Dragons On The Move (5/8)  by Sheryl Martin

"If you tell me what you're looking for..." Rossman mumbled as he followed
behind Spenser and ahead of Scully as they carefully made their way down
into the basement. 

"The whole point is that we don't tell you." Spenser smiled as he looked
around the small room.  "But we do appreciate your help in this matter." 

"Well, I don't like the idea of these women getting killed." The
overweight man shuffled his feet on the cold concrete; his thin slippers
not offering much protection. "It's one thing for them to move away or
outta the working girl trade; another to have them killed." 

"And an innocent man." Scully intentionally omitted anything about the
most recent killing; seeing if he would rise to the bait. 

"Yah, well... you don't find a lot of innocent men down here at two in the
morning." Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his track pants he stared
at the two. "As you can see, I don't have a secret chamber down here where
I worship all the right-wing leaders of the free world." 

Spenser nodded. "I see that - but you should clean behind your dryer once
in a while." 

***********

"You realize that I could fight this..." Jake Hasborn grumbled as he
unlocked the door to the basement. 

"And we'd still be here; only a few hours later." O'Day rubbed his stubby
beard as he watched Mulder walk down the steps. "We wouldn't be here if we
didn't have our suspicions..." 

"And what for? Because I don't like having hookers doing their dirty
business in my backyard?  Finding used condoms and needles in my trash
cans?" Hasborn stomped down the steps. "Don't think that I won't have the
media all over your respective asses if you try and start something..." 

"You don't come down here much, do you?" Mulder peered at the bare walls;
gesturing at the wiring hanging down from the ceiling. 

"Never got around to finishing the basement." Hasborn snorted. "Is that a
crime in our socialist heaven yet?" 

O'Day looked at him sharply. "We're being nice here. We're not tearing
your place apart. We can change that with a single phone call." He leaned
forward into the man's personal space. "I can have twenty officers here in
a few minutes and ripping the walls apart along with a search of all of
your dirty little secrets and there's nothing you could do about it. We're
hunting a murderer here and I don't care what you think about it." 

Hasborn shrank away from the angry face. "Hey, hey..." He waved his hands.
"I was just protecting my rights..." 

************

"Right..." St. George rapped her knuckles hard on the wooden fence as she
listened to her cell phone. Pulling it away from her ear she let out a
weary sigh as the constant ringing echoed down the alleyway. 

"A.J., where the hell are you?" She grumbled as she shut off the phone;
dropping it back into her pocket. Peering over the fence into the second
yard she shook her head at the unmowed yard. 

"No one came through here." She said again to no one in particular.
Looking up at the two houses the Canadian frowned. 

"Then how would you drag a body outta here without anyone taking note?" 

*************

"We appreciate your co-operation." Scully mouthed the platitudes as
Spenser opened the front door for her. Behind them Rossman shrugged as he
scratched his stomach. 

"Sure - look, don't think I don't respect the law. I may not agree with
all of the little stuff;  but I don't break it. I play by the rules." 

Spenser fixed him with a stony gaze as he walked out onto the small porch.
"So do I. Which means that if I do find out that you've got anything to do
with this; I'll make sure that you find yourself with quite the headache." 

Rossman nodded nervously before shutting the door. With a soft smile
Scully pulled on her leather gloves; noting the temperature had dropped a
few degrees since they had entered the house. 

"You don't like this idea; the harassment." She quietly said to Spenser as
they descended the steps, walking slowly down the street to Hasborn's
house. 

"I don't like it because it doesn't work." He shook his head. "All that
happens is that the girls move off the corners for a few weeks; bug some
other resident neighborhood and then come back when it's cold and the
protesters don't want to stand out on the corner in a blizzard. They'll
work in any weather; but these guys just want to do their civic duty and
get back inside their warm homes pronto." 

"Do you think it's a cop?" Scully addressed him pointedly. His forehead
furrowed as he looked down at the petite woman. 

"Agent Scully, I don't know what to think. If a few weeks ago I'd been
told that I'd be following some Yankee FBI agent around trying to find a
killer I'd have put good money against it." He exhaled slowly, watching
the thin wisps of cold air rise upwards. "But my job is my job and I don't
want to think that a cop did any of this. Or any of the hookers. Or the
drug dealers or that guy back there. I don't want to think about how bad
humanity can be if we give them a chance." He ran a hand down the front of
his jacket as he looked up at Hasborn's house. "All I want to do is stop
it." 

She opened her mouth to respond but stopped short as her cell phone began
to beep for her attention. Withdrawing it from her pocket she put it up to
her ear. 

"Dana..." 

"You okay?" 

"Yah - but come around back with your buddy. Just do it quietly. Mulder
out yet?" 

"No - We didn't find anything." 

"Well, we might now." St. George hung up and crouched down low in the
alley; her fingers flying over the small pads of the cell phone. 

"Jackie wants us in the back alley." Scully quickly dialed Mulder's number
as she briskly trotted ahead of Spenser towards the entrance to the back
lanes. "He better answer me this time or I'll toss a rock through the
window..." 

***********

"Scully needs us outside." Mulder's stony gaze gave nothing away as he
stared at O'Day. "Seems that St. George's tracking something." 

"Okay." The tall detective fixed a deadly stare on Hasborn's sweaty face.
"If I find out that you've been withholding evidence or knowledge of these
crimes I will make it my business to make your life miserable.
Understand?" 

Hasborn nodded weakly. 

"Let's go..." O'Day growled; only smiling once he got outside. "I do like
to jerk their chain." He confessed to Mulder who returned the smile. "Good
cop, bad cop..." 

"Yah, but I play better with Scully..." He pointed towards the alleyway. 

***********

Scully looked down at the woman, a puzzled look on her face. "Are you
digging for gold?" 

"Shush..." St. George punched in the number again on her own cell phone.
"Listen..." 

Spenser looked around them; eyes digging into the dark crevasses of the
stones to see what they were supposed to be seeing or hearing. "I don't
get it." 

"Listen..." She repeated, more growl in her voice. 

"What's up?" Mulder strode into sight; stopping suddenly by Scully's
upraised hand. 

"I hear it..." The redhead whispered as she cocked her head to one side.
"What is it?" 

"A.J.'s cell phone, I think..." St. George stood up slowly. "And it's
ringing somewhere nearby..." 

**********

The air was thick and stale, making his mouth even drier; if that were
possible. 

Taking a deep breath he flexed his muscles once, twice - then thrust
outward with all his strength... 

... only to meet the restraints with a resounding lack of success. 

He had managed to work one finger free of the tape used to bind them
together; rubbing it against the fabric that held him in place. 

It was fabric. A dense linen that covered him from head to toe; binding
his arms and legs together with the image of the mummies he had seen in
the museum dominating his mind. 

Sucking in the air again with a slow whistle Carson closed his eyes again
and tried to think; to plan. 

Be damned if he'd not go down fighting. 

*********

"I don't hear anything..." O'Day groused as the five of them walked slowly
down the alley; St.  George at the point. 

"I hear ringing..." She repeated; holding up the phone. "It's around here
somewhere..." 

"Here..." Mulder darted off to their left into a dank smelling alcove. "I
hear it over here..." He brushed away a thick wad of soggy cardboard from
the pile that filled the small doorway.  "Whoa..." 

The hand hung loose in the cool air; the tobacco-stained fingers limp and
wet. 

"This... is not a Good Thing..." St. George mumbled as Scully fumbled in
her pocket for a set of latex gloves; snapping them on as O'Day frowned
and Spenser fumbled for his own set of gloves. 

Reaching out gingerly Scully took ahold of the hand. 

Suddenly the index finger twitched, wriggling out of her grasp. With a
small gasp she dropped it;  her shocked face startling the agents. 

"He's... alive..." 

"Spenser, get that crap off of him..." O'Day snapped as the bulky
policeman sprang into action;  gathering handfuls of the limp cardboard
and tossing it to one side. 

Mulder wrinkled his nose as the layers of shelter were carefully torn
away. "He doesn't smell that alive..." 

The bleary eyes focused in on the men and women staring at him; his mouth
moving slowly as he tried to swallow. The woman closest to him, the
redhead moved in. 

"Are you all right? Do you need an ambulance?" 

The elderly man frowned. "Nope..." The exhaled breath drove Scully back
with a polite hand over her face. 

"He's sloshed..." Spenser gestured to the empty bottle tucked under one
well-wrapped arm.  "Chinese cooking wine, I bet. Plenty of that around
here." 

St. George tapped the speed dial again on her cell phone. This time the
ringing was louder and definitely coming from the man's space. Kneeling
down, she held up the cell phone to the confused vagrant. 

"I'm trying to call my friend." She said quietly and slowly. "But he's not
answering. And his phone is ringing and it sounds like it's coming from
somewhere around here." A soft smile. "Do you hear it?" 

He nodded; one hand sneaking out from the layers of clothing to scratch at
a thick bushy white beard. "I hear it..." 

"Do you know where the phone is?" 

His eyes again darted from O'Day to Mulder to Spenser to Scully back to
St. George. "The Devil got him, didn't he?" 

"Which devil?" St. George asked. 

"The Devil that's been taking those people. I seen him; I seen the Devil
and all his works." He wagged a finger at them. "You don't mess with the
Devil, I know that. I believe that." His gaze settled on O'Day. "I don't
mess with the Devil..." He repeated again; his eyes now large and brimming
with tears." 

St. George looked to Scully; her eyebrows raised in confusion. She turned
back to the man. "Do you have the phone?" 

"Here..." The man shoved a hand deep inside an inside pocket; fingers
flitting through the threadbare fabric; emerging with a cell phone. "The
Devil left it behind." 

"A.J. left this with you?" The Canadian shook her head. "I don't get
it..." 

"No..." The thick mumbling came out of the bundle of rags covering his
neck and mouth now as his eyes skittered across them again. "He didn't
need it anymore. The Devil don't let you call from Hell..." 

"I've heard enough..." O'Day sighed; turning towards Spenser. "Get a squad
care down here to pick him up - we'll keep him overnight for suspected
theft; clean him up and sober him up and see what we can get then." He
looked at St. George. "That is, if you agree?" 

St. George stood up. "If that's all that's wrong with him, fine - but I
want a psych done on him.  I'm willing to bet he's more than just a
drunk." She turned almost apologetically to Mulder.  "There are a lot of
outpatients that get lost; forget to take their medication and end up like
this." 

"And no one misses them?" Scully's eyebrow rose in question. 

"Not enough." Tucking the cell phone back into her pocket she sighed. "The
booze makes it worse for them and they become easy prey for the real
predators out here." She looked at Spenser. "But I don't want anyone
knowing his connection to this case right now. Lock him up; check him out
- but don't tell anyone that he's got anything to do with this." 

"Don't trust us?" O'Day smiled. 

She looked at him with a sly smile. "Trust No One. Heard it somewhere and
kinda took it to heart." 

He grinned in response. "Right..." Unpeeling a thick wad of cardboard from
the man's arm he pulled him upright. "I'll put him in my car until the
unit gets here - and call for an ambulance to make sure he's okay in the
first place." 

Suddenly the drunk yanked his arm free, waving a trembling hand at the
agents. "I don't deal with the Devil..." He yelled, spittle flying free as
he turned and bolted down the alleyway. 

"What the..." With a curse O'Day sprinted towards the disappearing man;
the rest of the agents and Spenser close behind.

The man skidded by Hasborn's and Rossman's backyards; almost losing his
footing in a small puddle at the end of the lane. With a backward glance
he dashed around the corner; exiting onto the side street. 

O'Day skittered around the corner a few seconds later. Mulder was a scant
minute behind and gaining on the two, his legs pounding in a familiar
rhythm when he heard the screech of car brakes and a high-pitched shriek. 

Pulling up on the sidewalk Mulder stopped, trying to catch his breath as
he watched O'Day bend over the older man as he lay on the road; the owner
of the car that had hit him already explaining his case to the gathering
pedestrians. 

"Dammit..." Pushing her way past O'Day Scully knelt down, hands briskly
flying over the layers of clothing as she quickly assessed the situation. 

"I'll call for the ambulance..." O'Day stood up, scanning the crowd.
"Spenser, get the names of any witnesses..." 

The beefy cop nodded, already pushing the spectators back and mumbling
into his radio for assistance.

Mulder sucked in a deep breath as he squeezed his knees, feeling the rush
subside as he slowly stood upright. 

"Scully..." 

"Not now, Mulder..." She adjusted the fit of her latex gloves as she
looked around her. "Where's that ambulance?" 

"Should be charging the Canadian government for your services..." He
wheezed as he stretched backwards; feeling his spine shift back into
place. His eye caught a familiar figure at the edge of the crowd,
disappearing into the shadows. 

He took a step forward, then paused; looking back at the chaotic scene.
"St..." Spinning around he scanned the bystanders, not seeing the
Canadian.

"Scully... I'll be back..." This brought a sharp nod of her head as she
ignored him; focused on the patient. 

Gingerly walking back into the alleyway Mulder looked around, his eyes
adjusting again to the dim light. 

"Hey..." He spotted her a few feet away from the street entrance. "What's
up..." Mulder frowned as he watched her pound her hand against the rough
brick, her free hand plastered against her forehead. 

"It... hurts..." St. George gasped as she slammed her hand once more on
the brick. "God, my head..." 

Mulder grabbed her hand quickly, his voice low. "Stop hitting it..."
Tightening his grip on her wrist he held it hard against the brick. "I'll
get something from Scully; we'll get you back to the hotel - just stop
hitting it." His voice dropped another octave. "If you cut your hand here,
you start bleeding..." 

She looked up at him through bleary eyes; her fingers shielding her face
from the light. "I'll kill someone." 

"Well, I like to think we've come some distance in the past few years..."
Mulder forced a smile onto his face. "But right now there's too many
people around to risk it, don't you think?" 

"It's not been this bad for a long while..." She mumbled; leaning forward
to press her forehead against the cool brick, exhaling sharply. "A.J. is
gonna die, isn't he?" 

"Not if we can help it." Mulder let go of her hand. "Not if I can help
it..." 

************

Closing the bedroom door quietly Mulder walked over to the couch,
loosening his tie as he sprawled out along the thick blue plush; kicking
his shoes off. Reaching for a notepad he began to scribble notes in his
own particular shorthand, stopping every now and then to stare at the
ceiling. 

His head jerked up from the sofa arm as the main door opened; admitting
Scully. Her dark brown suit was stained with scarlet blotches; her white
blouse spotted with red. 

"How's he doing?" He laid his head back down, snuggling further into the
cushions. 

"He'll survive. They have a hell of a trauma unit here." Stripping off her
suit jacket she frowned.  "Think the hotel knows how to get blood out?" 

He grinned. "Give them a thrill - tell them it's mine." 

With a weary smile she tossed the jacket onto a nearby chair, loosening
her shirt from her pants.  "Where's Jackie?" 

"Sleeping, hopefully." He gestured at the small prescription bottle on the
tabletop with a well-chewed pencil. "She took two of those and went to
bed." 

"Two..." Snatching up the bottle the redhead scowled at her partner. "Do
you know what this is?" 

"Blue pills..." He replied in a hopeful tone. 

"Fiorenal. A very strong drug, Mulder. She took two of these?" 

"Hey, she said it was okay..." 

Shaking her head Scully put the bottle back down. "Three grams should send
her flying for eight hours or so - I wish you'd stopped her." 

"Like how?" Propping himself up on one elbow the dark-haired man jabbed a
pencil at the yellow notepad. "I've been thinking..." 

"Good. Be a change." Opening the adjoining door she walked in; leaving it
ajar. "Keep talking - I'm just going to change blouses." 

"Need any help?" 

"No, thank you..." A head poked around the corner. "Feel free to expound
on your thinking..." 

"Uh... yah..." Gnawing heavily on the pencil he took a deep breath. "Did
you get a statement from the old man?" 

"Not a chance. He might make it, but it's shaky." 

"Any theory as to why he would run in front of a car to avoid going with
us?" 

"Hmm..." The sound of drawers being opened and closed reached Mulder's
ear; prompting a faster rhythm of chomping on the pencil. "He might well
have been a psychiatric patient. They tend to not respond well to
authority figures; and we were certainly presenting him with a handful." 

"How long before you know if he's got problems or not?" 

Scully re-appeared in the doorway, a thick white cable sweater replacing
the blouse. "We won't until we get a definite identification and someone
comes up with his medical history. The blood tests might show some trace
of antidepressants if he were on them, but that's a long shot." Seating
herself across from Mulder she propped her feet up on the table, wriggling
her toes through the sheer nylon. "Excuse me, Mulder - but those shoes are
killers." 

"So I figured." His eyes watched the toes flex and bend; transfixed by the
sight. Blinking quickly he looked down at his notes. "What would you say
if I told you it was attempted murder?" 

She crossed her arms in front of her. "I'd ask you to take a blood test to
see what's in your system. He was running from us and ran into the
street." 

"Did Spenser get any witnesses?" 

"A few - they all said that the man paused for a second at the curb and
then stepped out in front of the car - maybe a suicide attempt but not a
murder." Leaning forward she entwined her fingers.  "Unless you're going
to convince me that a ghost pushed him out into the traffic." 

"Well..." 

"Because I don't buy it. And neither will O'Day or Spenser or Devon or
Skinner." Another furtive wriggle of the toes. "I have to get another pair
of shoes." 

Sitting upright Mulder put the pencil and pad down on the table, reaching
across to take ahold of one foot. 

"Calm down." He smiled at her shocked expression. "Think of it as physical
therapy and we'll bill the Bureau for it." 

A puzzled expression crossed her face as she slumped down in the chair,
extending her feet further towards Mulder who had now totally covered one
petite foot with both hands; rubbing and massaging carefully. 

"Hmm... tell me you learnt this at Oxford." Closing her eyes she let out a
peaceful sigh. 

"Close - let's just say that I was a popular fellow around the women's
gym." Taking ahold of her big toe he wriggled it playfully. "This little
Fibbie went to market..." 

"Back to the case." She mumbled through half-closed eyes. "Before I forget
that this is not protocol and get upset." 

"So we have a man who runs away from the police who want to protect him."
Mulder concentrated on the gently sloping arch of her foot. "Sounds to me
like he was pointing the finger at the cops." 

"But that means nothing." His partner sighed. "He might have been affected
by the rumors going around about the cops being bad. And if he has mental
problems it would multiply and create a whole delusion in his mind." 

"But then where did he get the phone?" Frowning, Mulder concentrated on
the ball of her foot.  "I'm beginning to believe that men did create
women's shoes as an ancient torture device." 

"Believe it, Mulder." Scully rubbed her eyes wearily. "He might have found
it in a dumpster; on the side of the road - we're assuming that he
actually got it directly from A.J. and not from another source. Maybe the
kidnapper gave it to him to plant this clue for us to trip over ourselves
following it." 

"Maybe..." He paused, causing her to open her eyes. "I saw Daisy there." 

Her eyes widened. "A witness?" 

"Maybe. She pulled a disappearing act just after we got there." 

"Well, I don't know if she's the type of person to stay around and give
statements to police..." A furtive wriggle. "Mulder..." 

"Oh, right..." He resumed his treatment. 

"But why kill him? Even if he could identify the man who gave him the cell
phone, that doesn't lead directly back to the killer. And I think most
attorneys wouldn't have a hard time picking him apart on the witness stand
under any condition..." 

"So we need to talk to Daisy..." Mulder continued his soft kneading. "And
right now she's probably so far underground that we'll have to dig halfway
to China to find her..." 

"Nope." The soft voice startled them both; freezing Mulder's fingers. 

St. George stood in the dark doorway of the bedroom, a weary smile on her
lips. "Karen'll be able to find her. And then we find A.J." 

"Think we'll have to get backup?" Scully quickly withdrew her feet from
Mulder's grasp, tucking them under her on the chair. "If Mulder's right,
then we might have a problem with the local authorities..." 

Walking slowly over to the sofa where Mulder sat the Canadian pulled out a
duffel bag. "I got backup..." She winced as the daylight touched her face.
"And no, three grams isn't enough to take me out of the game..." 

***********

The sun was beginning to drop down towards the horizon as Mulder pulled up
at Annies. Looking in the rearview mirror, he frowned. 

"Tell me you're up to this." 

St. George shrugged. "Don't confuse the issue with facts, 'kay? Right now
no one is going to talk to anyone with a badge around here..." Opening the
car door she squinted against the fading sunlight. "Man, I need a drink... 

Scully cocked her head to one side. "She's not going to make it." She
murmured in a stage whisper to her partner. 

"Yah, but what are you going to do?" With a smug smile he got out of the
car; letting her follow with a sullen look. 

The ebony Amazon was nowhere to be seen; the inside deserted. The Canadian
chuckled. 

"Must have known we were coming..." She strode towards the back door and
the small office. 

"Hold it right there..." The warning voice held more than a trace of fear;
stopping the three agents in their tracks. 

"Let me guess - you're armed and dangerous..." Mulder's voice was steady
and calm. "We're here to see Karen." 

"Yah, everyone wants to see her..." The low tone came out of the darkness.
"Question is, why?" 

"Karen..." St. George stepped forward, her hands held out. "We're here
because we know about Daisy.  You can't protect her and we can." 

An angry snort. "Oh, right. I'm supposed to help you when you're part of
the problem?" 

"We're not. You know I'm not." 

"I know that she's scared shitless because she saw what happened. I know
that she's going to end up in some stairwell with her throat cut if she
gets on a witness stand." Karen stepped out of the shadows; the pistol
leveled at the trio. Dressed in a dark gray sweatshirt and jeans she
seemed less confident than the last time they had seen her. "And you'll
excuse me for being a bit worried about my own safety at this point in the
discussion..." 

"What did she see?" Scully lifted her hands to shoulder level, keeping
them well away from her own weapon. "Did she see the man being pushed into
traffic?" 

"Nope." Karen's eyes darted from one agent to the other. "She saw nothing.
You got that?  Nothing..." 

"Then why is she hiding?" Mulder persisted. "We can get her protection. We
can keep her safe..." 

"Oh, I've heard that story before..." Waving the pistol from side to side
she shook her head. "No jury is gonna convict a cop on her testimony. Not
when she didn't see anything." 

"So she saw nothing..." St. George cocked her head to one side. "What sort
of nothing did she see?" 

One side of the woman's mouth twitched as she glared at the Canadian.
"Damn you..." Spinning on one six-inch high heel she gestured for them to
follow. "I'm not making any promises - and if you value your life, you
won't make them either..." 

"Is this the point where I make the speech about that being a restricted
weapon?" Jackie forced a smile onto her face. "'Cause I ain't as cute as
the Mounties..." 

"Don't give me a hard time..." Karen circled around them. Scully saw the
pistol trembling in her grip; looked at Mulder and knew he was seeing the
same thing. 

"Look..." St. George stepped forward. "Daisy is a dead woman if we don't
help her. And if we don't, then who will? What are you going to do; send
her to Vancouver? She'll be back here within a week..." 

"I just don't want anyone else to die..." The gun barrel wavered and then
began to drop towards the ground as the weary woman sighed. "Ah, fuck...
you're worse than your father was..." 

"In more ways than one." The Canadian stepped forward; taking the pistol
from her and pocketing it.  "We'll just say this was a wee bit of
miscommunication, 'kay?" 

Mulder let his breath out slowly. "So... where is she?" 

"At my place." She stared at Mulder. "And if anything happens to you, I'm
going to use a rusty spoon..." 

*************

Carson had managed to work a second finger free; not enough to break the
tight grip of the bindings but enough to make him feel stronger about his
ability to survive. 

The musty smell permeated his nostrils, sending him into a vision of
underground caves and deep dark shadows that filled Lovecraft novels and
weak bad movies. 

Then he felt it. 

A single touch. 

A single finger running up and down the length of his body; stroking his
left side with the intensity of a blind man reading unfamiliar Braille
notes. 

It suddenly withdrew; leaving him with a foul taste in his mouth as he
fought back the bile that threatened to overcome him. 

"Oh, God..." 

**************

The doorman didn't blink as Karen strolled by him; the thick fur coat
hiding her drab clothing but he did eye Mulder rather steadily for a few
seconds before turning his attention back to the street. 

"Ricardo is a bit... protective..." She remarked as they waited for the
elevator. Scully glanced around the plush lobby, noting the works of art
hanging on the walls.

"Nice place." She mumbled, a slight twinge of annoyance in her voice. "Let
me guess - you write it off on your income tax." 

With a grin Karen stepped into the elevator. "Who said anything about
filing?" 

The ride up was silent; Mulder's attention focused in on Karen, Scully's
attention impaled on Mulder's staring at the blonde and St. George's
well-hidden smile as she watched the two of them. 

Karen just smiled at her reflection in the mirrored wall. 

Stepping off the elevator she led them to the first door in the short
hallway. She peered up at the trio as she fumbled with a set of keys. 

"I hope you're not going to make me regret this." She glanced at Mulder.
"'Cause I will make you pay if you do." 

"Hey, I've got AMEX." He raised his hands. "Right now all we want to do is
hear what Daisy has to say. That's all and it stays right here." 

"Right here." She repeated; staring at Scully. The redhead nodded her
agreement.

"Karen..." The Canadian's voice was low and soft. "I trust them. 'Nuff
said." 

With a nod the woman turned the key in the lock; swinging the door open. 


**************

end of part five... 

Dragons On The Move (6/8)  by Sheryl Martin

"Hey..." She called out softly, lifting one hand to hit the light switch.
"It's me. Chill." 

The lights came on to reveal Daisy peeking at them from behind the gaily
patterned couch; a large kitchen knife shaking badly in her hand. The
blood-shot eyes widened as she took in the scene. 

"What the hell are you doing..." Swiping at her eyes she stood up slowly.
"They're the killers, man... I told you not to talk to anyone..." 

Putting out her hand defensively Karen shook her head. "Listen to me... I
know them; they're cool..." 

"They were with him!" The knife pointed directly at Mulder's chest as she
advanced slowly, her well-worn jean jacket covering a wisp of a tank top
and cut-off shorts. "They helped kill that man..." 

Before Karen could speak Scully stepped forward, past her hand. "You saw
me. You saw me kneel down, didn't you?" 

Daisy paused in her slow advance, nodding. 

"I'm a doctor. You saw me try to help him. He's still alive; in the
hospital." Her steady voice never wavered; never changed momentum. "That's
what I do. That's what we all try to do; help people. I tried to help him;
you saw me." 

The repetition seemed to hypnotize the frightened woman as Scully droned
on; continuing her mantra. 

"We were there to help him. You saw that. You saw me work on him." 

The knife wavered, then dropped down as her hand fell to her side before
falling to the floor;  burying itself in the thick burgundy carpet. 

Casually stepping forward Mulder put one foot on the blade. "Thanks. Now
let's talk about what you saw." 

Turning away from them the confused woman sat down on the couch, burying
her face in her hands.  "They're going to kill me..." 

Sitting down beside her Karen gently peeled one hand away; holding it in
her own. "Tell them what you saw. You have to; or someone's going to die." 

Daisy looked at the trio for a long minute; huffing through her
mascara-streaked appearance. "He did it. O'Day." 

St. George looked at the two agents before speaking. "You saw him push the
old man into the traffic?" 

"No..." She whimpered, pulling her hand away from Karen's to again cover
her face. "He made him go into the road. He made him do it." 

Scully looked askance at Mulder; one eyebrow beginning to climb the
mountain of disbelief. She didn't have to say a word. 

"How did he do this?" St. George didn't wait for the rules of engagement.
"How did O'Day make him go into traffic?" 

"He..." Shaking her head from side to side she let out a weepy sigh. "You
won't believe me. You just think I'm a crackhead and a ho who don't know
jack." 

"We're listening." Mulder knelt down by the couch; glancing at Karen as he
spoke. "Just tell us what you saw." 

"He... The guy stopped at the curb; he saw the cars coming. Then he turns,
like, to cut down the street and then O'Day comes up there. He looks at
the guy, like to say I'm gonna get you and then the fellow takes the dive
into the street like he knows that if he doesn't get killed he's gonna be
away from O'Day." The bleary-eyed woman looked directly at Mulder. "I know
it sounds bad, but I seen it that way." 

"Did O'Day say anything? Did you hear him threaten or make a threatening
gesture?" Arms crossed in front of her, Scully refused to give ground. 

"No... he just looked at him. Real mean, like." Her eyes darted to St.
George. "You know, like when somebody stronger knows he's gonna eat you up
and spit out the bones?" 

"Oh, yah..." St. George exhaled. 

"I think you better go now." Karen stood up suddenly. "I don't think she's
going to have more to add to that." 

"Will you consider giving us a statement?" Scully asked. 

Karen shook her head before the woman could respond. "You think anything
she says is going to be taken seriously by a judge? Anything she says is
going to be torn apart by a good lawyer, and cops can afford good
lawyers." 

"So you agree that O'Day somehow forced this man into the street." Mulder
stood up, retreating to Scully's side. 

Karen shook her head. "All I know is that there's no love lost for that
guy. And if you believe it or not, that's all I got for you." Her eyes
narrowed. "Now you better leave. I'm tired of being co-operative." 

***************

"So what do you think?" Mulder asked his partner as he opened the car door
for her, ignoring St.  George who was rolling her eyes in apprehension. 

Scully paused, resting one hand on the door frame; the other on her hip.
"Oh, let's see. Where do you want me to start?" Not letting him begin she
continued. "The implication that a policeman, a detective, is somehow
involved in an attempted murder that he somehow caused by looking at the
man oddly; the idea that Daisy up there could give a coherent statement to
anyone other than her crack pipe... oh, and do you want to hear my
thoughts on Karen?" 

"Thrill me." He beamed as St. George rested her forehead on the cool trunk
of the car; wobbling from side to side in the fading daylight. 

"I think it's a setup. Karen knew that this would be a great opportunity
to frame O'Day and get him in trouble. They don't like him; they've never
liked him and this is a perfect chance to have us run around looking like
fools while a killer is out there with Carson!" 

"And..." He prompted. 

"And Karen knows that Jackie will give her the benefit of the doubt and
we'll end up chasing our own tails..." 

"Well..." Mulder tilted his head to one side, his eyes traveling south.
"This may not be such a bad thing..." 

"Stop that." 

Dragging his eyes up with a mournful sigh he smiled at her. Her glare
bounced off the imaginary force field, but not without casualties. 

"Mulder, there's no reason for us to believe her. Either of them. And
Carson is running out of time." 

"But why wouldn't they want us to catch this guy?" He circled around the
car; hands tucked in pockets as he gazed up at the graying sky. "Why
wouldn't they want this killer taken off the streets?" 

"It's one of their own people. Maybe a pimp or a dealer." The redhead
offered amidst the repetitive thump of St. George's head on the car trunk.
"And I won't give you any more pills if you throw up, you know." 

The thumping stopped. 

"But that still doesn't work, Scully. Why toss a good cell phone when you
can sell it; or use it to call Hong Kong or Thailand?" He patted St.
George on the shoulder. "Your name is on the rental - so don't dent it
either." 

Her low curse bounced off him as he continued his pacing. "This murderer
isn't a friend of theirs - you saw how scared the two of them were. And
Karen strikes me as the type of woman who doesn't scare easily." 

Scully frowned for a long second then nodded in agreement. 

"And why tell us it was O'Day for just this? Why not set him up with a
bigger charge; something they could go to the media with and back up with
more reliable witnesses and go the distance?  Having him 'scare' the man
into traffic can't be the best they could do if they really wanted to." 

St. George reached into her jacket pocket; pulling out her cell phone.
Rolling onto her back she stared up into the sky. "My head hurts..." 

"Yes, and if you had just..." Scully stopped as she began dialing. "Who
are you calling?" 

"Spenser. I wanna see where the hell O'Day is." The Canadian leaned
further back on the car.  "Better than my chiropractor..." 

"You're not going to tell him what we just heard." Scully said. 

"Not a chance. But I do want to know what he's doing now and what he's
been doing." St.  George dipped her mouth to the phone. "Spenser?" 

Mulder came around to Scully's side as the conversation continued. "If it
is O'Day, we might not have the murderer." 

The petite redhead spun on him. "How do you figure that?" 

"How and why did he commit the crimes?" A finger came up; pointed at the
dark sky. "There's a lot of ritual here that doesn't figure into anything
that O'Day's profile, if he has anything to do with it. It's one thing to
want to go rogue and take the law into your own hands; another to go
through such elaborate planning to dispose of the bodies." He shook his
head. "It can't be that simple, Scully..." 

"All right. Meet me there." St. George flipped the phone closed. "Spenser
gave me O'Day's home addy. We're going there to talk to him." 

Scully got into the car. "You're not going to mention Daisy?" 

"Not a chance." The Canadian groaned as she got into the front seat. "But
we can say that someone watched him at the accident and he seemed
suspicious. And it'll give us a chance to see inside his apartment without
having to get another search warrant." Closing her eyes she waited for
Mulder to close the back door. "I don't even wanna think how hard it would
be for me to get that one." 

************

"Fifty-five bottles of Blue on the wall; fifty-five bottles of beer..."
Carson hummed loudly as his eyes caught the dim light disappearing through
the fabric covering them. "If one of those bottles should happen to
fall..." 

A touch on his right calf paralyzed his voice for a second. The digit
traced along his leg then retreated; leaving him alone again. 

"Fifty-four bottles..." A trembling voice cried out in the encroaching
darkness. 

***********

The large Jamaican met them at the front door of the apartment building,
shaking his head. "No answer at his place. I already tried the buzzer." 

Mulder looked up at the red brick exterior of the ten-story building. "Did
he tell you he would be out tonight?" 

"Nothing." Spenser shook his head again. "I thought he'd be around if we
needed him. You know, if something came up." 

"Did you put that guard on the old man?" St. George tapped on the buzzer
again. 

"As you asked. But I don't know why you think anyone would be trying to
kill him. Even if he did see the kidnapper I don't know how reliable the
info would be in court." The beefy cop smiled at Scully. "Unless you've
been holding out on me..." 

"Let's just say that we've got our theories on this." Mulder nodded
politely at one of the tenants who walked past the quartet; snatching the
security door before it closed. "Shall we?" 

"You think O'Day's in danger?" Spenser pressed as the elevator moved
towards the eighth floor.  "You've got an idea." 

"We just want to talk to him about the old man." St. George strode down
the hallway; rapping hard on the door with her knuckles. "Is he in danger?
Maybe from me if he hasn't been honest..." 

They waited for a minute then she repeated the gesture; adding a hard
punch at the end. 

"Steady..." Mulder mumbled under his breath. 

"Right." The Canadian stepped back. "Page him. Page him to my phone." 

"Gotcha." Spenser took a few steps away from the agents and spoke quickly
into his microphone attached to his shoulder epaulette. "Done. It's an
emergency code, so he should be answering right away..." 

One minute. 

Two minutes. 

At five minutes St. George pointed at the door. "Fuck it. Get that door
open."

Spenser stared at her. "Excuse me?" 

"Open it or I'll kick it open." Ignoring Spenser's open-mouthed response
she moved to stand in front of the door, taking a step back.

With a grunt she slammed into the door; rubbing her shoulder as she
rebounded. "Man, they're making these harder than I remember. Wanna give a
hand here, Mulder?" 

He smiled slyly before tossing himself against the door with an expert
air; bouncing back against the opposite wall. A door opened down the hall;
a tousled-haired woman staring at them before slamming it shut in full
retreat. 

"Here..." With a grumpy snort Spenser gently waved the pair aside. "If
anyone's going to get in trouble, let's do it as a group." With a low yell
he threw himself at the door; snapping the door frame easily as he tripped
into the dark apartment. 

"I'm just out of practice..." Mulder mumbled to Scully as he preceded her
inside; flashlight at the ready. 

Spenser waved him to the left as he went to the right; St. George close
behind. Scully glanced around the living room as they entered the open
space. 

"Seems that he's a bit of a messy bachelor." She gestured towards the
empty paper plates stacked at one end of the low glasstop coffee table.

"Well, it's a habit we don't all have..." Mulder swung the light around
quickly as they entered the kitchen; giving the small room a strobing
effect. "Although his interior decorator could have put in some fish for
company." 

"Nobody's here." Spenser's deep voice boomed from down the hallway. "I'm
hitting the lights." 

With a nod Mulder flicked the light switch for the kitchen, pocketing his
mini-mag. "I don't hear anything." 

Cocking her head to one side Scully frowned. "Exactly what did you expect
to be hearing?" 

"His pager." Reaching into one trench coat pocket Mulder pulled out a pair
of latex gloves;  carefully putting them on before opening the
refrigerator. "If he had left it here and gone out, it would be going off.
I don't hear it; therefore it's not here." He poked at the single
cardboard carton on the shelf. "I did hear that 1995 was a good year, but
not for milk..." 

Scully looked at the sink, pushing the faucet from side to side with her
own covered hand. "No dishes. But the living room is a mess." She looked
at her partner. "A bit strange, don't you think?" 

"A bit is all you need..." Opening one cupboard above Scully's head he
looked at the empty shelves.  "So he ate out a lot. Doesn't make him a
killer." 

"Just a single man." She smiled. "Reminds me of your place." 

"Before or after your mother donated food?" 

"Agents..." The thick voice reached them easily. "I think you better come
down here and take a look at this..." 

Trotting down the hallway they paused at the doorway to the bedroom.
Mulder stepped inside first over a large sprawling pile of paper; making
his way to the Canadian standing by the single dresser in the room, their
images distorted in the warped mirror attached to one wall. 

St. George held up a handful of the scribbled notes she had plucked off
the top of the dresser.  "Seems that O'Day has a bit of a thang for them
there bad folks..." 

Scully looked around the small bedroom, taking in the scene. The room was
covered in paper;  floor to ceiling. Notes tacked to the walls covered
with dark crayon scribblings; the floor dotted with small Post-Its each
with a single large dot in the center. The bed had an actual sleeping
area, a small barren space set amidst the paper sea covering the rest of
the blanket; creeping up onto the pillows and across the lone night table. 

St. George tapped the lampshade, shaking a few Post-Its loose. "Most of
them seem to be tirades about society losing its grip; that we're all
going to hell." She shrugged. "Nothing you wouldn't hear in a Dr. Laura
broadcast." 

"And that he's the one to stop it?" Scully offered, stepping carefully on
the multi-colored segments as she reached the bed. "A Messiah complex?" 

"In a way." Mulder held up a thick pad of yellow legal paper. "He refers
to his 'Ally'. He uses the female pronoun here, see?" He pointed out the
relevant words. "Spenser, did O'Day ever have a female partner? A
girlfriend; an ex-girlfriend; wife/ex-wife?" 

"Not that I know of." The policeman shrugged. "I can check back, but he
served most of his time in my division. No mention of a woman, and that
kinda got everybody's attention." He waved his hand.  "You know? And a
woman partner, well... I think that would have been something I'd have
remembered." He grinned at Scully.

"So who is he talking about?" St. George dug deeper into the stack on the
bed. "All this says is that he's doing his bit for the world, saving
society, yatta yatta yatta - the same vigilante crap I thought we'd find
with the BAAD guys." 

"Man..." Spenser let out his breath in a loud gasp. "I never thought..."
He held up a handful of crumpled paper. "He's got a major hate on here for
everyone. I never had any idea..." 

"Yeah, well... no one ever does." Mulder glanced at the writings. "He used
crayons; pencils, pens... everything but blood." 

"And that's the million dollar question, eh?" Stepping back to the door,
St. George paused. "I'm checking out the kitchen again. If he's been
draining the bodies of all that blood..." 

"Then it might be here somewhere." Scully turned away from Mulder. "I'll
join you." The two women walked back down the corridor. 

"But why?" Spenser looked at Mulder. "I mean, he had a lot of collars. He
was a by-the-book man, a good cop." 

"Maybe he snapped." The tall agent shrugged as he shuffled the papers
around with his feet.  "Maybe he decided that he wasn't doing enough to
save the world, or his little part of it." He looked at the Jamaican. "I
think you better put out an APB on him. Get someone to search his desk at
the division; get his phone records. We need to find him and find him
soon." He looked towards the retreating women. "And he knows where Carson
is." 

Spenser nodded. "You got it." Gingerly picking his way out of the bedroom
he stopped in the hallway. "There's gonna be hell to pay for this..." He
began to talk into his radio softly. 

"Oh, yeah..." Mulder exhaled as he moved clear of the stacks of paper. "In
more ways than I, I suspect..." 

"Nothing." Scully appeared at the kitchen entrance; snapping off a pair of
latex gloves. "No trace of any blood, human or otherwise. No trace of
anything, really. No pots, no pans... and a single drinking glass set way
back on the counter. Might pull some prints if we need to, but..." 

"So where did he take them?" Mulder mused aloud as he stood in the living
room. "Sure as hell didn't do anything here." He pushed an empty pizza box
across the coffee table. "The carpet's clean and so's the couch." A frown
crossed his face as he knelt down and examined the cream-colored plush
carpet. "Unless he did one great job of cleaning; and we can find that out
easily enough. But it's unlikely." 

Spenser spoke first. "Why?" 

"Because he's getting sloppy." Mulder pointed at the spotless kitchen,
then back down towards the bedroom. "He somehow killed those people
without being traced or becoming a suspect. But each time the space
between the actual killings is becoming shorter and shorter - in the short
time we've been here there's already been one and he's got another
planned." He ran one hand over the thick plush. "He's losing control of
the situation." 

"Of himself?" Scully offered. 

"Of something." He got to his feet. "He's got an accomplice somewhere and
she's got Carson. All we need to do now is find out where." 

"Spenser, what sites did he have you check out after the last killing?"
St. George asked. 

"The usual. The alleyways, the flophouses - the local crack houses that we
haven't closed down yet.  The same ones we did last time and the time
before that." His head dipped down to listen to his microphone. "They're
putting out the call. And there's a whole crowd who wants to talk to you." 
He nodded to Mulder and then smiled at St. George. "And especially to
you." 

"Take a freaking number." She growled. "What sites did O'Day check out?
The same ones each time, right?" 

Spenser pursed his lips in thought. "I think so. I can't be sure; I never
went over a list or anything, but..." He pursed his lips. "We can find
that out at the station - we had to file reports on each spot, so..." 

"What were the last ones? From the beach?" The Canadian snapped. "What did
he have access to?" 

"The old Palais Royale. The nightclub. Been closed down for years..." He
stopped. "Oh, god..." 

"Get a unit there as fast as you can - plus an ambulance." St. George
headed for the door; the two agents close behind. 

"For Carson?" The cop asked. 

"No. For whoever's there." The angry reply bounced back. 

************

He felt it again; the slightest touch at the back of his right knee. 

Then a band fell across his chest; his hips; his shins. 

And began to tighten. A bit at a time; just enough to push the air from
his lungs in a slow, painful way. 

************

"What's the layout and history of this place?" Scully casually put one
hand on the dashboard of the car; her fingernails digging into the black
plastic. 

"The Palais Royale was a dance club at the turn of the century. It's been
renovated over and over again depending on the current trend in music."
St. George yanked the wheel to one side. "It's been deserted for a few
years now; thanks to the current owner being deceased and no will - held
up in probate and all that." 

"How often was it ever checked?" Mulder winced as they sped through an
intersection, the light just turning red behind them. 

"Supposedly the cops stopped by on their nightly raids on the parking lots
by the beach. Make sure the doors were locked and that there weren't any
fires being set." A wry chuckle. "Catch the boys giving invites to their
gals to go watch the submarine races..." 

Scully smiled in spite of the situation. "Ever see any?" 

"Ask me no questions..." The Canadian spun the wheel again. "There. Across
the field." 

The car slowed to a stop in the nearly-deserted parking lot; the other
occupant a single police car. Getting out quickly Mulder walked towards
the policeman who was standing there, waiting. 

"See anything?" 

"Nothing." The young man rubbed his chin. "No one going in or out, but I
stayed here. Might be something on the other side; where the lake is." 

"Are there piers?" Scully came up beside her partner. 

"Nope. Nothing but a straight drop to the lake." He gestured at the CSIS
agent opening the trunk.  "She think she's Xena or something?" 

Mulder turned to see St. George unwrap a long sword from the duffel bag;
twirling it lightly in her fingers, not letting the hilt land directly on
her hand. 

"No, just pissed." Mulder wagged a finger at the rookie. "If anyone comes
out of that building, take them down. Including O'Day." 

"But..." A confused look covered the cop's face. 

"Let me make it clearer." A sharp metal point appeared at the man's neck.
His startled eyes followed the steel road back to the angry eyes at the
other end. "You. Will. Not. Let. Anyone.  Pass. Including. O'Day." She
snarled. "Here's my badge and here is my order. Piss me off and you'll be
working a ticket detail in Forest Hill." 

The policeman swallowed as the blade dropped down. "Yah. Right. Okay. Got
it." 

"Right..." St. George jerked her head towards the building behind them.
"Let's go." 

"I hate to point out the obvious..." Scully said as she trotted beside the
other two. "But don't you think the sword is a bit of overkill?" 

"I thought so when I tossed it in the trunk." St. George paused as they
saw the front doors of the dance club. "But if the storm behind my eyes is
any indication, it's not gonna be an easy collar..." 

Mulder looked down at her left hand; seeing the fingers dance nimbly to
keep her palm away from the grip. "Getting good at that..." 

"Been practicing. Be bad form to kill your man while having a bit of fun."
She looked at the old stone building as they approached.

A pair of Grecian pillars adorned the front; the huge double doors giving
the appearance of an old abandoned temple. Of all the small windows
dotting the exterior not a single one was unbroken;  the shards glittering
still in the last winter grass on the ground. 

Pausing at the entrance St. George gestured at the police tape covering
the two large front doors. 

The yellow tape was loosely looped through the brass handles; hanging by a
thin strip of tape at one end, the other lying on the ground. 

"Seems that someone was here already." Mulder offered the obvious. Pulling
out his weapon he checked it instinctively; seeing Scully do the same. St.
George withdrew her .38 with her right hand, flipping the chamber open and
shut quickly. 

"So... wanna knock first, or go in with guns ablazing?" She winked at
Scully. "Lead, follow or get the hell outta the way." 

The redhead put one hand on the door handle, ripping away the tape. "How
about 'all of the above'?" 

The large ballroom was dark; the thick musty air choking their lungs as
they stood in the doorway.  Mulder stepped to the left; St. George and
Scully to the right as the door swung shut behind them, sealing them in. 

"If O'Day's here, he'll be expecting company. And if he's half as smart as
he should be, he'll use Carson as a cover." The dim whisper reached the
women's ears. 

The Canadian nodded. "Then I will have to kill him. A lot." 

Scully looked around the room as her vision began to adapt to the dim
lighting; the last shafts of daylight peeking in through the far windows
to add an eerie scarlet tinge to everything. 

Two or three tables were piled up in one corner; the legs broken off or at
haphazard angles. At the back of the room the empty stage sat, the
curtains hanging limply at each side; layered with dust. 

"Guess there's been no raves here lately." Mulder's low whisper crossed
the room as he made his way around to the left. Across from him Scully
pulled out her small flashlight; muting it with one hand as she watched
where she was stepping. 

Suddenly the room was ablaze with light; a thousand stars shattering the
darkness with a spinning intensity that drove the agents back against
their respective walls in defense. 

The mirror ball that hung from the center of the ceiling spun gaily;
shooting off light at all angles, puncturing the floor with spots of
brightness. 

Scully let out her breath slowly, realizing that she had been holding it.
Flexing her fingers around her weapon she looked across the room at
Mulder. He nodded back at her in an unspoken agreement. 

*************

Carson felt the first bone snap; the burning shooting up his left arm and
into his chest. Gasping for air he felt the pressure increase with every
second, his legs trembling under the strain. 

Suddenly it stopped. 

Sucking in a lungful of air he waited the next onslaught; his arm
throbbing as he felt the bands around his chest quiver, not tightening nor
retreating. 

************

"Okay, I'm officially spooked." St. George murmured to Scully as they made
their way slowly to the front of the stage; the stars circling around them
as Mulder mirrored them across the room. 

"I'm sorry." 

The voice came from the edge of the stage; near Mulder. Putting a hand to
his lips he gestured to the two women to talk. 

"O'Day?" Scully peered into the sparkled darkness, her pistol at the
ready. "Is that you?" 

"I'm really sorry." A weary sigh. "I didn't mean for it to go this way,
really." 

"Where's A.J.?" St. George moved towards the stage as Mulder disappeared
through the small door at the end of the room; hopefully leading
backstage. 

"I really thought you'd just give up and go home." 

Mulder suddenly appeared from the side of the stage; swinging his
flashlight around as he searched for a target. Shaking his head he glanced
down at the two women. 

"Where are you?" Scully shouted. 

"I'm here." The voice was now coming from the other side of the room;
where Mulder had just been. 

Mulder held up his hand before they could respond, shaking his head.
"Don't play the game." He mouthed silently. 

St. George squinted into the light. "Stop jerking around. You're not
getting out of here without answering to me." 

"I just wanted to help." He was pleading now, a thin trace of sadness in
his voice. "I just wanted to do my duty." 

"We know." Mulder moved towards the back of the stage; near the back
curtain. "But we just want to know who's been helping you." 

"Oh." The voice bounced from the ceiling. "I can't really explain that to
you." 

Sweeping back the curtain with one hand Mulder swept the flashlight back
and forth; seeing nothing.  Frustrated he shook his head at the two women
who had now joined him on the stage. 

"I'll have to show you." 

A sudden creaking came from around the trio; the screeching surrounding
them in a blaze of sound amidst the starry landscape. 

"Muld..." Scully reached out, taking ahold of his sleeve. 

The floor suddenly disappeared from under the three agents; collapsing in
a whirlwind of jagged wood and dusty nails. 

************

end of part six... 


Dragons On The Move (7/8)  by Sheryl Martin

Scully was the first to her feet; swinging her pistol around as she
blinked wildly, trying to clear her vision. 

Suddenly something touched her foot, a hand tugging at her pant leg.
Sweeping her weapon down she let out a weak hiccup at seeing a dusty
Mulder at her feet; his dark hair streaked with white. He grinned as he
saw the relief on her face. 

"Geez, Scully..." He puffed out a mouthful of dirt. "Talk about me being
ready to blast the crap outta something..." 

Scrambling to his feet he wiped his face again, reaching down to get his
pistol from his ankle holster. "And yes, I did it again." 

"Where's Jackie?" She spun around in the darkness; momentarily blinded by
the shafts of light shooting down through the rip in the floor above them. 

"Down here somewhere." Mulder pointed upwards. "He sawed through the
boards. Made sure that if more than one person got up on the stage that
they'd come down here." 

"So what's here?" Scully blinked again, her eyes starting to adjust to the
dim light. 

"Bloody..." With a snarl St. George emerged to the left of the couple,
shaking splinters and dust in a full-body shrug. "You have no idea how
close I came..." Checking her .38 was still in her holster she pulled out
Karen's pistol from a pocket; handing it to Mulder. "Here - you be the big
bad man with the guns, okay?" 

"Save it for the movie." Mulder grinned as he watched her extract the long
sword from a stack of broken boards. "But..." His voice trailed off as he
stared ahead of them. "Where's O'Day?" 

The small lit area where they stood formed one end of the basement; a copy
of the room they had just fallen from. Beyond their own feet lay only
darkness; the sparkling images cast from the mirror ball not extending any
further. 

Mulder knelt down; scrabbling for a flashlight. "I don't think this was
meant to be a good thing..." 

"I'm sorry." The voice came from just in front of them. Mulder froze as he
squinted at the images in front of him. 

O'Day took a step away from the darkness, standing in a dim puddle of
light. Dressed in a black turtleneck and jeans he let out a weary sigh. "I
really wish you hadn't come here." 

"You didn't leave us much choice." Mulder stood up slowly; both weapons at
his side. "Where's Carson?" 

"He's behind me." A hand waved back into the blackness. 

"Where is she?" Scully wrapped both hands around her pistol; holding it
loosely in front of her as she stared at him. 

A visible shiver went through the detective's body. "She?" 

"The woman you wrote about." Mulder took a tentative step forward. "The
one in your writings.  Your partner." 

"She's not my... well, I guess partner is as good a word as any." O'Day
shrugged. "But she's not happy with you being here." 

"I'm heartbroken." St. George growled as she stepped over a thick plank of
wood; sword in hand.  "I promise not to put the cuffs on too tight..." She
suddenly stopped stock-still a few feet away from the policeman. 

"I'm afraid that's not likely." He smiled as the tentacle curled up over
his shoulder; lightly caressing his face before retreating down one arm
and onto the ground. 

Scully studied it quickly. The tip of the tentacle was unlike anything she
had seen before; a dark brown coating that despite the wet appearance
seemed to be more solid than the rest of the gelatinous body. The thickest
part lying on O'Day's shoulder had to be at least eight inches thick. 

Which, if the dimensions of the few feet they had just seen followed basic
physics and logic, meant that the body it was attached to was large. 

Very Large. 

"Mulder..." She exhaled quietly, making her way to his side. He nodded,
having done his own calculations. 

"Who's that, O'Day?" He gestured at the tentacle at the man's feet where
it sat, twitching slightly at his words. 

"You said you wanted to see her." The man smiled before taking a step
backwards. "Thing is, she wants to see you..." 

St. George strode forward after him. "Don't..." She sucked in her breath
as her eyes adjusted quickly.

At the other end of the room stood Carson, or what she assumed to be
Carson. Standing upright the fabric-wrapped body lay against the writhing
mass of large white worms; covering almost every inch of his body. 

The original tentacle had withdrawn back into the center of the creature;
O'Day striding back to stand to the right of Carson's body. He smiled as
the strands wrapped themselves around his feet;  wriggling like pets
waiting to be patted. 

Scully blinked wildly, racking her mind for a name to put to the thing in
front of them. Mulder stepped forward. 

"Let Carson go." He paused; seeing St. George's face contort in anger.
"You wanted to help clean up the streets, right? Carson's no criminal..." 

"No, he's not." The policeman turned to his left; watching the journalist
writhe under the bandages. "But he got too close. If he had just stayed
with you and kept to the script..." 

"You wanted to blame BAAD..." Mulder moved forward again, his eyes
searching for a vulnerable point in the dark mass in front of him. The
tentacles reached back into the darkness a good ten feet beyond Carson;
who was being held up by nothing more than a wide wooden post sunk in the
soft earth floor. He could make out nothing more than the fact that the
organism stretched from one end of the room to the other; easily sixty
feet if not more. 

"This... is not good..." He mumbled to the women behind him. 

"They have the right intentions. Just lousy methods." O'Day reached down,
letting one strand wrap around his arm like a pet snake. "Admit it, I'm
doing what everyone wants done. I'm removing the problem. Not just pushing
it around the city; not just making arrests to see the judge let them back
out a few hours on bail. Not wasting my time on paperwork so some lawyer
can bust my hump for not following procedure set up by a bureaucrat who's
never been on these streets." The end of the tentacle reached up to
slither through his hair; a lover's caressing touch. "And in the end, we
all win." 

"Let him go." The Canadian was within arm's reach of Carson; studying the
rise and fall of his chest within the confines of the bandages. Her right
hand now held the .38 out in the open; the left still gently balancing the
sword. "Let him go and we'll cut a deal for you. I'll do what I can." A
wave of motion rippled across the tentacles as they surveyed this threat
to their territory. A few brave ones moved towards her feet; large and
threatening in their bravado. 

O'Day frowned. "Do what? I'm not going anywhere..." He lifted his arm as
the strand fell away;  moving to streak across Carson's chest to join the
blur of tentacles swarming over the wrapped body. "And neither is he."
Carson jerked forward as the cable-like creatures began to tighten around
his body again. 

Scully opened her mouth to say something but was startled to see St.
George toss the sword into the air above her. 

"Right. No more talking and screw the rules." She stretched out her hand
as the sword fell towards her; pommel first. "Let's rock." 

Grabbing the hilt hard she felt the first stirrings in her veins; the
burning rushing towards every part of her body and soul. The sword
responded as it had done so many times before; the small spikes shooting
into her left palm, literally impaling her hand on the weapon. 

Mulder winced as the static shot around them; the white noise that
accompanied St. George's bloodlust almost deafening in the small space.
Bringing up the pistol in his right hand he sighted down the barrel at the
center of the creature where it should, by logic, have its internal organs
and be vulnerable. 

By logic. 

St. George leapt forward; bringing the blade down on the nearest mass of
tentacles; severing them faster than they could retreat. The stumps began
to ooze white milky liquid before being withdrawn quickly as the creature
realized it was under attack. Caught up in a berserker frenzy the Canadian
began to hack her way towards the distant core of the monster; her
superhuman speed fighting back all attempts to stop her. Her foot moved
along the floor; step by step - towards the darkest spot in the room and
the organism's heart, if it had one. 

Scully dashed forward towards O'Day who was frozen in place by the sight
of the injuries being inflicted on his ally. Grabbing him by the forearm
she yanked him away from the organism; tossing him back towards the
remains of the stage floor. With a snarl she pushed him into the wreckage,
whipping out her handcuffs. 

"Mulder! Get A.J.!" St. George had stepped into the small space she had
created by her first strike and was now swinging rapidly as the strands
regrouped and attempted a counterstrike against her;  the white snakes
withdrawing from the wrapped body to deal with this intruder. She was now
almost behind the post; making slow but steady progress. 

Re-holstering his pistol quickly Mulder grabbed ahold of the body, fingers
tearing at the thin gauze covering the face. Scrabbling with his nails he
managed to get a good hold in the fabric;  ripping it down. 

Carson's face appeared; wide-eyed and shocked. His mouth moved but nothing
came out. 

"Save it for the interviews." Mulder snapped as he worked on the rest of
the head and arms.  Scully joined him a second later; satisfied with
O'Day's status at the other end of the room - handcuffed to a warped piece
of pipe that protruded from the wall. 

The static was all around them; the floor becoming thick with the white
sticky liquid pouring from the severed tentacles as St. George continued
her attack. Her back to the wooden post; she held her ground as the two
agents continued their frantic excavation. 

Carson fell onto the ground; cradling his left arm. Scully knelt down by
him as Mulder felt rather than saw the slide come back on his pistol;
signaling a lack of ammunition. With a curse he drew up his own pistol,
firing wildly into the black mass beyond them; tossing the spent weapon
into the gaping maw. 

"My arm... broken..." The journalist croaked. Scully pulled him into a
seated position; stripping the remains of the gauze from his legs.

"Get up. We've got to get you out of here." One arm wrapped around his
shoulder she tried to help him rise but they both collapsed back onto the
slick floor. 

"Legs. Cramped." He whispered with a weak smile. 

Mulder finished off a single clip; reloading quickly as he knelt down by
the pair. "Here..."  Putting his arm around Carson he gestured for Scully
to back away as he gingerly rose; pulling the wounded man up with him. 

Suddenly a single large tentacle shot out from the main body of the
creature; wrapping around both Mulder and Carson at the waist. Dropping
his hands from Carson's shoulder he grabbed at the slimy arm, failing to
get a grip on it as the two men fell to the floor. 

Scully dropped to her knees as her hands worked on the slippery cable now
attempting to double its length around the pair; handing her weapon to
Mulder who proceeded to empty the clip at the source of the tentacle.
Wedging his fingers in along beside Scully's arm he grunted as he tugged
back on the immovable strand. 

St. George stopped suddenly; gasping for air as the tentacles began to
swirl around her feet, twisting around her feet and shins. "Dana..." She
roared through the growing moaning that threatened to overwhelm the static
circling around her. "Here!" 

With a mighty thrust of her left arm she threw the sword free of her
supernatural grip; the spikes pulling free of her bloody palm with a
sucking noise as the blade skittered across the floor towards the trio.
Her right hand tightened on the .38; sending bullet after bullet into the
main body of the organism which still lay hidden in the musty recesses of
the basement. 

Sensing the removal of one threat was close the strands charged the
Canadian; swiftly wrapping around both legs and yanking her off balance.
As she fell to the ground she grunted loudly; lifting her bloody hand to
the unseen face of the monster. 

"You want blood? I'll give you one helluva stomachache..." Kicking
frantically she broke free of the white snakes; regaining her feet. Taking
a step forward she grabbed ahold of the nearest tentacle with her left
hand; wrapping it around her arm as if she were in a tug-of-war contest. 
Slapping her bloody palm against the slimy body she yelped in pain. "Chew
on this, buddy..." 

Scully skidded to her left as she stretched out to reach the sword; not
wanting to relinquish her frail grip on the creature. Taking a deep breath
she lunged backwards, losing some of her gained ground but reaching the
sword with outstretched fingers. Grabbing the sword with one hand she got
to her knees, feeling the blade slide back and forth in her hand; slippery
with St. George's blood. 

Lifting it over her head she brought it down hard on the main body of the
strand holding the two hostage, seeing it slice through the
gelatinous-like substance with ease. 

With an angry shout Mulder tore away the remaining fragment, freeing the
two men. Struggling to his feet again he lifted Carson, trying to maintain
his balance on the slick floor; now stained with puddles of white liquid
where orphaned strands flopped helplessly like dying fish. 

"Jackie!" Scully yelled as she saw the Canadian begin to be overwhelmed by
the vast number of tentacles trying to envelope her. But before she could
get to the Canadian suddenly the single strand St. George had wrapped
around her arm twitched wildly; the entire body giving a massive tremor. 

A roaring sound reached their ears as the two agents and Carson attempted
to back away from the creature. Mulder let out a yell and began to tug the
helpless journalist closer to the remains of the stage floor and O'Day;
recognizing the sound. 

"What is it?" Scully yelled over the rising noise as she paused, caught
between helping her partner and going to help her friend. 

Opening his mouth to answer Mulder was instead silenced by a thunderous
roar as the floor began to tremble under them. 

As they watched the organism began to wither away from them; dragging St.
George with it - replaced by a solid wall of water rushing in to fill the
basement. 

"Come on..." Mulder yanked helplessly at the fallen Carson; seeing the
terror in his eyes as the water came at them. He had only enough time to
take a scant mouthful of air before the water hit him; knocking him about
like a limp rag doll. 

Scully gulped in a lungful of air before the cold rushed over her;
spinning her around and up and over, sending her in a dizzying spiral of
confusion. Something smashed into the left side of her body, dragging down
her coat and digging into her jeans; ripping them as it gouged her leg. 

Then it was gone and she was spinning in a watery darkness; her lungs
beginning to scream for air.  Jerking her head from side to side she
looked for something; anything to signal the surface - seeing nothing but
shadowy images wavering back and forth around her; long slithering strings
amidst the thicker chunks. 

Clawing at her trench coat she managed to wrestle herself free, kicking it
away from her body as she felt herself begin to rise; hopefully towards
the surface and air. Thrashing her legs together despite the pain she
fought her way towards what would either prove to be life or death, her
lungs bursting. 

Scully burst free of the water with a choking gasp; her mouth
instinctively sucking in the life-giving air as she tried to orient
herself. Reaching down she felt her leg; tracing the torn fabric as the
cold water rushed over her, the waves threatening to draw her back down.

Sputtering out water she spun around in place, treading water as she
stared out into the darkness.  A mist had drifted across the area, making
her even more confused, if that were possible. 

"Mulder!" A choking cough quickly followed as she gasped air back into her
besieged lungs.  "Mulder!" 

Other debris was beginning to surface nearby as her sight cleared and she
could see in the night.  Jagged pieces of plywood floated nearby as she
coughed again, preparing to yell again.

Suddenly she saw the body floating in the murky water, face down - an
eerie ghost appearing out of the wispy fog as it drifted nearby. 

Flailing wildly the woman made her way to the unmoving form; grabbing
ahold of one sleeve of the dark coat and yanking it hard to turn him over.
Her eyes flooded with water, both salt and natural as she focused in on
the face. 

"Oh..." She sighed in relief, hating herself for taking pleasure in seeing
O'Day's blank eyes staring up at her.

The cold began to bite at her fingers; slowly edging its way up her legs
towards her torso.  Mentally she berated herself for not remembering that
there were plenty of other ways to die. 

"Scully!" The voice snapped across the loud lapping of the waves; catching
her ear and drawing her around. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. 

"Scully!" She paddled a circle in the water as she tried to focus in on
the voice, feeling an unusual lethargy start to come over her; silencing
her. 

"Scully..." A hand grabbed ahold of the back of her sweater, fingers
tangling in the knitted pattern. She felt a body bump up behind her; a
familiar voice in her ear. 

"Jeez, Scully - it's too cold for the submarine races..." The warm breath
in her ear snapped her out of her weariness; sending a flush through her
body as she felt him press up against her from behind. 

"Mulder..." 

"Shut up for once and just kick - the shore's behind me." Letting go of
her sweater Mulder wrapped his arm around her waist; firmly anchoring his
fingers in the sweater she wore. Striking out with his right arm he
launched the pair of them towards the beach, keeping his aim true in the
fog. 

Scully laid her head back in the cold water as it rushed by her face;
feeling the tingling in her feet begin to spread. It was a clear night and
she could see the stars overhead, mocking the mirror ball exhibit they had
just come from.

"Scully..." The growl jolted her awake. "Stay with me. Come on, it's not
as bad as Antarctica was..." 

Her lips opened with a snappy retort, falling away as they stopped
suddenly. Her feet swung down through the water to find the rocky floor. 

Turning her around Mulder smiled; putting his arm around her waist as he
half-lifted, half-carried her up to the lake shore. "Although I can't say
that some parts of that trip were totally devoid of pleasure..." 

Scully coughed again; bringing up another mouthful of lake water. Mulder
nodded as he continued to drag her ashore. "That's it - get it all out of
your system. It's not New York Harbor, but..." 

She sucked in her breath at the body already on the beach. Before she
could break free of her partner's grip he filled in the gaps for her. 

"Carson. I got him here first then went back for you." He smiled. "I
figured you'd be tough enough to handle it. Besides, if I got you first
you'd punch me for letting him stay out there." 

It was only then that she realized he was devoid of his own coat; already
flung over the immobile body on the shore. Dressed only in a shirt and
pants he was already beginning to shiver as the pair dropped down by the
journalist. 

"He's alive..." Mulder muttered. "But he's not in good shape..." 

Scully pressed her fingers to Carson's neck, feeling the pulse to be
strong and steady. His left arm was tucked down by his side; soggy
clothing and pieces of fabric wrapping stuck to the rest of his body. 

"Jackie..." She turned to Mulder quickly. "She's..." 

"I..." Mulder shook his head. "I don't know. I've been calling for her as
well. I just saw you first." He looked out into the darkness, unable to
make out where the sky ended and the lake began.  "I don't know if she
made it out or not. The creature must have pulled the entire building down
on us when it escaped." 

His eyes dipped to the ragged gash in Scully's jeans; the blood beginning
to ooze through. "Oh, God..." 

"I'm fine, Mulder." She ran a hand through her hair, unable to stop the
shaking racking her body.  "It's not deep and certainly not lethal." Her
eyes searched the lake shore to the left and right of them; keen to find
something, anything. 

A large splash a few feet in front of them brought the two agents'
attention back to the water.  Slowly getting to his feet Mulder stared
forward, taking a few tentative steps into the near-freezing lake. 

"Mulder, stop looking like a freaking GQ model and get the hell out of the
way..." St. George appeared out of the thick Scotch mist that was wafting
across the lake; staggering free of the water.

Wearily she collapsed by the trio; her face pressed to the rocky shore as
she let out a low groan. 

"A.J..." 

"He's going to be fine." Scully looked at Mulder. "We're all going to be
fine." 

A large wave dashed up against them suddenly; grabbing at their feet and
legs.

St. George opened her eyes to see the hilt of a sword sparkling in the dim
light as it rested on the stones nearby. 

"I..." She burbled into the sand and stones. "I'm really beginning to hate
when you do that..."

"I think..." Mulder paused as a noise came from the mist. Grabbing at
Scully he slipped his arms under Carson; preparing to drag him free of the
beach. "I think..." 

Scully stared out at the lake as the shadowy outlines of the creature
filled her vision; blotting out the stars. Her left hand shot out to grab
Mulder's as he dropped Carson's unconscious body and sat back on his
heels, dumbstruck at the sight. 

Rolling onto her back St. George let out a moan; tossing her left hand out
to land atop the sword.  Her right hand still held the .38, unwilling to
give it up even in the most dire of circumstances. 

Wincing as she took ahold of the sword she staggered to her feet, using
the sword to balance herself. A few steps put her beside the transfixed
Scully where she dropped back down on one knee.

"I don't have any bullets left..." She murmured to no one in particular.
The moaning grew louder as the organism moved closer. A single tentacle
appeared out of the mist; twitching as it searched for its target. 

"That's okay." Mulder replied. "I don't have any guns left." His legs
finally gave out and he fell beside Scully; a weak groan escaping. Putting
one hand around her shoulder he leaned against her;  feeling her respond
by squeezing his hand.

"I'm sorry..." He whispered to her, unable to see the tears in her eyes
but knowing somehow they matched his own. 

"So am I..." 

"Fuck..." Lurching to her feet the Canadian took a few tottering steps out
into the water; the sword hanging loosely from her bleeding left hand as
the useless .38 remained in her right. "I'm too old for this..." The blade
dragged along wet stone as she slowly dropped to her knees; staring at the
searching tentacle that came closer and closer with every second... 

Suddenly a loud boom shattered the silence, toppling St. George face-first
into the water with the surprise. Rising up from the water she shook her
head once, twice; trying to see what was happening. 

Mulder froze at the sound, not knowing what to make of it. Then it
happened again; tearing at their eardrums with familiarity. 

"Mulder..." Scully turned towards him, her eyes suddenly bright.
"That's..." 

A third barrage thundered overhead; hammering into the creature. The
scouting tentacle paused for a long second then suddenly withdrew;
snapping back with the speed of a tape being rewound at a high speed. 

"Gunfire..." He finished off the sentence. Turning his head he choked back
a laugh as Spenser emerged from the mist. As the policeman approached a
fourth volley shattered their conversation. 

"Agents..." The Jamaican tugged at his cap. "I happened to run into our
local SWAT team on the way down here and thought they might come in
handy..." 

Scully looked behind him to see the shoreline fill with police; automatic
weapons at the ready and pointed into the mist as they approached the
quartet. 

"But..." She turned back to the lake, seeing the dim outline of the
monster begin to dwindle in the mist. 

"I don't know and I don't care." Gingerly walking into the water Spenser
took ahold of the Canadian's arm; helping her to her feet. "And I'm going
to get shit for the overtime on this case..." 

"Bill me..." St. George mumbled as she slumped against the cop. "I've got
a tab..." 

Mulder coughed once in a distorted laugh, feeling himself slip into
unconsciousness. A last tight squeeze of his partner's hand and he was
gone; knowing she wasn't far behind him. 

************

end of part 7... 

Dragons On The Move (8/8)  by Sheryl Martin


Heaven was a small set of black dots set against a white sky. 

Hell, on the other hand, was the surging in his stomach. 

Forcing himself to sit upright Mulder stared at the ceiling tiles until
his balance returned, his stomach pleased at his decision. 

Turning his head slowly to the left he assessed his situation; noting with
some relief that he wasn't feeling more pain that he could identify. Sore
back, sore head, sore body. 

In other words, feeling just fine. 

The thin curtain circling his bed was suddenly yanked away; the beefy
nurse smiling as she approached him, clipboard in hand.

"Mr... Mulder. Glad to see that you've joined us again." Adjusting the bed
so that he could sit up she flipped pages on the chart.

"Dr. Goldstein says that you should take these..." She tapped the small
pill bottle she held in the opposite hand on the edge of the bed. "Until
you get home and see your own doctor. While Lake Ontario isn't the same as
some of your American ports, it's still pretty filthy. You should be up on
all your shots and all, but still..." She made a notation with a pen
before handing him the bottle. "Let's just say that your best friend might
well be the toilet for the next few days. And without the partying
beforehand." Efficiently wrapping the blood pressure cuff around his arm
she motioned for him to be silent with a single raised finger. 

"My..." The finger waved again in his face as she pulled the cuff off;
taking his temperature a second later. The wand slid securely under his
tongue, silencing him again. 

"Okay, let's have it." She beamed as she jotted down notes. 

"My partner..." He mumbled, feeling his throat rebel against talking. 

"She's next to you; to your left. And when you're ready, you can leave." 

Mulder looked up from the bottle in surprise. "Really?" He croaked. 

"We need the beds for really sick people." She smiled widely. "You and
your partner can leave right away - but don't forget to see your doctor
when you get back. And be careful about the foods you're eating for a few
hours - nothing too exotic or fancy." The woman paused. "Are you feeling
okay?  No dizziness; no pain anywhere?" 

"Nothing." He lied with a wide grin. "Just a lot of bruises, but I'm used
to that." 

She peered at him over her glasses, obviously intrigued. "Fine, then..."
She extended the clipboard. "Just sign here, please." 

Mulder dragged the pen over the page. "Where are my clothes?" 

"We were going to toss them..." She paused, seeing the panic in his eyes.
"But instead sent them back to the hotel and their laundry. Special
orders." She looked again at the clipboard. "I believe your friend is
outside with another set for both of you." 

"Which one?" 

"Which friend?" The brunette chuckled. "I'm afraid to ask what that means.
Sergeant Spenser, I believe. He's been waiting awhile." She strode towards
the curtain. "He's already been in to check on your partner." 

As the curtain fell shut again Mulder swung his feet over the edge of the
bed; fighting the vertigo that surged up from his belly. 

Forcing himself to stand perfectly straight he strode to the curtain to
his left and pulled it aside. 

Scully looked up suddenly, her hands working on buttoning a cream-colored
blouse. She was standing by the bed; a worn pair of jeans already covering
her lower half. 

He spun around quickly; too quickly. 

"Mulder!" Scully knelt down beside him on the floor, worried. "I'll get
the nurse - just stay down." 

"No... I'm okay..." Reaching over to grab the leg of the hospital bed
Mulder pulled himself up. "I don't need anything more than a good nap."
Leaning against the bed he caught his breath. "I see you've recovered
totally." 

Checking surreptitiously that her blouse was indeed done up she gave him a
wide smile. "I'm fine.  But I did get the same speech you did." Leaning
down she retrieved the pill bottle; handing it to him. "And I've got your
clothing right here. Spenser had to get back to work." 

"I'm heartbroken." 

"Are you sure..." She looked towards the curtain. "I can get..." 

He held up a hand. "I'm fine. Just a little disorientation; probably from
the water in my ears." 

"Mulder..." Her voice turned into the professional doctor mode. 

"I just want to get back to the hotel, okay?" He stood up straight again,
one hand gingerly touching the edge of the bed. "And I see you're fine..." 

"No stitches." She ran a hand along her leg. "My tetanus shots are up to
date, so hopefully it'll just heal and not even leave a scar. Your
clothing is under the bed." She snorted, annoyed. "I'm going to find
Jackie - I'll be back in five." 

"Sure..." He looked down at the small cage under the bed as if he were
about to descend to the bottom of the Atlantic. "I'll be ready..." 

"Sure..." Scully paused before stepping through the curtain. "Oh, and
Mulder?" 

"Yah?" 

She pressed her mouth against his ear; blowing hot sweet words. "Thanks
for the free show..."  She disappeared into the hallway before he could
respond; instead clutching at the loose fabric hospital gown that gaped
open in the back, as usual. 

************

A.J. was in a private room, his left arm already set in a cast. The
journalist opened his eyes quickly as Scully pushed the door open. 

"Hey..." He whispered with a weak smile. 

"Hey yourself." Scully automatically checked the IV; seeing that it was
flowing properly and that there was no apparent problems. "I was
wondering..." The sentence stopped as she saw the figure curled up in the
large chair by the window; to the left of Carson's bed. Cocooned in two
sets of hospital blankets St. George fitfully snored as she watched. 

"She came in about an hour ago. Told me that you two were still out and
that she had already signed herself out." A.J. raised his right hand
gingerly, as to not disturb the IV and ran it through his hair. "Her hand
got pretty burnt, though..." 

Frowning Scully strode over to the sleeping woman, carefully disentangling
her left hand from where she had it tucked to one side. The gauze wrapping
was still intact, but she could smell the burn ointment. 

"No stitches needed." Carson's eyes narrowed. "And I have yet to guess
what that was all about, mind you..." 

"It's a long story." The redhead smiled. "And probably best told by her
over a pint of beer, I think." 

"I figured as much." He chuckled. 

Mulder entered the room; stepping more confidently but still slower than
he would have liked.  Pulling at the gray FBI sweatshirt and black sweat
pants he smiled; seeing St. George asleep in the chair. With a knowing nod
to Scully he waited for her to continue her conversation. 

"How are you feeling?" Scully turned her attention back to the journalist
after nodding to Mulder. 

"I'm fine. Just tired, dehydrated and feeling pretty foolish for getting
caught like that." He gestured to the two agents. "Thank you sounds kinda
lame, but I promise to give you a good write-up when I do the article. Or
the book. Or the movie." 

"Claudia Christian." The mumbled snore came from St. George as she
stretched out one arm.  Stifling a yawn she opened one eye, staring at
Mulder. "I guess you're okay." 

"We're both fine. Well, as best as could be expected." Scully crossed her
arms, smiling widely.  "I've had enough of nearly freezing to death,
though..." 

"Hey, Lake Ontario is fine in the summer... we're just a few months late."
The Canadian stretched out both arms as she got up; scratching her left
hand. "Damn beastie burnt my hand." 

"How bad?" Scully looked at the outstretched hand. 

"It itches. That's all. All I can figure out is that it just didn't find
me to its taste." The Canadian chuckled. "Too tough, I figure..." 

"O'Day gave the old man your cell phone?" Mulder cocked his head to one
side with a frown.  "Doesn't seem like a smart move..." 

Carson shook his head. "No, it fell out of my pocket as he carried me; I
guess. The old man..." He looked up at Scully. 

"He's going to be fine." She looked around the anxious faces. "I talked to
the nurses and made a few phone calls. I don't know if he'd ever be up to
testifying in court, though." 

"When you think about it it's obvious." The journalist sighed. "O'Day
could easily escort or appear to be carrying people to his car and drive
off with them and no one would think of saying anything - with him being a
policeman, it didn't look as suspicious as it would have if anyone else
had done it." 

"And the entire scenario with BAAD..." St. George yawned as she uncurled
again from her chair. 

"Was all to supply us with suspects but no real evidence." Mulder nodded.
"Then we leave; the case stays quiet and O'Day keeps terrorizing the
area." 

"Except for Daisy." Scully offered. "Who likely would have been his next
victim, since she saw him being recognized by the old man." 

"Better than Ellery Queen." Carson chuckled. "They tell me I'll be in for
a few days yet - just to be sure." 

Scratching her head as she stood up St. George smiled broadly. "Plenty of
time for you to start the outline of your article." 

He eyed her with a mischievous grin. "And for your respective government
agencies to veto it." A more somber look came over his face. "And when's
your flight out?" 

"Uh..." Jackie looked at the two agents. "I don't know yet." She stared
out the window.  "Maybe..." 

"Tomorrow." The strange voice startled them all. 

Devon Williams walked into the room; beaming at the agents. Brushing a
light sprinkling of snow from his thick jacket he looked at St. George; a
touch of pride in his face. 

"Your dad would be proud." 

"My da would have kicked that creature's ass." She retorted with a
chuckle. 

Carson looked at the senior agent. "I'm sure you'll have plenty to talk to
me about, right?" 

"Not really." Williams shrugged. "Write what you saw. What you think you
saw. Whatever. All we know is that there's a collapsed building on the
edge of the lake; one dead body that was dragged out by the marine unit a
few hours ago and a lot more questions than you'll find answers to." His
eyes locked with Jackie's. "And besides, your main interviewees are
leaving the country." 

"O'Day..." Scully exhaled the name, not with much sorrow. "I saw his
body." 

Williams nodded. "He was drained much like the other victims." 

She looked at him strangely. "No, he drowned. When I saw him..." Her words
stopped as she realized the truth. "It didn't die..." 

The older agent shrugged again. "Maybe it did; maybe it didn't. But it's
not getting any more freebies, and that's for the best. At least right
now." Reaching into an inside pocket he withdrew an envelope. "Ready?" 

St. George frowned. "Right now?" 

He extended the envelope. "Word is to clear you out pronto. I'm flying
back tonight to Washington and just managed to wrangle an extra day for
the three of you." He waggled it. "It's all here. Your resignation
confirmation; your pension paperwork... I'll have the visa there at the
airport waiting for you, snug inside." 

Biting down hard on her lower lip the Canadian took the small thick
envelope; opening it slowly.  "Lots of papers." 

"You know the routine." 

"Yah." She reached into one pocket of her worn jeans. "My jacket went back
to the hotel. Pretty trashed. Should retire it." 

"It's an idea." Williams waited quietly as the others watched. 

The oversized Toronto Rock lacrosse jersey twitched as she withdrew the
small leather case.  Flipping it open she stared at the badge for a
second; then closed it, handing it over to Devon's outstretched hand. 

"And..." His voice dropped down a notch, his face soft. 

She looked at him. "Yah. I know." 

"As a private citizen you have to play by their rules. No more sitting on
your butt at the Embassy writing up paperwork for parties." Devon let a
small smile creep in. "Although I can promise you a lot of freelancing..." 

"Well, I knew that." Her hand slipped back under the jersey; returning
with her weapon. The .38 sat snugly in the old leather holster, the dark
metal gleaming in the sterile hospital light. 

"I'll take care of it." Devon curled his fingers as he waited. "But you
can't take it with you. Not as a regular citizen, which is what you are
now." 

Wordlessly she put the weapon into his hand; turning away as he pocketed
it. 

"I'll see you back in Washington. Skinner says he'll meet you all at the
airport." A nod to Mulder and Scully. "Wish I could be there to see his
face at this report." His attention returned to St.  George. "And don't
forget to stop at the counter to get your passport again. I already got it
from your hotel room." 

She nodded, still staring out the window. Williams left the room quietly;
followed by Mulder and Scully. 

"That was your father's weapon." Carson said quietly. 

"Yep." 

"You're finished?" 

St. George turned back. "Well, with CSIS at least. Mind you, with the
stuff they've been pulling lately that's only going to help my rep. And
Devon'll keep me busy down there. Wally's already been hinting at getting
me some consultation jobs with the Bureau." 

"And you'll be married." A devilish look leapt into his eyes. "A
domesticated Dragon." 

"Not by a long shot." She snapped back with a smile. "But he tries..." 

"Can I come visit?" He grinned. "See the secret files of the FBI?" 

"What, their expense reports? Sure..." 

Reaching out Carson grabbed her hand. "Hey... I know it's time for you to
go home. Why don't you?" 

St. George frowned. "What?" 

"You don't fit in here anymore. I see it when you walk the streets; deal
with the people. You're not one of them anymore, and that's a good thing.
I know your dad would think the same." Sitting up straighter in the
hospital bed Carson kept ahold of her hand. "Your home is not here. It's
with him." 

"Damn..." Pulling her hand free she swiped at her eyes. "You're making
this too easy..." 

"As it should be." He said quietly. "It's time to go home, Jackie. Go
home." 

***********

Scully answered the knock at the door; leaving Mulder to finish his
packing.

"Agent Scully..." Spenser's broad grin filled the doorway almost as much
as his body did;  reminding her ever so much of a Cheshire Cat. 

"Come on in..." She took the packages from his hands as he took his
uniform cap off; smiling at Mulder as he appeared from the far bedroom. 

"I heard that you were leaving tomorrow and wanted to make sure your last
meal wasn't some awful hotel food concoction..." He dipped his hands into
the plastic bags; withdrawing a series of Styrofoam containers. "So I
brought you some jerk chicken - my wife's best." 

Scully's eyes lit up as they watered at the same time; the open container
nearly overwhelming her.  "It's been awhile..." 

Mulder paused as she handed him a box. "Uh, Scully... remember the warning
from the hospital..." 

"Mulder, this is good food. I'd risk it for this. Besides, you really want
to just order in something?" She smiled at him; melting his objections in
a second. "Just be careful and we'll be fine." 

"Oh... yeah..." His eyes widened as the first burst of steamed air escaped
into his face. "Oh, yeah..." 

***********

The rose bush was wilted; shocked into hibernation from a late blooming.
Frost covered the few remaining buds as she lightly touched them through
the fence. 

"Next year I'll plant some of my own." She murmured to the bush. "You'll
have to visit to make sure I don't kill them by accident." 

Looking up the street she watched a streetwalker stand on the corner; one
leg brashly stuck out into traffic as an advertisement. Shaking her head
with a chuckle the Canadian walked on. 

************

"This... should be illegal..." Mulder mumbled through a mouthful of
chicken. "And I think my taste buds have declared diplomatic immunity..." 

"Good." Spenser got to his feet; drawing a large bottle from his pocket.
"You can split this among yourselves or just have one of you cook it up."
A sly wink at the redhead. "Good reason for a private dinner, yes?" 

"How did you know where to find us?" Mulder interrupted with a rush,
swiping at the side of his mouth with a paper napkin. 

"Well, when the building collapsed in on itself I figured you'd be in the
area. And I'm never afraid to call in backup." He grinned again. "And now
we all have stories to tell our kids in the dark of why they shouldn't
park down by the lake, hmm?" 

Picking up his cap he headed for the door. "Although I don't know what the
papers will make of it... other than some sort of mutant monster, which is
usual for anything like this." He paused, staring at Mulder. "You know...
odd stuff." 

He returned the nod, face deathly serious. "Oh, we know." 

Leaning in towards Mulder the large policeman lowered his voice. "Good
women are like good jerk chicken - not only good to look at but bloody hot
when you get going." He glanced at Scully who was already licking her
fingers; sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Good for a man's soul..." 

"I hear you." Mulder reached out, shaking the beefy hand. "Thanks for all
your help..." 

"Thanks for all the stories..." He stopped suddenly as the door opened,
admitting St. George to the room. "And as for you..." 

The Canadian looked up at him with a smirk. "I've already called in my
recommendation for you to get O'Day's spot. Not that it means anything,
but..." She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug.  "Sure can't hurt." 

The Jamaican chuckled. "We'll see. And if you ever need anything up here,
give me a call. More reason to make more sauce." He exited the room with a
flourish, his agility taking them all by surprise. 

"We have food..." Scully gestured at the containers laid out on the table
in front of her. "And Tums, I believe..." 

St. George walked over to the liquor cabinet. "And booze..." Withdrawing a
six pack of beer she smiled at the two agents. "Hey, it's the last thing
that the Service is gonna pay for - why not make it worth it?" 

***********

"Urgle..." Mulder groaned as he forced his eyes open; the suffused
sunlight peeking in through the blinds enough to send jagged shards into
his mind. His eyes worked for a long minute before focusing in on the
scarlet pillow he was clutching to his chest. 

And the hard floor he was sleeping on. 

And the fact that he was wearing no shirt. 

Nor pants. 

Only boxer shorts, and they happened to be the ones with the little tear
in the left cheek side that he had been planning to sew up since
Christmas. 

1995. 

"Uffle..." Rolling carefully to his knees he put one hand to his head to
steady the room before attempting to stand. His eyes caught the wavy
reddish mop atop the couch a few feet away from him;  luring him over that
way. 

"Scuffy..." His hand landed atop her head with a solid splat. "Time to
gettup..." 

His hand slowly rose as a pair of red eyes appeared from under the tousled
hair. "Mulder..." 

"Gotta get ready to fly..." He dragged his tongue around his mouth
carefully. "And my tongue has swollen up... maybe I'm allergic to
chicken..." 

"No..." She moaned before dropping her head back into the plush cushions.
"Just drinking Canadian beer." The muffled groan came out. 

"Hey, folks..." St. George appeared in the doorway of one of the two
bedrooms; a thick brown jacket tossed over her lacrosse jersey. "Flight's
in two hours - and we gotta book..." Walking over to the pair she pulled a
roll of Canadian dollars from one pocket. "Here's your half, Dana..." 

"Whatta dis for?" Scully rolled over; causing Mulder to fall back on his
butt as he tried to keep eye contact with her. 

"Your winnings from the poker game." The Canadian winked at Mulder. "And
she's been practicing." 

"Whatta I lose?" Rubbing his aching hair carefully Mulder stared at his
partner. "Whatta she win?" 

"Let's just say that if not for her good graces you'd be flying home in a
stolen hotel robe." St.  George went back into the room. "And by the way -
that rip was a lot smaller last night..." 

***********

The terminal was crowded with passengers traveling to and from
international flights; the mixture of languages almost overwhelming.
Scully stood with Mulder at the side of a large pillar; St.  George having
just handed their luggage to an attendant. 

"Agents Scully and Mulder?" A Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman stopped in
front of them.  "And a Ms St. George?" 

"Oooh..." St. George groaned. "That hurt..." 

Oblivious to her comment the middle-aged man continued. "I was told to
give this to you. A diplomatic pouch for your Assistant Director." Handing
the thick leather bag to Mulder he nodded to St. George. "And this, I
believe, is your passport. And your tickets to Washington." 

Taking the small booklet she flipped it open; scanning the picture and
visa with a critical eye.  "Yes. Thank you." 

Nodding politely to the trio the Mountie disappeared into the moving mass
of people. 

Taking a deep breath St. George turned to them. "Let's go." 

************

"I wonder..." Mulder felt Scully's hand land on his forearm; stopping him
as he began to talk to the Canadian. Turning towards his partner he
frowned as she shook her head. 

"Not now..." She whispered as the plane taxied down the runway; picking up
speed as they left the ground, circling around the city as they gained
altitude. 

St. George pressed her left palm to the window as she stared out at the
diminishing city, giving way to the multi-colored blues and grays of Lake
Ontario. 

And sighed. 

************

"Agent Mulder..." Assistant Skinner's voice cut through the crowd like a
cannon; zeroing in on the three passengers as they collected their luggage
from the carousel. 

"Scully..." The tall man nodded to his subordinates. "Good work - I
think." 

"Well, it was an X File." Mulder admitted as St. George swung her backpack
up onto one shoulder;  the hilt of a sword poking free of the top. "And if
things have calmed down here a bit..." 

"Never for you, Mulder." The stern tone disappeared as Skinner looked at
Scully. "I hear Devon sent a package for me." 

"Yes, sir." She handed over the leather pouch. "Sealed and untouched." 

"Good." He broke the seal. "We're continuing to work with CSIS on certain
cases and situations - unfortunately some problems don't stop at the
border." 

"Ah..." The Canadian smiled lopsidedly at them. "I better get going. Have
to get back to my apartment and check the want ads." 

"Excuse me?" Skinner turned his full attention on the woman as he pawed
through the documents.  "I don't think so..." 

Withdrawing a thick wallet-sized case from his trench coat pocket he
handed it to her; watching as she wordlessly opened it, her confused stare
shared by the other two agents. 

"A private investigator's license. Valid, of course." He dug down into the
pouch; flipping through the papers. "I expect you'll find a letter at home
stating the offer the Bureau's made to you - as a freelance investigator
loosely attached to Mulder's division. Not great pay, but..." 

"Better than sitting at home and working on my karma." She looked up at
him, a weak smile spreading across her face.

"Well, you'll have plenty of free time." Skinner said. "Not like we'll
bring the cases to you - I expect you'll bring them to us." 

"Possibly." Her eyes sparkled. "For a price." 

"She's already into free enterprise." Mulder chuckled, enjoying Skinner's
half-grin. 

"And of course you'll need this." He handed her a slip of paper; extracted
from another pocket.

She looked up, her forehead furrowed in confusion. "A gun license? Walter,
I don't..." 

His hand dug deep into the pouch; withdrawing a familiar holster and
weapon. "What, you think we'd send you out there without proper
equipment?" 

Dropping her knapsack with a loud clang and crash the Canadian threw her
arms around the Assistant Director; hugging him tightly as the two agents
stood by, grinning in unison. 

"Just promise me you won't make me regret this." Detaching himself from
the woman Skinner ran a hand down the front of his trench coat, composing
himself. A stern glance silenced Mulder and Scully before they could say
anything. 

"A paranormal investigator." St. George let out a loud laugh as she
struggled with the knapsack.  "Works for me..." 

"Just get out of here." Skinner growled, his eyes bright and laughing.
"Call Mulder on Monday and see if he's got anything for you - if not, call
me. I can't promise anything, but..." 

"You got it, Walt." The Canadian beamed as she began to move away from the
trio; heading for the main doors of the terminal. "I have to get going -
Marty'll be waiting for me at home..." 

"No, he's waiting for you outside." Skinner pointed at the man standing at
the doors. "Shut up and get going." 

As St. George sprinted down the floor with a whoop the Assistant Director
nodded at the two agents.  "Just file the proper paperwork with me and
we'll be fine." 

"Are you sure..." Mulder cocked his head to one side. 

"No. But sure as hell can't hurt to have her on our side." Skinner tucked
his hands in his pockets.  "See you on Monday." 

Turning abruptly on his heel he disappeared into the crowd, leaving them
alone. 

"So, Scully..." Mulder grinned as he turned towards his partner. "Is this
a happy ending or what?" 

"No." She stared up at him, a smile tugging at her lips. 

"No?" He frowned; his lower lip edging out in confusion. 

"This is a happy ending..." Reaching up with one hand she took ahold of
his tie; pulling him down until her lips were inches from his. 

"This..." A light brush of her lips on his; each kiss harder and longer
than the last; stealing his breath away with the growing intensity. "Is...
A... Happy... Ending..." 

Wrapping his arms around her Mulder broke free long enough to let out a
nervous laugh, looking down at the woman in his arms. 

"Wanna go make some dinner?" 

"Shut up and kiss me, Mulder..." 

**************

The... End.... 

**************

Author's Notes: 

well, here you have it - the longest and hopefully the best Dragon story
I've done over the past five years of writing... although I must be honest
and admit that I started this back in May, if you can believe it... 

is this the last story? 

I honestly can't say - as some of you might know, in the next month I'm
off to the States to get married and set up house with the Wookie - not to
mention that darned domestic stuff... but I can promise that I will be
writing stories, although no promises on timing... 

and speaking of fanfiction... 

Unicorn Press has asked and gotten permission to print ALL of my fanfic,
including all the Dragons (poor them!) - in a fanzine format with pictures
and all that good stuff - the first issue is due out in May, but stop on
by their web page at http://members.aol.com/UnicrnPrs/press.htm and see
what else they have - and heck, put in an advance order if you want... 

chuckle... 

and one last personal note - some of you know (and now the rest of you)
that I was diagnosed with cervical cancer in October - at the moment it's
at bay thanks to a helluva good doctor and fast treatment, but I only
caught it this early because I had an annual physical - and that annoying
Pap smear literally saved my life...  because I have/had no symptoms - and
if not for the test I would be much worse off than I am now - the least of
which being major surgery and perhaps becoming terminal in the long run... 
so please, if you're a woman, don't ignore this - and if you're a man,
ask/beg your mother/sister/girlfriend/wife to get one - cervical cancer is
easily treated if caught early enough, and it's only by God's Grace that
I'm not writing this from a hospital bed while recovering from surgery... 

it's been a great ride and I do want to thank you all for coming along -
and heck, it can only get better!!! 

;-)