From: XScout - <xscout@hotmail.com>
Date: 11 Jan 1999 18:39:13 -0800
Subject: Graces Series I

Title: Grace Series I: Fallen From Grace
Author: XScout
Rating: R
Classification: TA
Spoilers: None
Keywords: None
Summary: Tracking a serial killer may be Mulder and Scully's downfall 
when the suspect has inside information.

Disclaimer: Don't even ask. Why bother? No, they're not mine. They're 
CC's, 10-13, and Fox's. Only the sick freak
killer is mine, but since I borrowed Mulder and Scully, I'll let CC 
borrow my guy.

Author's Note: This is a prequel to 'Amazing Grace' which was a *very* 
short angst piece I came up with one day. So
if you read that first, great. If not, then read it after this so you 
know what'll happen. There'll be a third story in the
series to recount the events *after* 'Amazing Grace'. Thanks to everyone 
for suggesting this and I hope you enjoy it.
Feedback is an instrument of communication that should NOT be neglected. 
XScout@hotmail.com

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

Fallen From Grace

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

Prescott's Inn
Friday
12:33 a.m.

He studied the plate in front of him with trepidation. The steak was 
thick and juicy, the edges blackened just the way
he liked, the sauce was his favorite. If only the smell didn't make him 
gag. He picked up the knife and fork with
trembling hands, biting his lower lip as he cut into the meat.

Blood. It was suddenly everywhere, welling out from the cut in the 
steak, gleaming bright on the utensils, slick on his
hands. The blackened meat undulated and quivered before his eyes turning 
a creamy peach shade, the color of skin.
He gripped  the knife in his hand, watching the glistening blood drip 
down across the wooden handle and onto his
fingers. He dropped the utensil hastily and pushed away from the table, 
springing from his seat with such force that
the chair toppled backwards onto the floor.

Scully's head snapped up at the noise, watching with fear and concern as 
her partner sprinted for the bathroom, not
bothering to close the door behind him. The sounds of retching were 
amplified by the silence of the room. She closed
her eyes and took a deep breath before retreating herself from the 
table, walking quickly across the room to where he
had so abruptly departed.

He was leaning over the toilet, his shoulders quaking as he dry heaved 
uselessly. She knelt down beside him and
placed a small hand at the nape of his neck, offering comfort. The 
quaking finally stopped and he bent forward,
placing his cheek against the cool porcelain. She moved her hand down to 
rub his back. "Mulder?"

He opened his eyes to blearily gaze at her. "Sorry." he whispered.

Scully shook her head. "No, I'm sorry. I knew you were having trouble, I 
shouldn't have forced you to eat."

He sighed dejectedly and blinked slowly. "You were only trying to help."

She smiled sadly. "Yes, I was. Do you think you can stand?"

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. She lifted his left arm up and 
draped it over her shoulders, her right arm
going around his waist. Together they managed to get him upright and 
they staggered over to the bed where he
collapsed in a sprawl.

"You should get some sleep."

He snorted. "I don't have time for rest."

"*Yes* you do. You've written the profile and suggested several possible 
leads. All that needs to be done is narrow
down the list of suspects, and Gillis' team is perfectly capable of 
dealing with that. So you can just forget about
working."

He jutted out his lower lip petulantly, looking like he was  about to 
argue. But before he opened his mouth he
realized that she was right and instead only nodded. He tried to summon 
the strength to undress but he didn't have the
energy to move. Scully understood immediately and moved to help. She 
pulled off his shoes, his pants following in
quick order. Next she unbuttoned his dress shirt and gently pulled it 
off.

Not bothering to make him get under the covers she went through the open 
door connecting their rooms and
retrieved the blankets from her bed. Carrying them back, she was amused 
to find that he was already asleep, his
breath coming slow and deep. She draped the blankets over her partner's 
form, making sure that he was warm
enough. Brushing a few stray locks from his forehead,  she whispered, 
"Sweet dreams Mulder."

She glanced at her watch. It was well past midnight but she didn't think 
she could sleep. So instead, she cleared the
remains of their dinner, placing the uneaten food back on the cart that 
room service had provided. Going back to her
own room she brought back her laptop and autopsy notes. She didn't want 
to leave Mulder alone, in case he woke up
and needed her. And she knew he eventually would.

Plagued by horrifying nightmares, he would wake screaming, terrified and 
confused, not knowing where he was but
certain that he was alone. She had seen it more often than she liked to 
admit. Because cases like this came along too
often.

It had started five days ago when they were called out of their office 
and flown down to a small town in Kansas,
called Plainville. Living up to it's name in both culture and 
population, it was the last place one would suspect a serial
killer lurked. The agents from the Kansas City office had requested a 
profiler, asking for Mulder by name. Apparently
the ASAC, James Gillis, had worked with Mulder before, back when he was 
in the VCS.

Mulder had agreed, owing Gillis a favor for a past deed. So they came, 
and for once were greeted with open
enthusiasm instead of hostility. A few of the other agents grumbled and 
one or two actually complained out loud
about 'Spooky' being called in, but they were in the minority. Before 
long even those complaints were silenced as
Mulder's theories proved right again and again. His uncanny ability to 
understand the killer's motives was drawing
them closer to the suspect, bringing this case closer to being resolved.

And it needed to be solved soon. The community of Plainville were 
outraged at the seeming inactivity of the Bureau,
claiming that they weren't working hard enough to catch the UNSUB. 
Public outcry can be a powerful motivator but
the agents had already been doing everything humanly possible to solve 
this. Seven men slaughtered over a period of
a month, the last one after Mulder and Scully had been brought onto the 
case a week ago. They were strangled with a
length of jute and then their bodies mutilated horribly. Eyes and tongue 
removed, a large knife used to cut open the
abdomen from neck to navel. The press had morbidly proclaimed the killer 
'The Wrangler' in tribute to his use of rope
to strangle the victims.

Leaving no evidence, nothing but the condition of the victims' bodies as 
a clue, it was easy to see why it was so hard
trying to catch this guy. But this was apparently enough for Mulder, 
enough so that he could write an intimate profile
describing everything about the UNSUB, down to the type of car he drove. 
Though she still didn't understand how he
was able to extract this kind of information from the amount of evidence 
in hand, she never questioned his accuracy.
It was his gift. It was his curse.

She had done all she could to make sure Mulder didn't delve too deep 
into the abyss of the killer's mind, but she also
had other responsibilities. Namely performing the autopsy on the last 
victim and reviewing the results of the first six.
Her findings, coupled with the profile Mulder had finished early this 
morning had Gillis' team frantically searching
through list of names, shortening it as suspects were eliminated.

Now, seven days after their arrival, they were allowed a respite. She 
had taken the opportunity to try and get Mulder
to eat something, as he had scarcely any nourishment the last few days. 
She should have known better. Even if there
was the slightest chance that he did have an appetite, she should have 
chosen something easy, like soup or a salad.
Anything but meat. Cooked flesh was-

Her train of thought was interrupted by a groan from the direction of 
the bed. She turned her attention to the man
occupying that bed. His features were drawn and pale, his forehead 
beaded with perspiration, his body twitching
slightly in response to an unpleasant dream. It was a sharp contrast to 
his appearance when she had on occasion seen
him in slumber. Usually his face was relaxed, no longer reflecting the 
sadness that pervaded his life. Thick brown hair
tousled slightly, his long lashes resting on high cheekbones. He looked 
like an angel.

But now he looked like an angel in torment, an angel fallen from grace. 
Cast down into the hellish realities of death
and destruction that swirled from the mind of a murderer. How often she 
wished she could give him his wings back.

***********
Friday
7:56 a.m.

A soft knock preceded his entrance into the room. "You almost ready 
Scully?"

She stuck her head out of the bathroom, toothbrush protruding from her 
mouth. "Jush a mi-it" she said through the
foam, disappearing back into the small room.

Mulder wandered over to sit on the edge of her bed. "No hurry, the 
briefing isn't until eight-thirty." He ran a hand
through his hair, still damp from his shower. After returning from his 
run he had been surprised to find that his partner
was still asleep, the blankets pulled up to her chin.

Though not as surprised as he was to wake up in bed with her. But then 
he had remembered her slipping in to
comfort him after he woke from another nightmare. Feeling guilty for 
depriving her of much needed rest, he had let
her sleep a while longer.

Scully, for her part, had been slightly annoyed that she now had to rush 
to get ready, but was grateful for the extra
rest and so had done nothing more than give him a pained expression 
before scurrying into her room to shower. He
might be able to get by on four hours of sleep, but she could not. He 
had woken up just before three a.m., sobbing
and disoriented. She had climbed into the bed with him, desperate to 
remind him that he wasn't alone. Cradling him in
her arms she had rocked back and forth until he drifted off into a 
dreamless sleep. Unable to move, lulled by his warm
body and rhythmic breathing, she had soon followed.

Appraising herself in the mirror one last time before switching off the 
light, she was gratified to find that the smudges
under her eyes were barely perceptible. "Think we have time for a quick 
breakfast?" she asked, joining Mulder.

He blanched and she sighed quietly. It was worth a try. "Never mind."

He smiled apologetically, opening the door for her. "Maybe we'll be able 
to grab brunch later."

She glanced up at him, delighted that he was at least making an effort. 
Laying her hand on his arm she squeezed
gently. He grinned softly, letting her know that he was going to be 
fine, he just needed a little time. She dropped her
hand and they turned as one, heading down the hallway together.

************
9769 Cambury Drive
1:17 p.m.

"Well, this is the last one. I can't tell if anyone is home. If this 
doesn't pan out you want to get a bite to eat? We
missed that brunch."

"Sure. I hope the others are having more luck than we are." Scully shook 
her head dejectedly. The number of
suspects had been reduced to 23 possibles, a far cry from half the 
population of the town. Dividing the list up among
the agents assigned to the case, Gillis instructed them to interview the 
people  on their respective lists, bringing in
anyone who remotely matched the description of the UNSUB. Due to the 
absence of one of the team members,
Mulder and Scully had been given an extra two people to question. After 
talking with the first four men on their list
and dismissing them as possible suspects, the two had now reached the 
home of the last man.

They walked up the unkempt path of the untended yard, Mulder's hand 
resting lightly on the small of Scully's back.
They stepped up to the door, the rickety porch groaning in protest under 
their weight. Scully fingered the wires
poking out from the location of the doorbell, her eyebrow raised.

"Think one girl scout too many came knocking at his door?" Mulder 
quipped.

"Maybe he doesn't like cookies." she returned. She rapped her knuckles 
on the hard wood of the entrance, listening
intently for any movement on the other side.

Scully jerked back when the door was pulled open violently, revealing a 
large figure, his face set in a scowl.
"Raymond Dolby?" Mulder asked.

"Yeah?" His voice was gruff, matching his tattered appearance. Dressed 
in faded jeans, complete with several holes,
and a stained white T-shirt topped with a red flannel, he was the 
portrait of an unemployed construction worker.

"I'm Agent Mulder and this is Agent Scully, we're from the Federal 
Bureau of Investigation. We'd like to ask you a
few questions sir."

Dolby's eyes widened as Mulder introduced them, then narrowed at the 
mention of questions. "Sure. C'mon in." He
held the door open and let them pass. Shutting it and locking the 
dead-bolt he led them to the living room, gesturing
to a pair of old armchairs. "Have a seat."

Scully nodded, accepting the offer. Mulder preferred to stand, using his 
height advantage to put the other man on
edge. He had a feeling about Ray Dolby. Dolby ignored Mulder's refusal 
to sit and lowered himself into the other
chair, next to Scully. 

"So, what do you want to know?"

Scully caught Mulder's eye, telling her that she should start. "Where 
were you four days ago?"

"What, all day?" Dolby smirked haughtily.

"In the evening. Around eleven o'clock." she prompted.

"I was out with a couple of my buddies, playing pool at The Black Wolf. 
We go there every Monday." he answered
easily.

"Can we have their names and the name of the bartender?" Scully withdrew 
a notepad and pen from her coat pocket.

"Sure, Bill Patchet and Randy Wade. The bartender's Tony but I don't 
know his last name."

"Did you go anywhere after the bar?"

"Yeah. I met up with Trish and we went down to the river to... well, to 
spend time together if you know what I
mean." He leered at Scully.

Mulder tensed, angered by the tone that Dolby was using to address his 
partner. It was almost obscene. Then
something niggled it's way through the anger and nudged his mind. "Mr. 
Dolby, you mentioned Trish, is she your
girlfriend?"

He nodded. "Been seeing her for 'bout three weeks now. Sweet little 
thing, can cook like you wouldn't believe."

"Do you have a picture of her?" Scully glanced sharply at Mulder, 
confused as to why he would want to know what
Dolby's significant other looked like.

"Uh-huh, right here." Dolby reached over to the small table between his 
and Scully's chairs, pulling open a drawer.
Before either agent had a chance to react, he pulled a gun out of the 
drawer, his left hand grabbing Scully by the arm
and wrenching her over to him.

Mulder's weapon was out an instant later and he silently berated himself 
for allowing such a slip of his defenses. His
breath caught in his throat as Scully was pressed up against the larger 
man, her body shielding him. Dolby put his gun
up to her temple, pushing so hard that the skin around the muzzle turned 
white. A colt knot formed in Mulder's
stomach and he had to fight away the panic, taking deep breaths.

"If you don't want to see her brains decorating my upholstery I suggest 
you put it down." Dolby ordered.

Never hesitating, Mulder slowly crouched to the floor, placing his gun 
on the thick carpet. He ignored Scully's eyes,
pleading with him not to. But how could he not, with her life at stake?

"Kick it over."

He complied. Dolby reached out with his own foot and caught the 
careening weapon under his toe. Then he kicked
the gun under the couch on his right, effectively eliminating it from 
being easily acquired. He kept one arm around
Scully's neck and pushed her forward a bit, bringing them an inch closer 
to Mulder.

He reveled in the rage he saw reflected in the agent's eyes. "Clever of 
you to pick up on that Agent Mulder. Trish
would appreciate the irony. Sadly, she will never have the opportunity. 
But be comforted by the fact that I gave her
the best night of her life before I killed her. Threw her in the river 
that she loved so much."

"That was a mistake Dolby. You killed a federal officer, they'll never 
give up trying to find you now." Mulder held his
hands out in front of him in a non-threatening manner.

Scully's eyes widened as she suddenly realized the meaning of what the 
two men were talking about. Trish. Agent
Patricia Cornwall, the absent member of the team. Jesus Christ.

Dolby heard Scully's tiny gasp. "Yeah, I decided I needed an insider to 
tell me how the investigation was progressing
so I started seeing her about a week after my first...stunt. It's 
pathetic how easy it was, a few compliments, some
empty promises, and she was mine. Young and impressionable, that's the 
way I like them. She was one of those
women who liked to talk after sex. And boy, did she talk." He chuckled 
in remembrance. "All about her job and this
terrible case she was working on. How they weren't getting anywhere, how 
smart the killer was.

"Then she came home one night, all excited. Said that they finally had 
some leads. All because of some new agents
from Washington. I figured I was still safe, I never left any evidence 
and you two hotshots would end up like the rest.
Helpless and hopeless." His grin disappeared. "But last night she told 
me they were close. Told me about how an
Agent Mulder wrote a profile describing the killer, his motives and his 
lifestyle. I even convinced her to read her copy
of the profile to me, the trusting fool." He gripped the gun more 
tightly, causing Scully to flinch as the muzzle dug
into her temple.

Mulder's hands returned to his sides, balling into fists. He would kill 
this man with his bare hands if Scully was
harmed in any way. Seeing her there, stoically enduring this madman's 
touch, gave him the strength he needed to not
give in to his anger. If he acted without thinking he could endanger 
Scully, and there was no possible way he would
allow that. So he stood firm, taking in Dolby's ranting, waiting for any 
opportunity to disarm him.

Dolby's voice was growing louder, his words shaking with anger. "You 
stole my thoughts! It's as if you could tell
what I was thinking, could read my mind! You invaded me, defiled the 
purity of my beliefs, twisted them into
something evil and then you called me a monster! *You*, in your high and 
mighty wisdom had the audacity to call
*me* a monster? After *you* raped my mind??"

The pressure on the side of her head vanished and Scully watched in 
horror, time slowing down to a crawl, as Dolby's
arm straightened out, the blast from the gun echoing in her ears. She 
felt her heart stop as Mulder fell backwards, red
blossoming from his chest. "No!!" she screamed, tearing herself from 
Dolby's grasp and rushing over to her partner's
motionless form.

Dolby remained where he was, arm still outstretched. "Is he dead?" Not 
that it mattered, he just needed to know in
order to make his next decision.

Scully moved a trembling hand to Mulder's neck, praying that she would 
feel the pulsing of his blood beneath her
fingers. She held her breath, afraid if she made any noise that her 
prayer would lose strength. There! Faint and rapid,
but it was there. "He's alive." she murmured in relief.

Dolby heard her and licked his lips, a new plan forming in his mind. 
"Then you're going to move him. I want to put
you two in a safe place until your friends have come and gone."

"But moving him might kill him!" Scully protested.

"I don't have any qualms with *you*, but if you don't obey me I could 
rethink that. Now do it!" Dolby motioned with
his gun, reminding her who was in charge.

She swallowed and moved around to Mulder's head, lifting him up and 
wrapping her arms around his torso from
behind. Dolby was waving her in the direction of the back of the house 
and she followed grimly, struggling to pull her
partner's heavy bulk along the floor. Ten minutes later she was gasping 
for  breath, sweat trickling down her face, but
they were finally outside. Dolby walked over to a pair of doors laying 
at an angle in a mound of dirt. A tornado
shelter.

He threw open the doors and nodded to Scully. "Leave him there and get 
in."

She was about to argue when she remembered his threat. She had no doubt 
that he wasn't bluffing. Gently lowering
Mulder to the ground, she moved over to the dark opening of the shelter 
and flashed Dolby a look of pure hatred
before descending into the blackness. At the bottom of the steps she 
turned around and waited anxiously as Dolby
dragged Mulder to the entrance, throwing him down with one gigantic 
heave.

Mulder's boneless body slid down the stairs and Dolby slammed the doors 
shut, plunging them into darkness. Scully
heard something metal being slid through the handles as she bent down to 
feel for Mulder. Finding him, she ran her
hands over his body, trying to assess whether his trip down the steps 
had injured him any more. But the darkness kept
her from a more thorough exam so she just hoped that nothing had been 
damaged and tucked her arms under his
shoulders. She pulled him over to the nearest wall, sitting with her 
back against it and his back against her.

They sat like that for what seemed like hours and in reality was mere 
minutes, Scully taking comfort in the feeling of
Mulder's chest moving up and down, pressing against her slightly. He 
moaned softly and shifted a bit. "Mulder?"

"Where...are we?" he sasked, his voice ragged.

"Tornado shelter in Dolby's backyard."

"You okay?"

Leave it to Mulder to be worried about her well-being when it was he who 
was injured. "I'm fine."

"I'm sorry...about this." Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the 
darkness and she could see him twisting his shirt
between his hands in a guilty gesture.

"It's not your fault Mulder, how could you have known?" she said, her 
voice tinged with regret that *she* hadn't
known.

"Wonder how long...it will take...Gillis to notice we're missing." He 
tried to get more comfortable but the movement
sent pain lancing down his arms and across his chest. He gasped, 
freezing immediately and waiting for the pain to
abate.

Scully hugged him closer. "I don't know. Try not to move, save your 
strength."

She could feel him nod. Listening to his labored breathing she again 
prayed, that Gillis would notice their absence
immediately and that he would find them soon. If not, there was the real 
possibility that her partner would die in her
arms. And so she asked, no, pleaded with God to leave His fallen angel 
on earth a while longer.

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

Continued In 'Amazing Grace'