ran out after her. 

He took the steps three at a time calling her name. He 
couldn't hear her heels on the flights below him but then 
he realised she was wearing trainers. 

The lobby was empty and for a moment he closed his eyes 
and cursed again. How could he have been so stupid, leaving 
the file for her to see. Why did he even take it from the 
gunmen in the first place? He hadn't read it, to begin with 
he simply hadn't the nerve then after his return from 
Boston he had chosen not to figuring she would tell 
him the details eventually. 

The noise of a car door caught his attention. 

He ran for the entrance, heart pounding as he saw her car 
still opposite his building. 

  "Scully," he shouted. 

Driver's door still half open she turned at his voice. Her 
eyes were red and he realised she had been crying. 

  "What gives you the right.." she began as he crossed the 
space between them.

  "I didn't read it," he answered immediately, shivering 
as the freezing pavement meet his bare feet and the cold 
air permeated his thin clothing. 

  "I don't know if I can believe you," she said angrily, 
turning away and trying to pull the door closed. Mulder 
placed a hand on it stopping her from getting into car. 

  "Let me go." 

  "No," he answered forcefully. "Not like this."

She was shivering too but hadn't seemed to notice. Eyes 
still damp she looked directly at him. 

  "Mulder.."

  "When you left for Boston, I didn't know where you 
were. I needed to find you. The gunmen got me the 
information about the case, they gave me that file."

The wind was blowing her hair across her face and 
chilling his. 

  "I never asked for it and I never opened it. I got 
on a plane that afternoon and left it here."

She shook her head.

  "But you took it."  

  "I'm sorry," he whispered. "Please, come back 
upstairs."

  "Mulder, I can't," she replied with finality.

  "Please," he said suddenly choked. "You can't walk away 
now."

She turned her head and tugged on the door. Mulder 
refused to relax his grip preventing her from escaping. 
Instead he took a step forwards purposely invading her 
personal space. 

  "Mulder.." she started voice full of warning. 

He watched the tense set of her shoulders for a moment 
before she spun round to face him. 

  "Let me go," she repeated taking a step forwards 
trying to make him back away. He didn't, instead he 
took the opportunity to close the car door.

  "Scully, I'm sorry, I truly am. But I never intended 
to read it. I told you I was jealous and angry and I 
was a fool to take that file but I didn't do it to hurt 
you."

  "But you did hurt me." 

She took a step sideways and he placed his hand on her 
bicep pinning her in place. The wind gusted, blowing her 
hair into her eyes temporarily obscuring her vision. 

  "How can you leave?" he asked angrily, bringing up 
his other hand to match the first. "Can you really throw 
this away before its started?"

She looked down not meeting his eyes so he continued. 

  "That file was on my desk while we were in Boston, 
while you were kissing me this evening. Does that make 
what you felt any less real?"

Without her jacket the chill bit through her clothes too 
and he could feel her shivering through the material of her 
blouse. She looked back at him eyes still shining. 

  "The best lies feel real, Mulder, you of all people 
should know that." 

He shook his head and risked taking his hand from her 
arm replacing it instead behind her neck. She started 
to pull away but he took a step forward backing her 
against the car. His proximity still had the ability 
to make her heart race and her breathing quicken. 

He tightened the hand behind her neck and pulled her 
towards him at the same time pressing her back against 
the cold metal. Before she could protest he closed his 
lips over hers. He started kissing her out of desperation 
but when she didn't pull away he continued with more 
confidence. After several long moments he found her 
kissing him back with a passion to match his own. 

  "Is this a lie?" he asked eventually breathing heavily 
but no longer feeling the cold. 

  "No," she said softly. 

Some of the dread that had seemed to encase his heart 
lifted. He shifted the hand on her neck and tried to 
pull her back towards him. She resisted.

  "This won't work every time." 

He immediately remembered the conversation in the morgue, 
he hadn't realised but he had kissed her to convince her 
then too. 

  "No," he said sincerely.

  "I'm still angry Mulder. You had no right to that 
file. It was an invasion of my privacy, you breached 
my trust.."

  "I love you, Scully."

She stopped speaking.

  "Will that work every time?" he asked quietly, 
unnerved when minutes later she had still said 
nothing. 

  "Mulder.."

  "Come upstairs, you're freezing."

He grasped her hand and tugged her gently away from 
the car. This time she made no attempt to resist, 
instead she glanced at the floor then back up at him. 

  "Where are you're shoes?"

He had forgotten his feet were bare.

  "They didn't seem important," he said simply.

She took a step forwards leaning into him and he 
realised he was shaking. 

  "Mulder, I love you too," she said quietly. 

-------------------------------------------------------


End.