Insomniac
By San aka Humbuggie
 
Story:  A case brings Mulder and Scully on the trail of a serial killer, out 
there looking for his next victim. When both FBI and the killer are looking for 
the same woman, a race against time begins to find her and bring her to safety. 
At the same time, Mulder suffers one of the worst fates possible: Insomnia.
 
Note: In previous stories ('The Game', 'Sins of our children' and recently 'The 
Darkness and The Light') I have introduced the character of Terence Davis, 
Mulder's former boss at the VCS. There are several references to my previous 
story 'The Darkness and The Light', but it's not necessary to read that story if 
you don't want to. This isn't a follow-up, but the story takes place a few weeks 
after 'The Darkness and The Light'.J
 
Type: MTA with lots and lots of UST
Rated R for some explicit word-use and graphic scenes
 
Spoilers: Several general spoilers for 'Paper Hearts', the Samantha-abduction, 
but nothing in particular. The story takes place during the season seven 
timeline, situated after 'Je Souhaite'. In my X-Files-Universe season eight and 
'Requiem' have never taken place.
 
A special thanks to Mairad, for giving me permission to use her name in this 
story. (That name actually gave me the basic idea for this story), so please 
accept my gratitude!
 Mairad, as promised, you're one of the good guys J 
 
All lyrics that appear in this story, come from Faithless' 'Insomnia'.  
 
 
I need to get some sleep
I can't get no sleep
 
 
Before that day 
 
So he wanted her. It was written in his books. She had been on his mind from the 
very first day he saw her, when she strolled through the streets with the spring 
sunlight falling on her face. She had settled into his mind and would stay there 
until she died. 
 
He had experienced this feeling so many times before and had always given in to 
his urges. It was in his nature to do so. He was born to be a killer, just like 
his brother had been. For years he had denied himself this pleasure, but now 
that he was given the opportunity to act towards it, he did. 
 
So he watched her as she left her office that Friday evening and took a cab to 
Lane Street downtown, where she lived in a small yet spacious house that she had 
bought after her divorce with her husband's settlement. She was only twenty-six 
when she got that divorce, and now she pretended to be eighteen again. She was 
so determined to forget that faltered marriage, that she could actually convince 
herself she was young, vivid and very eligible. 
 
He had been in her house several times. He had wandered in, feeling the soft 
fabrics of her couch and carefully selected chairs that went perfect with the 
expensive marble table. He had been standing outside as well, watching her 
several times while she worked out on her home trainer in the study. He had 
looked at her while she watched TV at night, staring at her from behind the 
blinds that were supposed to hide her from the outside world. She never bothered 
to completely close them, believing that no one would dare to come this close to 
her. After all, she thought she had the world in her pocket.
 
She liked comedies and the so-called quality TV-shows. She was a sucker for ER 
and hated all the other hospital clones. She knew all the medical terms inside 
and out and spoke out loud when she disagreed. She liked The Practice and had a 
weak spot for tall men with dark hair. Those were her kind of heroes. She 
dreamed of having a man like Dylan McDermott in her bed and life.
 
Instead, she had him in her life, even though she didn't know it yet. She didn't 
like him. That much he knew. She had told him so two weeks ago when he asked to 
go out with her on a date. She had laughed in his face and told him he was too 
chubby, too short and too poor to her liking. She liked men with money. They 
paid for what she couldn't afford with her office salary. They made sure she 
didn't have to work too hard. Why be manager when you could earn more fucking a 
man on occasion? 
 
That's the trap her ex-husband had fallen into. He still paid dearly for his 
mistake. He had thought that the age difference didn't matter. He was wrong. She 
had plucked him until there was nothing left, claiming to be mentally abused. 
She was a good actress.
 
The home trainer she had gotten from her last lover. She had done him in three 
times a week, every night after his work, while his wife thought he was doing 
overtime. Afterwards he went home to her and his kids and didn't feel like 
having sex anymore. When he told her he had enough, she told him she wanted that 
home trainer. And she always got what she wanted. 
 
The world would be happy if she died. She was a bitch.
 
When he had done his first kill, he had figured out a plan that got him off the 
hook every time. He would use the same plan now. He knew she would fall into the 
trap. They always did that. She would walk into his hands and never see the 
daylight again.
 
The fun part was that he would take her in broad daylight, with hundreds - 
thousands of people around them. The fun part was that no one ever knew she was 
dying while they were enjoying themselves. He got a kick of hearing their 
excited voices outside his carefully selected shelter. And it was more fun to 
hear her beg and scream, while not a single soul could hear her.
 
He would keep her for three nights. Then he would kill her and get rid of her 
body like he did the others. He would hear about the murders in the papers and 
on television. And the world would wonder who this new serial killer on the 
loose was. 
 
After he would dump her body, he would be out there again, looking for his next 
victim. He had the new one's address and telephone number in his pocket. He had 
spotted her by chance, just like all the others. And she would step into his 
trap with her eyes open, just like they all had done.
 
And finally, he would kill her too with all the pleasures of the world.
 
 
Part One
 
I only smoke weed when I need to,
 and I need to get some rest, I confess.
I burned a hole in the mattress, yes yes.
It was me, I plead guilty.
 
 
Morning bliss 
 
The morning came as bliss after a night of sleeplessness. Mulder sighed when he 
turned off the alarm, slid out of bed and opened the curtains to let the 
sunlight in. Usually the waterbed got him to sleep quite comfortably but this 
night it had seemed as if every second lasted an hour. 
 
Finally he had slipped out of bed and gave the couch to try and get some sleep. 
As if the devil himself was involved, sleep simply wouldn't come. Finally, after 
watching "Planet of the Apes" for the twentieth time or so, he managed to take a 
nap. By that time it was five in the morning. 
 
But sleep wouldn't come easily. He was haunted by several weird dreams. In one 
of them he heard the constant sound of a moving freight train. In another one he 
was in his father's backyard and watched a concert of "The Barenaked Ladies" 
with thousands of screaming and shouting men and women around him. 
 
In yet another one, Faithless came on stage and he stood centred, watching them 
as Maxi Jazz got the crowd to move. When he looked aside, Scully stood next to 
him and said something he couldn't hear. Her lips moved but no sound came out. 
He couldn't hear her for the love of god. 
 
He woke up finally around five thirty, bathing in sweat after merely half an 
hour of sleep. He was awake and alert, angry with himself for eating that last 
slice of pizza last night. That must have been the reason for his lack of sleep 
now. His stomach was too upset and kept on reminding him that he had been a bad 
boy. Needles to say it were not one of his best nights. 
 
Just out of the shower, the doorbell went. Scully was too early to pick him up 
but she wouldn't mind the wait. He remembered vaguely something about a short 
meeting with Terence Davis this morning at Skinner's request. He had been 
surprised by Skinner's late call last night, asking to meet with Davis in his 
office first thing in the morning. 
 
He had wondered why Davis had wanted to see the both of them. After what 
happened in New York and Mulder's recovery, Davis had decided to give Mulder a 
break. A few years ago Mulder had helped Davis out on several cases as well, 
returning on occasion to the VCS. 
 
A few weeks ago Davis had taken Mulder out to lunch, discussing the possibility 
of returning to the VCS on a part-time basis. They were short of profilers. 
Mulder had actually considered it, but when Skinner found out, he had friendly 
yet forcefully requested his pal Davis not to do this. Mulder never knew what 
the two discussed, but he knew that both Directors were worried about him. It 
was true that he always got in too deep, but that was exactly what a profiler 
had to do. When someone's life depended on it, to Mulder it didn't matter what 
happened. 
 
After that talk between the two Directors, Terence had kept his promise to 
Skinner and backed away. Despite the fact they lost a profiler just recently, 
Terry had kept his promise.
 
Until, apparently, last night. And Skinner had gone along. That could only mean 
there was something serious going on, and they wanted him in on the journey. He 
was glad with the change of pace. Truthfully, after New York, Mulder had 
seriously considered going back to the VCS on his own terms. Right after he 
found out the truth about Samantha, he had believed that The X-Files had served 
its purpose and that he could move on. In truth, he knew he couldn't. He had 
been angry at Scully when she believably convinced him she had quit The X-Files. 
Then how could he even consider the same thing? 
 
He simply couldn't bear not working with his partner anymore. It was an 
unthinkable thought. If it ever happened to turn out that way, he would quit the 
Bureau immediately and take her with him. Somehow - how selfish as it might seem 
- he would persuade her to join his quest. 
 
Right now, Davis needed a hand however, and he was planning to give it to him, 
even though he didn't seem physically fit right now to do so. 
 
'You look like hell,' Scully remarked when he opened the door.
'Good morning to you too,' Mulder mumbled, drying his hair with a towel that was 
supposed to look white but had ended up in a machine with blacks. 'Take a seat, 
I'll be right there.'
 
Mulder could feel his partner's eyes pierce in his back when he returned to the 
bedroom and left the door half open so he could talk to her. He saw her glance, 
and smiled as he got changed out of her sight. He knew she had seen him naked 
many times before, but that usually happened when he was lying butt naked in 
some hospital with her hovering over him. Right now, that was as far as he 
wanted to go.
 
'Why does Davis want to talk to us?' Scully asked as she sat down on the leather 
couch, and glared at the rest of Mulder's living room. The place looked a mess. 
A blanket lay beside her. The couch still felt warm. Mulder had obviously slept 
here, but she wasn't going to ask him about it until he offered to explain. She 
knew he hated it when she hovered over him like a mother hen.
 
'Beats me,' Mulder said from the bedroom. 'I'm sure he's got a case for us.'
'An X-File?'
 
'Not likely. Davis only believes in down-to-earth serial killer-cases. He's good 
at what he does, so I'm sure he's not going to change his MO right now. It's 
probably a serial killer-case or something. I know he loves to put me through 
the wringer.'
 
'And get you emotionally fucked up again?' 
 
Curiously Mulder glared at her from behind the door and smiled. 'My, my, Agent 
Scully, what forceful language.' 
 
'I'm sorry, Mulder,' she said, not smiling back, 'I don't like the Davis-cases 
and you know it. You always end up in trouble. This is not good for you and you 
know it.'
 
'I'm a big boy, Scully. I can take care of myself.'
 
'That's just it,' she sighed. 'When you're working on a case like that, you 
forget everything. Sometimes you're so mixed up in them, that you just ignore 
the rest of your life. I don't want that - not this time. So you better get used 
to the fact that I will be hovering over you until we catch whoever it is we're 
catching.'
 
Mulder returned to the living room, dressed in a business-suit with his hair 
still sticking in all directions. He looks adorable, Agent Scully thought, not 
even trying to ignore the feelings inside of her any longer. 
 
He could have been any woman's dream hadn't he been working full-time on cases 
that other people just laughed at and she worked with him every day. She had 
this incredible urge inside of her to protect him at all cost, knowing what 
happened to him during previous cases. She remembered the kiss they had shared 
after New York. She remembered the long talk after that. They had fallen asleep 
together on this very couch. But they both knew they wouldn't go beyond that 
step. 
 
She sighed. They were so different yet she wanted so much to be with him. She 
found him interesting even though she loved to go against all that he believed 
in. She knew he expected that from her. Why couldn't she just keep this 
partner-wise and forget all about the fact they both were in need of  something 
more than friendship? It would make things so easier.
 
It just didn't become any simpler, with everything they had been through. All 
that they had done and seen had lead them to a life where they needed each other 
more than anyone or anything else in the world. They were like drugs to one 
another. Without the daily fix, there was nothing left. 
 
'Planet of the Apes calling Agent Scully,' Mulder grinned, waving his hand 
before his partner's eyes. 
Scully looked up shocked, trying to figure out where in the world she had been 
with her thoughts. Then she smiled, despite her worries, and got up so that she 
could face her partner. 
 
Carelessly the male agent stuffed his badge and wallet in his jacket pockets, 
strapped his gun and ruffled through his hair. 'Ready to go,' he said, saluting 
her as if he was a soldier.
 
She laughed, looking at the funny faces he pulled on her. 'Your hair is sticking 
out, Soldier Mulder.' 
'Oh yeah -' Mulder grabbed a comb from the coffee table and went quickly through 
his hair, ignoring the stubbles on his chin. He had obviously not been awake 
when he shaved. He had a day-old beard. Perhaps he hadn't even shaven at all. He 
couldn't actually remember.
 
'You okay Mulder?' his partner asked worried, standing next to him as he stared 
at his familiar face in the mirror, rubbing his chin as if he was seeing someone 
else. 
He turned towards her. 'I've been dreaming about trains and rock concerts 
whenever I fell asleep last night. Can you believe that? Hell, I even sang and 
danced along.' 
 
'What band?' she asked, biting her lip in order not to laugh. 
'Barenaked Ladies first, then Faithless.' 
'Then it couldn't have been a bad dream. Come on, partner, we're late as it is.' 

 
Mulder sighed, closing the door behind him as they left and walked beside his 
partner to the elevator. He felt a bit light-headed like he always did when the 
night had been too short. 
 
If he had known his problems were just beginning to see the light of day, he 
wouldn't have gone to see Davis.
 
 
Seeing Davis
 
Seeing Terence Davis again, was like seeing an old friend. The Director didn't 
seem to age one little bit. Even though they had first met over ten years ago, 
the man still seemed to be exactly the same person. Mulder remembered they first 
reunion a couple of years ago. Davis had been out to test and tempt him. Now 
they were on the best terms possible.
 
'Mulder,' Davis said, shaking the agent's hand, 'it's good to see that you're 
doing well.'
 
'As always, sir,' Mulder responded, nodding towards Skinner who was in the 
office as well. That surprised both Mulder and Scully. This really must have 
been something serious for both Directors to be there. 
 
'Take a seat,' Davis said, pointing at the chairs before his desk. He had shut 
the door of his spacious office and offered them coffee. As they sat, Davis 
looked serious and folded his hands under his chin as if he was thinking. It was 
a gesture that Mulder had gotten so used to fear in the past, when Davis was 
still his Director and bossing him around. 
 
'I can't even say that it's been a long time, Mulder,' Davis said, sipping his 
warm coffee and adjusting his glasses. 'But I can't consider New York a case you 
worked on under my jurisdiction. Of course I'm very happy that it got resolved, 
thanks to you and Agent Scully.' 
 
The AD stopped and glanced at Skinner. 'You know that I contacted you a few 
weeks ago about a possible co-operation between our two divisions. I was serious 
about my offer, realizing afterwards though that it wouldn't be realistic to 
assume we could work things through. You cannot possibly divide your time 
between two departments and expect the both of them to run perfectly.' 
 
Davis took his time, emptying his coffee before he came to the point. 'But I had 
an agreement with Walter that I wasn't going to bother you again unless it was 
an emergency. Walter knows that we are short of profilers and after the loss of 
Agent Jones I unfortunately was forced to seek a new profiler on short-term 
basis. Agent Grayson wrote the initial report, by the way. She's an ex-cop and 
was recruited about four years ago. I asked her to join our team because I feel 
she's an excellent asset. You know that it takes a lot of time to work your way 
in, Mulder, so I cannot ask my new Agent to take the lead on this case for me. 
Therefore I called in a favour on Walter and asked him to allow your 
participation.'
 
Mulder looked at Skinner who looked at Davis. He realized both AD's were 
concerned. It was true that in the past he had done a few cases that nearly got 
him killed, but every single case they investigated brought him in danger. He 
lived with it. Every field agent did.
 
Now, all of that seemed to be forgotten as Davis took a file from a drawer and 
placed it on the table, tapping his hand on it. 'I want to ask you, Mulder, if 
you're up to this. I know that New York shook you up. You saw the psychologist a 
few times. Walter tells me you're back at your old games, but I want to hear it 
from you.' 
 
Mulder swallowed away the dryness in his throat and the sudden knot in his 
stomach as he stared at the file beneath Davis' hand. In truth, he had not 
discussed his fears with the psych. They had told him he had to go, but he had 
not spoken about his sudden seclusion and worst dreams come true. That, he kept 
to himself. 
 
'I have to be honest,' he finally said, as Scully's image caught the corner of 
his eye and he glanced outside, at the warm sun that seemed to brighten the 
world. 'I haven't - we haven't been able to put it all behind us yet. But I need 
a good, solid case. I'm not afraid of doing cases like this. I want to go back 
in the game, sir.' 
 
Davis smiled as he glanced at Skinner who didn't seem too happy with this answer 
but didn't respond or give input. In fact, looking objectively at it, adding 
profiler cases to his list, was a perfect way to strengthen the agent's 
credibility, thus allowing him to defend his work on The X-Files. They all knew 
how to play these political games. 
 
Scully knew she wasn't able to argue about this with her partner. She had seen 
his determination before. She knew now what he felt when they were after serial 
killers. Had she not been on the trail of one herself? This was no different 
than finding out the truth about an X-File. The only thing missing was the 
paranormal tint that seemed to make it more unbelievable when they handed in 
their case files. But wasn't a human being, murdering more human beings just as 
incredible? Why else could someone murder the innocent and claim that he did it 
because he had been "chosen"? 
 
'Scully?' Mulder said as he looked aside and tapped her hand. She blinked her 
eyelids, realizing that once again she had been far gone in her thoughts. Her 
partner looked at her with care and worry and said, 'I'm not doing this without 
you. If you say no, it's no.' 
 
She stared at him shocked. Was he really going to refuse cases on her behalf, 
even though these might be the most satisfying ones? 
 
She looked nervously at the others, waiting for a reply. 'I can't say no,' she 
said, 'even if I wanted to. But I don't want to. I know now what it's like. I 
can only support you in what you're doing.' 
 
He smiled at her, taking in her approval. That was so important to him - more 
than anything in the world. She knew and smiled back, albeit nervous. 
 
'I have taken the liberty of freeing your time for this case, Agents,' Skinner 
said. 'Officially you are working under my jurisdiction. Unofficially, you will 
work in unison with AD Davis. We're doing this because rumours have it that 
Kersh is up for Deputy Director. You know what it's like.' 
 
'That's right,' Terence agreed, finally opening the file that he shoved towards 
the agents.  
 
Several photos and newspaper clippings were spread out on the table. They had 
already heard of this case. It had been all over the news. 'They call him 'The 
Concert-Killer',' Davis said, tapping his right index finger on an LA-Times 
article. 'Several police units from different states and cities have been 
working together to nail this guy, but he's smart, clever and fast.' 
 
'I read about him,' Mulder said hesitant as he glanced at the autopsy report and 
pictures that he gave to Scully. 'Several women disappeared without a trace 
during rock concerts and were found three days later with their throat slit. No 
one knows how he does it.'
 
'That's right,' Davis said. 'The FBI has been keeping a low profile in this case 
for several reasons. Main reason is that the daughter of Police Chief Brandon 
with the Chicago PD was one of the casualties. It became a police prestige case 
after that. We're six weeks and six murders later. Our killer selects one victim 
per week. With the festival- and concert summer ahead of us, we fear that he 
might be upgrading soon.' 
 
'What kind of concerts does he select, sir?'
 
'Several different ones. There's no link between the bands or the arenas they 
perform at. He always picks out large stadiums that hold up to 20,000 people. 
That seems to be our only reference. We've sharpened security at every concert, 
but we can't keep that up. I had a meeting with Brandon yesterday and promised 
him to put my best profiler on it. I thought of you.' 
 
'How did they disappear?' Mulder asked, ignoring the side compliment. 
 
'All victims got separated from the groups of people they were with. No one saw 
them leave the arena. In fact, in most cases a person that leaves the arena is 
not allowed back in. There's usually such a large crowd there, that security 
becomes tight once the concert starts.' 
 
'And all victims vanished from within the arenas?' Scully asked.
 
'Yes. Chief Brandon believes that someone from the inside working at those 
concerts, is responsible for their disappearances. The only problem is that 
there are so many people walking around there, that it could be anyone. It could 
have been one of the concertgoers as well. But we can't trace anyone. A lot of 
the tickets are purchased anonymous, at the spot. Only for high-profiled 
concerts most tickets are bought upfront. Brandon actually had someone going 
through the list to track down criminal records but that only led to dead ends.'
 
Scully gave the autopsy photos to Mulder. They were taken from up close and 
clearly showed that the cause of death was strangulation with a piano wire. 
According to the report there was never sexual assault. The victims seemed to be 
in perfectly good shape until the moment they were murdered. 
 
They were all found within hours after their death, usually dumped in an alley 
in the same city they had been taken. 
 
'All we can do right now,' Mulder said, 'is profile our John Doe and see what 
ticks him off. It's obviously a man that loves to take risks. He toys with his 
victims and us. He doesn't kill them straight away. He likes to keep them for a 
while before he does them in. But he doesn't do it for the sexual thrill of it. 
If he did, he wouldn't leave them alone.'
 
'Go on,' Terence said, looking at Mulder as his brain started to work at full 
speed, putting the pieces together.
 
'I think you were right about our man working at those concerts, but I believe 
he's always there on a temporary basis. Most security guards have fulltime jobs. 
They can't account for missing hours. We're looking for someone here that has 
the flexibility of freedom and uncounted hours. He needs to be with his victims 
during the abduction period. For that, we're looking for someone that knows 
these arenas inside out and has easy access to information.'
 
'Do you think he selects his victims casually?' Skinner asked. 
 
'Not likely. They never do. He has a basic reason for taking these women 
specifically. Looking at this file, I would say at first sight they don't have 
anything in common, except for their features. They couldn't be more Irish or 
British.' 
 
Davis smiled. 'You're absolutely right. I caught the same impression.'
 
'Are you saying he's targeting specifically Irish women?' Scully asked.
 
'Or British,' Mulder said, 'but some of the family lines might go back hundreds 
of years. Don't forget that basically, most of us have English roots. It's not a 
good place to start, but it's something.' 
 
'How's he selecting them then?' Scully asked. 
 
'It's not so difficult these days to look up one's history,' Mulder said. 'The 
moment you've got a name and age, you can go on the Internet and run one of 
those family tree-programs. He might be searching on a specific name or family.' 

 
'We can't guard every woman in the US with English roots,' Davis said. 'We'd be 
putting everyone in small cages and hope nothing happens, so to speak.'
 
'Right now I agree that's too little to go on,' Mulder agreed, 'but there are 
other ways.' He rose up from his seat and took the file, turning as he walked to 
the door. There he stopped as if he remembered something, turned and said 
confused, 'Sorry, can I please be excused?' 
 
Davis nodded with a smile on his face. When Mulder left, he turned to Skinner 
and said, 'Our boy's back.' 
 
'It's your responsibility to see that he pulls it off, Terry,' Skinner said 
hard, glancing at Scully as if he didn't want her to be there. Scully understood 
the message and excused herself, leaving the room as well. 
 
Terry got up from his seat and walked to the window, glancing outside as he 
sighed. Suddenly he seemed to look ten years older even though he had started 
out at the FBI alongside Skinner so many years ago. So many things had happened 
ever since. They had both become AD. But Terence had declined an offer to become 
Deputy Director. For ten years now he had been in charge of the VCS and he 
wasn't about to let his baby go. 
 
'You're tired, Terry,' Skinner said as he leaned on the edge of the desk. 'Isn't 
it about time that you consider that offer? You know it still stands.' 
 
'No.' Terence shook his head. 'There's too much going on out there to quit now. 
I don't want to be pushing papers in a bigger office just yet, Walter. I want to 
be out there, in the field. I want to watch my agents do their job. I've got 
good men out there, and I'm not about to stop helping them now. They need me 
too, you know.'
 
'I know,' Skinner said, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder. 'It always 
works out, Terry.' 
 
'I'm worried,' Terence admitted as he glanced outside. 'When Robert Jones died, 
I thought my world had come to an end. The investigation was so hard, and with 
good reason. I shouldn't have let him handle that case on his own, but I had no 
choice. All my good profilers are working in other cities. Brandt's in New York, 
Jenkins in LA. Here in Washington I have eight people working fulltime for me, 
and it's not enough. It seems that the crime rate has never been higher.' 
 
'No,' Skinner said, 'it's just changed, that's all. Years ago a serial 
killer-case made the news. If a woman disappeared, you could be sure that woman 
was taken by the one creating havoc at the time. Look at Ted Bundy or The Boston 
Strangler. Now someone gets a kick out of destroying human lives for fun and he 
doesn't even make the news. We are becoming oblivious to what is out there.' 
 
'That doesn't make it easier,' Terence said, pointing at passing people on the 
streets below them. 'Anyone of those men or women out there can be our next 
suspect. I grew up with trust and faith until I winded up at the FBI and 
realized everyone could be a killer. We all have that inside of us, even the 
people working for us right now. The reason why Mulder is such a good profiler 
is because he lives in that dark world. He allows himself in. He switches the 
button that gives him access to their world but doesn't always know how to get 
back. That's what worries me. What if one day he doesn't know how to get back?'
 
'Isn't that what you feared more yourself?' Skinner said as he turned and looked 
at the framed awards that decorated Davis' office. 'That one day you won't be 
able to distinguish right from wrong, like Patterson did?' 
 
Davis frowned when hearing that name. Patterson was the school example of an 
exccellent man gone wrong; a fate that could lie ahead for all of them. 
 
'You're right,' Davis said. 'One shouldn't dwell on these things. We cannot 
allow ourselves to think about the abyss. We should move up and about and try to 
forget that every single case leaves behind its casualties.'
 
'If you want to keep sane, that's exactly what you need to do,' Skinner said, 
leaving his friend alone in his comfortable office with something to think 
about.
 
 
The arena
 
He walked around the arena, looking at the huge amount of seats and foot space. 
In a few days all of this would be filled with thousands of people, all coming 
here for the same thing. He closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh air, 
stretching his arms as he did. 
 
'Hey!' a dark male voice shouted behind him, 'you're here to work, not to waste 
time!'
He turned, angry that someone had dared to disturb his most inner thoughts. Then 
he forced a smile and an apology from his lips, and went back to work. He 
couldn't give up his cover now, even though he felt a sudden urge to strangle 
his temp boss with a piano wire.
 
But even while working he dreamed about the next one in his arms that would 
wriggle as they tried to escape his grip. Just like the others she would not be 
able to get away from him and she would be his to play with for three days.
 
He had carelessly bumped into her the day before, muttering an apology as he 
did. She had turned and smiled and then someone said, 'Come on, Mag, let's go.' 
He had stopped and listened to the use of that name. It sounded so soft, so 
gentle, and so beautiful that he wanted to weep. Soon Margaret would be his, and 
then he would forget all about her, just like all the others, and move on to the 
next one. Every new woman in his arms seemed more important than the previous 
one. They all became more and more important to him. 
 
He would never get enough. In fact, the knowledge that summer was up and about 
made him almost giddy. Perhaps he shouldn't be stopping this, ever. He was 
having fun killing. Yeah, he could consider making a career out of it.
 
And so at night, he hid himself in his little shelter, taking out his most 
precious possession. Her golden hair that he kept in the sniff box that his 
mother had given him fifteen years ago. He smelled her hair and recalled her 
taste. And he knew that soon they would see each other again and she would be 
forever his. 
 
He would find her again one day. Soon her golden hair would twist around his 
index finger again, and she would kiss him and tell him she loved him, like she 
had done in his dreams so many times before.
 
 
Agent Grayson
 
Agitated because he wasn't able to take a nap on the flight despite his fatigue, 
Mulder was happy when the plane touched down in Miami where they would be 
awaited.
 
It all had to be arranged fast. Scully called to arrange the tickets and motels 
while Mulder made a quick listing of sights and places he wanted to check. Even 
though they could extract a lot of info on the thorough report made by Agent 
Grayson and the different police departments, there was still a lot of work to 
be done. 
 
Mulder had insisted on flying out to Miami himself. Scully knew he wanted to get 
a feel of the places where the women disappeared, hoping to catch a glimpse of 
the killer. Even though their John Doe was long gone by now, the agent needed an 
impression on his MO. 
 
Before they left, Skinner had walked in on them and told them that all police 
departments gave their full cooperation. Chief Brandon was waiting for them once 
they arrived in Chicago where his own daughter had vanished. It would be a tight 
schedule but a necessary one. They had no idea how long it would take for the 
next victim to disappear. Concert season meant that just about every city pushed 
two to four big gigs a week. 
 
At the exit terminal, a woman clad in business suit walked over to them. She 
seemed to recognize them immediately and smiled widely as she offered her hand. 
'I'm Agent Grayson from the Miami Field Office. I'm glad to see that AD Davis 
convinced you to come over.' 
 
Mulder looked over the younger agent who didn't seem a day older than thirty, 
and shook her hand. 'You wrote the initial report, didn't you?' he asked, 
recalling the thoroughness of the file they had received earlier that day. 
 
'Yes, I did. AD Davis asked me to write a report about a week ago. He had a 
hunch then that we would be requested by Chief Brandon to take over to the case. 
I worked under Davis' supervision on this. AD Davis asked to assist you on this 
case. He said you wouldn't mind.' 
 
'AD Skinner already informed us,' Scully said as she accepted the offered hand 
and smiled friendly. The younger woman seemed very eager to start to work 
properly on the case. She had tried to create an image on 'The Concert-Killer' 
in her mind but never came further than the classic image of a regular guy doing 
irregular things. That's what they learned during their first course. Anyone 
could be a murderer. 
 
'Is there a possibility of seeing the last victim?' Scully asked as she walked 
beside the younger agent outside. Mulder followed behind them, covering a yawn 
with the palm of his hand. 'From my understanding she died about four days ago?'
 
'That's right,' Mairad Grayson said as they walked towards a waiting car. 'It 
was a shock, I can tell you that much. I was working out in Washington when the 
call came, trying to gather evidence to make the report, and then suddenly a 
murder takes place in my own hometown, sending me back here. That's the downfall 
to this case. We never see it coming.'
 
'And the victim?' Mulder asked as he slipped into the backseat of the car, 
watching the two women upfront. He had difficulty putting his long legs in 
place. Scully couldn't help but smile when she saw him struggle with his 
seatbelt and big feet, groaning several times before he was able to fit into the 
relatively small vehicle. 
 
Grayson started the vehicle and took off taking sharp turns and curves as she 
drove her vehicle to the Field Office. It was a hot day and the air-conditioning 
blew air in their faces. Still it didn't seem to help much. Scully felt her 
blouse stick to her chest, tempted to take off her jacket. When she glanced 
aside, she saw that her partner had already removed his tie and was working on 
getting his jacket off his tall body. 
 
Grayson glanced in the mirror, wondering what was going on in the back of her 
car. Her eyes met Mulder's and she flushed, noticing he was examining her 
without discretion. She knew Mulder had difficulty working with younger agents 
and wasn't a very patient man. At least, that's what they said. But he had been 
polite and friendly to her, albeit impersonal. 
 
Somehow she could see the man was somewhere else with his thoughts. Wherever it 
was, it sure wasn't with them in this car. He seemed to be far-gone. Davis had 
told her about him. During Academy she had read many profiles and cases he had 
done. He intrigued her. 
 
'Pearl Jennings was our sixth victim,' Mairad said as she drove through the 
busy streets, driving like a New York-cop that had been on the streets for too 
long. 'She vanished during a Barenaked Ladies-concert. She was found three days 
later, strangled with a piano wire, like all the others. Chief Brandon was very 
reluctant at first to call in the FBI. Said that doing so would be admitting 
that they couldn't handle it. But at least he got Davis to start working on the 
case.' 
 
The car stopped abruptly at the Miami Field Office. They followed her into a 
white, crowded building where ventilators hung on the ceilings and blew in 
constant fresh air. The agents had left their belongings in the trunk of the 
car, just taking a small case with them. Despite the fact it was after eight 
p.m. there was still a lot of activity going on. 
 
'Most people here like working at night when it's cooler,' Mairad said as she 
showed them into a small two-desk private office. 'During the day you won't find 
many people here. It can be unbearable, believe me.'
 
The three sat down. Without asking them what they wanted, Grayson left and came 
back with glasses of ice-tea. Scully took a sip, realizing this self-brewed cold 
drank was the best thirst-quencher they could possibly find. Mulder didn't touch 
his glass while he started up his laptop and automatically selected the first 
desk. 
 
'We're going after a hunch our John Doe might be interested in English or Irish 
women,' Mulder said as he handed Mairad a copy of notes he had typed in the 
morning, after leaving the meeting. 'Could you do me a favour and run a check on 
these women's backgrounds to verify that?'
 
'Sure,' the agent said, flushing as she jotted a note on a small notepad. She 
smiled. 'I hope you're wrong about that part though - I'm Irish myself. At 
least, my mother was.' 
The agent seemed nervous when she looked up at the agents, simply saying, 'I'm 
sorry if I might sound inexperienced. This is my third case at the Bureau and -' 

 
Mulder smiled reassuringly, stopping her apologies. 'You've done more than okay 
so far. Your report is thorough and detailed, and better than a lot of work I've 
read. I'm able to pick out a number of things to set up a preliminary profile. 
I'm sure it must be strange for you too to work with us. After all, they say I'm 
spooky.'
 
Grayson laughed out loud. 'I don't believe in reputations,' she said. 'All I'm 
interested in is solving this case.' 
 
Instantly both Mulder and Scully were thrown back to the past, remembering what 
Scully had said during their first case together after Mulder accused her of 
double cross. She too only wanted to solve that case. It was like looking in a 
mirror. 
 
Grayson seemed aware of the fact she had struck a sensitive cord and said, 
'Sorry, did I say something wrong?'
 
'Not at all,' Scully assured her. 'We're happy with your help. I assure you that 
we're very pleased with your assistance.'
 
Mairad responded to her smile and said, 'Well, let me check that out and get 
back to you on it. A part of me hopes that you're wrong, Agent Mulder. I have 
Irish roots myself. In fact, I think just about half the people living in this 
country have.' 
 
Mulder smiled. 'I know. Let's hope that is not the basis that our killer uses to 
track down his victims. It would make our task more difficult. I'm hoping for 
something more juicy that helps him select them.' Mulder got up and put all the 
photos up to the white board. Grayson and Scully watched as he set three steps 
back, his hands on his hips as he watched them. The top two buttons of his shirt 
were opened. Mairad couldn't help but stare at his features as her heart 
jumped. 
 
Then she noticed the same stare coming from Scully and realized she was already 
too late to try and make a move. 
 
'He doesn't want them for his sexual pleasure,' the agent said. 'That, we can be 
very sure of. I don't think this guy had a bad childhood. Most victims are 
beaten and battered before they are killed. This one does it with one streak, as 
if he's a hit man. It's like he wants something from them and questions them. 
Afterwards, he kills them. And he always gets what he wants.' 
 
'What makes you say that?' Scully said.
 
'He kills them within a certain period of time. Perhaps he uses old-fashioned 
torture to taunt them. He might be keeping them awake with sounds and lights. He 
might want to terrify them so badly that they say what he wants to hear within a 
few days time. None of them has been able to hold on. He tells them he's looking 
for that particular thing and promises them they will be released afterwards. 
But they never are. In fact, the sooner they tell him, the sooner they're 
sentenced to death.'
 
'What's he looking for?' Scully asked.
 
'I don't know. Anything goes right now. It could be a person he's trying to 
find; a girlfriend, a childhood fantasy, someone he could not reach when he was 
a pimpled teenager. Or it could be a thing - something he thinks they have.' 
 
'What are our next moves?' Mairad asked as she jotted down Mulder's remarks. 
Scully nearly smiled at the sight of adoration the girl seemed to have for 
Mulder. And the funny thing was that her partner didn't even spot it himself. 
Every time he looked at her, he seemed to be seeing something else. 
 
'We need to determine both our John Doe's profile as a victim's sketch. These 
women look alike. They're in their late twenties, varying a few years in age. 
They have slim, bright features. They have green or blue eyes and hair that 
varies shades of colour going from blonde to dark red. They're all naturals - 
which might be important to him. Their backgrounds are very different, so we 
can't assume that he's selecting them on that basis. They all purchased their 
tickets beforehand, paying with credit cards. They like different styles of 
music; he doesn't make his selection on that. They come from different cities, 
but all lived in houses - no apartments.' 
 
'Is that important?' Scully asked who read the same thing in the file on the 
flight out. 
 
'It is, assuming that he's been stalking them. He wouldn't select apartments. He 
would stand a greater risk of being caught.' 
 
Mairad nodded in agreement. 'Can we assume he might have spoken to these women 
before he took them?' she asked. 'He could have been in deliberate contact with 
them.'
 
'A valid assumption,' Mulder agreed. 'He might want to be sure what kind of 
person he's taking. He might take his final call character-based.' 
 
'How will we know in what city he strikes next, Mulder?' Scully asked. 'He's 
been to Miami and LA twice, Chicago and New York. He could take any place next.'
 
'All large arenas and stadiums have been warned. All we can do for now is 
distribute a victim-sketch but that still includes hundreds of women. We're 
asking the impossible at this very moment. I would like to go to the arena where 
the last victim was taken and get a feel of the place. I think right now that's 
my best shot to get in contact with our killer.' 
 
Mulder sank down on his chair behind the desk and started typing away, seemingly 
unaware of the fact the two women watched him as his brain worked at full speed, 
ordering his fingers what letters to type in. It happened so automatically that 
it was nearly scary. It was like watching a writer write his next best seller, 
not able to explain to others how he came up with the story idea and how he was 
going to proceed. It rested in his head alone. 
 
'Do you want to see the body today or tomorrow morning?' Mairad asked as she 
glanced at her watch. She was hungry but didn't dare say. She wanted to spend as 
much time as possible with these two agents, eager to learn what she could. 
 
'Actually,' Scully said to her great relief, 'I'm quite tired. Do you think you 
could wait 'til the morning? When is the funeral set?'
 
'In three days. We still have time. The body will be released tomorrow night. 
The coroner's probably finishing his last report right now,' Mairad explained. 
'He had to wait for the results of the other autopsies to make his final 
conclusions, as requested by AD Davis. Now that the FBI's handling the case, we 
want to bring all the files together and compare notes.'
 
'Good,' Scully said. It was nearly nine and they hadn't eaten properly since the 
small tasteless sandwich on the flight out. 'Do you know of some good places in 
town?' 
 
'Sure,' Mairad said, 'I could guide you to a great Italian place.' 
 
'What about joining us? If you want to, that is,' Scully said, wondering if the 
woman was married or had a family to go to. Mairad seemed flattered with the 
invitation and said, 'I'd love to. Let me just grab my things.' 
 
The agent slipped out of the office to another shared office where she shared a 
desk with three other agents working on forensics. They had been the ones 
helping her to put together the file but were now moving on to other cases.
 
'So, what's that spooky really like? Has he found our victims yet?' her male 
colleague asked as she put on a jacket and grabbed her bag. 
 
She glanced aside, hurt by the stupid remark. Funny, even though she had only 
met him two hours ago, she already felt like defending the Washington-agent. 
'He's a nice guy,' she said. 'He could teach you a trick or two.' 
 
The other agent flushed, realizing she took the remark personally as if she was 
forced to be working with the man against her will. 'Sorry,' he said, 'I didn't 
mean it that way. But you know what it's like. Our reputations precede us.' 
 
'I know, Shorty,' she said, grinning as if to show him she didn't take it at 
heart. 'But mark my words: In three days he's got our John Doe.' 
 
Her colleague watched her as she left with self-confidence of agents that had 
been on the job for years and knew what they were doing. There was something 
different about her, as if working with the two Washington-agents boosted her 
confidence and abilities. Perhaps they were exactly what she needed after all 
she'd been through. 
 
 
Scully put her hand on her partner's wrist and stopped him from typing away 
forcefully. From the look in his eyes she knew he was far-gone, lively imagining 
the murders as he went along. 'Mulder, pack your things.'
 
'What?' he looked up, staring at her as if she were a stranger. 
 
'We're leaving. Pack your things and we're out of here.'
 
'No,' he mumbled, 'I have to finish this.' He ignored her and continued his work 
as hundreds of thoughts rushed through his mind. Bluntly she moved past the desk 
so that she could slide the laptop in her direction. 
 
'Hey!' he objected but she ignored his remarks and shut down the program, 
turning off the computer afterwards. He blinked his eyelids, seeing her for the 
first time now as she gently looked back at him and said, 'this is exactly what 
you're not supposed to do. If you don't have dinner with us now, I'm calling 
Skinner and I'll tell him to take you off this case. You don't want him to come 
and bring you back home like he planned to do in New York.' 
 
Her partner seemed upset but she ignored the angry look in his eyes. He wasn't 
so much angry with her as confused with her actions. Then he glanced at his 
watch, realizing it was after nine. He had lost minutes like he always did when 
he was working on that what seemed more important than anything. She was right, 
but he wasn't ready to give in yet. 
 
'I'm not hungry,' he protested. 'Can't you guys go now? I promise to come 
afterwards. Just let me -'
'- No,' she said strict, interrupting him. 'You're going with us now for a bite 
to eat, or the deal's off. Don't let me pull ranks on you.' 
 
'Theoretically I outrank you,' he mumbled as she turned around, shoving the 
laptop in its case. 
 
'I heard that,' she said by the door. 'Practically I'm your medical doctor and I 
can even declare you insane with the right papers. So don't push me.' 
 
He couldn't help but laugh when she left him alone. Quickly he grabbed his 
jacket and put it on. It had cooled down a bit by now but he was still feeling 
uncomfortable and warm. It never felt this hot in Washington. 
 
Mairad waited for them by the elevators and used her badge to get access. 
Mulder didn't feel like using Mairad's car again, but they hadn't had the 
chance to rent their own vehicle yet. That would be the first thing he'd arrange 
in the morning though. Riding along with Grayson was like a roller coaster ride 
at Disneyland. 
 
He was barely seated in the backseat of the car when she took off. She drove 
fast but self-assured, bringing them to an Italian place by the beach. Because 
it was a weekday they were in luck. It wasn't that crowded and service came fast 
and perfectly arranged. Within twenty minutes they were staring at their pasta. 
 
Mairad spoke about the city, explaining a bit why she had moved here at her 
free will. She was a New Yorker, born and raised in Manhattan, where she 
followed into the footsteps of her father. He was a cop until his retirement and 
then moved to Dallas where he grew up. He was still living there with his second 
wife, a woman she couldn't stand. Out of friendship's sake, she only saw her 
father once a year. 
 
When he left New York, she saw no reason to stay there anymore. She had enough 
of being a cop, and when the FBI recruited her and she had the chance to work at 
the VCS two years after, she took it. By that time she had met someone in Miami. 
He offered her a place to stay and she moved in. 
 
When the relationship ended, she stuck around. Her ex-boyfriend didn't. She 
bought a great place with a low mortgage that she loved. Davis had no problem 
with her working from the Miami Field Office, but she came to Washington just 
about every week. She had a hectic life, she explained, but she loved every bit 
of it. 
 
Mairad still pondered over her past decisions when Mulder put down his fork and 
spoon and said, 'I feel like we're missing something here. This guy wants us to 
catch him. He takes great risks taking those women in public. He wants to make a 
point but I don't believe he wants to make it to us. He directs it at one person 
in particular - the one he's looking for.'
 
'Who do you think that might be?' Mairad asked. 'You don't know where this 
man's from. You can't just put up signs everywhere asking a woman in her late 
twenties to respond to a vague description like that.' 
 
Mulder emptied his glass of water. 'Did you know that 80% of our serial killers 
pulled out wings of butterflies when they were six years old? You can compare 
every case with that act that happened when they were little. Only, this time 
these butterflies became human beings. When they were in their teens they might 
have killed off animals. When they were nineteen going on twenty, their 
butterfly could have been the girl next door, or the woman across the street. If 
we find this butterfly - the catalysts - we find him.'
 
'But he or she doesn't know she's the catalyst.'
 
'That's what we'll find out. Writing a profile is nothing more than gathering 
all the pieces and adding them to the basic things we already know of serial 
killers. Have you ever seen a photo of Ted Bundy, Mairad?' 
 
'Yes, I have.'
 
'If you were a young woman that met him, would you suspect him of killing off 
women at night?'
 
'Of course not. No one did. That's why he had the chance to kill so many.' 
 
'Have you ever met a killer in person?' 
 
'Yes, I have.' 
 
'Did you believe he was capable of murder?'
 
'No. He was a young man in his early twenties. He had killed off eight young 
boys.'
 
'Why?' 
 
'They reminded him of his best friend in high school he had a crush on. When 
that best friend got involved with a girl, he realized the love wasn't mutual. 
He felt betrayed and changed. And he started killing.' 
 
'Exactly,' Mulder said, staring at the remaining pasta and tomato sauce. He had 
hardly touched his plate but at least - so Scully thought - he had eaten 
something. He was making improvements. Her partner's eyes changed as he looked 
at that plate as if he saw things no one was supposed to see. Then he glanced at 
Mairad and said, 'what would you do if you felt you were in danger? If they 
told you that you were eligible to become a victim, would you still go to the 
concert you had planned on going to?' 
 
'I don't know,' she said slowly. 'Perhaps. But I would probably think this would 
never happen to me. And I would proceed with what I had planned.' 
 
'That's what I fear,' the agent said dark as he excused himself and left for the 
men's room. Mairad stared in shock at Scully. The redhead smiled reassuringly 
and said softly, 'He's already in his head. He just doesn't know it yet.' 
 
'Is that why you are so worried?' Grayson asked, putting her napkin on the 
table. 'AD Davis said that he would be lost without you. You're his keeper, he 
claimed, even though I had a hard time believing Agent Mulder needs anyone to 
take care of him.'
 
'Did Davis say that?' Scully asked with a smile, recalling the arguments she'd 
had with the AD in the past. He had told her once to back off claiming Mulder 
was better off without her interfering. He had said that she shouldn't be 
hovering over her partner like that. He could take care of his own. 
 
It was true that Mulder had been working as a profiler before she came in the 
picture. But in the past it had been Patterson that took care of him, and before 
that Reggie Purdue. Mulder needed someone, even if he didn't know it himself, 
and she wasn't planning on backing away that easily. This was her rightful spot 
and she would take up the right she earned over the past years. 
 
'Agent Scully?' Mairad said, trying to get the agent's attention. Scully 
blinked her eyes and focused on the woman opposite her. Then the blonde agent 
said friendly, 'it's going to work out, Agent Scully. It really will.' 
 
Scully shivered, as she remembered when she had almost lost her partner. There 
seemed to have been so many occasions now, and she wasn't willing to step into 
another adventure like that. On the other hand, wasn't she supposed to think 
positive, instead of believing the worst would happen?
 
 
Reminisce the night
 
In the middle of the night he found himself staring at the ceiling, recalling 
what it was like to kill. He needed to fulfil his urge again, to satisfy that 
need in him that only the feeling of life being taken could fulfil. 
 
In the morning he would take her when she took her spot within the arena. He 
knew where she would be. She would meet with a couple of friends, and they would 
go for a spot at the stage. Even if she wasn't there, there was always plan B to 
track her down. Fortunately he had never had to use that. 
 
She had an account at the ticket service agency. He had selected this concert in 
particular because he knew the arena by heart. He knew where he would take her, 
and his spot was already sealed off so no one would find her. He knew the place 
so well that every attending guard was on his shortlist. He knew their habits. 
He knew how to get them away from their spot so that he could take her down. 
 
Tomorrow night, around this time, he would have her to play with, and his night 
would be filled with joyful dreams and sentiments. 
 
 
Cruel night
 
In the middle of the night Mulder found himself staring at the ceiling of his 
hotelroom. He knew every crack and inch by now as he had explored it for several 
hours. He was so tired he thought he would not be able to stand the next day. 
Thoughts ran through his mind like a high-speed train that wouldn't come to an 
end. 
 
Every time he closed his eyes, he remembered moments and events of the past day, 
and the faces of the murdered women danced before his eyes. Pearl Jennings, 
Ellen Brandon, Margaret Tilly and the others ... He tried to envision what went 
through their minds. He tried to grasp their connection but couldn't find it. 
 
Eventually, around three, he turned up the sound of the playing television and 
watched reruns of Star Trek until the morning finally came, and he took a shower 
to freshen up. This was the third night in a row he hadn't slept a wink. Even 
for the insomniac he was, this wasn't normal. 
 
Before all, he had to admit that to himself. 
 
 
The body
 
Scully knocked on her partner's door, picking him up for dinner. She saw 
instantly he hadn't slept. His eyes were small and fatigued. His chin had more 
stubbles than the night before. He seemed to be ready to doze off at any time. 
 
'Have you tried sleeping pills?' she asked as he explained to her he hadn't 
slept. He knew it was no use to lie. She knew from the second she saw him what 
the situation was. 
 
'I don't like those things. They make me dizzy.'
 
'That's the idea,' she said, smiling despite everything. 'You're supposed to 
feel dizzy and sleep. Otherwise they don't work. I'll pick some up this 
afternoon and I don't want any 'buts' from you, Mulder.' 
 
'As long as you don't stick a needle in my butt,' he mumbled, closing the door 
behind him. At the breakfast table Mulder took two croissants and nibbled on 
them, taking much longer to eat than usual. He ignored Scully's glances as they 
sat quietly opposite each other. 
 
Mairad came to pick them up around eight, instantly noticing the male agent 
wasn't well. She didn't ask any questions, and offered them a ride to the 
morgue. Mulder didn't move when Scully got up and dropped her napkin on the 
breakfast table. 
 
'Are you coming with me, Mulder?' she asked as she grabbed her coat.
'No, you go ahead,' he said, 'I'll pop in later on. I'm going to arrange for a 
rental car first, and drive over to the office. I'll come later. I just need to 
verify some things.' 
 
'Okay, we'll see you later then,' Scully said, as they left.
 
Mairad seemed nervous when they drove over to the coroner's office, making 
Scully wonder what went through the agent's head. Only later, the young woman 
confessed that she had never seen an autopsied body before. Sure, she had seen 
some horrific things, but to actually see a body after it had been sliced and 
diced, was something completely new to her. 
 
During the Academy she had been confronted with many gruesome photos. Her past 
as a cop had taught her to objectively look at crimes, yet keep that human touch 
to it. As a profiler she hadn't been in touch with the other side of the medal 
just yet. She had been the administrative agent, the one making the reports.
 
The coroner's office was only three blocks away. The main lobby was large, and 
didn't remind Scully of a morgue at all. In fact, it seemed almost inviting, as 
if they were trying to put people at ease. Yet, no one went to a morgue without 
a reason, and that reason was always death. 
 
The coroner was already waiting for them and showed them to a smaller room where 
a body lay on the slab, only covered with a sheet. 
 
'To be honest, I was waiting for you guys to put her body back,' he said, 'I'm 
not sure what it is with this body, but there's an awful smell to it, as if she 
has been dumped in a sewage. Yet she was found in an alley. I don't get it.' 
 
Scully glanced at Mairad, realizing the agent heard this bit of news for the 
first time as well. Yet it could lead them closer to the truth. She made a 
mental note to call Mulder about it later. 
 
Grayson didn't stand too close to the slab, not interesting in glancing at the 
body. Yet she knew she had to. The younger agent bit her lip, trying to ignore 
the stench that came from underneath that sheet, and watched as the coroner 
pulled away the sheet. 
 
On the table lay the naked body of Pearl Jennings, age twenty-eight. She must 
have been a beauty before her death. Her hair had been blonde with a reddish 
taint but now looked grey. Her face was still as pretty as ever, but a large red 
cut on her throat showed her vocal cords and muscles. Her tongue protruded her 
mouth slightly as always happened with strangulation victims. 
 
Her body was slim and had been petite. Now it was still slim but un-pretty in 
death. Her eyes were closed. The rest of her naked body was untouched and 
undamaged. There were no signs of rape of physical violence.  
 
Her chest had been cut open and was sowed up again with rough stitches. Her 
intestines had been weighed and examined. Her body had been violated even worse 
after her death than before, leaving nothing to coincidence.
 
Scully put her hand before her nose, ignoring the smell. She had seen worse than 
this but it still remained gruesome and sad. Why did a young woman have to die 
like that, while she still had so many dreams to fulfil? It seemed so senseless 
- so useless, as if her death was unimportant. 
 
She turned to look at Mairad, only to see the younger agent faint. She had 
stared at the woman's chest, where the chest had been cut open and her ribcage 
cracked for easier access to the organs. Then she had simply passed out. It 
could happen to them all. 
 
'She'll be fine,' Scully said, rushing towards the woman that was already coming 
to. 
Mairad opened her eyes, held firmly by Scully as she lay on the cold floor. 
'Take it easy,' Scully said, helping her slowly sitting up. 'Put your head 
between your knees and take deep breaths. It's over.'
 
The coroner quickly put the sheet back over the body and said, 'Let's get her 
out of here into some fresh air.' 
Supported by Scully and the coroner, Mairad was brought outside to sit down on 
a chair in the more comfortable office. The coroner had opened the window, 
giving her the chance to inhale the fresh air. 
 
'Here,' Scully said, giving her a glass of water. 'It's okay.' 
Embarrassed more than anything else, the young agent drank from the glass and 
refused to look at Scully.
 
'I'm so sorry,' she mumbled, resting her head on her hand. 'I'm such an idiot.' 
 
'It was the smell,' Scully said. 'The combination of the smell in that 
uncomfortable would be enough to drive anyone crazy.' 
 
'It shouldn't happen to me.'
 
Scully couldn't help but smile, remembering the very first time she had to 
perform an autopsy. She too had passed out, so long ago, feeling just as 
embarrassed afterwards. She felt sympathy for the young woman. Somehow it looked 
like the girl needed some protection. She looked barely twenty years old even 
though she was in her late twenties and obviously could take care of herself.
 
'I feel like an idiot,' Mairad sighed. Slowly the younger agent was starting to 
feel better. Soon she had some colour back on her cheeks. 
 
'Don't worry,' Scully smiled reassuringly. 'I won't tell Mulder.' 
 
Mairad got up and looked around as if she was surprised not to be standing near 
the body any longer. She hardly remembered them bringing her to the office. 
'Why don't you wait here while I go over the details of the autopsy with the 
coroner,' Scully said. 'It will only take a minute.'
 
'No,' Mairad said forcefully. 'I need to go get through this again.'
 
'No, you don't,' Scully said, placing her hand gently on the woman's arm. 
 
Mairad smiled, realizing she would rather prefer to stay here than to see the 
woman's body again. But the professional in her said that she needed to work her 
way through this. In future she was bound to deal with a lot of bodies, and 
there was no time like the present to get over that ridiculous fear and disgust 
she had. 
 
She took a deep breath and stopped Scully from closing the door, stepping inside 
the room with her. She didn't notice that Scully smiled, happy with the decision 
the other woman made for herself. 
 
 
Her coming
 
He prepared everything for her coming. He cleaned the place up as much as he 
could, realizing she would be very much afraid. He wanted to make her feel at 
ease, to make her feel wanted. And by tonight, she would be in his shelter and 
watch him as he proceeded. 
 
He would ask her the question. And then he would kill her. 
 
He put fresh sheets on the improvised bed, checked the cuffs that would hold her 
and looked through the dirty single window he had to the outside world. No one 
could see him from the outside. Her prison would become the last place she would 
ever be at. 
 
Now all he had to do was wait until the evening came. And then she would be his. 

 
 
The find
 
The arena was empty as if no one ever came there. The gates had been locked. He 
had to pull strings earlier that morning to get them to unlock the place so he 
could get a feel of the place. Finally the security guard had let him in, 
showing him the entrances and exits. He also provided him with a map of the 
place, even though he didn't understand why Mulder had asked for it. 
 
During the morning Mulder had gone through the details of the abductions 
meticulously, trying to gather as much information that his mind could process. 
Apart from the fact every woman had vanished within the arena, there was one 
thing that struck the agent as odd. Until now, the cops had always assumed the 
victim had left the arena with her abductor. No one had ever tried to figure out 
if the victim had been kept inside the arena for a while before being 
transferred. They had always assumed John Doe had taken off with his victim, 
somehow forcing her to go with him. But what if she had never left the arena? 
 
Putting the details together, Mulder was startled by a phone call from Scully 
telling about the autopsy findings and the strange stench the victim had on her. 
The agent couldn't make sense of the stench, wondering if it was related somehow 
to the victim's whereabouts during the past week. Somehow it didn't add up to 
the other victims. This was the one point where the cases were different. 
 
Unless ... 
 
Mulder glanced at the map he had been given of the complex, noticing that there 
was only a map of the arena itself. But a place like this had backstage entries, 
safe ways, and above all emergency exits that had to lead somewhere. 
 
The agent stopped in the middle of the arena, suddenly aware of the fact someone 
was watching him. He looked up and about, until he saw a small figure on one of 
the tribunes all the way up there. With the place empty, Mulder felt small and 
exposed, and above all vulnerable.
 
The figure up there noticed he was looking at him, turned and left in a hurry. 
Mulder knew it would be useless to run after the man. By the time he would reach 
the top row, the man would be long gone. Instead, the agent returned to the 
security officer that waited annoyed in his room, glaring at the cameras that 
kept an eye on the agent. In the room, Mulder laid down the map, asking, 'Do you 
have a map of the underground area as well?'
 
The security officer looked even more annoyed. 'No one is allowed in there. 
Backstage is forbidden to anyone.'
 
'This is not exactly a packed arena right now,' Mulder said. 'I have to insist 
on checking down there.'
 
'Why? There's nothing to see down there. Except for the backstage entrances used 
by the artists and security, no one ever comes down there.'
 
'Let's just say I'm following a hunch.'
 
The security officer got up from his seat, and handed over a chain of keys to 
the agent, refusing to go with him. Mulder knew the man would be keeping an eye 
on him anyhow, through the cameras that explored the entire area.
 
Following the officer's directions, the agent walked back to the arena. There 
were twenty emergency exits to cover the entire indoors. Most of them lead 
outside, except for four. Two of them, Mulder excluded for now. One - right 
behind the stage, lead - according to the map - backstage. This was the way the 
artists went when they came up or left. 
 
The last one left lead from the left of the stage to a hallway that was supposed 
to bring the audience to the lobby of the huge arena. But according to the map 
there were several passageways in that corridor that weren't pointed out. 
 
Mulder pushed open the emergency doors and stood in the darkness. There weren't 
any lights to guide him, except for a small, lit sign that pointed to the second 
emergency door. Mulder blocked the doors so a bit of light shone in. He could 
hardly see where he was walking, and touched the walls until his fingers reached 
for a handle that seemed nearly hidden. That was what he was looking for. 
 
With the keychain in his hands, he tried every key until the door was unlocked; 
bringing him into another dark hallway that seemed hardly used. It was damp and 
uncomfortable to walk through. The agent's hands touched the wall until he found 
another unlocked door that stopped before a set of stairs. This time he saw it 
because there was a faint light shining in, coming from a nearly completely 
hidden window. 
 
Mulder realized he was in some area of the arena that was hardly ever used. But 
he sensed with every step that this would bring him closer to the truth. He 
could tell by the way the stairs lead down, underneath the actual arena, until 
they suddenly stopped again before yet another, unlocked door. 
 
Mulder's fingers touched the door, pushing it open. A horrible stench came 
towards him, as if he was standing in a sewer. Suddenly he realized he was 
indeed right next to the sewage system underneath the arena. In surprise Mulder 
looked at the small room with mattress and chair. That was all there was. 
 
Mulder knelt down by the mattress and touched the fabric, closing his eyes. He 
knew Pearl Jennings had been here. He could feel it. He was sure. This place had 
her scent on it. He closed his eyes and turned away from the mattress, jerking 
his head as his eyes caught sight of the table, turned around and tried to keep 
his breakfast down. 
 
On the table before him, lay a finger. 
 
 
The room
 
Instantly they were all over the place after he made the call in the huge arena, 
sucking in the air after escaping the darkness. He waited as he tried to keep 
his posture, explaining briefly to the security officer that he had found 
something. 
 
When they arrived, there were at least four cars, cluttering the entrance and 
exit. Scully found her partner sitting on one of the seats, staring before him. 
 
'Mulder,' she said, placing her hand on his shoulder, 'what's wrong?'
 
He turned towards her and smiled, 'Hey. I think we've got ourselves a lead.' 
His reaction terrified her. His pupils seemed dilated, as if he had taken 
something. But she knew it was his reaction to what he had seen. He hadn't told 
her what it was. 
 
He guided them through the dark corridors. Their flashlights lit the walls. 
Without the underground map, no one could have possibly found his or her way 
through these tunnels. The entire place was so well sealed off, that one could 
have easily missed the door that lead to the area underneath. 
 
The smell inside the room was so intense it took them minutes to adjust. As a 
reflex, Scully put her hand under her nose, trying to keep the stench out of her 
nostrils. It was pretty bad. Her flashlight rested on the neatly cut-off finger 
on the table. It was bloody yet already decaying. It felt cold and stiff when 
she touched it carefully with her gloved fingers. She didn't want to pick it up, 
but it was a piece of evidence that could lead them to the killer. 
 
'It's a woman's finger,' Mulder said as the urge to puke out his guts passed. 
 
'But it's not Pearl's,' Scully said. 'She had all her fingers intact.' 
 
'Then whose is it?' Mairad asked from the doorway, trying to force back the 
urge to pass out. That stench that she had smelled on the corps was here again - 
so bad that it would remind her for days about this very moment. 
 
'If we know that, we know who our killer is,' Mulder said softly. 'He left it 
here for a reason.' 
 
'As a hint towards us?' 
 
'Not likely. I don't think he believed we would track him down this quickly. 
This hideout was a brilliant find.'
 
'Then why did he leave that finger here?' Scully said convulsed. 'Do you think 
he left more human body parts somewhere else?'
 
Mulder didn't respond but turned and left the room. There was something so cold 
in here that he didn't want to stay. Now he knew their killer was one of the 
coldest men he had ever tracked down. What Monty Props and the others had done 
with their victims was bad. But this coldness could be even worse. 
 
The agent hurried through the long corridors, passing two agents that looked at 
him surprised. Quickly Mulder hurried through one of the emergency exits to the 
fresh air outside the arena. The world tumbled before his eyes. He closed them, 
leaning tired against the wall, placing his head against it. They were close 
now, and he knew it. Now that they had found a first hideout, it would be easy 
to discover the others. Now they knew how he did it. He hid them inside the 
arena, using knowledge perhaps he alone had. 
 
Slowly the agent made his way back inside, finding the security officer in 
argument with Mairad and Scully. He came back just in time to listen to the 
question of why no one had ever bothered to check underneath the arena. 
 
'No one knew about that room,' the officer argued, 'if they had, they would have 
found out. I'm telling you that the cops and Feds were already all over this 
place. It took a miracle in itself to find that room like your agent did. We did 
all we could when that woman disappeared. No one ever figured out that she was 
here all that time.'
 
'He must have had a passageway in and out,' Mulder interrupted softly. 'If he 
alone knew about that room, he must have had a map, or know this place inside 
out.'
 
'Look, all I can say is that years ago this place got renovated. The corridors 
that you used were completely sealed off. No one ever used them. I had no idea 
about that place. Hell, I had to blow the dust off the maps I gave your 
colleague.' 
 
Mulder turned towards his partner, saying tired, 'Can you get in touch with the 
other Field Offices and ask them to check for older maps of the arenas that 
might lead to spaces or rooms like that? I've got this feeling our John is using 
the same MO over and over again.'
 
'Sure,' Scully nodded. 
 
'We have to keep this from the press,' Mulder continued. 'If he knows we're on 
to him, he'll change his methods. We weren't supposed to track him down just 
yet. He didn't leave that piece to lead us to him. He left it for another reason 
- perhaps to scare off his victim. Or perhaps ...' 
 
Mulder's eyes lit as he looked at Mairad. 'Can you do me a favor and run a 
check on female bodies that have been found over the past few years with missing 
fingers and other body parts?'
 
Mairad nodded and grabbed her cell phone. Scully reached for her partner's arm 
and touched him. He glared at her. 'You believe he's leaving pieces of one of 
his earlier victims behind?' 
 
'We'll only know that when we found out where he left the others,' Mulder said 
softly. 'In meantime, we should try and figure out who that finger belonged to, 
and what it means.' 
 
'It's like looking for a needle in a haystack,' Scully mumbled, as she decided 
she'd seen enough of this place and wanted to get out of the sour feeling that 
stuck to the arena. 

To be continued ... 
Insomniac

Part Two
 
And on the count of three I pull back the duvet,
Make my way to the refrigerator,
One dry potato inside, no lie...
Not even bread, jam,
When the light above my head went bam!
 
 
Fatigue 
 
In the morning they would head back to Washington, putting all the bits and 
pieces together they had literally found. It had taken the entire afternoon, but 
finally calls came in from New York, Chicago and LA, reporting they had found 
human body parts in small rooms underneath the arenas where the women had 
vanished. 
 
The rooms were similar the one in Miami. It was small, damp, and very secure - 
almost impossible to find. They had to go through piles of junk and dust, using 
an old map stuffed in the back of the owner's locker to find the doorway. But 
when they did, they ended up in a small room with one single mattress, a table 
and a chair. 
 
Listening to the report, Scully knew it sounded like all the rooms were similar. 
And when she heard an ear had been found in Chicago, and another two fingers in 
LA, she knew they were on the right track. 
 
As gruesome as it sounded, Mulder was satisfied with the find. More than ever he 
was sure that all the parts belonged to the same person, but it would take some 
time for the labs to go through these details. At first sight the fingers seemed 
to belong to the same person. Both fingernails were manicured and painted. Even 
in death and mutilation, that particular detail was vivid, convincing Mulder the 
killer had painted the nails after he cut off the fingers. Yet he had kept them 
bloody and as they were until he could use them. 
 
Chances were the body of the victim was still missing. With these many parts 
missing, it was most unlikely he hadn't dumped it somewhere. 
 
Fatigued Mulder explained his theory to the agents in the meeting room. With so 
many clues found in such short time, Davis had pulled some strings and gathered 
about ten men and women, now full-time occupied with the search. 
 
But listening to Mulder's findings, they all knew it would take another bit of 
great luck to find the killer, especially with the doom image that he might be 
anywhere at that very moment looking for his next victim. 
 
It was after ten when they sat down and listened to Mulder's theory that the 
killer had murdered his first victim by accident, and was now looking for her 
again. 
 
'Our murderer has cut off pieces of his first female victim, presumably after he 
murdered her. For what purpose he's leaving them behind right now, we do not 
know. Perhaps he doesn't even know it himself. But I do believe that the first 
murder was an accident and set something in motion that can only be stopped 
until he finds her again. Since he has killed her, he must have blocked that out 
of his mind somehow. We might be dealing with Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. One 
doesn't know that the other has killed, and believes that the one he loves is 
still out there. He might be looking for her, yet not realizing he has already 
killed her.' 
 
'So he's chasing some delusional image?' an agent in the back asked. Mulder 
turned his attention towards him and nodded. 
 
'If that's the case,' another agent added, 'he might not stop unless we do.' 
 
'Or he might find her again in someone he's tracing, and stop. He might already 
have found her, tracking her down as we speak.' 
 
'There are a lot of 'might's' in your story, Agent Mulder,' the first agent 
said. 'What are we basing ourselves on right now?'
 
'On good old-fashioned police work and a lot of hunches, Agent,' Mulder replied. 
'We have a lot to go on right now. We need to track down the first body. With 
the lab work we can determine when this victim died. That will narrow down a lot 
of possibilities. Secondly, our boy definitely works at those arenas. He has 
access to the sites and knows these places inside out. We're looking for a 
security guard, a worker, someone who works at one of the ticket agencies. He 
knows where to find his victims and will be following them days before.' 
 
Mulder stopped talking and looked at them seriously. He felt faint as his body 
reminded him he hadn't eaten properly in some time. But he ignored the fatigue 
and said seriously, 'the fact that this man can kill anywhere in the country 
doesn't simplify our case. I need agents in every site that can help us go 
through this information. Anything else is not of importance right now. Every 
second can count. I need you to work in teams around the clock until we find 
this guy. Agent Scully and I will be returning to Washington in the morning and 
coordinate this case from there.'
 
The agent paused again as his eyes seriously took in the scene and the agents 
listening to him. He looked aside at Scully, catching the expression on her 
face. He stumbled backwards, grabbing the edge of the table, ignoring Scully's 
sudden expression of surprise. 
 
'What was I -' Mulder began, stopping because he didn't remember what in the 
world he was going to say. 'That's it,' he finally said. 'Thank you.' 
 
He turned and left the room, leaning his hand against the wall outside the 
meeting room. The world danced before his eyes. He closed them and sighed, 
rubbing his eyes with his hand. 
 
'Mulder?' 
Quickly he turned, smiling reassuringly as Scully put her hand on his shoulder. 
 
'Yeah,' he said tired. 
'You're deadbeat. I'll drive you back to the hotel. You'll get some food in you 
and then some rest.' 
 
He sighed. 'I wish.' 
'We'll pick up that sedative on the way back. You'll sleep like a baby.'
 
He nodded his head slowly, staring outside at the palm trees before the 
building. 'I'm not supposed to sleep, Scully. I realize that now. I -' he 
stopped, realizing he sounded like a fool. But he couldn't stop himself from 
thinking it. He knew he was right. Somehow, when he was in that small room 
surrounded by that horrible stench, he had known. 
 
Because the night before - while lying awake in bed - he had detected that same 
stench. He had sensed it the moment he closed his eyes and drifted off for just 
a wee second. He had thought it was his mind playing tricks on him. He hadn't 
realized it had been a part of his dreamscape until the moment he looked up and 
was awake again. 
 
Two nights before he had dreamt about rock concerts. It couldn't have been a 
coincidence. He knew that now. Somehow he picked up parts from this case before 
it became his, and then dreamt about parts he didn't know anything about just 
yet. He couldn't possibly have known about the stench. 
 
Mulder shook his head, not willing to share his thoughts - not before he could 
grasp the truth himself. He had been an insomniac, yes, but never before like 
this. In fact, the only time he hadn't slept for days was the time around 
Scully's abduction. Then he had lived on adrenaline, neglecting everything that 
was sanity. He had voluntarily gone that direction then.
 
Now, he didn't want to. Never before had a case forced him to stay awake. He had 
always slept, even if it were merely four to five hours a night. He didn't need 
more. Now sleep just wouldn't come as if he wasn't supposed to. 
 
He turned towards Scully. 'You said something about the victims being kept awake 
earlier.' 
 
'I didn't. It was in the coroner's report. There were signs of mental and 
physical abuse leading down that track. But we have no proof. Why do you ask, 
Mulder?' 
 
He smiled a weak smile. 'I guess I'm feeling sympathetic.' 
 
She placed her hand on his upper right arm again and said gently, 'Let's get 
some rest, Mulder. It's been a long day.' 
 
'No, one of us should stay here.'
 
'They've got it under control for now. You won't do them any good by collapsing 
on the spot. We need you in the morning. You need to be fit.' 
 
He nodded. 'I guess you're right.' 
Scully offered him his coat and glanced over her shoulder at Mairad who was 
sitting at a desk with another agent. She was scrolling through police records 
to find the missing woman. Scully said goodbye and left with her partner. 
 
She drove the rental car back to the hotel, glancing occasionally at her partner 
who rested with closed eyes, leaning with his head on his hand. He didn't speak 
a single word on the way back to the hotel. He didn't have to. She stopped at a 
drugstore and bought a legal sleeping aid that didn't need prescription. When 
they got back to the hotel, her partner opened his eyes and looked disoriented. 
 
He opened the door to his room, refusing when she offered to order room service. 
She ignored his denial and ordered a light meal for the two of them. Mulder took 
off to the bathroom. She heard the water tap run, and waited patiently until he 
returned in jeans and T-shirt. He looked even more tired if that was at all 
possible. 
 
'How long has it been since you slept?' she asked, watching him as he got down 
on the bed and rested his head on the pillows. 
 
'I don't know. Three, four days. I can't remember.' 
 
'You're becoming delusional, Mulder. Your body is reacting to the lack of sleep. 
You have moments that you don't even know where you are. Don't deny it. I can 
see it by the way you act. I've never seen you like this before.'
 
He grinned painfully. 'A human body can go days without sleep, Scully. You, as a 
medical doctor, should know that.' 
 
'I know that we are not made to stay awake for this long. There is a reason our 
body tells us to rest. You know what it's like not being able to shut down your 
mind.' Scully sat down on the side of the bed and tried not to remember Mulder's 
grave illness. But she had to. There were so many things to remember. 
 
'This is not the same,' he said weak. 'I've been there before. I'm just 
downright tired. I'm sure that this sleeping pill of yours is going to help me. 
It has to. When I get some sleep, I'll be fine.' 
 
'Of course you will,' she said. 'That's just the point. Since this case started, 
you haven't been sleeping. You worry too much about this. It's exactly what I 
feared when you were asked to investigate. We both know you cannot afford this 
fatigue right now, and I'm going to help you to snap out of this.' 
 
'Yes, doctor,' her partner said tired. 
 
A short knock on the door startled them. Scully got off the bed and opened the 
door, giving the waiter a tip as he put the tray on the table. Scully turned as 
she shut the door, only to find her partner turned on his side and asleep. His 
eyes had closed when she walked over to the door and he had just fallen asleep. 
 
She smiled as she picked up a plate, left the drug on the tray besides the other 
plate, and left her partner alone. The moment she shut the door, Mulder startled 
and looked up. 
 
Shocked his body heaved, his stomach turning into a knot. During the few moments 
of sleep, his dreamscape had become a huge arena, where he stood with thousands 
of people. And beside him, as she was singing to the music, stood his partner. 
Her hands had been cut off. 
 
 
The crowd is moving
 
When the doors opened, the crowd gathered at the arena. There were thousands of 
them, all coming for the same band. She almost lost track of them as they were 
pushed forward automatically. There was hardly any effort to get all the way up 
front, towards the gates that held the first rows from the back ones. The seats 
filled just as easily.
 
Then the wait began. She looked at her watch. Another hour before the concert 
started. Her friends were joking and fooling around, smiling at her. There were 
ten of them, all just as eager to see the band perform as she was. It seemed 
silly perhaps, looking forward to something that lasted only two hours, but this 
had been on her mind. 
 
'We shouldn't be going, Mar,' her boyfriend had joked when they heard the 
description being spread on the news bulletin about women that were potential 
victims for 'The Concert-killer'. 'That description could be you!'
 
She had laughed, yet shivered at the same time. Then she laughed away her fears. 
She was surrounded in a crowd of ten thousand people. Nothing could happen to 
her. She would not let her friends out of her sight. 
 
Suddenly, before they knew it, the concert started and everyone was pushed 
forward, including her. She stretched out her hands, just in time stopping 
herself from being shoved into the gate. A man grabbed her upper arm, preventing 
the same thing from happening. 
 
'Thanks,' she muttered as she looked briefly at the security guard that stood 
behind the gates. He smiled and turned his back on her. She looked at the stage 
and concentrated on the band, enjoying every second of it.
 
A few moments later her boyfriend lost her out of sight. When he looked back up, 
she was gone.
 
 
Another one
 
Just after midnight his phone rang. He picked it up instantly, listening to what 
the voice on the other side said. He hung up, sighing deeply as he heard the 
news. 
 
He put on his shoes and left the room, knocking on her door. She opened after a 
while, her hair tussled and her body clad in silk pyjamas. 'What is it?' she 
asked, alert immediately as she saw his serious face. 
 
'There's been another one. Right here in Miami.'
 
 
Finding Margaret
 
The arena was packed with people, all wanting the same thing: Margaret Spencer. 
The rental car stopped before the entrance of the Eastern Arena. When they got 
there, several police cars were already there. 
 
This time the killer had used an open arena, holding over ten thousand people. 
The one they had explored the day before was small in comparison to this one. 
And here, a young woman had disappeared before the eyes of her boyfriend. 
 
'This might become an X-File after all,' Mulder muttered as they went through 
the details of the disappearance with her boyfriend, Mark. The young, upset man 
explained how they had been standing near the gates. Margaret had been standing 
next to him all this time. And then she was gone. 
 
'At first I thought she had pushed herself forward a bit to see more of the 
stage,' Mark explained. 'We had agreed on a meeting point should we get lost. 
When the concert was over, I walked over but she never showed up. I called her 
mother. She never showed up at home.' 
 
'Did you see her talking to anyone?' Mulder asked. 
'No,' Mark said desperately. His friends shook their heads. It was needless to 
say everyone was worried.
 
Mulder frowned as he glanced around. This was a much larger arena with a lot 
more hideouts. If the killer was still here, watching them right now, he knew 
they were on his track. They had to act as normal, not letting out they knew. If 
they betrayed themselves now, Margaret would be lost. 
 
'We have to go,' Mulder said as he explained to the others why. They all agreed 
that the best way to surprise their man was to catch him on his way out. If he 
pursued his previous actions, he would still be inside the arena, guarding his 
victim. But how great was the chance of him leaving his shelter? How would they 
be able to track him down without him tracking them? 
 
The agent that had argued with Mulder before stepped forward and proposed to do 
a surprise attack. Track down all the possible shelters, he said, and catch the 
guy before he has the chance to kill the girl. Mulder disagreed, as it would 
endanger the life of the hostage. One of the FBI's most important policies was 
that hostages should never be endangered and kept out of the line of fire. 
 
But Agent Oates disagreed. They had to do something.
 
'No,' Mulder said, shaking his head forcefully as he tried to argument his case. 
'You can't do this. Margaret will not stand a chance if he realizes we're onto 
him. We have to leave the arena and give him that sense of security he's had 
with the other cases. We cannot jeopardize her life like that.' 
 
'Look,' the stubborn Agent Oates said, proposing the search, 'no matter how you 
turn it - this woman doesn't have a chance whatsoever. You cannot do a surprise 
attack. You said it yourself: This man has foreseen everything. We must use all 
the forces we have and step in before he has the chance to kill her.' 
 
'No,' Mulder said, forcefully stopping Agent Oates when he wanted to turn and 
order the attack. 'I'm ordering you to back off. This is my case, and I've 
decided against it.'
 
Agent Oates looked back angrily. 'In the state you are in you're not likely to 
make the right decisions.'
 
'What the hell is that supposed to mean?' Mulder replied angrily. 
 
'Look at you - you can hardly stand on your feet. Why don't you let this case 
over to us, Agent Mulder, and get some rest.'
 
'You don't have to tell me what to do, Agent Oates,' Mulder shot back. 'I 
outrank you on this case, and I'm saying that we're not going for the search. 
You can take it up with AD Davis if you want, but he'll agree with me. I'm 
ordering you to get out of here. We're going for the surprise, and that's the 
end of it.' 
 
Oates opened his mouth to bite back, but was stopped by his partner who shot a 
glance at him. Oates finally nodded and turned, ordering the others to get in 
their cars and leave the premises. Finally, after nearly half an hour, the 
called-in force had left the arena. But they weren't far away. 
 
At the Field Office, only three miles away, the group gathered in the huge 
meeting room on the fourth floor where the maps of the arena were spread out.  
The owner, manager and chief of security were in the room as well, going through 
the details with the agents. 
 
'It's very simple,' the manager finally said, pointing at the second, older map 
that gave away the details they sought out. 'If your boy is still in there, he 
can only be on the sublevel that has been shut down three years ago. Before we 
used to have security quarters there. There are corridors running underneath the 
entire building that give quick access to all sides of the arena. However, we 
shut it down after the renewing the entire building. No one uses those corridors 
anymore.'
 
'Is there a way he could have gotten access to those corridors?' Scully asked, 
frowning as she realized they had a lot of passageways and smaller rooms to 
cover. That didn't look too good. The more possibilities, the more ways out 
their John Doe had. 
 
'I don't know,' the manager said. 'There were a few sets of keys that were 
locked away. If he has gotten a set or copies, he must have had access on 
security level as well.' 
 
'I need a list of all the employees that you hired or worked here temporarily 
over the past few weeks, sir,' Mulder said. 'I also need you to contact the 
people you've worked with for years, and ask them if they spotted any 
irregularities.' 
 
'Are you saying I hired him?' the manager said in disbelief. 
 
'You might not even have known that you did, sir,' Mulder said quickly, 
reassuring the man that it wasn't his fault. 
 
The manager nodded and took off. It was after three when he did. For all parties 
involved it would become a very long night. Mulder sighed and rubbed his eyes, 
taking off the reading glasses he had used to concentrate on the maps. This was 
the fourth night he went through sleepless. He needed to find their guy quickly, 
before he too would suffer physical consequences. 
 
 
The link
 
Suddenly the doors of the meeting room opened and Mairad stepped in, waving 
with papers in her hands. 'I think I've got something,' she said, handing them 
over to Mulder. 
 
'What is it?' Scully asked, glancing over her partner's shoulder at the list of 
names that she had printed out. 
 
'You were right when you said he was looking for something,' Mairad continued, 
'and I think I know what it is.' 
 
The others stared at her in anticipation as she placed the photo of a young 
woman on the table. They glanced at a woman that matched the description of the 
other women. She was a dark blonde, slim, beautiful woman that smiled daringly 
at the camera when the photo was taken. She couldn't have been more than 
eighteen years old. Her smile was forever put on paper. But the fact that they 
had a printout of her photo could only mean that she was dead. 
 
'Megan Nome was an eighteen-year-old grad student who was stalked, disappeared 
and finally was found murdered, after she filed a complaint against one of her 
fellow students, a man named John Willis. She vanished - get this - during a 
concert. Willis was questioned but had an alibi. He claimed to be at home, 
sleeping upstairs in his bed, while his mother watched television. When 
questioned, his mother claimed to have checked up on him. He was lying in bed, 
asleep. However, Megan's murderer was never found.' 
 
'And let me guess,' Mulder said, 'she was missing body parts?' 
 
'That's right. In fact, the only things they found of her were her torso and 
head. Her limbs were gone. Her face was mutilated beyond recognition. Her 
parents were not allowed to see her again. She was so carved up in pieces that 
they identified her using dental records and blood tests. The missing limbs were 
never found.' 
 
Mulder stared at the report the police had made six years ago, when the young 
woman was found dead. They never had a chance finding her killer. She had been 
extremely popular and loved by her friends. She had no enemies. All they had was 
the report on her stalker. 
 
'Dig up all you can about this man,' Mulder ordered. 'We need records. If it's 
him, we're dealing with an extremely violent figure. We cannot stand to lose 
another second.' 
 
'What are you going to do?' Agent Oates asked. Mulder frowned for a second when 
he saw them, blinked his eyelids and concentrated on what he was doing. 
 
Mulder sighed. 'Using these maps, we can access the arena through those sealed 
corridors. We need to set up teams that cover inch by inch of that area. We'll 
move by first dawn. He won't expect us then. He'll be on his guard tonight, but 
in the morning he'll think he's okay down there. Agent Oates, please set up 
those teams. Agent Grayson, I want you to cover all the facts on our John 
Willis. We still have about three hours before dawn. I want all of you to get 
some rest now, and get back here at six a.m. sharp.' 
 
Mulder turned at Scully, clutching the side of the table as he tried to hide his 
fatigue. Scully looked worried, remembering all too well that her partner hadn't 
slept for so long. And somehow he still seemed more alert than most of the 
agents on the room. 
 
'That's it for now,' he said, sighing deeply. 'Thanks.' 
 
Mulder dismissed the group, just as the arena manager stepped back in with a 
list of names of people he had temporarily hired. Quickly he explained he knew 
most of them by heart, because they had assisted during concerts before. There 
were three new ones he couldn't account for. 
 
'That's our guy,' he suddenly exclaimed, pointing at the name John Nome. 'He's 
using her name as a cover.' 
 
The manager glared at the name, remembering the man vaguely. He had been a 
dark-haired, chubby guy - no one that stood out. And that was a killer? 
 
'What does he do?' Scully asked. 
 
'He's a security guard.'
 
'For which company?' 
 
'Grand Security. I always work with them. It was the first time I saw him but 
they often work with interims. He seemed decent enough, kind of a dreamer. I 
caught him once standing in the middle of the arena, doing nothing. He looked 
very angry with me when I told him to get back to work. But he seemed okay 
enough.' 
 
'Can you give us the name of your contact at this security agency?' Mulder 
asked, glancing at Scully. She understood instantly, realizing that this might 
be the link they were looking for. But they knew there was only a small chance 
Willis would use the same company as a cover every time. 
 
Mairad had ignored Mulder's request to get some rest and returned with a photo 
of John Willis when he was eighteen. She had called the dean of his high school 
out of bed, requesting to fax the photo from the yearbook immediately. A young 
man smiled at them innocently. His hair was blonde. 
 
'Is this John Nome, sir?' Mulder asked, showing the manager the photo.
 
The man looked almost relieved when he shook his head and said, 'No, that's not 
him. He doesn't even look like him. You must be looking for someone else.' 
 
Mulder nodded, placing the photo on the table, as he frowned. The manager 
excused himself and left, leaving his phone number in case he could still help 
them. At dawn they would use the chief security officer as guide throughout the 
building. 
 
'Mulder,' Scully said softly. 'Your order to the others to get some rest counts 
for yourself too. Look at yourself, you can barely stand on your feet.'
 
'I'm fine,' he said, waving away her remarks as he focused on the case at hand. 
What was he missing? There was something not there that they were all seeing 
over. He just couldn't grasp at what it was. He nodded slowly. 'Perhaps I should 
try,' he mumbled, looking at her. He had woken her up too. But she seemed very 
alert and awake. Her face faded before his eyes and he turned away from her, 
refusing to let on his tiredness. 
 
'I'll just take a nap on the couch,' he said, walking away from her. She watched 
as he opened the door to an adjoined office. He didn't care whose office it was. 
The couch seemed very appealing to him right now. He lay down and closed his 
eyes, moving his arm over them so the light was shut out. 
 
Within a few seconds he was asleep, in a zone between deep sleep and awareness. 
He was standing in the middle of the arena, glancing at the side doors. They 
were open. A chubby, short man stood there, looking at him. He held something in 
his hands. Mulder walked closer, glancing at what it was, but he couldn't tell.
 
Then the man laughed loud and turned, going inside the corridors, shutting out 
the light. Next thing he knew, Mulder stood before the podium and watched a band 
perform. And everywhere around him where women that resembled Margaret's face. 
 
Mulder startled, moving up from the couch as he stared into the surprised eyes 
of AD Davis, who had entered the room. 
 
'Rest easy, Mulder,' the AD said, pushing the agent's shoulder gently so that he 
could lean back on the couch. 'You're fine. It was just a dream.' 
 
Mulder swallowed the lump in his throat, recalling the dream. He knew what it 
meant. Somehow Willis - or whoever their killer was - knew they were on to him. 
And he was freaking out. 
 
'No,' Mulder said, moving so that he could move up and about, leaning heavily 
against the AD's shoulder when he nearly fell back on the couch. 'We have to go. 
What time is it?' 
 
'Nearly five. Just relax. Scully said you haven't slept for quite some time. 
She's a bit worried that you might be overdoing it. There's still some time 
before dawn.'
 
Mulder shook his head. 'No, not much time left. Gotta go. He's going to kill 
her.' 
 
Davis stared in shock as the agent hurried out of the room, forgetting his 
jacket in the process as he went on his search for Scully. He found her and 
Grayson in the other room, talking. There were a few other agents gathered as 
well. 
 
'We have to go,' Mulder repeated. 'He knows we're onto him. We don't have much 
time.'
 
'What -?' Scully asked. 'Mulder, what's wrong?'
 
'Gotta go,' Mulder repeated, 'now!'
 
The agents that were there packed their things and followed him outside. It was 
still dark but slowly the first dawn was rising. It was already warm, damp. They 
knew it was going to be a hot day. Mulder felt frustrated as they drove off 
towards the stadium, with the maps as their only guide.
 
He closed his eyes as Scully drove, focusing on what he had seen resting in the 
palm of the man's hand. If he knew that, he knew the actual cause of all of 
this. His tired mind told him so. 
 
 
The killer
 
She had slept and woken with a startle, when he started rattling the bed. 
Instantly she was on her guard, realizing that she was still bound and gagged to 
the bed. Her eyelids blinked a few times. Her eyes were tired and still needed 
adjustment to the shades in the room. She was terrified. He didn't allow her to 
sleep, despite the fact she was deadbeat. He was hard to her. 
 
But during the few moments she had slept, she had seen a man that was out there 
looking for her. He had been kept awake too as his mind wouldn't allow him to 
rest. He had not seen her even though she had been standing right before him. 
She had called out to him, not knowing his name. 
 
And then her abductor took her by the arm and pulled her inside this room, tying 
her up the bed so that she wouldn't lie comfortable. And he looked her in the 
eyes and told her he was going to kill her.
 
And when he woke her up roughly, the first seconds she had believed it was all a 
bad dream. But here she was, tied up to that bed with the dirty old mattress in 
the smelly room. With her eyes open, she dreamt of being at home in her own cosy 
bed and Mark. She would give her right arm to be at home right now. 
 
But she was in a dark room with a man that smelled horrible and was all around 
her, as if he consisted of different personas that were cluttering the room. She 
didn't want to be here at all. 
 
Finally he took off the rag, now keeping her awake with strong light that he 
shone in her eyes. She wasn't allowed to sleep. It felt like one of those 
old-fashioned interrogations where one would keep its victim awake in order to 
brainwash him. 
 
He gave her something to drink and eat, resting his hand in her neck so she 
could sit up a bit in order not to spill. She was very much afraid when those 
same fingers touched her hair, and he kissed her and called her his little 
pearl. She didn't know what he was on about. She had never met him, even though 
he had looked vaguely familiar to her. 
 
But all she could remember was feeling faint when the crowd started pushing her 
forward, and then a sharp pain in her upper right arm made her loosen her grip 
on the gate. She had slumped forward and someone had grabbed her and pulled her 
over the fence, bringing her quickly through some door. There she had passed 
out. The last thing she had remembered was being carried away from the noise on 
the stage. 
 
Now he walked around nervously as he glanced outside. She had lost all track of 
time. She had no idea where she was, how late it was or if anyone was looking 
for her. But they had to be. She couldn't imagine them dumping her like that. 
She had friends and family that would be worried sick about her.
 
Suddenly he got up from his hidden darkness and looked around, walking over to 
the door that shut them away from the outside world. He stopped and listened as 
sounds were heard in the back. Then there was a rummaging and the sounds 
stopped. And it was gone. 
 
Even in the darkness she could see the panic in his eyes. He was afraid of 
something. Perhaps his shelter hadn't been as safe as he thought. 
 
He moved forward, unwrapping something that he took from a bag. He placed it on 
the table. Her mouth felt extremely dry, and she was barely able to speak. But 
when she saw what he put there, she felt her breath choke and her body seemed to 
convulse as it reacted against the nausea his little gift brought up. 
 
He moved towards her, lifting her up so that she could heave without the chance 
of choking. She convulsed when his hands were all over her chest, but he didn't 
get aroused. He wasn't sexually interested in her. Whatever it was he wanted, it 
was different. 
 
'My little pearl,' he finally spoke, his voice so soft that she had to strain 
herself to hear it. 'Why did you run off?'
 
'I'm not your pearl,' she said, louder than she had expected. 'I don't know what 
you want, but I'm not the one you're looking for.' 
 
His eyes locked onto hers as his hands touched her and he smiled. 'I found you 
again. You don't have to hide from me. I know who you are. The chase is over.' 
 
'It's not,' she said, forcefully shaking her head. 'Let me go.' 
 
His eyes shifted and he kissed her softly. But still he wasn't sexually 
interested in her. She could tell by his moves and reactions. He didn't want her 
body. He just wanted her soul. And that frightened her even more. 
 
'You'll tell me who you are,' he said. 'It takes time, I know. But you'll tell 
me.'
 
'My name is Margaret,' she said hoarse. 'I'm living right here in Miami. I've 
never met you. What more do you want to know?'
 
He didn't give an answer. He just looked at her. Then finally, he spoke again 
and his voice sounded as cold as ice.  'You're my pearl, aren't you? You might 
have changed the way you look and your voice, but you're still her.'
 
'We've never met,' she said in fear. 'I don't know who you are! Whoever you're 
looking for, it's not me! You have to believe me, and let me go.'
 
And then, outside the door, they heard that same noise again. She opened her 
mouth to scream, but he had foreseen it, gagging her so fast she hardly knew 
what happened. Her tongue stuck to the cloth he used. She tried to move, to 
escape from his grip. 
 
He stood still, pressing his ear against the door as the noises returned and 
came back. Then they were gone again. But he knew they were onto him. And he 
couldn't wait much longer to do what he had to do. 
 
He sat down on his knees beside her, glaring at her. His eyes examined her face. 
He knew she wasn't the one, but somehow it didn't matter. The visions he'd had 
about killing her came back stronger now, and he realized that he had murdered 
her. 
 
He turned to see the mutilated hand he had placed on the table. Two fingers were 
missing. He had left them behind before, when he killed the others. He blinked 
as he remembered what he had done to her. Then he blinked again, and the vision 
was gone, and he knew he just couldn't stop killing. He had become a hunter 
looking for a prey, and he enjoyed the hunt. He enjoyed the fear in his victim's 
eyes. He relished the fact he was going to kill her soon. 
 
The urge to stop was over. He had to move on, until they would stop him. And 
they never would. But then the sounds behind those doors came back, and he stood 
in silence as he watched. 
 
When he met her eyes again, she knew he was going to kill her. She wasn't the 
one he searched, and now he was going to get rid of her.
 
 
Mulder vs. the killer
 
'He's not here,' Agent Oates said hard as they gathered in the security 
officer's booth. They didn't dare to turn on the lights. Working with 
flashlights, they could barely see each other. There were five groups of two in 
that small room, all scanning a part of the tunnels that ran underneath the 
arena. 
 
'That's impossible,' Mulder replied hard, as he rolled out the maps on the table 
once again, going with his flashlight over every inch of it. 'He has to be here. 
He had no way of knowing we were onto him. He wouldn't change his MO.'
 
'I'm telling you he's not here,' Oates repeated, glaring at Davis for support. 
But the AD hardly looked at the agent, realizing that they might have made a 
grave mistake. Then he looked at Mulder and knew they hadn't been mistaken. The 
killer was here, and his profiler felt it.
 
'Let's go over this again,' Davis said, asking the chief to help him out. 'You 
are very sure that we've covered all areas?'
 
'We must have,' the security officer said. 'We've followed the map thoroughly, 
as it were.'
 
'Is there a chance that there were older maps?' Mulder asked. 'There might have 
been closed-up rooms before.' 
 
'This is the only one I've got. The one that you're holding should tell you 
everything.' 
 
Mulder frowned as he focused on the entire area underneath the stage, running 
from left to right. All the other shelters had been found in that area. But 
here, there was just one underground corridor running to two small rooms that 
had been used as dressing rooms in the past. With the new layout, the artists 
had more privacy using the new dressing rooms they had set-up to the right of 
the stage. 
 
Mulder blinked as his eyes hurt from the flashlights. He put his finger on the 
map as he tapped on the two small squares. 'There's something there that doesn't 
add up. There should have been more rooms.'
 
'Not to my knowledge,' the chief security officer said. 'If there were, they're 
hidden behind cardboard walls.' 
 
'Perhaps that's exactly what we're looking for,' Mulder said, as he looked at 
Davis. The AD nodded. 'Let's go over this again. Light's come up by now. We have 
to move fast. Every team covers his area again. Look for fake walls, things that 
aren't in place. Don't use the arena area. With the sunlight coming in, he might 
see you. Use the corridors.'
 
Some of the agents mumbled something. Oates looked even angrier when he removed 
himself from the security room. Mulder grabbed his flashlight and gun, being 
stopped by Skinner who asked him where he was heading. 
 
'I'm going down there myself, sir,' he said. 'There's something I need to check 
out.' 
 
'You're not going anywhere, Agent Mulder. You're in no shape to do this.' 
 
'Of course I am,' Mulder said hard, opening the door. 'Don't even think of 
stopping me, sir. This is my case, or have you forgotten that?'
 
'Terence will get you off. He's your supervisor at this time. Or have you 
forgotten that?' 
 
Mulder stopped. 'You wouldn't dare. If you take me off, I'll quit the Bureau and 
do the investigation on my own. I haven't forgotten that you and Scully were 
eager enough to put me in this position before. Don't think that I will be 
stopped now.' 
 
Suddenly the room became very quiet, as Scully and Skinner held their breaths 
and watched Mulder. The agent blinked his eyelids as he scanned past their 
expressions. Terence Davis sighed deeply, realizing he had put the agent under 
more pressure than ever before. 
 
'I'm sorry,' Mulder said, rubbing his eyelids. 'I didn't mean that. I just want 
to find this guy before he kills the girl. Is that too much to ask?'
 
'Alright,' Davis said friendly, putting his hand on Mulder's shoulder. 'Let's 
compromise. We go through the arena once again. If we can't find her, you're 
going to your hotelroom, get some rest and come back when you see fit. Okay?' 
 
Mulder smiled, despite everything as his eyes met Scully's. 'Okay,' he finally 
said. 'I agree.' 
 
'Good. Let's go then.' 
 
Mulder lead the way to the stage, using the map to find his way through the 
corridors and areas that would keep them out of sight. Davis and Skinner walked 
after them. None of them said a word as Scully took over the map and guided them 
through a door that brought them down the stairs. Now they were behind the 
stage. 
 
Again a set of doors lead them further down. This time they had to use the 
keychain to open the locked up doors. The air began to smell stale, as if no one 
had been here for some time. Suddenly Scully stopped, pointing at the door to 
the right that seemed hidden in the dcor. 
 
'That's one room,' she said. 'Oates covered that one. It was empty.' 
 
Mulder tried the door and opened it. It was unlocked. The room was empty and 
seemed perfectly normal. It smelt just as damp. 
 
They walked down further. Davis and Skinner used the other corridors that lead 
them to another area that had been covered before. There they met the other team 
that was going through the motions. Scully watched as her partner opened the 
second door to the other small room that was pointed out on the map. It was just 
as empty. 
 
Mulder stopped in his tracks, frowning as his flashlight made figures on the 
wall. 
'What is it?' Scully asked, lowering the map. 
 
'There's something wrong here, Scully. This area is much smaller than it should 
be. Look, if you take the map, you can see that this entire area belongs to the 
backstage area. We're right underneath that now. But it's too small if you 
consider all the odds and ends.'
 
'Are you saying there is another area behind all of this?'
 
'Yeah.' Mulder moved to the wall, touching it with his left hand as he tried to 
manoeuvre his flashlight with the right one. The gun was tucked back in its 
holster. When he tapped on the wall, they heard a hollow sound. Scully bit her 
lip as she looked at her partner. 
 
'That's it,' Mulder said. 'Get the others here quickly.' 
 
'Don't go in there by yourself, Mulder. Wait until I get back.' 
 
He barely listened to her, focusing on what might be behind those walls.
 
Scully turned and left. He could hear the tapping of her heels as she hurried 
through the corridors for the others. Suddenly the agent touched something 
sharp. It felt like steel, like an old handle that was hardly noticeable. He 
pushed it but it didn't budge. 
 
Then he gave it a hard yank and the hidden, light door flew open, banging 
against the cardboard wall that had been put up years before to hide this area. 
There were boxes all over the place with relics no one had remembered. Everyone 
that worked here now, was too young to remember that in the early days, this 
place had been used as a storage facility. 
 
Mulder stopped in his tracks as he heard noises in the room. Yet there was no on 
here. He was alone - or so it seemed. He turned off his flashlight, instantly 
noticing the stroke of light that came from behind one of the walls. He moved 
towards it, touching the wall. Then he heard a muffled sound, as if someone was 
being hurt. 
 
Mulder's hands in panic searched for that same handle that would allow him 
access to the room. He took his gun back out, working the flashlight so that he 
could switch it on as a surprise attack. He heard sounds behind him, and the 
same muffled sound from within that room. 
 
Suddenly his fingers touched the handle. With the same strong movement he had 
made before, Mulder pushed open the door, shining his flashlight in at the same 
time as he held up his gun. 
 
'FBI!' he said sharp. 
 
The first thing he saw in the darkness was her form lying on the mattress. There 
was blood on her neck and throat. Her face looked deadly pale. Even in the 
darkness he could see that. And he was nowhere in sight. Mulder's flashlight 
scanned the room, but he found nothing but the mutilated hand on the table, and 
the body on the bed that was still breathing. 
 
But it didn't take an expert to see that she was dying. He had slit her throat 
with the piano wire that was still strangled around her throat. She couldn't 
breath. She opened and closed her mouth as if to get in the air. 
 
'Oh no,' Mulder muttered, lowering his gun as he rushed forward to help her. His 
fingers touched the wire, gently removing it from her throat. Suddenly it ran 
through his mind. She was alive. Why was she still alive? 
 
At the same time, something moved beside him. And the door, through which he 
came in, was shut in its lock. He turned around, aiming his gun at the assailant 
before him in the utter darkness. The flashlight that rested beside him was 
gone. He was alone in the darkness, with Margaret losing her fight for life 
beside him. 
 
He closed his eyes, aiming the gun at the sounds that he hoped to hear. But 
there weren't any. All he could hear was Margaret's shattered breath. 
 
'Stop this right now,' Mulder said, 'you know you can't get out of here. We're 
all over the place.' 
 
The man didn't respond to his words. The silence remained as it were. 
 
Suddenly something hard knocked the gun out of his hand, setting him off balance 
at the same time. Mulder shifted from his kneeling position, stretching out his 
hands to grab a hold of the assailant. From behind the door, there were 
footsteps and sounds, and he heard Scully banging on the door, shouting to get 
in. 
 
Mulder grabbed a hold of his attacker, shoving him away. Something broke and 
fell on the floor. Then the attacker was back, while Mulder tried to adjust to 
the darkness. He couldn't see a thing. Then something was shoved over his mouth 
and nose. It had a horrible scent to it, trying to send him into oblivion. But 
the agent wouldn't budge. 
 
Mulder hit the man's hand, sending the piece of fabric to the ground. As it 
fell, its scent fled. Mulder shook his head, forcing himself to stay alert. He 
wasn't going to be put off like that. 
 
'Mulder!' he heard Scully shout from behind the door, and suddenly he realized 
why they couldn't get in. It was barricaded with a chair, keeping them out. 
Suddenly a flashlight went on, shining straight into his eyes. Mulder shouted in 
pain as the light hit his eyes, forcing him to back away. 
 
His attacker moved forward, shoving him to the ground as the two men hit the 
ground. Something sharp entered his skin and flesh, piercing into him from the 
side. As skin and flesh tore, Mulder stayed on the floor. He saw his attacker 
move, and knew this would be the end. 
 
But a sound came from Mulder's left, and a door was opened, blinding both Mulder 
and the attacker with another flashlight. His attacker screamed as he tried to 
cover his eyes. In a flash he was up and about, pushing aside the woman that 
kept her light and gun on him. 
 
From his lying position, Mulder heard the footsteps as they moved through the 
room. Then there was a gunshot and a lot of silence. Running footsteps were 
heard, and then they came back. Mulder saw it was Mairad, who had found the 
other entrance to the small room. 
 
Mulder moved his hand to his side, trying to figure out what hurt him. Something 
stuck into his side. His fingers moved until he felt a large piece of glass 
sticking into his side. The agent crawled up on hands and knees, listening to 
the shallow breath of Margaret to concentrate on his position. Was the attacker 
still there? No, he had taken off probably using another exit they didn't know 
anything about. 
 
'Agent Mulder,' Mairad said, kneeling down. 'Are you all right? He's gone. He 
was too fast. There are so many corridors and ways in and out - I -' 
 
'The woman,' Mulder interrupted her as she tried to get him up and about. 
Mairad turned her attention to the woman on the bed. Mulder got up on his 
knees, supporting himself against the wall until he managed to open the 
barricaded door.
 
'Mulder,' Scully said, looking at her partner's pale form. He leaned heavily 
against the door as the others walked in. Someone turned on the switch that sent 
a sharp light into the dark room. Several agents stood in the doorway, trying to 
figure out what went wrong. 
 
'He's still in the building,' Mulder whispered hoarsely, as he pointed to 
Mairad and Margaret. 'Help her, Scully.' 
 
'We will,' his partner promised. 'And you.' 
 
Gently Scully took her partner's arm, believing that he was merely deadly tired 
and ready to drop on cue. She put him on the edge of the bed, ordering Skinner 
to watch him. 'Call 911!' she said sharp to Oates, who had already taken out his 
cell phone. There was confusion all around at the sight of the woman on the bed 
and the agents that tried to help her. 
 
Mairad backed away when Scully took over, realizing she could do nothing but 
watch. Mulder didn't speak to anyone. He didn't respond to Davis' questions or 
Skinner's urgent requests. He kept his eyes focused on Margaret, the woman he 
knew they could have saved. Now it was too late. 
 
'She's still alive,' Scully said, touching the woman's neck, trying not to 
glance at the way the piano wire had nearly slit her throat. Quickly the agent 
ripped off pieces of the sheet that covered the mattress and used them to make a 
temporary bandage. 
 
Mulder stared at them as they moved about, trying to make the woman as 
comfortable as possible while they waited. Skinner stood by his side, watching 
the procedures. They seemed to be in another reality, powerless to do anything 
but watch.
 
They still had a chance. They all knew it. But it seemed a hopeless task. The 
blood that covered her throat already found its way past the fabric that covered 
her throat. Her eyes were closed, as she, deadly pale, didn't budge. There 
seemed to be nothing they could do. But Scully wasn't ready to give up yet. 
 
When the paramedics came in to take over, the woman was breathing. They quickly 
bagged her and lifted her on a gurney. When they transferred her out of that 
small room, Scully caught a glance of the mutilated hand and sighed, rubbing her 
forehead with her left hand as she leaned tired against the wall. 
 
Mairad followed the gurney outside, promising the others she would go to the 
hospital with her and not leave her out of sight. The others stayed inside the 
damp room.
 
'The lab is already here,' Davis said, catching a glimpse of the men that were 
waiting with their equipment. 'Let's get out of here.'
 
'Come on, Mulder,' Scully said, grabbing her partner's arm. 
The agent stared at her as if she was a stranger. Scully watched him, as he 
seemed unable to talk to her. He had been so quiet since they walked in; so 
deadly still. He looked so strange now, the way he sat on the side of that bed, 
still looking at the mattress as if Margaret's body was still on it.
 
Then her eyes caught the white shirt he wore underneath his jacket. His hand 
still lay there even though he wasn't even aware of doing that small gesture 
himself. There was blood dripping between his fingers. The shirt was cut open 
and soaked with blood but she had thought it was Margaret's. She hadn't stopped 
to think it might have been his. 
 
'Mulder?' Scully said gently, trying to get him to look at her.
 
Her partner stared dazed at her, and got up. When she touched him, he slumped 
backwards, going through his knees that wouldn't carry the weight anymore. His 
hand finally let go of his side, and she held her breath as she saw the glass 
sticking out like a knife.
 
'Scully?' he said, losing his balance. He would have dropped like a ton of 
bricks, hitting the back of his head on the wooden side of the bed, hadn't 
Skinner grabbed him. Scully was on his other side in a second, supporting her 
partner as they gently moved him to the floor. 
 
'Get those paramedics back in here!' she heard Davis shout. 'We've got an agent 
down!'
 
'Careful,' Scully whispered, helping the AD settle her partner on the floor. 
Skinner took off jacket and put it under Mulder's head. There was no way they 
could place him on the mattress. They had to try and make the situation as 
comfortable as possible. 
 
Mulder was far away. She could tell by the way he saw right through her. His 
skin seemed as pale as Margaret's had been. She didn't know he was wondering why 
he felt so numb. His side felt like a bullet had hit it with shock settling in 
soon after. And he was so damned tired. 
 
'Oh god,' Scully muttered, lifting the shirt that concealed a deep entry wound 
with a sharp and large piece of a drinking glass embedded in it. Only then she 
saw the other pieces of the glass lying on the floor. It must have fallen during 
the struggle.  
 
'He's cut bad,' she said towards Skinner, somehow knowing her partner wouldn't 
understand a word she was saying. He didn't react when she focused on Skinner 
and Davis who watched her nervously.
 
'Internal damage?' Davis asked. 
 
'Don't know. If his kidney is bleeding -' She stopped herself from saying it. 
'They'll determine that at the ER. There's no way of -' 
 
'No!' her partner said so hard it startled everyone in the room. He fought back 
as Skinner held him to the ground. 'I'm not going back there!' 
 
Scully stared at her partner in shock, as he sobbed and moved his face away from 
her. He was in much pain now as he forced his body to move. Skinner had to make 
a serious effort to keep him calm. 
 
'You're not taking me back there,' Mulder argued. 'I'm not going! You can't make 
me. I refuse to go back there. Not on your life!'
 
'Go where, Mulder?' Scully asked softly. 
 
'That place. They'll finish their business. I'm not letting them stick their 
knifes and needles in me. I want to go home! Scully, please, just take me home.' 
Mulder grabbed her hand, pulling her so close to him that it hurt. 'Please, 
Scully,' he begged as she watched in despair. 'Take me home.' 
 
She leaned forward, stroking his hair out of his face. It felt sticky. The 
boyish look to it was gone. He was panicking, and she didn't want the others to 
notice. It could jeopardize his credibility and abilities as special agent. But 
she couldn't care less right now about all the others that were waiting and 
watching. 
 
'I can't, Mulder,' she said gently, trying to relax his features. 'You're hurt. 
We need to make sure you're fine. You are wounded badly.'
 
'Hurt?' he asked, frowning as he glared beside her at Skinner. Then Davis moved 
in sight and knelt down with worry as well. Somehow his presence seemed to 
comfort Mulder.   
 
'We need to take you to a hospital, Mulder,' Davis said. 'You've fallen on a 
piece of a glass. It's embedded in your side. We have to get it out.' 
 
'No. Just pull it out. I'm fine. We need to find her ...'
 
'You already found her,' Terence said gently. 'She's fine thanks to you.' 
 
'She is?' the agent asked in surprise as he blinked his eyelids. Scully noticed 
the agitated look in her partner's eyes. Why in the world didn't he just pass 
out and allow his body to rest? Right now, that was all he needed. For once she 
would be grateful if he passed out. But he wasn't supposed to. Somehow she knew 
he was right. 
 
Scully moved her body so he alone could see her. 'I won't leave your side,' she 
swore, 'but we have to help you. Can you understand that, Mulder?'
 
Her partner nodded, not letting go of her hand. Then he turned his face away 
from her and closed his eyes. Wherever he was, it wasn't in this room. She bit 
her lip, hoping and praying that he would stand the pain until they got that 
piece of glass out of him. And then all they could do is hope that it hadn't 
caused irreparable damage.

To be concluded ...