Profiles in Caring - The Emerson CaseAuthor: Daydreamer 
Posted: November 16, 1998 



Profiles In Caring - The Emerson Case 

Chapter 1

"What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies." 
Aristotle 
"What are you doing here, Agent Scully?" Skinner barked. "You haven't been 
released from medical leave yet." 
Scully stood quietly in the gentle drizzle, her eyes fixed on the tall man who 
knelt, oblivious to the rain, in the middle of a dirt field surrounded by yellow 
crime scene tape. She watched as he carefully felt the earth before him, moving 
so slowly across the area, it almost seemed he wasn't moving at all. His hair 
was plastered to his head, his suit coat drenched and sticking to his back. He 
had apparently removed the ubiquitous trench coat to avoid having it drag as he 
worked his way across the scene. 
"Agent Scully." Skinner spoke again, not quite so sharply this time, but 
demanding her attention and an explanation. 
"I know I haven't been cleared for active duty yet, Sir," she started, "but you 
have him in VCS again! Profiling, no less. You know he can't do this -- 
shouldn't do this, and certainly not alone -- you know that and yet you sent him 
here and didn't tell me!" She knew she sounded petulant, but seemed unable to 
suppress it. 
"Scully -- Dana -- I didn't send him," Skinner responded. "One of the agents 
assigned to this case knew you weren't -- available - for a while and took 
advantage of the situation to request a consult directly from Mulder. You know 
how he is -- won't say no if he thinks he can make a difference. He thinks he 
saw something the others missed, and well, here he is." Skinner turned his gaze 
from Scully to the man kneeling in the mud, then stated, "And none of that 
explains how you found out and why you are here when you haven't been cleared to 
return to duty yet." 
Scully continued to watch the man in the field, half-focused on what Skinner was 
saying, but primarily interested in what Mulder was doing. "I feel fine, Sir," 
she said rotely. At Skinner's silence, she paused, turned to look at him, then 
added, "I really do. I would have been released on Monday. But right now, I need 
to be here." 
"Scully," he began gently, "you know you can't be here until you are cleared. 
That's not my rule -- you know that. We don't have any options here." 
"You can get me cleared, Sir. Monday is only 4 days away. I am not going back." 
She looked directly into the AD's eyes, willing him to agree to her continued 
presence. 
He paused, assessing her level of determination, then grunted, all the 
acknowledgment and acceptance she was likely to get, and turned again to watch 
Mulder as he continued to work the field in the rain. 
Scully released a breath she didn't realize she had been holding. Her muscles 
relaxed, and tension began to slowly seep out of her. "How long has he been 
here?" she asked. 
"Five days," Skinner replied. "How did you find out?" 
"He's been calling me, daily, sometimes twice, since I got out of the hospital. 
It was almost annoying. But then, he started to sound distracted and two days 
ago, the calls stopped. I checked around and found out he wasn't even in town, 
dug some more, and found out he was here. I guess he remembered to call the 
first few days, but as he slipped further in, he forgot." She shrugged. "I'm 
glad, in a way. If he has to be here, he shouldn't be alone." 
Skinner gave a rare smile. "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm here. I didn't 
exactly send him alone into the fray." 
Scully looked up at the unexpected remark from the AD. She stared at him 
seriously for a moment, then gave a slight smile of her own. "Do you have an 
umbrella?" 
Skinner started at the abrupt change of topic. He recovered, "In the car. I'm 
sorry, I wasn't thinking. I'll get it." He darted over to the rental car, 
retrieved the umbrella, raised it, and came back to where Scully stood. She was 
almost as wet as Mulder by now. She continued to watch him as he worked his way 
across the field. 
"Where are the crime scene techs?" she asked, as Skinner moved next to her, 
shielding her from the rain with the umbrella. 
"They're across the way, out of the weather, waiting for him to get done. After 
the body was removed, he wanted to do a sweep himself, to get a feel for what's 
happening. He didn't want anyone else in the way." 
"Oh." Long pause as they both continued to watch Mulder work the pattern he had 
laid out for himself. "Can I have the umbrella?" 
Skinner looked down at her. Her attention was still focused on the man in the 
field. He passed the umbrella to her and watched as she took it silently. She 
walked slowly toward the crime scene tape. As she approached the tape, she 
stopped and continued to watch. When she was confident that she could approach 
Mulder without walking or stepping in an area he might not want disturbed, she 
ducked under the tape and headed across the field. 



The rain suddenly stopped. Mulder paused for a moment, shook his head to clear 
the water from his eyes, grateful for the relief from the ceaseless drizzle. He 
continued to work his way across the field. The ground was still wet but at 
least it wasn't raining on him. After another three quarters of an hour, he 
paused and looked outward. He looked up and saw the umbrella held in a small 
hand. His eyes followed the hand up an arm, and across to a very familiar face. 
"Hello, Mulder. I missed hearing from you." 
He wiped his eyes again, trying desperately to shift his focus from the killer 
he was stalking to the woman standing before him. The woman he had sworn to call 
daily and then promptly forgotten about. The woman, he reminded himself, who was 
just released from the hospital, weakened by her battle with cancer, and yet had 
stood here, holding an umbrella over his head to keep him dry. Well, sorta dry 
-- drier -- he hastily amended. "Hey, Scully, whatcha doing here?" he grinned 
foolishly up at her. 
"I thought you might need someone to keep you out of trouble, partner, 
especially when I heard Skinner was here," she responded, smiling fondly at him. 
She reached out and brushed a wet lock of hair from his forehead, her thumb 
gently tracing the eyebrow beneath it. "But I see you mostly need someone to 
keep you dry. Are you almost done here?" 
He looked up at her for a minute longer, then rose shakily to his feet. He 
stretched the kinks out of his back, and brushed the worst of the mud from his 
knees. He straightened and then reached out and took the umbrella from her hand, 
stepping in close to her as he did, covering them both. 
"Yeah, I am. This wasn't our guy -- I can't explain it, there's just a different 
feel to it. I don't know if it's a copycat or not." He placed his hand on the 
small of her back and they began to walk slowly back across the field. "Some of 
the elements are the same, but the killer is not extremely individualistic with 
his signature anyway, so this could just be a random murder, with enough 
similarities that we had to look twice. It took a long time for anyone to 
connect that we had a serial loose here anyway. There is such an element of 
randomness to his kills, it's hard to see the pattern. I know it's there, but I 
can't see it yet." 
Scully listened as he spoke. She looked sharply at him, studying his face, pale 
and tired looking. His eyes, darkly ringed and bloodshot. His clothes, already 
beginning to hang from his lean frame. After his brief spate of attention on 
her, he had already begun to turn inward, focusing on the hunt again. She needed 
to get him back before he was gone for several more hours. She reached out and 
took his arm. He stopped in his tracks and turned to look at her. "Mulder," she 
asked gently, "have you eaten yet?" 



Skinner continued to stand in the rain as he watched Scully cross the field. He 
noted the way she carefully studied Mulder, his pattern, what he was doing, 
before she crossed the tape and approached him. Even then, it didn't appear she 
spoke. She just took up a position behind him, and held the umbrella over him, 
shielding him from the ongoing drizzle. And he never even noticed! Skinner was 
amazed at the way this man could tune everything out when he was on the hunt. 
For almost an hour, Scully followed Mulder, holding the umbrella. Skinner 
noticed she held it out, over him, and she stood quietly in the steady rain. He 
stood and watched, astounded at the level of Mulder's concentration, amazed at 
Scully's forbearance. At one point, the crime scene techs had approached him 
with complaints that they needed to get started, but he had waved them away, 
telling them to wait. 
Finally, Mulder seemed to notice that it was raining everywhere but on him. He 
looked up, startled, and saw Scully. Skinner couldn't hear what was said, but he 
saw the grin that burst across Mulder's face. Scully seemed to be looking down 
on him fondly. Skinner watched as she reached out and touched -- no -- caressed 
-- his face. Mulder reached out to her, then rose to his feet, albeit 
unsteadily. He stretched, then brushed the mud from his pants. He stood for a 
moment looking at Scully, then reached out and took the umbrella from her. He 
stepped closer to her -- very close, Skinner noticed -- and placed his hand on 
her back. They turned and began to walk across the field toward him. 
As Skinner realized Mulder was finished, he pulled his cell phone and called the 
techs. "The area is yours. Mulder's done." He hung up brusquely, not wanting to 
listen to the repeated complaints and gripes that were sure to come up again, 
his attention already refocused on his agents crossing the field. 
Mulder seemed to be speaking tiredly, but with feeling. Scully was listening, 
but she was also examining Mulder. Skinner looked more closely at the man, 
trying to see what Scully was looking for. As the two drew nearer, Skinner began 
to see it as well. The suit, while wet and bedraggled, was looser than it had 
been 5 days ago. His face was pale, unshaven, with bruised looking circles under 
his eyes. He walked stiffly, as if it was an effort to stay on his feet. 
How could he have missed it, he berated himself. He had specifically come on 
this assignment, leaving his desk job for the field, so that someone -- he, 
himself, Skinner -- could make sure Mulder didn't get so far in, he hurt 
himself, and already the man looked like death warmed over. He shook his head 
ruefully. How does Scully do it? 
Skinner watched her continue to lead Mulder gently across the field. When they 
reached the tape, he leaned down and lifted it for her. She stepped under as he 
kept the umbrella over her head. She reached out, took the umbrella, and waited 
while he stepped under the tape. When he stood again, she handed it back to him 
and they continued walking. 
Scully seemed to have finished her surreptitious exam of Mulder and she reached 
out, placing a hand on his arm. Skinner saw Mulder jolt to a stop, and look, 
first at her hand, then into her eyes. She seemed to be asking him something. 



Mulder looked down into Scully's eyes. 
"Sure, Scully, I ate a while ago." 
Scully looked down, "Oh," she said. She seemed disappointed. 
"When did you get in Scully? Have you eaten yet?" 
His effort was rewarded as she ducked her head to hide the slight smile that 
graced her face. "I sorta left in a hurry, Mulder, and I didn't get a chance to 
get anything. I was hoping you would join me. I hate to eat alone." 
"Sure, Scully, we can get a bite. Have you been to the hotel yet?" He gestured 
down at himself. "Can we swing by there and get into some dry clothes first?" 
"No, I haven't checked in yet; I came straight here. But changing sounds like a 
wonderful idea." 
Mulder glanced sharply at her then, realizing how very wet she was. She must 
have held the umbrella over him the whole time, leaving herself exposed to the 
rain. Why did this amazing woman care for him like this? She continually 
astounded him. 
They reached Skinner and stopped. 
Mulder straightened and began to report. "Sir, I don't think this was our guy -- 
it just feels different to me. I don't know if it's a copycat or not. Our killer 
is not overtly individualistic with his signature, so this could just be a 
random murder, with enough similarities that we had to look twice. Some of the 
elements are the same. It took a long time for anyone to make the connection 
that this was a serial killer because there is such an element of randomness to 
his kills. There's nothing I can learn here. I still can't get a handle on the 
killer's pattern." 
At that admission, Mulder seemed to fold into himself. The nights without sleep, 
days without food, the sheer physical exhaustion began to catch up with him. But 
he forced his mind to focus on the task -- he had to catch a killer. He 
half-stumbled as he stood before Skinner. 



Scully saw it happening again. She reached for him at the same time Skinner did. 
They each held an arm, and Mulder gazed blankly at them for a moment then, shook 
them off, and straightened again. He was slipping back into his profiling mode. 
Well, not until he was dry, had eaten, and, if she had her way, had gotten some 
sleep! She took the umbrella from his hand, and turned to Skinner. 
"Sir," she began. "I haven't had a chance to check in yet. I had the airline 
send my bags to the hotel, and took a cab here. I think all of us could do with 
some dry clothes. Is that your rental?" She indicated the vehicle he had gotten 
the umbrella from and began heading that way, half-leading, half-pulling Mulder. 

"Yes," Skinner replied. "But I need to stay here for a while. I'll have another 
agent take you to the hotel." 
Skinner reached out and unlocked the car. Scully opened the rear door and helped 
Mulder inside. She watched as he sank back wearily, leaning his head far back on 
the seat and closing his eyes. She helped him with the seat belt, then murmured 
soothingly to him, stroked his arm, stood, and shut the door. 
"Sir, you said you came to watch out for him. Well, he needs it now. He's 
exhausted, he's already lost weight, and I know he hasn't been sleeping. He'll 
fight me -- but you -- you can make him rest." She chuckled dryly. "Or at least 
order him to stay in the hotel. I need you to come with me." 
Skinner studied her appraisingly, then relented. "All right, Agent Scully. Get 
in." 
He moved to the driver's seat and slid behind the wheel. Scully went around to 
the other side and got in beside him. Skinner was surprised; he realized he had 
expected her to get in the back with Mulder. 
Scully looked over her shoulder and, sure enough, Mulder was asleep. It amazed 
her that the man couldn't sleep nights for more than a couple hours at a time, 
yet could fall asleep anywhere else at the first opportunity. It had to be his 
own, finely developed, coping mechanism. 
Skinner had started the car and begun the trip back to the hotel. He was 
currently on the phone, giving guidance and direction to the team still at the 
last crime scene. He released the agents assigned to the serial hunt, accepting 
Mulder's conclusion that this murder was not by the same killer. Those agents 
went back to the command center. 
Scully looked at Skinner as he made his assignments. He looked tired as well. 
"So, Sir, want to bring me up to date?" 
"There have been 5 murders over 10 weeks. It wasn't until the third one that 
anyone began to suspect a serial killer. It was a fluke anyone caught it. The 
murders themselves have been by strangulation, different ligature each time. 
Electrical cord, belt, scarf, a rawhide bootlace, and wire coat-hanger. The 
bodies were all face down, in obvious display, but the positioning was different 
for each. That's the extent of it for now. You can review the files later this 
evening." 
"Later this evening? Sir, Mulder needs to rest. He's dead on his feet. You don't 
look so good yourself. I know we're on a timetable, but could we at least do the 
review at the hotel? Maybe he'll get some sleep if he's not 'on display' for the 
rest of the team. He puts such pressure on himself to produce in these cases." 
"I'm OK, Scully," Mulder spoke up from the backseat. "Really, Sir, I'm fine." 
Scully snorted and shook her head. They were just reaching the hotel. Skinner 
parked and then looked at each of his agents. Mulder was exhausted. He had tried 
to straighten himself in the seat to give credence to his 'I'm fine' argument, 
but was already slumping back again. Scully looked tired as well. The hours in 
the rain had cleansed her skin of make-up, and she was pale as well. He made a 
decision. 
"Agents," he declared, "I want you to get checked in, Scully, and both of you 
get changed. Scully, go ahead and order meals for the three of us. We'll use 
your room tonight if that's OK. I'm going to change out of these wet clothes as 
well, and then I am going to the command center to get the files and other 
pertinent material and will be back in about an hour. When I return, we will 
eat, spend some time reviewing the case and bringing Scully current, and then, 
everyone, and I mean everyone, Agent Mulder, will get some rest." 
Skinner exited the car and strode off, not waiting for the argument he expected 
to come from Mulder. It didn't take long either, as Mulder caught him at the 
elevator. "Sir," he began. 
Skinner cut him off. "Mulder, this is not just for you. Have you looked at 
Scully? She's just out of the hospital, she had a long flight here, she stood in 
the rain for hours. She is worn out. But you know and I know she will not rest 
if you don't." Skinner turned and looked at Scully as she stood at the hotel 
desk. His voice turned thoughtful. "She's thinner, too. She needs to eat." He 
looked back. "Mulder, you can't let this case consume you. I don't think she is 
strong enough to deal with you on a tear right now. Offer what help you can, but 
don't -- don't -- drag her into this too far." 
Mulder had also turned and was watching Scully. "Why is she here, Sir? Did you 
call her?" 
"No, Mulder," Skinner sighed. "When you didn't make your 'annoying' daily call, 
she got worried. She started looking for you, found out you were here on a case 
for VCS, and she just showed up. I was going to send her home, but she was very 
-- persuasive -- when it came to why she needed to be here." 
"Refused to go home, eh, Sir?" Mulder grinned. 
"In a word, yes," Skinner said shortly. "And she is not to get sick because you 
can't take time to eat and rest, understand?" 
"Understood, Sir." Mulder turned and headed over to Scully at the desk. 
Chapter 2 
"Genius not only diagnoses the situation but supplies the answers."
Robert Graves 
The bell captain had retrieved Scully's bags from the storage area where they 
had been placed on arrival from the airport. Mulder deftly removed them from the 
bell boy, and asked, "Where to, Agent Scully?" 
Scully gave a small smile. Mulder was trying. "I had them put me in the room 
adjoining yours. That'll make this late night meeting a little easier on us 
both. OK? You don't think Skinner will question adjoining rooms, do you?" 
"That's fine, Scully. I think Skinner is firmly on our side on this one. You 
know, 'do what you need to do to do the job, and get out.'" Mulder monotoned in 
a reasonable imitation of Skinner. They both smiled. "No, seriously, Scully, 
Skinner has been great on this. He's been working with me, getting me what I 
need, keeping everybody else away. It hasn't been that bad. He nags me to eat 
and to sleep, or at least rest." He looked down, embarrassed. "He even sat with 
me in the evidence room when I went through everything -- you know -- so I 
wouldn't have to do it alone. He was quiet -- respectful -- didn't interrupt, 
but knowing someone was there, well, it helped." 
"Then I'm glad he's here Mulder." They entered the elevator, the doors closed, 
and Scully reached out and laid her hand on Mulder's arm. "So, how are you 
holding up, partner?" 
He looked at the hand on his arm, then lifted his eyes to her face. "I'm tired, 
Scully. I can't get a bead on this guy. He could go again anytime now, and I 
don't think I'm any closer than I was when I got here. I really need you to look 
at the autopsies for me. I need you to look at the pictures and the reports. 
I've got to get a fresh perspective, something's got to give, I've got to ..." 
He broke off as she placed her finger against his lips. 
"Shh -- Of course, I'll look at everything. That's why I came. But you -- you 
are NOT single-handedly responsible for stopping this, do you understand?" 
The elevator opened and they walked to the rooms. Mulder put Scully's bags down 
outside her door, and moved down to his own. They each entered their room and 
went directly to the connecting doors. Each opened their own door, propping it 
to keep it open. Mulder came through immediately. 
"Don't sit on the bed, Mulder -- you're still wet." He arrested in half-sit, and 
stood again. Scully had pulled dry clothes from her bag and was heading for the 
shower. Mulder moved to a chair and was again stopped. "Not the chair either -- 
Mulder -- go clean up and get changed. You're wet and you're filthy." 
Mulder smiled. "OK, Scully, you win -- I'm going to shower and change. Shall I 
put on something 'more comfortable' too?" he leered at her. 
She ignored his innuendo. "Shave, too," she called back over her shoulder as she 
closed the door to the bathroom. "You're positively scruffy!" 



Skinner arrived with the room service waiter. He was dressed casually in jeans 
and a polo shirt, a briefcase in one hand, laptop in the other, and a huge box 
balanced precariously between them. Scully relieved him of the box, placing it 
on the bed, and directed the waiter to the small table by the door. 
Mulder was already sprawled on one of the beds, in sweats and a T-shirt, hair 
still wet, remote in hand. The TV was on low, and every few seconds, there was a 
click as he surfed the channels. He seemed completely zoned out, asleep, or 
barely awake at best, and yet, there was that steady click from the remote. One 
arm was thrown carelessly over his eyes, the other holding the remote and 
extended out toward the TV. 
He had shaved, Skinner noted, and while he still looked worn, he did look 
better. What made the difference? He was clean, he looked comfortable, he wasn't 
'on display' as Scully had put it, so he was more relaxed. And, of course, 
Scully was here. The last was the most important point, Skinner was sure. 
Scully, too, had showered and changed he noticed. She had on jeans and an 
oversized sweater. Seeing her in casual clothes, with her hair pulled back, no 
make-up, and that huge sweater, she looked much younger than her 34 years. She, 
too, looked tired and drawn. He decided right then, to try to make this a short 
session. 
Skinner took note of the open doors between the rooms. He glanced into Mulder's 
-- just what he thought -- disaster. He had been right in choosing to meet in 
Scully's. He looked back into the room and caught Scully watching him. He gave a 
slight shrug and headed for the table. 
He watched as Scully went to the bed where Mulder lay, and sat quietly for a 
moment. No response. She shifted and moved closer to him. Still no response. The 
remote continued to click, the TV shifted from screen to screen, but Mulder 
didn't move. 
Interesting, thought Skinner as he watched the two. She's dealt with this 
before. 
Scully gently spoke. "Mulder. Mulder, come on, it's time to eat." 
Slowly, he seemed to come back to himself. The arm came down and he turned to 
look at her. His eyes were at half-mast, and a slow, lazy smile crossed his 
face. "Hey, Scully, you're back." 
She reached out to take the remote from his hand, but he dropped it and his 
fingers captured hers instead. He turned her small hand over and began to stroke 
the palm with his thumb. "I missed you, Scully. I'm glad you're here. I'm glad 
you didn't die." 
She smiled down at him, then stroked his arm with her other hand. "I'm glad I'm 
here, too, Mulder." She paused, giving him a few more moments to come back to 
himself, from wherever his brilliant, driven mind had taken him. He continued to 
make small circles in her palm as he gazed at her. Finally, she glanced up, 
looking at Skinner where he stood by the table. 
Skinner had watched this small interaction, almost mesmerized. As Scully looked 
at him, he saw a small crease appear in her brow and she colored slightly. She 
seemed concerned he had witnessed this decidedly intimate moment between the two 
of them. He gave a suggestion of a smile and nodded, and she turned back to 
Mulder. 
"Mulder, are you with me now?" she asked, still speaking gently, quietly. 
"Yeah, Scully, but I really did miss you. It's a lonely place out there." He 
still held her hand, unwilling or unable to let go yet. 
"I know, Mulder. I know. I'm here now. But right now, you need to get up and 
eat. I'm hungry and you said you'd keep me company. And you need to eat too." 
At the mention of food, Mulder had turned slightly green. But when Scully had 
mentioned her own hunger, Skinner watched as he swallowed hard, and bit back the 
response he had been about to make. Hmmm, considerate Mulder -- who'd have 
thought? Skinner chuckled in his mind. 
"And AD Skinner is here, too, Mulder," Scully continued. 



Mulder dropped Scully's hand and jumped up off the bed. He looked at Skinner, 
face burning, stammered a brief greeting and turned back to his partner. 
"Scully," he said, gathering his composure, "what's on the menu?" 
Scully had watched this little scene with humor. She rose gracefully from the 
bed and went to the table. She and Skinner began to lay out the plates from the 
room service cart. 
"Soup and salad for everyone. One chicken, one fish, one pork. Which do you 
want, Mulder?" 
"Uh, Scully, I think I can manage the soup, maybe the salad. I don't know if I 
can do more." 
"That's fine, Mulder. I know it's hard for you." A gentle touch. "Start with the 
soup and we'll go from there." 
Mulder took the bowl of soup, moved to the desk and took a seat. Scully brought 
a glass of iced tea. She rejoined Skinner at the table and began to eat her 
salad. Skinner was already eating his soup, but looked up when she placed hers 
aside and began on the salad. 
His eyebrows went up -- a silent 'what?' Scully glanced at Mulder -- idly 
stirring the soup -- and Skinner knew. She wanted to have more for him in the 
event she could get him to eat at all. 
"Mulder, bring the chair and join us," Skinner said. "The table's not that 
small." 
Mulder dutifully got up and moved, bringing the tea, but conveniently leaving 
the soup. Scully started to get up, but Skinner gestured and rose himself. He 
retrieved the bowl, and placed it before his agent. Mulder grimaced, shot a 
covert look at Scully, and picked up the spoon. 
Within 30 minutes, they had all finished, Mulder eating all of his soup, some of 
Scully's, and even nibbling at his salad. Skinner had been surprised at how 
hungry he had been, and had eaten both the chicken and the pork entrees. Guess 
I'll have to be more careful myself about being sure to eat, he thought. They 
worked together and cleared up the remains of the meal, stacking it on the cart 
and moving the cart into the hall. Once that was done, they were ready to get to 
work. 



Two hours later, they were still at it. Scully had read everything there was to 
read, Mulder had gone over everything again, Skinner had retraced every step 
that had been taken so far. They were no closer to answers than they had been. 
Scully stood and stretched. At this, Skinner too got up. They both looked at 
Mulder. He was seated cross-legged on the floor, staring at pictures of the 
victims, taken at the crime scene. He picked the first one up and began again. 
His breathing slowed, and he stared at each one for a long time before moving to 
the next. His eyes began to unfocus. His hand froze. 
Scully's breath caught. "He sees something," she said. Skinner nodded in 
agreement. They both waited. Five minutes, ten, fifteen. Skinner looked at 
Scully, willing to take his cue from her. She glanced down at her watch again -- 
20 minutes -- no movement. 
She moved toward Mulder, gesturing for Skinner to stay where he was. Moving 
carefully in front of him so as not to startle him, she knelt before him. 
"Mulder," she said. "Mulder, what is it?" 
His eyes slowly came into focus and fixed on her face. "Scully." 
She reached out and took the picture from him. Her hand lingered on his for a 
moment, then retreated to her side. "What did you see?" 
"Is Skinner still here?" he said, looking around. "Oh, Sir, I think you'll want 
to see this." He rose stiffly, then reached back down and helped Scully up. He 
sat on the bed, pulling her down beside him. Skinner came and stood next to 
them. 
Mulder pointed to the first picture. "Does that look like an 'M' to anyone?" 
Scully and Skinner stared. "It's possible, Mulder. Why?" from Skinner. 
"Because, this," he pulled the next picture up, "looks like an 'A' to me." Next 
picture. "And this could be an 'I,' and this may be an 'L.' The last one is 
another 'M.' I think we need to check connections with the post office." He 
looked at Skinner. "I know it's weak -- but it's something new to look into." 
Skinner studied the pictures, then he studied his agent. "All right, Mulder. 
We'll look into it." 
Mulder started to rise. "Just let me get ready, Sir, I'll be with you in a 
minute." 
"Agent Mulder, the only 'getting ready' you are going to do, is getting ready 
for bed. I will call the night team at the command center and tell them what 
we've got. They will do what preliminary work they can for the rest of tonight. 
Tomorrow, when you and Agent Scully" -- a discreet look in her direction -- "are 
rested, we will begin a more active investigation into this line of inquiry." 
Skinner looked meaningfully at Mulder, then at Scully. "I am going to my room 
now, to get this started. I will see you both at 0700 hours in the morning. I'll 
tell the team we'll be there by 0730. Get some rest." 
"Uh, Sir, could you make it 8:00? That way we could get breakfast." Mulder spoke 
hesitantly, with a sideways glance at Scully, she smiled approvingly. 
Skinner studied them, sitting side by side on the bed, each worrying over the 
other. 
"Yes, of course, Mulder," he replied. "0800 hours it is. I'll see you both in 
the morning." He turned and left the room. 



Scully stood and looked down at Mulder. He fell backwards onto the bed and 
looked back at her. She cocked an eyebrow. "Letters, Mulder? Could it be that 
cliché?" 
"You never know. This guy isn't exactly playing with a full deck. Who knows what 
pops his cork?" 
"All right. We'll deal with it in the morning. At least it's a new avenue to 
explore." She gazed at him -- he looked like he was settling in for the night. 
"Up, Mulder. You're next door." 
He grinned and rose. "Ah, Scully, you're no fun." He headed for the door to his 
room. As he passed her, he reached out and took her hand. "Thanks for coming, 
Scully." 
She looked at his hand, holding hers, then raised her eyes to meet his. "Where 
else would I be, Mulder?" 
He laughed. "Yeah, but I still don't know why." He reached out and stroked her 
cheek, then turned and went into the other room. But both doors remained open. 
Chapter 3 
"Well, Darkness has a hunger that's insatiable, And Lightness has a call that's 
hard to hear." 
Indigo Girls 
Mulder was trying to be good. He went into his room and lay on the bed. He 
turned the TV on, but kept the volume low. The blue light made flickering 
patterns on the ceiling. He lay there and watched as they danced over his head. 
He made himself lay still, thinking, but not moving. He knew that sleep would 
not come. An hour passed. Halfway through the second hour, he got up quietly and 
moved to the connecting door. 
He peeked into the room and saw Scully asleep in her bed. She lay on her side, 
her hair spilled over the pillow. She clutched the blanket to her chin. He moved 
toward her, then stopped. He didn't want to risk waking her -- she definitely 
wouldn't approve of him being here -- so he contented himself with a long look 
-- drinking her in -- reassuring himself that she was really here. 
Then he turned and padded over to the table, lifted the box of materials they 
had been using last night, and returned to his room. He settled back on the bed, 
and began again. 
After several more hours of relatively fruitless work, Mulder got up. He pulled 
out his shorts and running shoes and got dressed. One last look in on Scully -- 
still sleeping soundly -- and he slipped out the door. He started slowly, 
working his way up. After half a mile, he was settled into a steady rhythm. He 
continued on, following the 5-mile path he had laid out for himself the first 
day. 
Running helped. It cleared his mind of extraneous things. His body was occupied, 
no distraction, he could focus on the things that needed to be looked at. As his 
feet pounded onward, his eidetic memory began to pull up the reports again, 
going back over them, again and again. Looking for the one thing he had missed 
that would make that connection. As he reached the turn that would bring him 
back to the hotel, the sun began to make its way above the horizon. He began to 
slow, cooling down, finishing the last block or so at a walk. He needed more 
background information on the victims. It was there, but it didn't go back far 
enough. He would ask Skinner to put someone on it today. 
He entered the hotel, crossed to the elevator, and rode up to his floor. As the 
doors were opening, he heard a familiar voice scream, "Mulder!" 



Skinner had just gotten up and was headed for the shower when the air was split 
by a loud scream calling Mulder's name. He grabbed his gun, flew out of his room 
and across the hall to stand outside Scully's door, ready to force his way in. 
He looked up as a panicked Mulder came flying down the hall. He had obviously 
been running. He didn't even stop at Scully's door, but went right to his own 
and entered. Skinner followed, weapon at ready. 
Mulder grabbed his own weapon from the table by the bed and entered Scully's now 
quiet room. The room was empty -- no intruders -- and he put the gun aside and 
went to where Scully lay, fighting with the covers on the bed. Skinner stood by 
the door and watched as Mulder spoke softly to the woman on the bed. 
"Scully, I'm here. Don't fight. Wake up." He reached out and gently pried the 
blankets from her fingers, gathering her hands into his own as he did. He held 
them loosely for a moment, then said again, "Scully, I'm here." With a guilty 
glance back over his shoulder at Skinner, he reached out and began to stroke her 
hair. With the other hand he stroked her shoulder and pulled her toward him. 
Suddenly, with a cry of "No!" she jerked away. Tears began to flow down her 
cheeks and she began struggling again. With a tremendous surge, she pulled away 
from Mulder and struck him, hard, across the face. He fell backward and tumbled 
from the bed. 
Skinner darted forward and grabbed her wildly flailing arms. "Are you all right, 
Mulder?" he asked. Scully continued to fight him and he tightened his grasp. 
Mulder looked up, and seeing Skinner holding Scully, said, "Don't restrain her, 
Sir. It frightens her more. Let her go and move away." 
Skinner looked doubtfully at Mulder, but released Scully and backed away. She 
quieted almost immediately, but tears still flowed down her cheeks. "Mulder, 
you're bleeding," he stated. 
Mulder reached up to his lip, touched it, and brought back a bloody finger. He 
rose and headed for the door to his room. "Just watch her for a minute. I need 
to wipe the blood off. If she remembers this, she's going to be upset enough as 
it is." 
Pondering that cryptic comment, Skinner sat on the other bed, and watched as 
Scully alternately lay quietly or struggled and fought, crying soundlessly the 
whole time. He debated on whether or not to try to wake her, but decided to wait 
for Mulder's return. He came back quickly and moved to the bed where Scully lay 
quietly now. 
Just as he sat, she again surged upward, but this time he was prepared. He 
grabbed her arms and spoke sharply, "Scully!" Her eyes flew open, and she froze 
in mid-fight. She stared at Mulder, eyes glassy at first, then slowly clearing. 
At last she seemed to collapse into herself. Mulder caught her as she sagged and 
pulled her into his arms. She began to sob. "It was so real, so real. It was 
happening all over again." 
"What, Scully, what was happening?" 
A small sniff. "I don't remember. I just know it was awful. Nothing could make 
it stop." 
Mulder began to speak soothingly to her. He cupped her face in his hands, 
erasing the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. She seemed to settle somewhat 
as he spoke, relaxing under his touch. She instinctively moved toward him, and 
he pulled her tightly into his arms. 
Skinner was fascinated as he watched the tableau unfolding before him. Mulder 
continued to hold Scully, stroking her hair, and speaking gently. Her body began 
to slump, as if from exhaustion, and Mulder slowly lowered her from his arms to 
his lap. She nuzzled into his thigh, relaxing under his ministrations. When she 
was completely at ease, Mulder started to pull back and rise. But she reached 
out and clutched him, gave a wordless plea, and held him in place. He risked a 
quick look at Skinner again and said, "She has these nightmares, Sir, since the 
abduction. Not often, but when she's under a lot of stress. It's happened a lot 
since the cancer." 
"Then it's a good thing she has you to help her, Agent Mulder," Skinner 
responded. 
Mulder nodded, his attention focused on the woman who lay on his lap. He gently 
stroked her, making soothing, nonsense sounds for another minute, then responded 
quietly, "No, Sir, it's a good thing I have her. I don't know what I'd do 
without her." 
Mulder extricated himself from Scully's grip, and pulled the covers back over 
her. He smoothed her hair one last time, his touch lingering. He tucked both 
arms under the blanket and ran his hands over the spread, chasing away the 
wrinkles. He rose and went to join Skinner in the doorway to his room. 
"It's time for us to get up, Sir. She's not going to like you being here. She 
doesn't even like me being here, but she tolerates it." 
"I understand, Mulder, but I would like to assess Agent Scully's condition for 
myself, if you don't mind. I'm not completely satisfied that she should be 
working after all." 
"Oh, I don't mind -- she's the one you'll have to deal with." Mulder grinned at 
Skinner and went back to Scully's bed. "And YOU will be the one to tell her she 
can't work. That I want to see." The last was half muttered under his breath. 
Mulder approached the bed again. He reached out and gently shook Scully. "Hey, 
you, wake up. It's time to get up." 
Scully rolled toward Mulder and raised one eyelid. "What are you doing in my 
room?" she began, but then noticed his swollen lip. She sat up quickly. "What 
happened to your lip?" 
Mulder darted a guilty glance in Skinner's direction, then lied, "I fell when I 
was running." 
Scully followed Mulder's glance and saw Skinner standing in her room, still in 
night clothes. "Why are you here, Sir?" 
Mulder cast a pleading look at Skinner. Skinner looked at them both and then 
said, "I came to wake Mulder early. We're needed at the command center. You have 
half an hour to get dressed. We'll still have time to grab a quick bite to eat 
before we meet with the team." Skinner turned and exited through Mulder's room. 
Mulder's shoulders sagged in relief. "You awake now?" At Scully's nod, he 
continued, "I'm gonna grab a quick shower -- I'm ripe." He rose and headed back 
to his own room. 



The three met in the hotel lobby and crossed the parking lot to the coffee shop 
located next door. Both men had on standard business suits, though Mulder's tie 
was anything but standard. Scully wore a skirted suit, with her ever-present 
heels. 
As they walked Scully fell back a bit behind the men, studying Mulder. He 
turned, "What? What are you looking for now?" he asked in exasperation. 
"I'm watching you walk," she stated flatly. "I want to make sure you didn't hurt 
yourself more than you're telling me in your fall." 
Mulder flushed and looked guiltily at Skinner. "And here I thought you were just 
checking out my ass, Agent Scully." 
"You wish, Mulder," she replied. "But, actually, you don't look too injured. Are 
you sure you're OK?" 
"Yes, Mom." Mulder answered. 
"You didn't sleep, though. I can tell. AND you worked last night." 
"How can you tell that?" Mulder was surprised, he thought he looked pretty alert 
this morning. 
"You cut yourself shaving -- you never do that unless you're tired. And, you 
forgot and left the box in your room. It was on the table in mine when we 
retired." 
"With those investigative techniques, Agent Scully, you should ask for a raise." 

Skinner watched the interplay with amusement, then cleared his throat. Both 
Mulder and Scully jumped, as if they had forgotten his presence. "We need to get 
a move on if we're going to make the morning meeting on time." 
They all resumed their steady pace toward the coffee shop and breakfast. They 
entered and were seated promptly. The waitress appeared to take their orders. 
Mulder started, "I'll have coffee, the largest you have, black, and another to 
go." 
Scully cocked her eyebrow at him, and he ducked his head. "He'll have orange 
juice, half a cantaloupe, and toast. I'll have the same. Sir?" 
Skinner looked at the waitress, who looked in confusion at Mulder. He just 
nodded sheepishly and studied the table. The waitress turned her attention to 
Skinner. "Actually, that sounds very good. I'll have the same, but bring me a 
danish instead of toast." The waitress nodded and hurried off. 
"Mulder, you have to eat," Scully started, but Mulder waved her quiet. 
"I know, I'm sorry, I'll try. Listen, I decided while I was running that we need 
more background information. What we have doesn't go back far enough. Could you 
get someone on that this morning, Sir?" 
"All right, Mulder, how far back do we need to go?" 
"Let's try to go back to when they first left the parents' home. All the vics 
were fairly young, but had lived on their own for at least three years. Track 
where they lived, when, roommates, everything back to when they left the nest." 
Their meals arrived then, and conversation turned to more mundane matters. As 
they finished, Mulder looked at Scully and quipped, "I cleaned my plate, Mom, 
can I have that coffee to go now?" 
Scully frowned across at him, then beckoned the waitress. "One large coffee to 
go, please." 
She turned to Mulder, "Happy now?" 
"Oh, Scully, you know what I like," he teased back. 
Mulder's coffee arrived and they all headed for the rental, and the long day 
ahead of them. 
Chapter 4 
"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. 
And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." 
Nietzsche 
As the car slowed and then stopped, Scully's voice broke into Mulder's reverie. 
He was grateful. He'd spent the drive over thinking about getting into the 
killer's head, his thoughts, the whys and wherefores of his actions. It was 
exhausting work, going to a dark and disturbing place, a place he didn't want to 
enter. Sometimes entry seemed to cost him both his sanity and his soul. He knew 
what he needed to do, but any break in this sort of work, while postponing the 
inevitable, was a welcome relief. 
As the three entered the command center, a phone rang. An agent answered, 
listened for a moment, then hung up. He turned to Skinner, "There's been another 
one, Sir." 
Mulder visibly sagged at these words, reaching out and gripping the table edge 
to keep himself on his feet. Skinner quickly moved to him, and seated him in a 
chair. Scully moved behind him and placed her hand on his shoulder. Skinner 
stood by the two for a minute more, then faced the waiting team. 
"Those who were working on the possibility of a post office connection, finish 
up with that, get a report together and be prepared to share your findings at 
the briefing this afternoon. I want another team on deep background. We need 
more information on the victims. Trace them back to when they left their 
parents' homes. Make sure you include the latest victim. This team should also 
be prepared to report this afternoon. I want the crime scene people with me. Any 
questions? All right, people, look sharp and get busy." 
Skinner gave a last look around then focused on Mulder. Scully still stood 
behind him, her head bent toward his left ear, murmuring to him. He still looked 
pale, too pale. Her thumb moved in small circles over his shoulder blade, her 
fingers resting near his neck. He was tense, but seemed soothed by her presence. 

He walked to them and cleared his throat. "You're both with me." He lowered his 
voice, leaning down slightly, "Are you all right, Mulder? Do you really have to 
come to the crime scene?" But he knew the answer even as he asked the question. 
Mulder straightened in his chair. His hand rose and joined Scully's for an 
instant, fingers intertwining. He looked back and up at her, a slight smile on 
his face, deep sadness in his eyes. She gazed back at him with compassion, 
caring, concern. Then the moment passed. Both hands fell and Mulder stood. 
Skinner wondered if he had imagined the interplay; the professional masks were 
both so firmly in place now. 
"I'm fine, Sir." A glance at Scully, her slight nod -- agreeing? encouraging? 
"We're ready." 
As they entered the car, Scully slipped into the back with Mulder, leaving 
Skinner by himself up front. The drive to the crime scene was silent. Skinner 
looked in the rear view mirror several times. While the distance between his two 
agents never varied, at some point, Mulder had reached for Scully, and held her 
small hand in his. Yesterday, her mere presence had been enough to calm and 
comfort him. Today, especially after the latest murder, he seemed to need more 
tactile reassurance. 
The body lay in an abandoned gas station near the edge of town. Strangulation -- 
this time using a man's necktie. The yellow tape was up, but once again, the 
techs had been held off, waiting for Mulder. He stood in the doorway, staring at 
the young woman lying face down on the dusty floor. She was nude and had been 
abused. The garrote was still wrapped tightly about her throat, the trailing 
ends carelessly spilled across her back. 
"Our next letter, Scully," Mulder said, pointing to the woman's back. "E." 
"Mail me? What does it mean, what does he want?" Scully asked. 
Mulder shrugged. He motioned for the techs to come and take the body. Then he 
moved into the room, taking up a position by a window covered with plywood. 
Scully moved with Mulder, stepping closer to him. She spoke. "I need to go with 
... " She gestured at the victim. "Will you be all right until I get back?" 
Mulder shrugged again. "I'll be fine. Go. Do. It's all right." 
Scully reached out and laid her hand gently on his arm. She looked up and 
captured his eyes with her own. They stood there, motionless, until Mulder 
finally covered her hand with his own. In a soft, gentle voice, he said, Scully, 
go. It's all right." 
She continued to search his sad eyes, then at last, nodded agreement. "Remember, 
Mulder, Skinner is here. You are not alone. You don't have to do this alone. You 
are not responsible for stopping this. You can only do what you can do." 
Scully pulled her hand free, turned, and walked away. Mulder followed her with 
his eyes until she left the building and he couldn't see her anymore. Then he 
returned his attention to the scene before him. 



Several hours later the crime scene analysts and forensic detail people had 
left. Skinner had spent that time supervising the work, overseeing by phone the 
investigations going on from the office, and watching Mulder. Scully had left 
with the body in order to expedite the autopsy. Mulder had found a corner, 
settled in, and not moved. He had watched the others working, had gazed at the 
spot the body had occupied, and had spent time staring into space. He was 
currently hunched down in the corner, legs open, arms draped over knees. He had 
removed his tie, and held it loosely in his hands, gazing at it with unfocused 
eyes. He alternately inhaled, pulling the tie tight, then exhaled, allowing the 
tie to fall loose again. 
Skinner went to him, standing in front of him, waiting. When Mulder didn't 
acknowledge him, he knelt, trying to catch his agent's eye. Still no sign of 
recognition. It was as if Mulder wasn't there. Skinner cleared his throat. 
Nothing. It was frightening, the way he sank so completely into the killer's 
mind and motives. 
"Agent Mulder." Skinner spoke quietly, but clearly. 
"He chokes them," Mulder said in a small, tired voice. The tie pulled taut. "He 
gets off on choking the life out of them." One end knotted around his hand -- 
pulling tight. Voice deepening. "They choked him somehow -- choked his 
self-respect, choked his social life." His hand turning red, the tie tightening 
as he pulled, harder and harder. Voice sinking, "Maybe he choked sexually with 
one or more of them. Now he's choking them back." His hand was turning purple 
now, cut off. Voice choked, lowering. "They cut him off -- from sex? From love? 
From life? What? From what he needs. They cut him off from what he needs." Voice 
lowering more -- impossibly low -- gasping for breath to speak. Hand completely 
purple, still pulling on the tie. "So he cuts them off from what they need -- 
the breath of life -- no air for those who cut him off." Shudder, gasp. "No 
circulation for him -- no circulation for them." Pulling harder on the tie -- 
hand beyond purple -- swollen. "He has to choke them so that he can breathe." 
The last was uttered barely above a whisper, and Skinner found himself staring 
into eyes glinting with a shifting lucidity. Mulder began to wheeze, unable to 
catch his breath. "Mulder -- Agent Mulder." Skinner spoke sharply but Mulder 
continued to gasp. He reached out quickly and unknotted the tie from around the 
man's wrist, throwing it across the room in disgust. As the blood began to flow 
back into Mulder's hand, his breathing began to even out. 
Skinner cradled the abused hand in his own, massaging the palm and fingers, 
trying to help work the blood back into the starved appendages. He captured 
Mulder's gaze, trying to ground him, but Mulder stared back, unresponsive. 
Skinner reached out and felt for a pulse at the neck. It was racing. He was 
cold, frighteningly cold. "Mulder?" 
Skinner lowered him all the way to the floor, seating him with his back still in 
the corner. He rose quickly and went to the door, calling for a blanket. He 
pulled his cell and called Scully. "Come back now." She didn't even answer, just 
silence, rustling, and a click at disconnect. Skinner assumed she was on the 
way. 
After his commentary on the killer, Mulder had retreated completely into 
himself. Skinner gave orders for no one to enter the abandoned room, keeping the 
curious away. He wrapped the blanket around Mulder's shoulders, then, 
hesitantly, almost uncomfortably, took his hand again. "Come on back, Mulder. 
Scully will be here soon. You don't want her to see this, do you?" Skinner felt 
terrible using Scully to invoke guilt in his already guilt ridden agent. But 
there was no response. 
Skinner pulled the blanket tighter around Mulder's shoulders, then seated 
himself on the floor in front of him. He continued to hold Mulder's hand, hoping 
that the contact would keep him tethered to the here and now, at least until 
Scully arrived. Seeing Mulder like this, lost in a killer's world, was a new and 
unsettling experience. If this was what it took to be a profiler, Skinner gave 
silent thanks that he had never shown an aptitude in that direction, and settled 
in to wait. 



Scully was assisting in the autopsy of the latest victim when her cell phone 
rang. Having the diener extract and open it, holding it up for her, she 
answered, "Scully." Skinner's voice sounded in her ear, "Come back now." She 
didn't even answer. She began stripping off the gloves and issuing instructions 
for the body to be held until she could get back. She reached out, took her 
phone, closed it, and left. 
When she arrived at the crime scene, she immediately noticed an agent standing 
by the doorway to the interior of the gas station, almost as if on guard duty. 
She crossed to him and he waved her inside. She stepped in, pausing to let her 
eyes adjust to the darkened room. 
She saw Skinner first, sitting in the dust in the far corner. She moved in his 
direction and he made as if to get up. She motioned for him to stay put. Idly, 
she noted he was holding Mulder's hand. Now, that was intriguing. She had long 
known that Skinner was caring and compassionate, especially where she and Mulder 
were concerned, but she was surprised by this overt demonstrativeness. 
Her eyes passed over Skinner to rest on Mulder, still hunched into the corner, 
sitting unmoving, with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. His tie was gone 
and there were angry red marks around the wrist of the swollen hand Skinner 
held. 
Scully knelt next to Skinner and asked, "What happened?" 
"He seemed OK, watching, taking things in, not commenting, but at least alert 
and responsive. He squatted down here and took his tie off. I thought he was 
getting comfortable, settling in for the long haul. I -- I didn't realize ... " 
Skinner's voice trailed off. 
"I know. It slips up on you. Did he tell you anything?" 
"Something about the killer needing to choke the victims, because they had 
choked him. I missed a lot because he seemed to be trying to cut his hand off 
with his tie at the same time. I was more interested in restoring circulation 
and trying to get him to reconnect with the rest of us." Skinner was frustrated, 
distressed, and feeling a bit helpless. 
Scully nodded and focused on Mulder. She took his hand from Skinner, carefully 
examining it for signs of damage. She began to stroke his hand, then up his arm, 
all the while making soothing sounds and quiet noises. She moved closer, her 
knees touching his thigh. 
He blinked and began to focus, her quiet voice pulling him back into the here 
and now. He jerked back, then looked gratefully at her, drinking in her 
presence. He leaned forward into her arms for a moment, murmuring, "I'm sorry, 
I'm sorry, I wasn't going to do this, I didn't mean to ..." His voice trailed 
off as he pulled back and sat up. In a clearer voice, "Thanks, Scully. I got a 
little deep here, huh? Is everything OK? I didn't ..." He stopped, blushing. 
She smiled softly and withdrew her hand from his arm. "A little deep? You could 
say that. I think you scared AD Skinner." She smiled, turned slightly to look at 
the ruined tie lying on the floor, then quipped, "At least the tie is no great 
loss." 
Mulder chuckled dryly, "Scully, you wound me!" 
She turned serious and looked back at him, reached up and brushed his hair from 
his eyes, then cupped his cheek. Leaning forward, she touched her forehead to 
his for a long moment. "Mulder, you have to quit doing this. It's not good for 
you." 
He captured her hand in his own, holding it to his face, and leaning in to her 
strength. He just looked at her; there was no response he could make. They both 
knew he would do what had to be done. 



Skinner looked up in relief when Scully slipped in. He watched as she stood 
quietly for a moment, then headed over. He started to rise, but Scully walked 
over, and joined him on the dirty floor, asking what had happened. He briefly 
told her what had occurred, feeling she was only half-listening to him, her 
attention was so focused on the man before them. 
She surprised him by acknowledging his report, then reassuring him that he could 
not have prevented this slide into the murderer's madness that Mulder seemed to 
have taken. "It slips up on you," she had said. How often has she seen this, 
dealt with this side of Mulder, he wondered. He resolved to be more careful of 
what he assigned them, and what he allowed them to take on. 
Skinner looked on as she reached out, taking Mulder's hand from him carefully, 
as if it were an injured baby bird. She cradled his larger hand in both her own, 
gently assessing any damage. 
With a slight glance in his direction, she began to caress Mulder's hand, a 
slow, almost sensuous movement up and down the palm, and over the back. All the 
while she spoke softly, quietly, encouragingly, as one would to a frightened 
child or a wild animal. The words were not important, it was the tone they 
conveyed. Safety. Security. Trust. Compassion. Caring. Belonging. Love. 
Mulder seemed to blink, as if trying to refocus himself. Scully's hand began the 
same slow stroking movement up his arm. She moved closer to him, her knees tight 
against his thigh. One hand held his, the other stroked him, almost like a 
trainer would gentle a wild horse. 
Skinner watched in awe as Mulder blinked again, his eyes shifting into and out 
of focus, until finally, he jumped, pulling back slightly, then leaning into 
Scully's arms. He murmured to her, too quietly for Skinner to hear. She shushed 
him and held him tightly, grounding him to the present, until he slowly, 
obviously reluctantly, pulled back and sat up. 
Skinner was surprised when Mulder thanked Scully, in a fairly clear voice. He 
said something about getting in too deep. Too deep, Skinner thought, that's 
gotta be the understatement of the year. Scully must have agreed, for a second 
later she made the same comment out loud, adding "I think you scared AD 
Skinner." 
Scared -- shit, that didn't even begin to cover it, Skinner thought. No wonder 
they call him Spooky. How does Scully deal with this obsessive behavior on a 
regular basis? Skinner was rapidly developing even greater respect for Mulder -- 
for his abilities and persistence in spite of the obvious pain and discomfort 
his pursuit caused him; for Scully -- for her strength and steadiness, her 
intelligence and commitment, her resilience and willingness to take on some of 
Mulder's burdens; and for the partnership itself -- they complemented each other 
so well, like two halves of a whole, each bringing what was needed to achieve 
completeness. 
Skinner laughed to himself. Those bastards thought these two were dangerous -- 
but they didn't have a clue -- not a fucking clue -- exactly how dangerous they 
could be. If that cigarette smoking bastard ever found out -- Skinner didn't 
think he could offer sufficient protection, no matter what he was willing to 
risk. He would have to find a way to temper the passion these two brought to 
whatever work they were doing. 
Skinner looked back at Scully and Mulder just as she made some comment about his 
hideous tie being no great loss. He was relieved to hear Mulder's dry chuckle 
and quick response. But then, Scully reached up to caress Mulder's forehead, 
stroking his hair back, then resting her hand against his cheek. Skinner watched 
as she leaned forward, touching her forehead to Mulder's and held him for a long 
moment. 
"Mulder, you have to quit doing this. It's not good for you." Skinner couldn't 
have said it better. They had to find this guy and get Mulder out of here. This 
couldn't go on. He began to think of ways to pull him off the task force and 
send him home, knowing it was futile. Mulder didn't take direction well, not 
when he felt he needed to finish something. 
Skinner watched, slightly envious of the closeness his two agents shared, as 
Mulder captured Scully's hand against his cheek, leaning into her, seeming to 
draw strength from her presence. He didn't respond to her comment. Skinner knew 
there was nothing he could say. Instead, he rose himself, saying, "Let's go, 
Agents. Time to head back to the motel, change and grab a bite to eat, then meet 
the teams for briefings this afternoon. Hopefully, something will break." 
Chapter 5 

"I have always thought the actions of men the best interpreters of their 
thoughts." 
John Locke 
Once again Skinner drove, this time with Mulder in front and Scully in back. She 
gave her findings thus far from the partially completed autopsy of the latest 
body. She then leaned back into the seat, sighed, and closed her eyes. 
Mulder glanced cautiously over his shoulder and saw her sitting with eyes 
closed. He took the opportunity to study her a little more closely. What he saw 
concerned him. He made a decision. 
He caught Skinner's eye, then pointed with his chin over his shoulder at Scully, 
resting in the back seat. "Sir, can we move the briefing to this evening? I need 
a few more hours to look at what we have so far." 
His quiet sigh of relief was echoed from the back as Skinner looked at him for a 
moment, and then responded, "I believe that can be arranged, Agent Mulder. How 
does 1900 sound?" 
"Sounds like you're back in the Marines, Sir, but 7:00 p.m. sounds great!" 
Mulder quipped. 
A groan from the back, and when Mulder chanced a quick look, was pleased to see 
a half-smile on Scully's lips. 
Skinner pulled his cell and began the process of moving the meeting back. He 
also arranged for any reports, complete or partial, to be copied and messengered 
over to the hotel for their review. He also ordered meals to be delivered to 
Scully's room again. 
As they walked into the hotel, Mulder held Skinner back for a moment, "After we 
eat give me about an hour, Sir, and then you can bring the reports to my room. 
I'll even clean up a bit!" Scully had stopped and turned to look at them, so 
they hurried forward to catch her. 
As they exited the elevator, Mulder was secretly pleased, for Scully's sake, and 
dismayed for his own, to see the room service waiter outside Scully's door. 
"Looks like you get yet another chance to make me eat, Scully," he groaned. She 
just arched her eyebrow and looked at him. 
Scully opened the door, gesturing the waiter in, then the two men. Skinner 
busied himself with the server and the food. Scully went to the far bed and 
almost collapsed onto it. Mulder watched as she seemed to remember that she 
wasn't alone, and pulled herself stiffly up. She sat with her back to Skinner, 
looking out the huge picture window. 
Mulder made his way around the bed and knelt before her. He felt like he was 
facing the executioner. She might just shoot him again for what he was about to 
do! He reached out and removed one small, heeled shoe. Scully didn't move. She 
gave him a quizzical look, but didn't pull her foot away. 
Mulder began to massage her foot, with slow circular motions. She sat utterly 
still, watching him, but he kept his head down, focused on his task. He could 
just see her from under his lashes as she looked at him as if he had grown 
another head. Finally, she began to relax, closing her eyes, and allowing her 
shoulders to slump. Gradually, she placed her hands on the bed behind her and 
leaned back, semi-reclining. 
Mulder chanced a glance at Skinner. The waiter was gone, the lunch laid on the 
table, and he stood watching them both. Mulder offered a small, sheepish smile, 
and Skinner responded with an encouraging nod. Mulder removed the other shoe, 
and offered the second foot similar treatment. Finished, he gently took both her 
ankles in his hands and sat back on his haunches. 
Scully sighed, then slowly pulled herself up and looked down at Mulder. Her eyes 
were still half-closed and she seemed to struggle to pull herself upright. 
Mulder reached up and took her arm, pulling her forward slightly, and steadying 
her. She placed her hand over his, and leaned down to him, murmuring, "Thank 
you." 
Mulder glanced at Skinner, then said, "Scully, after we eat we're all going to 
try to grab some sleep. You look tired -- please -- tell me you'll try to 
sleep." He hated the pleading whine he heard creeping into his voice, but he 
didn't know how to extract this agreement to rest from her. He was getting 
really worried. She could be so stubborn -- and she really did look exhausted. 
Just getting out of the hospital -- he knew she should be home on her couch, 
with a good book, resting, not out chasing serial killers and supporting 
half-crazed profilers. 
"All right, Mulder, I'll rest. But you will too." She turned and looked at 
Skinner, including him in the next statement. "And whatever plans you two have 
made to get together when I'm asleep, scrap them now. You both need to rest as 
well. No excuses. I agree to rest -- so do you, OK?" 
Mulder nodded, then gave Skinner a guilty look. He rose to his feet and helped 
Scully up. 
Skinner cleared his throat, then said, "Agreed, Agent Scully. A little rest will 
only help us this evening. Now, Agents, lunch is served." 



After eating, they cleared the table and put the serving cart out in the hall 
again. Skinner excused himself and returned to his room. Scully took comfortable 
clothes and went into the bathroom to change. When she came out, Mulder was 
asleep on her other bed, TV on low, remote in hand, but sound asleep. He was 
still fully dressed, having only shed his suit coat. His shoes hung over the end 
of the bed. She smiled down at him fondly, then stroked his hair. 
She took the remote from him and turned the TV off. She pulled the blinds on the 
window, darkening the room. Then, she removed his shoes and unbuttoned his shirt 
cuffs, trying to make him a bit more comfortable. She found an extra blanket, 
covered him, and crawled, exhausted, into the other bed. 
Mulder was half-aware of the blanket being put over him. Even in his state of 
semi-sleep, he inwardly rejoiced. He snuggled down into the warm comfort of the 
blanket and that thought, and sank more deeply into unawareness. 
Sometime later, when he heard her begin to moan in distress from the other bed, 
he got up. He looked down at her, struggling against unseen enemies, and made a 
decision. He took his socks and pants off, then removed his dress shirt, leaving 
on his boxers and T-shirt. He pulled back the covers, joined her in the bed. He 
lay down with her, and took her in his arms, surrounding her with himself. He 
needed this as much as she did. 
He held her gently, stroking her back, and murmuring soothingly in her ear. She 
settled almost immediately, rolling willingly into his arms, placing her head on 
his chest. He continued to stroke her, her back, her hair, her arm as she 
slipped back into a deep sleep. He, too, drifted off to sleep -- all thoughts of 
serial killers and murders chased away by dreams of a small, redheaded woman who 
lay nestled trustingly in his arms. 



Skinner wanted to let his agents sleep as long as possible. When he could wait 
no more, he called Mulder's room. No answer. Now that was strange. Mulder had 
promised Scully he would rest, and while he didn't always follow instructions, 
he would never have left after telling Scully he would rest. He might bend the 
definition of rest, but he would stay in his room. 
Skinner hung up, then tried Scully's room. He had wanted Mulder to wake her, 
just in case she became distressed again. But ... Mulder seemed missing in 
action at the moment. 
The phone rang once, then a sleepy male voice answered, "Mulder." 
Mulder? Skinner's eyebrows shot up. Well, not missing in action anymore. And 
he's obviously been asleep -- in her room. In her bed? Skinner's forehead 
creased -- this could prove difficult. 
"Hello?" from the phone. "Hello?" Mulder sounded more awake and seemed to be 
getting pissed off. 
"Oh, sorry, Mulder," Skinner finally spoke into the phone. "I wasn't expecting 
you to answer." Wish I could see his face now, Skinner thought wryly. That would 
be a sight! 
"Agent Mulder, it is time to go to the command center for this evening's 
briefing. Would you wake Agent Scully -- I presume she's there with you since it 
is her room -- and both of you meet me in the lobby in 30 minutes." 
Long pause. "Uh, hello, Sir. I, uh, fell asleep in Scully's room. I, uh ..." The 
voice trailed off. After all, what else could he say? Skinner chuckled to 
himself. 
"Did you hear me? It's time to get moving. And Mulder, don't worry about the 
sleeping arrangements, just don't flaunt it." 
"Uh, yes, Sir. Thirty minutes. Lobby. Thank you, Sir." Click. 
Skinner laughed again. This could be difficult, but it was bound to happen 
sometime. Anyone could see the commitment these two had to one another. He put 
the phone down. And besides, as tired as they both were, they probably just 
slept. 



Mulder was awakened by a tickle in his nose. He reached up to brush it away and 
found a handful of hair. He opened his eyes, and looked down. Red hair. Red hair 
sprawled across his face, his chest, his arm. He sighed contentedly. THIS was 
where he belonged. This felt so right. He didn't ever want to move again. He 
tightened his arms around the woman he held, and closed his eyes again, 
breathing in her scent. His mind began to work out ways to stay here, blow off 
the briefing, blow off the case, just stay here. 
And, of course, because he was happy, content, hopeful, something had to happen 
to shatter that. The phone rang. Without thinking of anything but not waking 
Scully, he reached out and grabbed it. "Mulder," he murmured sleepily. 
No one answered. He shifted slightly, waiting, then said, "Hello?" Still no 
response. Now he was coming fully awake, alert. Again, "Hello?" a touch of anger 
in his voice. 
Skinner's voice responded. Skinner began talking about the briefing, time to get 
ready, wake Scully. But Mulder couldn't take it in. He was stuck on the thought 
that he had answered the phone in Scully's room, obviously asleep, and it was 
Skinner who had called. Skinner knew he was sleeping in Scully's room. 
"I, uh, fell asleep in Scully's room," he stammered. That wonderful feeling of 
just a few moments ago was gone, replaced with fear and panic. What would 
Skinner do? A chuckle -- did Skinner just chuckle? Don't flaunt it? What is 
going on here? 
"Uh, yes, Sir. Thirty minutes. Lobby. Thank you, Sir." He hung up. Skinner 
wasn't upset. He lay back, relief flooding him. He pulled Scully close for one 
more minute, engraving this moment in his mind for all eternity. 
She snuggled trustingly into his side, tightening her hold on him as he 
tightened his on her. "Hey," he whispered in her ear, "time to get up." 



Scully was scared. She was alone. They were coming for her again. She looked for 
Mulder, but he wasn't there. She wasn't going to let them take her again, never 
again. She turned and began running, away from the light, away from the forms 
within the light. She looked back over her shoulder and tripped. As she fell, a 
moan escaped her lips. As she lay there, waiting in horror for what she was sure 
would come next, suddenly, Mulder was there. He wrapped her in his arms, and 
lifted her up. He turned and carried her away from the light. She clung to him, 
feeling his heart beating beneath her head. She wasn't alone anymore. She 
slipped willingly into the darkness, secure in Mulder's arms. 
Someone was breathing in her ear. She slowly began to wake as she felt arms 
tighten around her. Mulder. She lay in his arms and felt so safe. She felt 
better rested than she had in what seemed like years. This nap was the best 
sleep she could remember. She tightened her own arms around him and snuggled in 
closer. 
"Hey," he whispered in her ear, "time to get up." 
"Mmmmm -- five more minutes, OK?" she responded sleepily. Somewhere in the far 
recesses of her mind, she wondered why Mulder was in her bed, why she was in his 
arms. But it was so comfortable and comforting, she refused to think about it 
just now. 
He laughed softly, "No can do, Scully. Skinner wants us in 30 minutes. Gotta get 
a move on." He reluctantly began to pull away. 
She groaned, then held him tightly as he tried to pull away. "Wait, Mulder." 
He looked down into her face questioningly. 
She opened one eye, looked up to see him looking at her, expectantly. "I just 
wanted to say, that is, er, thank you, Mulder. I really slept well. Thank you 
for being here." 
He continued to look at her, then reached out and cupped her face in his hand. 
He slowly leaned down, his lips reaching for hers. He kissed her lightly on her 
lips. He pulled back, watching, waiting. 
Looking into her eyes, still not speaking, he leaned into her again and kissed 
her softly, gently, tenderly, but with a hint of passions yet to be explored. 
She let him, needing the love that he was offering. She opened herself to him, 
letting him hold her, touch her, kiss her, need her, because it was what she 
needed too. 
She shivered from the force of the emotion in his kiss. This was right -- she 
knew it in her heart. This was right for both of them. Why had she waited so 
long? She needed to be in his arms right now. Strong arms that made her feel 
safe and warm and cared for. She reached up and pulled him in for another kiss, 
harder, deeper, making the spiritual connection that was between them real in 
the physical world. 
They parted slowly, lingeringly. The naked emotion, the sheer need, the 
overwhelming love in Mulder's face almost broke her heart. They needed to 
explore this, she knew. But not now, not here. 
Chapter 6 
"How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, 
whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth?" 
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (The Sign of Four) 
Mulder and Scully rode down in the elevator in silence. Every time he tried to 
say something, his throat closed up. It was an unending litany in his head. But 
he couldn't bring himself to actually say anything. 
It was like, if he verbalized it, it would evaporate. But here he was in the 
elevator, growing more anxious by the minute -- panic attack just around the 
corner. He began to fidget, shifting his weight from foot to foot, then to twist 
his fingers in his hands. He stared at the floor -- convinced he had dreamed it 
all. 
And then -- Scully reached out -- rescuing his already sore hand from 
self-inflicted abuse, and spoke. "Mulder, we need to talk about this. I know 
that. But not here, not now. When we get home, OK?" 
He looked up from the floor, meeting her gaze, and fearfully asked, "But it was 
OK, right, Scully? It really happened and it was OK, right? I didn't hurt you -- 
you're not mad? We're OK, right?" He was desperate for reassurance. 
Just realizing the depth of his fear, she released one hand, turned and pressed 
the button to stop the elevator. She recaptured his hand and stepped closer to 
him. "It was definitely OK, Mulder." She smiled. "And I want to explore where 
this will take us. But not while we're hunting a serial killer. I want to be 
able to focus all my attention on you, on us. Is that OK with you, partner?" 
Mulder swallowed hard and nodded. "I just wanted to -- needed to -- know that 
everything is OK with us, Scully." A strangled sob. "I couldn't bear to lose 
you." He dropped to his knees. "I couldn't bear it if I hurt you." 
Scully pulled him in to her, cradling his head against her abdomen and stroking 
his hair as he cried softly. "I know, Mulder. I'm sorry, I didn't realize how 
scary my silence would be to you. I just need time to work things out in my own 
head -- that's why I was so quiet. Not because you hurt me or upset me or 
anything. We kissed -- wonderful kisses -- full of joy and hope and promise. I 
don't want that marred by this case." 
She joined him on her knees, and he took her in his arms, holding her close and 
showering her with feather light kisses. Then he bounded up, pulled her up with 
him, and pushed the resume button. 
The elevator opened and they went to meet Skinner. 



They met Skinner in the lobby as directed. Both had showered quickly, dressed, 
and were ready to return to work. Skinner noticed immediately that they both 
looked more rested than they had since this whole thing began. 
"Scully, Mulder," he began, "we have time for a sandwich at the coffee shop 
before the briefing this evening." 
Once again, the trio headed across the parking lot to the coffee shop. Skinner 
noticed that Mulder couldn't seem to take his eyes off Scully. His face wore a 
perpetual smile, that broadened into a grin every time he looked at her. 
Something happened this afternoon, Skinner thought. 
They entered the restaurant and took a seat. The same waitress from the morning 
was still on duty. She approached and asked to take their order. This time, she 
addressed Scully, asking, "What will he have?" nodding at Mulder. 
Skinner and Mulder both burst into laughter. Scully colored a bright red, and 
ducked her head in embarrassment. 
"Yeah, Scully," Mulder teased, "what will I have?" 
She looked up and met his eyes, then laughed softly at his playfulness. 
"OK, OK, you win," she sighed. Turning to the waitress, she said, "Better ask 
him this time." 
The waitress looked at the three of them, laughing. They were all nuts she 
concluded. She took the orders and left them to their merriment. 
All through the meal they discussed the case quietly. Though each was rested, 
and in good humor, Skinner knew that it was temporary. As soon as they entered 
the command center, and the case was right there, real and immediate, he knew 
that Mulder would begin to go under and Scully would quickly wear down. They 
needed to wrap this up, now. 
He sighed to himself. Maybe the reports from the two teams working on background 
and mail connections would reveal something new. 
He sat back and listened as Mulder and Scully argued minute details. Mulder 
reached out and took her hand, offering a comment, then released her. She 
answered, touching his arm. He brushed her hair back from her face, speaking 
intently. She stroked his leg, responding calmly. 
Yep, Skinner thought. Something had definitely changed. He had never seen them 
share such open, unaffected contact before. Mulder was very tactile -- Skinner 
knew this and had witnessed it many times. He took any opportunity to touch 
Scully -- a hand on her back, guiding her by her elbow, a gentle touch to hand 
or arm to assure her attention. 
But Scully was more reserved -- usually only initiating contact in fairly 
extreme circumstances. And even then, she often sought privacy, or relative 
privacy, before touching Mulder. Yet she was practically holding his hand here 
in a public diner. 
Yes, indeed, something had happened. 



They arrived at the command center and Skinner immediately called everyone to 
order and began the briefing. Mulder grabbed copies of the teams' reports and 
went off by himself to a corner to read. Scully gave her report on the autopsy 
-- thus far -- with assurances she would complete it the next day. 
The crime scene and forensics agents reported and the deep background team was 
up next when Mulder suddenly stood up. "It's him," he said quietly, pointing to 
a name on one of the lists he had been reading. 
The room erupted. Questions, comments, even accusations were flying fast and 
furious. Skinner banged on the table for quiet. 
Scully went to him, looking at the list, and asked, "How can you be so sure?" 
"You said it yourself, Scully, when you asked me 'Letters? Could it really be 
that cliche?' Yes, Scully, it could be that cliche. Liam Emerson -- mail me -- 
an anagram that fortunately he hasn't completed all the letters to. He's 
connected to 3 of the victims and to a fourth victim's family, though distantly. 
The other connections are there, we've just missed them. It's him, I'm sure of 
it." 
Just then, the phone rang. One of the local agents answered it. 
Mulder looked at Scully -- his face crumpling. "Oh, God, I finally know who it 
is, and it's too late. He's got another one." He collapsed back into his chair. 
Scully gripped his arms, forcing him to meet her eyes. "You don't know that 
Mulder." 
They both looked at the agent on the phone and at Skinner. 
The phone went down, and the expected announcement was made. "A girl reported 
missing by her friends -- fits the victim profile. Missing 2 days." 
Mulder jumped up. "She may be alive -- we have to find him." 
Skinner looked at Mulder, assessing him and his pronouncement. After a long 
pause, he finally turned and said, "Assemble a team -- work with local law 
enforcement QRT. Let's find this guy and find him now." 
Mulder immediately headed for the door. Skinner's voice stopped him. "Agents 
Mulder, Scully, a word please." 
The room emptied of all but Skinner, Scully, and Mulder. The partners waited 
anxiously to see what Skinner wanted. 
"Agent Scully, you are only provisionally back at work. You will not participate 
in this phase of the operation." Mulder nodded approvingly, as Scully sputtered 
and began to protest. 
Skinner held up a hand, demanding silence, and she quieted. 
"And Agent Mulder, you are physically not in any shape to participate in this 
operation." Now Scully nodded and Mulder sputtered. 
"You will both join me in the van, the mobile command post. We will observe, but 
not participate -- is that clear?" 
Both nodded and they all followed the others out and up to the street. 



The van was parked outside a nondescript farmhouse. The owner was one William 
Emerson -- father of Liam. Inside the van it was hot, noisy, and crowded. Mulder 
stood behind Skinner, watching a video monitor and trying to hear the audio 
feed. Scully couldn't jockey a position to see, so she concentrated on 
listening. 
The QRT members were working their way up to the house on all sides, when all of 
a sudden the front door burst open and a terrified, half-naked young woman came 
racing out. In pursuit was a young man waving a gun. The team members began 
racing toward the two, but it looked like no one would get to them before the 
man caught the woman. 
Mulder took all this in, glanced quickly, almost apologetically, in Scully's 
direction, and bolted out of the van. Scully cried out, "No, Mulder!" She and 
Skinner both dove out of the van, following him. 
Mulder raced across the road. The man looked up, saw that trouble was coming and 
lowered the gun, taking aim at the woman's back. 
Mulder redoubled his efforts and, as the gun went off, launched himself at the 
woman, efficiently tackling her and taking her out of the line of fire. QRT 
tackled the man at the same time, subduing him quickly. 
Skinner reached Mulder first, as he was trying to rise. As he reached down to 
help the younger man up, Scully stopped him. "Don't move, Mulder." She knelt 
down next to him, looking reproachfully back up at Skinner. "He's bleeding." 
Skinner looked again, and saw the blood on Mulder's hip, seeping through the 
torn trousers. Skinner called, "Paramedics, we've got an agent down here!" 
"Geez, Scully, it's just a nick." Mulder complained. 
"And where did you get your medical degree, Dr. Mulder?" she asked 
sarcastically. "Just lie still and let me look at you." She unbuttoned his pants 
and began to unzip them, when Mulder cleared his throat. 
"Um, Scully, as much as I'd like you to get into my pants, I'd prefer a little 
more privacy, please?" 
Skinner laughed. He couldn't be hurt badly if he was concerned about his 
modesty. 



Mulder lay in the hospital bed, sighed and tried not to pick at the IV. Sure 
enough, Skinner and Scully had ganged up on him, insisting he go to the 
hospital. And then, the doctors from hell had decided he was dehydrated and 
suffering from exhaustion. He was stuck here overnight. Where was Scully? She 
said she was just going to change. Mulder sighed again. 
The door opened, and Scully peeked in. "I should have known you wouldn't be 
sleeping." 
Mulder's face brightened, "Scully, I missed you. What took so long?" 
She held out a bag. "Peace offering? I stopped and got you a burger and fries." 
"Ah, Scully, you do know what I like." Another sigh, this one of contentment. 
Scully put the bag on the table by the bed and sat next to Mulder. She took his 
hand in hers and took a deep breath. "Mulder, I don't know if I can do this." 
She shuddered, then continued. "When you jumped out of the van, I wanted to kill 
you. And then, when the bullet hit you, I wanted to die. I feel like I've just 
found you, and I don't want it to be over before it ever begins." She shuddered 
again, swallowing a ragged sob. 
Mulder pulled her down to his chest, putting his arms around her. "Shhh -- it's 
OK. I'm OK. We're OK." She began to cry and he murmured to her -- the same 
repetitive words -- trying to calm her with the steady drone of his voice. She 
began to calm, and he pulled her completely into the bed with him. He rocked her 
gently and rubbed her back. 
"Scully, you won't lose me. Having you here with me -- this is more than 
anything I ever expected in my life. I used to think if I could just kiss you, 
hold you, one time, I could die happy." 
He lifted her chin and looked seriously into her eyes. "But Scully, I am a 
selfish man. Once is not enough. I want this everyday, for a hundred years, and 
then I want to renegotiate for a new contract. If that's OK with you?" 
He leaned into her, lightly touching her lips with his own. Reminding her of 
their new beginning. She gripped him tightly and deepened the kiss, opening 
herself to him, sharing all that she was. 
"We have forever, Scully. And when we get home, we'll start making our plans. 
But for now, just rest." 
She burrowed into his chest, holding him as tightly as she could without hurting 
him. He stroked her hair and listened as her breathing evened out and she 
slipped into a deep sleep. 
Mulder closed his eyes and settled into sleep, looking forward to sleeping for 
once in his life. Looking forward to dreaming of a small, red-headed woman, and 
the life they would make together. 




End


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