Title: Into the Fire (10/17) Author: Don Durham ------------------------- (Mulder) Cotelli screeched to the curb, I threw open the door and tried to catch up to with him. He'd already made it half way to Paul's apartment by the time I'd untangled my seat belt. I had to sprint to catch him before he reached the door. It was still early, only a little past nine, but in Rabinowitz's neighborhood the good little citizens were already settling in for the night. That wouldn't last, I mused. After fifteen to twenty Bureau vehicles swarmed over the street no one would be sleeping. Well, no one, but Rabinowitz, I feared. Cotelli was ringing the bell, calling to Rabinowitz, and knocking. All to no avail. I reached for my burglary tools, but he beat me to the punch with a solid kick to the door. So much for stealth. The door leapt back from his well-placed shoe and crashed into the wall behind it, the knob burying itself into the plaster. The room was lit from a hall on the far side. For several seconds neither of us said anything. We couldn't understand what we were seeing. In all those years admiring the best that the disturbed mind had to offer, I'd never seen anything like this. The living room, if that was indeed what we were in, was demolished. Every piece of furniture, every lamp, every chair, every table, was smashed several times over. Tatters of fabric, obviously part of sofas, chairs and drapes, were ripped and strewn across the floor and stuck to the wall. Neither of us could quite determine what had been used to bludgeon the room into submission, until Mike stepped out of the foyer and onto the carpet. His first step squished audibly under his feet. That disturbingly natural sound brought me back to reality. The random bits lying around the room, weren't part of the furnishings, they were part of Rabinowitz. Someone had methodically used the room itself to beat him to death and beyond. I reached to pull my partner out of the abattoir before he realized but it was too late. I heard him retch, and felt him brush past me to the outside. Seasoned to carnage, I switched on the main lights and surveyed the room. Most of the time, full light reduces the effect of the gore. After all, light chases away the bogeyman, right? Not this time. Seeing the room in all its splendor, allowed me to realize just how long it'd taken him to die. This had not been an act of passion, whoever had done it had methodically taken the room apart. I stared at the room, desperately trying not to see Scully's delicate hand in all this when Cotelli's shout broke the silence. "FBI." I could seem him brandishing his shield. "This is a crime scene." The response wasn't intelligible, but I could hear the steps briskly moving past my partner. Just for a second, the door seemed to be shrouded in mist, and then that lanky body pushed through, the ever-present cigarette pinched between thumb and forefinger. He took in the room in one glance and fixed that calm face on me. "Well, Mister Mulder, care to reconsider my offer?" I colored; my voice thick with indignation. "You can't possibly think that she'd have anything to do with this? Rabinowitz was one of her closest friends." His expression didn't change. Gods, did anything ever touch him? "I do think was is the correct term." For a second there was the barest hint of tenderness in his eyes. "Come now. People change. Let's work together before things get really out of hand. It's only a matter of time before this ends up being your apartment." As always, he said it in a perfectly agreeable tone, but as always, it made me want to reach out and choke him. "This wasn't her and you know it!" I hissed. "She's not like this." Another placid smile. "How do you know? To paraphrase, 'When you dance with the devil, the devil doesn't change, the devil changes you." He surveyed the room once more. "I can be reached at this number." He handed me a business card. "I don't need your damned card. I'm not going to call you. Not tomorrow, not ever." I wanted to snatch the paper from his hand and stomp on it. Very adult, Mulder. "Never the less. You might change you mind. You might even need it." He deftly slipped the card into my breast pocket. "I can be an resourceful ally. Especially in the dark of night." He turned and seemed to swirl into the void beyond the door. The agent in me said I couldn't discount her. But I knew Scully. Cancerman was trying to sow seeds of distrust so when it all fell apart he could step in and pick up the very valuable pieces. But why hadn't she come to see me? She had to know I'd find out she'd seen Skinner. She had to know it would hurt me. Did she not trust me anymore? Was she jealous I had another partner? Cotelli saved me from the endless series of questions. "Those officious bastards! Three! Three of them held me to the wall while that cretin waltzed in! What in the hell did he want? And how in the blazes did he know where we were?" Cotelli was still shaking with anger. But how? Were we under surveillance? Our phones tapped? That had to be it. That was why Scully hadn't come to me. She knew we were being watched. "As for how he knew where we were, we're probably being watched. As for what he wanted? God knows, but he gave me this." I pulled the business card out of my pocket. I hated to touch it. Probably poisoned. Cotelli forgot all about his previous tirade in the face of this chunk of paper. "Well, let's see it." He reached toward my hand. Somehow, I didn't want him to touch it. I didn't want him soiled with Cancerman the way I was. I pulled it back slightly. There was the faintest glimmer of hurt in Cotelli's eyes. Turning it over in my fingers, I saw it was blank, save three initials and a phone number: H.R.S. 666-0666 At last I had a hard lead on the bastard. It he had a phone number, then he could be traced. Cotelli thought the same; I could see it in his face. Just as quickly, I realized it was too good to be true. If Cancerman had given me his number, then he was confident it would give me no help. And somehow I knew he could be trusted on that account. 'Nasty... not stupid.' I picked up my cell phone, and then closed it. It was tapped. Just as sure as those were bits of Rabinowitz's skull imbedded in the wall. What were the chances Rabinowitz's phone was tapped? None too great. Besides, I wanted Skinner here before it got sanitized. I just hoped he had his phone with him and turned on. I used a tissue to pick up the phone. Sure, the lunatic that did this probably called for pizza before he left. Please be there, I prayed. Of course, he's going to tear me a new asshole for calling him. "Skinner." ------------------------- "Sir, it's Agent Mulder." My stomach clenched at Mulder's voice. Not at much due to the stress associated with his presence, but with the knowledge that Mulder didn't call on a whim. He'd only contact me if he'd run down his list of options and was convinced he was in the right. Often he was completely out to lunch, but there were those times... My guts told me this was one of them. Mulder took a deep breath. "Sir, Paul Rabinowitz's been murdered. I need you to come to his house at 134 Marlborough Court in Annapolis as soon as you can." He didn't sound as sure of himself as he usually did. Time to be Assistant Director Skinner. "Mulder. This is a police matter now. Call it in, and we can discuss it tomorrow." "Sir." Mulder's voice was a bit shaky. "I'm very certain if we wait until tomorrow, this will all be very nicely tidied up and a very plausible story will be in its place. Whoever killed Rabinowitz, killed Scarbrough and Michaels. And they're not through yet." This was one of Mulder's hunches. Early on, I'd laughed at them, but they had an annoying habit of being right. Usually when you'd intentionally ignored them. "It'll take me a few minutes, but I'll be there." It was only then, Mulder realized I wasn't sitting home waiting for him to call. "Of course, sir. I hadn't thought you'd be out tonight." He seemed a little embarrassed. To his credit, he didn't ask whom I was with, although I'm sure he was dying to know. "I'll see you shortly, Mulder." I closed the phone and turned to the door and faced facts. I was old. I was tired. And I just didn't belong. Scully was waiting just outside the door. "Problems?" She seemed concerned. Sighing, I motioned her into a relatively quiet alcove. "There's been a murder. I'm going to have to bow out on our evening. Do you want me to run you back to your hotel?" I'm sure I could get any one of the fifty guys drooling over you at this moment to take you back to your hotel. "Nothing doing. I'll just come with you." Now that was a ridiculous idea. "Scully. This is Bureau business." I winced inwardly at that. "You'll - " "Bullshit!" I stared at her. In all the years I'd known her, I don't think I'd ever heard her curse, though as a Navy brat she ought to have one hell of a vocabulary. "What?" "You heard me, Walt. Bullshit. I've seen more bodies than half the Bureau put together. One more won't hurt. Besides, I used to be a fair pathologist. Sounds like you might need one." How did she know? Taking her would be against regulations, but it might be a good idea. "OK, but I need to tell you something." She nodded. "It's Paul Rabinowitz. Mulder just found the body" I expected her to be upset, but she seemed rather complacent. "That's too bad." She sighed. I'd thought she and Paul were friends; maybe not. "I'm sorry." "I think we've got to get something straight. Walt, I'm not in the FBI and my name is not Scully. It's Dana. I hoped we'd established that." She leaned up and kissed me to punctuate. Damn, that woman can kiss, I felt it in the soles of my feet. I swallowed, and tried not to stammer. "OK, Dana. We need to get out of here. Mulder's waiting." It took a quick call for directions before we could leave. The ride out to Rabinowitz's was uninteresting. Well, as uninteresting as it can be when you're hurtling through the night on a Harley with the one woman you'd trade your entire existence for clinging to your back like a second skin. end 10/17 Title: Into the Fire (11/17) Author: Don Durham ------------------------- (Mulder) "I'll see you shortly, Mulder." Skinner rang off, and I stood there holding the phone in shock. Skinner'd been at a club of some sort. I could hear the muffled rock pulsing in the background. Maybe I'd been wrong about him, but I just didn't see Walter Skinner as the 'Rock and Roll all Night' kind of guy. Cotelli and I headed outside - I'd had enough gore for one evening, but I had to take one more look. Cotelli pulled his weapon and closed the door behind him. After all these years. I still have a hard time believing just how much blood the body holds. I turned to open the door and stared in shock. The killer'd left a message in what was probably Rabinowitz's blood. Carefully printed in block letters were: ...and then there were four. I hate to admit I compared it to Scully's hand, but I couldn't see it in it. I called Cotelli in to witness it. We gaped for a few minutes before returning outside. My partner was shaking. "There was nothing like this in any of the reports. Nothing." "I've got the feeling this was something new. Whoever killed Rabinowitz wrote that after he called. He wanted to make sure we'd get here first and see it." I mentally added one more tick to the psychotic column in my ledger on the killer. Cotelli hadn't the seasoning of all those years in behavioral sciences. In spite of our time in the X-Files, this was beginning to get to him. I motioned away from the house, "Keep an eye out for Skinner's car." Not that we needed to, but I hoped it'd keep his mind off Paul. The growl of a Harley echoed through the neighborhood. There was a squeal of tires as a single light headed toward us. "Just the thing to cap off the night. Bikers." Cotelli made to attempt to contain his disgust. Instead of blasting past us and serenading the block the Harley slowed and pulled into Rabinowitz's drive. I reached for my badge, preparing to use the 'Crime Scene' ploy to free myself from the inevitable leather-clad macho jerk that seemed to be a standard feature of motorcycles. There were two people on this bike. One huge guy and a woman who was completely dwarfed beside him. I braced for the argument and hope they were lost or something, and not friends that I'd have to mislead about the grisly contents of the house. The guy reached up to remove his helmet, and I made my way to intercept him. "Sir. I'm afraid, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I'm Agent Mulder and this is my partner, Agent Cotelli. This is a crime scene." I hoped that by being officious, I'd take the upper hand from the start. The voice that responded almost threw me into a faint. "Of course it's a crime scene, Mulder. That is why I came." Skinner? He took the helmet off. Luckily, my shock at his mode of transport kept me from compounding my appearance of idiocy. That was until the woman behind him removed her helmet and spoke. "Mulder. Skinner tells me you've got something you fear won't last the night. We'd better get going." "Scully? Scully!" I feared that when I did see her again, I wouldn't be able to recognize her, but all I needed was her voice, and I knew it was her. ------------------------- "...Scully!" I gritted my teeth for what was sure to be the end of my interlude with Dana. Now that Mulder was in the equation, I was certain to be a second order effect - quickly cast aside. Childish as it was, I caught myself inching between them, trying to block Mulder from her, keep her mine for a few more seconds. Mulder sidestepped me ran toward her and wrapped her in an embrace -- I doubt he even noticed me in the way. Watching in amazement, I realized I didn't know if I've ever seen him hug anyone. She hugged back, but her eyes met mine for a brief second. She seemed to be trying to reassure me. Cotelli watched - shifting nervously from one foot to another. I presumed he was in awe of his partner's former accomplice in dozens of dubious activities. He waited a beat or two more. "Mulder? Aren't you going to introduce us?" I couldn't have asked for a better chaperone. Cotelli was right there, making sure everyone was down to business. I'll have to remember this when review time comes along. Mulder broke the embrace and looked a bit sheepishly at Cotelli. "Scully, this is Mike Cotelli. Cotelli, this is Dana Scully." Mulder seemed to be searching her face for approval on the new pairing. "Mike. It's good to see Mulder's still got someone to keep him on the straight and narrow. We really should get together and compare notes." She smiled broadly at him. Cotelli blushed. "I-It's really great to finally meet you. I've heard a lot about you." He seemed completely bowled over by her presence. Cotelli's reaction was strange. I'd never thought of him as shy around women. Dana was a bit impressive, especially since she'd came back, but he was almost mooning at her. "So, Mike. How'd you end up with the most prestigious job in the FBI?" She grinned at him again. Mulder jumped in. "It's a long, boring story, Scully. I'm sure you don't want to hear about right now." I'd almost forgotten the sordid details of their partnership. Mulder'd probably rather she pulled his fingernails out than have her hear how they got together. Dana went in for the kill. "Mulder, you never could lie to me. Go ahead, Mike. I'd love to hear it." Dana didn't seem to change her tone, but Cotelli blushed heavily. "Well... Mulder and I were in this class, we got into an argument, and he punched me. I guess AD Skinner decided we needed to learn to work together, so we were made partners for the duration of the class." I hadn't expected Mulder to hold his tongue. "Cotelli, you make it sound so tawdry." He didn't even look my way for support. "Someone found out." Mulder shot me a glance. "That I hadn't done my scuba training in the academy. So naturally, someone decided I should go to Quantico for the class. Several of the students started making 'Spooky Mulder' jokes; one thing led to another and I ended up decking Cotelli." Mulder winced a bit at the memory. "After that, we were made to buddy together in the class, kind of an object lesson I suppose." He glanced at Cotelli. "I guess we found out neither of us was as big an asshole as we thought." Dana stared at the pair of them for about three beats and then burst out laughing. "You mean. The two of you are partners because you tried to beat the crap out of each other?" They both quickly glanced at each other. Cotelli spoke up. "It was Skinner's idea. He said if I wouldn't back down after Mulder punched me, then I was the perfect partner." I watched Dana taking this all in. To hear it told, it sounded like a stroke of genius, in truth it was a desperate act by a manager who's come to the end of his rope. After she left, Mulder had a hard time getting interested in anything. Not that I really enjoyed the fallout the X-Files engendered, but he was a friend more than anything else. It scared me to see him losing his fire. The Cotelli incident happened just at the right time. Suddenly he had someone who, though he couldn't replace Scully, at least interested him. Dana seemed to understand this immediately. She flashed me a quick, warm smile. "Mulder. I need to talk to you. It has to be now, and we have to be alone." She turned to Cotelli, "You won't mind me borrowing your partner for a few hours, will you?" Cotelli stared at her for a second before realizing he'd been spoken to. "No, sure. I mean, you had him first." He blushed at the innuendo. "Not that I mean you and he -- Shit! Mulder. Tell her I don't mean that." Dana came to his rescue. "Mike." She said softly. "I know you didn't mean anything. Forget it." Mulder was staring at her as if he'd just now recognized the emperor had no clothes. "Scully, we can't go anywhere. We've got a crime to investigate. And you're a civilian now. You really can't be here. Sir, tell her she's got to leave." I stared at Mulder for a split second. Since when had he given a rat's ass about the rules? Especially where Dana was concerned. Damn him, did he have to argue with all my decisions? I'd brought her because she'd be an asset. And she was staying 'til I told her to leave. I took a steadying breath. "Mulder. I invited Dana here." His eyes widened slightly at my use of her first name. "And here she'll stay until I decide for her to leave. If you're so worried about the evidence disappearing before morning, I think you'd welcome her help." Mulder was never dissuaded by mere arguments, and this time was no exception. His tone was getting just a touch belligerent. "Sir. She's a civilian. She doesn't belong. Besides, it's not safe here. I demand you send her away." Mulder didn't even give an apologetic look to his former partner. Cotelli, for his part was staring in amazement. He was probably with me in wondering who this person in front of us was, and what had he done with the real Fox Mulder. To my utter amazement, and I'm sure Mulder's relief, Dana quietly acquiesced. "Walt." She turned to me. "He's right. I don't belong here." There was no anger, or even regret in her tone, just acceptance. "Tell you what. I need to talk to Mulder, and you need me gone. Why don't you let me borrow your bike, and I'll take him somewhere we can talk. I'll bring the it by your place later tonight. OK?" I stared at her for a second. What she'd asked was perfectly reasonable, and at the same time, contrary to every instinct I had. I couldn't believe my ears when I heard myself answering. "Are you sure you can drive it? It's a bit big." She laughed brightly, and in that instant I realized I'd never refuse her anything. "I've been riding Harley's since I was fourteen. Don't worry, I won't get so much as a scratch on your baby." I tossed her the keys. "OK, you wait outside while Mulder, Cotelli, and I check out this out. Then you make tracks. I'd better not see you where you don't belong again." I gave her my best Dark Lord of the FBI look, but I feared we both knew I couldn't back it up. Mulder started to sputter something, but seemed to choose discretion over valor, and we started up Rabinowitz's drive to his house. We hadn't gotten five feet when it seemed like a dozen flashbulbs went off in my face all at once, and the three of us were thrown facedown to the ground. A huge explosion resounded off the houses around us. For an instant I thought I was in a mortar attack. Then I knew. Someone had blown up the house. Mulder was the first up to his feet, screaming. From his tone I knew he wasn't hurt, just very pissed off. "You black lunged son of a bitch you can't get away with this forever!" He was shouting to the air; Mulder was right I could feel Cancerman's nicotine stained hand in this as well. Dana was with us being the good doctor. "Everyone OK? Mulder? Walt? Mike?" We all mumbled affirmations. "Good. That was close. Come on. Everybody up. We need to get away from the house." I'd forgotten just how cool she could be under pressure. She didn't even seem to be breaking a sweat. Ushering us away from the blaze, her gaze centered on me. "Walt. This isn't going to make sense right now, but I have to go, and go fast. I promise I'll explain later." She turned to Mulder. "Come on. We have to leave now." Mulder started to redden. "Scully, I can't leave. Goddamned Cancerman just sanitized another crime scene. Just like he's been doing since the day I took on the X-Files and years before." Mulder was swiftly mounting his soapbox. Once he was firmly entrenched there'd be no getting him to leave. Dana gave the three of us a long look. "Mulder, it wasn't Cancerman; it was me." Mulder look as if he'd been kicked in the groin -- I felt like it. "Or to be more precise, people who work with me. Now get on the bike. We don't have the time to work out the comparative morality of the situation." She grabbed his arm and forced him over to the bike. I finally found my voice. "Dana, stop. You're --" She finished for me. "Under arrest. Walt. Wait. Just wait. You will understand. It'll be OK." She pushed tossed my helmet to Mulder, got in front, stomped the bike into life, and vanished into the dark. The Harley's roar, a coarse farewell reverberating off suburbia as she left. Seconds after, three black HumVee's took her place. They stopped just short of squealing; each disgorging a complement of black clad commando types. Behind them a semi idled to a stop, another ominous black shape. This was something I understood; unlike Dana's cryptic admission of culpability. This was a cleanup squad. These were Cancerman's goons. I was going to enjoy stonewalling them. end 11/17 Title: Into the Fire (12/17) Author: Don Durham ------------------------- (Mulder) Scully was driving like some kind of mad woman. I'd been on a motorcycle a total of three times; she rode as if she'd been born on one. She'd killed the lights and was using the streetlights to see. The effect was like being in a series of tunnels with only brief glimpses of sky. As we had pulled away from Rabinowitz's, we ran straight into some sort of convoy. Several HumVee's and a semi -- all black. She'd cursed, and proceeded to weave between the trucks at full throttle. I'd thought she was trying to attack, but later realized she'd done it to rattle them. It'd worked. No one seemed to be following us. She finally pulled to the side next to a mail box. "There. We should be safe for a few minutes." She finally turned on the bike's lights. I started to get off. "So are you finally going to tell me what the fuck's going on?" My voice was a bit sharp. I desperately wanted her to be innocent of all this, but it was getting a bit hard to believe. "In a little while. First things first. Can I borrow your cell- phone?" She reached out her hand. I started to argue, but gave in. Why not? She'd just whammy me into it like she'd done Skinner and Cotelli if I didn't. "Here. Want my gun too?" I didn't know what had happened in the past two years, but I wasn't sure I liked the new Scully. She just smiled a little sadly. "Just the phone." She held it up to look at it. "One of the nifty digital ones. Nice. It'll have to go." She said it so matter of factly. Like she was commented on its color. This was going too far. The phone was new. I'd just had it issued. "Scully. You can't. I just got it." She reached over to the mailbox and dropped it in. "Call the post office in the morning. Tell them you were a bit clumsy mailing a letter. Now anything else electronic? Pager? One of those cute little digital assistants?" Sighing, I handed her my pager. I'd picket it up last year when the Bureau, in a fit of cost cutting, began random checks of cell-phone bills. It too found its way into the post. She brushed off her hands. "That should give them fits." She smiled, then noticing what I'm sure was a less than pleasant expression on my face. "The new digital phones can be tracked with the right equipment. As far as they're concerned you just dropped off the face of the earth. Come on. It's a great night for a ride." Once again, Scully took over and I perched behind her. As much as I loathed letting someone else drive in a car, this was much worse -- too loud to do anything but shout, too dark to see anything but the small oval lit by Skinner's headlight, and too precarious to try to make her stop. It was hard to decide how long we drove. I didn't dare let go to check my watch and lack of sensory input made it hard to gauge time. Counting heartbeats seemed a waste of time. My heart was racing. This should have been erotic. Hurtling through the night clutching one of the most beautiful women I'd ever known. Instead it was a bit terrifying. The night seemed alive with danger. Cancerman. His thugs. Rabinowitz's killer. Scully herself... I knew I was in deep shit, but damn Scully was sexy. My thighs almost completely wrapped around hers. I found myself remembering Puerto. I'd worked very hard to push those days out of my memory -- it was just too painful, but now I found myself going over every minute she and I had made love. I don't know if it was the proximity, or something about her, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. The best sex of my life -- hell, it almost cost me my life and I'd probably risk it again just for a taste of what I'd been missing. I could feel my erection probing the small of her back and it was all I could do not to press my hips into her. Scully broke my reverie by abruptly shutting down the engine as we coasted a good quarter of a mile into the parking lot of an old church. I had no idea where the hell we were, I'd been too busy lusting after my former partner. She put a foot down to steady the bike and a hand over my mouth. I got the idea, quiet. We dismounted, she hid the Harley behind a large hedge, and took off across the cemetery. I considered staying put, but the sure knowledge of being whammied into following loosened my feet. There was a bare quarter of a moon in the sky dancing between low clouds. It was just enough light to keep from tripping and breaking your neck (at least if you needed the light to see that was). I remembered Scully telling me her grandmother used to keep her respectful and off the graves in cemeteries by telling her she might fall through and in with the corpse if she stepped on one. I briefly wondered if that was where I was going and if I would get a headstone of my own. Scully had paused up ahead, tapping her foot with impatience for me to catch up. "OK, in here." She pointed to a large tomb. "Scully? A crypt? Isn't that just a bit cliche?" It was more than a little disconcerting to be directed to a grave at this point. She smiled. "First of all, this is not what it seems. There aren't any bodies in here; never were. Secondly, what 20th century human is going to be looking for a vampire in a crypt?" The thought she no longer associated herself with the human race wasn't lost on me. The question was whether she considered herself better, worse, or just different? Any answer chilled me to the bone. You'll need this." She tossed me a flashlight, and led the way into mausoleum. I'm not sure what I expected, but I didn't expect her to heft a half-ton slab of stone off the floor and disappear. Cursing myself for curiosity, I inched to the black square and peered just over the edge. There she was, calmly waiting for me about five feet below. I knew what she was going to say, and I didn't relish it at all. "Come on. Jump. I'll catch you." ------------------------- I closed and locked to door to the condo behind me and headed for the scotch. Not that it had a chance in hell of taking the sting out of tonight, but maybe it'd stop me from feeling long enough to get to sleep. Somehow Dana had talked me out of my bike, admitted to blowing up Rabinowitz's house, and rode off into the night with Mulder -- leaving me to pick up the pieces. At the time, it'd made perfect sense, but after the adrenaline wore off and reason took over, it sure seemed like I was a first class schmuck. A pattern was emerging. Dana disappears; I end up alone feeling stupid. The night hadn't been a total loss. The goons had been Cancerman's. They seemed to have not expected me at the scene. The big, good- looking blonde ordered me off the premises in a way that said he was used to people doing exactly what he told them. Unfortunately for him, I was just as used to getting my way. He seemed particularly upset that not only was I not going to leave, but that I was claiming to be an Assistant Director of the FBI, with credentials to prove it. And that this was now an official crime scene. Funny thing is, they'd come loaded for bear. I'd caught sight of some of the weaponry they had with them. Do you really need M72 Light Anti-Tank Weapons, flame throwers, and machine guns to clean up a murder scene? Not to mention whatever they had in the semi. There was something more going on than I had been led to believe, and I was sure Mulder was at the bottom of it somehow. Of course he was off with Dana, and I was sitting on the couch killing brain cells. Cotelli had been strangely reticent while he drove me home. I'd asked him what he and Mulder had been so keen to show me, but he didn't want to say. He seemed to be unsure he'd seen anything at all I'd gotten tired of trying to pry things out of Cotelli and decided to work it out on my own. Mulder and Cotelli had been at Rabinowitz's house shortly after he'd been killed and well before any police had been called. Something had told Mulder that the killer had been the same as the one at the Bureau. He needed me to personally observe the damage, but he didn't want Dana to go inside. Whatever had happened had been big enough to call in some of Cancerman's biggest, baddest, and from what I could tell probably his best MIBs. Mulder had either known or suspected that Dana was involved in this. Was that why he'd acted so strangely in my office? Why he'd given me that cock and bull story about Dana being a vampire. It made sense, but it made my head hurt. I poured a third scotch, and tried to figure out Cancerman's place in all this. It had to be something nasty, something valuable enough to bring out his best creeps, and something vicious enough to need more firepower than most third world countries. Maybe Mulder was half right. Maybe there was a vampire involved. If so, then Cancerman's part in this was more than a little obvious; what army wouldn't want it's own band of invisible assassins? And what a group of paramilitary goons for my favorite smoker. end 12/17 Title: Into the Fire (13/17) Author: Don Durham ------------------------- (Mulder) Scully caught me with less difficulty than I'd have had with a bag of sugar, and with about as much ceremony she set me down; then headed off into a sloping pitch dark passageway. I could hear her encouraging me to follow just beyond the reach of my light. Several minutes later, we came to a large, well lit, room. It wasn't carved out of rock, but mortared out of stone. We were under the church! There was probably a passage out of here back into it as well. Scully grinned at me. "This certainly is backwards, isn't it? You've always been the one that drug me down the holes, not the other way." I tried to laugh it off, but it wasn't really funny any more, and what's more I was pissed. "Scully, what the hell is going on? Rabinowitz was your friend, and you blew off his murder as if he was less than a stranger. I don't know how vampires treat it, but we humans take it personally when our friends get turned into hamburger." She stared at me, and for a split second, that glow returned to her eyes, but she seemed to forcibly calm herself. "Mulder. It's not that I don't care what happened to Paul, but things have changed some, I've changed." Her voice seemed to carry an almost infinite sorrow. This was my chance, my opening. "Scully. It doesn't have to be this way. Together I'm sure we can cure you. Make you human again." "Mulder. You don--" She started to protest, but I cut her off. "Scully! Hear me out. You don't know what I've seen in the past couple of years. Technology beyond your dreams. Nanotechnology's taking off." I had to suppress a shuddered at what it had almost done to Skinner. "We can undo what's been done to you. You can get your life back." She fixed me with a hollow stare. I was sure she was reminiscing about our time in the Bureau. Our days in the sun. "Mulder." She began softly. "I don't think you understand." She grasped my hand and pulled me close. "Even if you could make me mortal again, I could never be human. The changes aren't just to the blood and sinew, but to the soul." God, I hated to hear this. It just couldn't be. I wanted to grab her and cradle her in my arms, but even before she'd never let me do that. I settled with clutching her hand. I brought all my persuasive powers to bear. "Of course it will be hard at first. It's just like recovering from an addiction." I wanted to beg her to reject all this, and come back with me. Antonio 'd had his two years and more. She belonged to me, and this world. She brought her other hand to mine; cool and silky. "Mulder." I could tell this hurt her. "What you don't understand is that I like my life. Even if you could change me back. Body and soul. I wouldn't come willingly. It's not the physical power, or that I've become some sort of ultimate predator. It's the simple fact that for the first time in my life, I am the master of my own destiny. For once, I don't need anyone or anything to tell me that I matter. I matter because I know it." Maybe it was arrogance; maybe naivete, but it never occurred to me that Scully wouldn't want to return to the Bureau. "So you're not here to come back." Scully smiled softly; there might have been a trace of a tear in her eyes. "Mulder. Part of why I came back was to fulfill my promise. To offer to bring you across, but it appears your decision is already made." "Fine. Then stay as your are. We can be a great team. Together we can shut Cancerman's organization down cold." This was the solution. If I could get her part of the way back, I could bring her the rest of the way over time. Scully let go and started slowly pacing the room. "Mulder, you already have a partner. Besides. For once, it's me who's too dangerous to be with." I stared at her; in what I'm sure was a look of utter confusion. "Scully, what are you talking about?" I though we'd worked out the whole vampire problem in Mexico. "Mulder, it's not the danger I pose to you, but the dangers attracted to me because of what I am. You don't think that collection of black vehicles we passed on our way out was just a really goth fire department do you?" She stopped pacing and faced me. "Those were some of Cancerman's best out to catch a vampire. They probably hoped Rabinowitz's killer was hanging around to enjoy his handiwork." "Of course he was there, Scully. The killer called Cotelli and told him about the murder. We were all but invited for a private viewing." Scully seemed a bit shocked. The first time I'd seen her surprised by anything since she'd reappeared. "You were called? How do you know it was the killer? It could have been a prank." Classic disbelieving Scully mode. The little part of my brain that's always in agent mode commented on how fine a performance this was if she was the assassin. "If it wasn't the killer, then they were at Rabinowitz's house right after it happened and they knew to call Cotelli. That's a hell of a coincidence. Besides, almost no one knew Rabinowitz was in on this case." I mentally ticked off the names: Cotelli, Byers, Frohike, Langley, maybe Cancerman, and whoever broke into my office that night. "Scully? Where did you go when you left Skinner's office Friday? Did you break into my office?" She hesitated about half a beat. "Don't be ridiculous, of course not! Didn't Skinner tell you what happened Friday? I met him in his office about eight or eight-fifteen, and we went out to dinner. That's what happened Friday." She finished with a perceptible 'so there'. Could the security photos have been faked? It would have to have been a kick ass job and they'd have to have gotten to Jessie, but it could be done. It just didn't jive. "Scully, look, I know you were in the Bureau Friday night longer than you said you were, and I don't care. I need to know what's going on and you're the only one who can help me." She stared me down. "Mulder. I've already told what happened. Skinner and I went out for dinner." "I saw the security camera photos. You left with Skinner at nine- fifteen. Want to tell me what you were doing for almost an hour?" Her eyes briefly flared again. "Fine. Skinner and I entertained each other before we left. What about it?" She wanted to distract me. "Damn it, Scully. Quit this crap. I need to know what the hell's going on!" I knew that yelling was the last thing I should do, but that didn't stop me. Her eyes softened. "Mulder. I told you in the letter. You can't get involved. It's too dangerous. Just leave it at that, OK?" I could hear the plea in her voice. "OK. Then answer one question.Do you know who killed Rabinowitz?" Just say no. I swear I'll believe you. Just say no. "I can't answer that." I could tell she regretted saying it, but she said it just the same. "Can't or won't? Need to protect your pyromaniac friends? Whose side are you working on now?" I'd forgotten just how stubborn she could be. She stared at me. "Just drop it. Now." I could feel myself weakening. If I hadn't been so pissed, I probably would have fallen into line and this would all be over. "No." I took a deep breath. "I'm not going to knuckle under. And I'm not going to let a serial murderer get away just because you've got some secret agenda." "Mulder, I admit Rabinowitz's death is a tragedy, but can you really mourn for any of the others? We both know they were dirty. That they were in Cancerman's pocket. That they sold out the Bureau and their fellow agents. I'm not saying I'm happy they were killed, but I'm not going to go out of my way to lament them either. Just drop it. You've to no evidence, no suspects, and no motive. And I'm pretty sure that's the way it's going to stay." "So that's it then? We just let the killer walk away? What about the final four victims? Forget about them, too?" Scully seemed shocked. "Mulder, what other four?" I stared at her for a second, apparently too long. "What... other... four?" "The killer left a message on Rabinowitz's door. '...and then there were four.' I thought it was a bit melodramatic." Scully transformed in an eyeblink. I knew all that apathy and indifference had been an act. "Fuck! Damn Chalmers." She stared around the room for a second, her glowing eyes boring holes in the stone walls. "Mulder. You, Cotelli, and Skinner are all in danger. One of my kind, Jeremy Chalmers, has taken it into his head to eliminate anyone he thinks was involved in his mother's abduction and death. He cut a swath through Cancerman's group before anyone realized what was happening. Now, for some reason, he's decided the three of you are involved." It all started to make sense. I sighed. "It must have been Chalmers who broke into my office Friday night. He took a folder I'd stupidly left on my desk. Rabinowitz had stumbled on some files on an NSA computer -- Cancerman had set it up for him to find them." I added another mark next to Cancerman's name; once more he'd been responsible for a friend getting killed. "Between the three of us we'd put together quite a file on the whole thing." Scully interrupted. "I know. I saw the file." I was too shocked to say much. "Wha--" She looked down. "Mulder, I'm sorry about lying to you before. I was hoping I could keep you out of it. I got Skinner to loan me his master key and I went through your office looking for clues to what Chalmers was doing. I didn't steal it though." "So that wasn't your chip taped to my desk." "No. Of course not. That's gross." She paused and continued more somberly. "It was Chalmers' mother's. She was abducted a few years ago. She died of cancer a month after removing her chip." Something nagged at me about the name, Jeremy Chalmers. I knew I'd heard it before. Chalmers... He'd been in domestic terrorism until just after Waco. He'd resigned, and everyone had presumed the stress of the investigation had been too much for him. Guess not. "Chalmers used to be in the Bureau." She nodded. "Scully? Did Antonio make..." "No. Chalmers is not one of Antonio's." She grimaced. "Someone else made him, but I don't know who." She glanced around the room and then back at the door to the passage. "We need to get back to DC. There's more about Chalmers, but I'll tell you on the way." She strode purposefully to the door. "Keep up!" It wasn't easy, but I followed her to the bushes where she'd stashed Skinner's bike. On the way she told me how she'd met Chalmers in France. Happy to see a familiar face among her new brethren, she'd told him of her cancer and how she had come to be in Mexico where Antonio had found her. He'd kept quiet on his own brush with the aliens and the humans in league with them. Once at the bike, she stopped her account and stared at me. "Mulder. This is all my fault. If I hadn't told him about my cancer, how I'd gotten it, who I thought was responsible, none of this would have happened, would it?" There was a note of horror in her voice. "Scully, you can't held yourself responsible for what someone else does. Whatever he did, he chose to do it." "Maybe so. But it ends now." She tossed me the keys to the bike. "I'm going to head to Skinner's condo. You collect Cotelli and meet me there." She turned to go. "Scully?" She turned back. "OK, you've explained why you're here, now what the heck are you doing with Walter Skinner." She gave me an offended look. "Mulder. That's between Walt and myself." There was an unspoken, 'and that's the way it's going to stay.' "No." I had to stand my ground here. It was my fault she knew how Skinner felt. "No?!" "No. It's my fault you know how Skinner feels. If you're using that against him. I want it stopped." "Mulder, there's nothing going on." I didn't believe a word of that. "Sure... Nothing... That's why he's loaning you his master key, and taking you on outings to crime scenes." I'm not sure if this was a good thing, but I'd definitely learned how to piss her off. "I am not using him! If that's what you think." She seemed to visibly force herself calmer -- her eyes stopped glowing. "I-- I like him. OK? Is that so bad?" She paused, "OK, I did kind of use him to get the key, but nothing more." "So long as you're not whammying him into anything." She looked up quiltily. "Maybe I did suggest that he should meet me at the cemetery tonight." In one of those instants of insight people are always grousing at me about, I realized Scully was falling for him. I wondered if Skinner knew what he was getting himself into. "Just as long as he doesn't start grabbing at insects, OK?" I grinned. She smiled back. "I promise, no bugs" She turned to leave. "Scully, I can't drive one of these." She stared for a second. "OK. I'll drop you off at your place. Get your car and get Cotelli to Skinner's as fast as you can." At least I didn't get the, 'What kind of a guy are you if you can't ride a bike?', look. I climbed aboard, and we took off. I'd somehow presumed she'd been driving fast on the way out, but I'd been wrong. This was fast. I hoped Scully realized that no matter how good her vampire reflexes were, they couldn't rewrite the laws of physics for her. end 13/17 Title: Into the Fire (14/17) Author: Don Durham ------------------------- (Skinner) I woke rather abruptly to the sound of splintering wood and crack of what was left of my door hitting the wall. My first thought was that some of Cancerman's goons had come by to pay me back for my smart mouth. I dove to the floor in front of the couch, drew my gun and peered out beneath the coffee table. I expected a goon squad to come boiling through the ruin of my door at any second, but none appeared. I waited a good thirty seconds, and called out, "OK, boys. Why don't you just go home, I'm armed and more than willing to use it." "Oh, I'm sure you are, Mr. Skinner." An icy voice came from behind me! I almost leapt over the table to get away. I spun to face where I'd heard the voice, my weapon at the ready. Calmly leaning against the curtains covering the sliding-glass door was a rather non-descript man of medium height. He had no obvious weapons, and definitely didn't look capable of the destruction of my door. I kept my gun trained on him as I looked him over. "OK, who the hell are you, and what the fuck are you doing in my house?" "Walter, we've already met. Albeit it was a few years ago. Don't you remember me? I must say I remember you." He acted as if we were meeting at our twentieth high-school reunion, not at gunpoint in my apartment. I wasn't sure how he'd gotten behind me, but now that I had him, I wasn't letting him off the hook. "Look, asshole. As far as I'm concerned you're a burglar, and I've just surprised you in the act. You've better start talking fast, or I'll let the coroner sort it all out." He completely ignored the gun in my hand. "Let's sit down and talk for a few minutes. I'd like a chance to get to understand you." His tone became more menacing with each word. "I want to understand your complicity in the experiments carried out on innocent civilians." For a couple of seconds I couldn't respond. I was too shocked. He either had access to a small sliver of very sensitive information -- my ill-fated attempt to barter with Cancerman, or he was severely deluded. I chose the latter. "I don't think you have any idea who I am or what I stand for. And if you think I'm going to sit down with a burglar and--" That was as far as I got. He exploded off the window and over the couch. I was hurled to the floor beneath him; the furniture scattered in our wake. His legs and hands pinned mine. His eyes were wild, almost glowing. I tried to throw him off; he couldn't weigh more than 180, but he wouldn't budge. "So. You don't want to talk." He said with a practiced snarl. "Fine. We can dispense with that and go straight to the pain." The sentence was punctuated by encircling my left wrist with his thumb forefinger and squeezing. I'd used the hold dozens of times to disarm an assailant, but I'd never had it taken to such extremes. It felt as if my hand was literally being pinched from my wrist. I bit down on my lip to keep from screaming. As the blood leaked from between my lips, I got a curious reaction. At first I thought it had enraged him to the point of more violence. His face contorted. His breathing began to rasp. Incredibly, his grip tightened on my wrist. Just as I figured I'd somehow pushed him too far, he howled and shoved himself into the couch behind him. I heard the glass of the door crack as the couch kept going after he hit. He had to be on methamphetamine or something. Nothing else could give him that speed or strength. That meant I just had to wait out the high. Presuming I could keep him from killing me. I had to strike a balance between strength and weakness here. He had wanted to talk. It had to be more interesting than killing me. "OK. Maybe you were right." I tried to keep the anger out of my voice and keep it soft. "What do you want to know?" "They always change their tune when they realize they're going to die. Is that what's happened Walter? Have you realized I'm going to kill you? Just like I did with your friends?" The mania in his voice was so thick you could cut it with a knife. "You should have heard Scarbrough when he realized. Not so brave then. Chewed my ass out for not having enough brass in Waco, but let him face a little pain, and he goes to pieces." Waco? If this loonie was in Waco with Clay, then he had to be in the Bureau or the ATF. Clay never talked to the media other than to threaten a cameraman. I had a handle on him now. The question was whether or not I'd be able to figure out how to play him before it was too late. Better hung for a sheep... "So you were in Waco with Scarbrough. What an utter cluster-fuck. Were you there from the git-go, or did you get sucked in at the end?" He stared at me for a second. Probably trying to gauge my sincerity, which was laughable. Who in the world would be sincere with the maniac who's trying to kill them? I could see a choice in his eyes, but for an instant I couldn't see which way he chose. "My partner and I were watching him for months before those fools in the ATF could even spell Koresh. Then it gets all public, and Eli and I are getting roasted because we were supposed to have predicted it'd turn to shit." He was getting agitated. Hopefully I could keep that anger pointed away from me. "We did. That bastard Scarbrough buried it. Said we were being inflammatory. Then, when the balloon went up, we caught it for not warning anyone." That didn't sound quite like the Clay Scarbrough I knew, but I wasn't about to argue the point with him. "Stuck in the middle, like most of us are." Damn, but my hostage negotiation skills were rusty. Either that or I'd never tried them from this particular view before. I caught a hard glare from my guest. The game was up. "Enough about me. You're a lot better than the other's, Walter; I'll give you that. That isn't going to save you though. Not you, not Mulder, not one member of the conspiracy of silence that killed my mother. Prepare to die, Walter Skinner. Prepare to die very, very slowly." My assailant pushed past me to the ruin of the table. Wrenching a leg off it, he hefted his new club in his hand and moved toward me, chuckling softly. I wasn't going on my knees, and I certainly wasn't going alone. Ignoring my left wrist, I brought the Glock to bear. I emptied five rounds in his chest as fast as I could pull the trigger. He kept coming. I tried to resight on his head, but a hand batted the gun away, breaking several bones in my right hand as it went. On my back again, with him on my chest. This time his eyes were definitely glowing. "Satisfied?" He all but purred the question. "You still don't get it do you Walter? You think I'm some sort of drug crazed maniac. You figure if you can survive long enough, you can outlast the high, don't you?" He laughed. "You're right on one count. I am an addict, but it's not drugs I crave." He smiled broadly, and for the first time I saw the fangs on either side of his incisors. In all my years, I'd never quite understood the phrase, 'My blood ran cold', until now. Mulder had been right about the vampire. He was perched on my chest, he was going to kill me, and there was damn little I was going to be able to do about it. ------------------------- I'm sure my neighbors had come to the conclusion that I'd become some biker's bitch. Scully screamed down the street at a good three times the posted speed, and squealed to a stop in front of the apartment building. At least five lights came on as she throttled the engine back to idle. I'd wanted to talk to her on the way, but the motorcycle precluded that, and now we that had to save both Cotelli and Skinner, I despaired of ever pressing my case or finding out the truth. Scully turned around. "Mulder. Come on. Let's get your keys and get you out of here." She jumped off the bike and strode purposefully toward my door. I didn't know what she thought, but I didn't need a babysitter. I hurried to catch up with her. "Scully. Just get out of here and to Skinner's." I said impatiently. "I don't need you going into my room to make sure the bogeyman isn't waiting for me." Scully spun with that blinding speed and gripped my arm tightly. A bit too tightly. "Mulder. I've already lost one friend tonight." There was both pain and anger in her voice. "And I am not about to make it two. I really don't think you understand just how easy it is for one of us to kill one of you. And you certainly don't understand how hard it's going to be to kill Chalmers. If he's up there waiting for you, the only chance we have is for me to get to him first." I don't think I've ever been quite so nervous waiting to open my door as I was this time. Scully made me step off to the side while she walked in. Five seconds later she stepped out. "He hasn't been here." She tossed me my keys. "Let's go." Suddenly, I was scared to go to Cotelli's by myself. Suppose he was there? "Scully? Maybe it'd be better if we got Cotelli together and then went to Skinner's. She paused for a second. I knew she could read the fear in my mind and voice. Reaching into her jacket she handed me a cell-phone. If something goes wrong, call me at Skinner's. I'll be there long before you get to Cotelli's. If you see him, shoot him in head. It doesn't kill us, but it will slow one of us down. Shoot him, run, and call me. Don't read him his rights, don't wait for him to give up, and don't wait around for a second shot. Shoot him and run like hell." This was the only solution, I realized, but I didn't like it. "OK, Scully. Shoot him and run like hell." I grinned at her. "You know. I'm going to lose my hero status for this." She pulled me to her. "When in the hell did you ever care about your hero status? Just don't get yourself killed -- I don't have enough people I love that I'm about to spare one." I mused on that as I drove to Cotelli's. He lived about forty minutes south on I-95. Rather than take the time to drive there, I called him and had him meet me at a twenty-four-hour pancake house about halfway between us. I figured the more people around the less chance something interesting would happen. end 14/17 Title: Into the Fire (15/17) Author: Don Durham ------------------------- (Skinner) The vampire on my chest had proudly proclaimed his name, Jeremy Chalmers, after his decision to kill me. Unfortunately he was taking his time. He'd completed the job of breaking my right hand and finished the left after he announced his name. Not that I cared much who he was, but he gave sadist a whole new meaning. Instead of passing out from the pain, he had some way of bringing me back to consciousness. I'd hear his voice taunting me, dragging me back to the pain he so methodically inflicted. My eyes flicked around the room; praying rescue would materialize out of curtains. I didn't recognize my surroundings. For an instant I thought he'd taken me somewhere, and then I understood. While I'd been unconscious, he'd gone through the room destroying things. It wasn't enough for him to kill me, he had to destroy the trappings of my life as well. "Don't you want to know how I got to be this way, Walter? Aren't you the least bit curious how I became a god?" I could barely hear him against the roar of the pain in my hands. "Well, let me tell you." The agony washed my consciousness pulling me down. If I could only drown it'd be all over. Each time I got a little closer, but each time Chalmers drew me back with that damnable, magical voice. While I cursed him, I couldn't resist its charms. I knew that listening would prolong the torture, but still I hung on his every word. "Good, you're listening." He stared at me for a long second. "First of all, we need something to keep you attentive." I felt my right knee start to twist, the ligaments had suffered through almost three decades of racquetball, running, and countless hours of pounding up stairs, but they'd never faced this. Slowly they began to give way and the muscles to tear. I know it wasn't possible, but it seemed that I could hear each rip, every tear. I screamed, but before I could get more than a whisper out, his hand was over my mouth. "If you scream, you can't hear my story." He waived his index finger in front of my face. "It happened about a month after Waco. Eli had decided to go back to Wyoming and raise sheep or some shit, and I was taking in New Orleans. Meaning I was spending every night getting as drunk as possible, and every morning trying to dry out enough to start back up the next." I must have drifted off -- floating in that sea of pain. Once again, I could hear Jeremy's voice pulling me back in. "Walter. Come back to me, Walter." How could he be so seductive? "You've been a very bad boy, Walter. I'm going to have to give you another reminder." I didn't know what I feared more. Intellectually, I realized it really didn't matter if he picked a new part of me to destroy, but I prayed he'd leave me in once piece. I felt the cold steel of his hands on my left elbow, and knew what was in store. My elbow resisted the slow squeeze for a few seconds and then started to give way. The joint snapped first, and then the tendons pulled away from the bone itself. Commenting on the intensity of the pain was redundant, even useless. The agony was endless. I started wonder if I could beg him to end it quicker. "Now that I have your attention, we can continue. Savannah, a club called Scagmuffin Tom's, and a vampire called Tomas. I'm still not sure why he didn't kill me. Perhaps he knew I had work to do. At any rate, he sensed my potential..." His voice was fading from me, and I couldn't seem to stop it. The pain was calling me again. None of these wounds were enough to kill me, but the pain was dulling my senses. Somewhere a phone was ringing, but that could have been my head. "If you're not going to take an interest in the story, then I'm not going to bother keeping you alive!" I woke to screams instead of seduction this time. Chalmers lifted the chair leg he'd brandished earlier. Time slowed to a crawl as it whistled toward my chest. My ribs collapsed in the face of the attack; the inferno engulfed my chest as he went over the ruin of my ribs to make sure they were well broken. I could still breathe, but each shallow gasp set up another firestorm in my chest. Once again, the siren pulled me back from the gentle darkness. "Walter. I fear our time may be at an end. I'm sorry I couldn't give you quite the sendoff I gave Rabinowitz, but you see I have to go kill Mulder and Cotelli. And I want to get it done tonight. Good bye, Walter." Remarkably, he seemed a bit sad. I saw the club raised again. Aimed this time at my head, and I knew he meant to end it. I braced for the killing blow but it didn't come. Instead, I was splattered in his blood; his head separated from his shoulders and toppled over. Had I not been dying, I'd have probably been more shocked. As it was, all I registered was a bit of surprise that it wasn't warm. I tried to look around to find my savior, even in this state I knew heads just don't fall off, but even the slightest motion was beyond me. I was obviously more injured than I'd thought. A pair of dark-clad legs came into view and kicked Chalmer's head away. At least the bastard hadn't gotten away with killing me. The pain came back to silence my thoughts. Someone kneeled next to me. A Japanese katana dropped to the floor next to me. The blood on its blade stark against the pale carpet - funny how your mind latches onto things even when you're dying. Then it started. Once more, words were dragging me away from sweet oblivion. Can't even die in peace, I thought as the voice drew me back to consciousness and pain. "Walt. Listen to me. Walt. I need you to open your eyes." It sounded like Dana, but that didn't make any sense. Why would she be here? "Walt. Open your eyes." It wasn't going to stop. Maybe if I gave in, they'd let me go. Slowly, I pried my eyes open. It was Dana. How? "Dana?" I rasped. I could barely make a sound. I was certain she couldn't hear me. "Walt, it's OK. You're safe. Chalmer's can't hurt you any more." Dana was crouched over me stroking my face gently. I took as deep a breath as I could without passing out. "Dana, I'm not going to make it." My whisper was barely a croak. "I need to tell you something. I--" "It's OK, Walt, I know." She was soothing, just like she should be with a dying man. "Dana, you can't know. I've never told you." I wasn't dying with this on my chest. She started to interrupt, but I shook my head. I hadn't planned on it to hurt that much. It took a several seconds to get my strength back afterwards. "Dana. I love you." I couldn't tell if she'd heard me or even if I'd actually spoken. At least I wasn't dying with that secret on my lips. She stared at me for an instant, her eyes clouded. "Walt, we need to talk. But first we have to do something about your pain. Listen to me. The pain's starting to fade. It doesn't hurt like it did. You can listen to me without distraction." Amazingly, her words made a difference. It still hurt, but I was detached from it. There were two Walt Skinners and only one of them was in agony. "Walt, I wanted to tell you about me. I didn't want it to happen this way, but it seems it has to." She moved closer. "Walt. The person that did this to you was a vampire." "I know." I croaked. "What you don't know is that I'm one too." She took a deep breath. "It happened two years ago, in Mexico." "Mulder told me. Didn't believe him." Damn it. Can't I be a bit more articulate in my final moments? "You don't have to die. I can save you." I stared at her in confusion. Could she read thoughts? "Dana. I can tell. I'm dying. Don't have to lie." Even without the pain, this was taking a lot out of me. "Walt. I'm going to offer you something. I don't want you to take it just because it's a second chance, or just because I want you too, but because you want it." There were tears in Dana's eyes. I desperately wanted to wipe those tears away. "Walt. I can make you like me." She took a deep breath. "It's a one way trip, no matter what you might have heard." It took a second or so to process this. "You want me to... to come with you?" Surely I'd misheard her. "Yes. I want you to, but that's not enough. You have to want it for what it is, not for the chance that we'd be together. You'll be a vampire. That means no sun, living on blood, leaving your life and a thousand other changes I can't begin to list. Don't just automatically say yes. There are some of us who hate what they are and long for death, but can't bring themselves to suicide." She looked at me as if she was trying to read my soul for clues to my decision, or maybe what kind of a vampire I'd make. What was Dana offering? My marriage to Sharon had taught me that just because you wanted someone to keep loving you didn't make it so. Suppose Dana stopped loving me; suppose she never started. Could I take that? Could I accept eternity on those terms? It was a new chance at life. A chance to make it from scratch while knowing enough to skip the stupid errors I'd made in my teens and twenties. A chance to see the world a dozen times over. I wondered just how long I had to make this decision. Holding a coherent thought was becoming an impressive trick. "Do you?" I had to stop and catch what little breath I could. "Do you like it?" She paused. It didn't seem she was deciding as much as marshalling her thoughts. "Yes. I do. I love what I am." Those beautiful blue eyes searched mine. "And I think you would too." I thought about my life. I hated it. I hated the Bureau. I hated what I'd become. I hated the loneliness. There was no guarantee this would be any better, but could it really be any worse? I was fading fast. "Yes. Do it. Now." "I will, Walt." She picked up a phone, dialed, and started speaking rapidly -- I don't know if she wasn't speaking English, or just that I was fading, but I didn't understand a word. end 15/17 Title: Into the Fire (16/17) Author: Don Durham ------------------------- (Mulder) Cotelli drove. If we had problems with the cops, I could play the big, bad boss that was making him drive so recklessly. I tried to call Scully, but there was no answer. I couldn't decide if that was bad or good. I hoped it meant she and Skinner were in the well-lit, security-guard-protected lobby waiting for us, but of course my imagination told me the two of them were lying dead in his kitchen. Skinner's bike wasn't outside his building, and for a second I panicked that Scully hadn't made it until I realized that she'd only driven the bike for my benefit. I didn't even try to bullshit the security guard. I just showed him the badge and pushed ahead. Cotelli and I catfooted the zigzagging hallway to Skinner's door. I'm sure it's a great selling point, but it's a real bitch when you're trying to sneak up the hall in a hurry. We leap-frogged to 1708. He took the last leg, but instead of moving into position, he stopped short and motioned me forward. Creeping forward, I could hardly believe my eyes. The door was barely hanging by its hinges. I threw myself through the door while my partner covered me. About fifteen feet away, Scully was bent over someone, her face pressed to his. The room was a shambles, obviously there'd been a fight. I took in the tableau in an instant. Scully had been too late. Skinner was dead. I heard Cotelli come in behind me. "Shit!" He looked around the room. I'm sure he remembered the same scene at Rabinowitz's. The exclamation must have broken her concentration. She jerked her face up to us, and snarled. There was no humanity in that face, only that of a monster stopped in the midst of feeding. I had to fight back my gorge -- there was blood around her mouth dripping down her chin. Cotelli wasn't quite so successful. I heard him make a small whimper in his throat, and then the soft thud of his collapse to the floor. Raising my weapon, I ignored everything Scully had told me about confronting Chalmers. "Scully! Get away from Skinner, and put your hands in the air." I aimed for the center of her chest, and waited for her to comply. She growled again, and gave me an excellent demonstration of why my tactics wouldn't work on a vampire. I caught slight blur of movement as my weapon was snatched from my hand. Scully stood in front of me, still in full vampire mode, but no longer in the frenzy of feeding. "Mulder. I don't have time for this shit! Walt is dying. His only chance is that I bring him across now. Pick up your partner and get the fuck out of here." Could I believe her? Was any of this true? Or, was she the killer all the time. Playing all of us for fools? I had to decide, and do it quickly. "No. We'll take him to a hospital." I needed to delay her; get some time to figure out what was what. She saw right through me. "Mulder. Everything I told you about Chalmers I true. His body's on the other side of the couch. Now either help, or get the hell out of the way. I don't want to hurt you, but I won't let your meddling kill Walt." There was more than a little steel in her words. She had every intention of backing them up. One more try. "Scully. You can't do this. This is what Antonio did to you -- made you into a vampire without even asking you. You can't do the same thing to Skinner. It's not right. Remembered how scared you were, how angry that he did that to you and didn't even give you a say?" Please remember. I can't stop you, but I'm not going to stand here and let you do this either. She gave me an exasperated grunt. Her fangs were retreating. "Mulder. I'm going to explain this once. I came here, Chalmers was killing Skinner, and I killed Chalmers, but too late to save him. He knew he was dying. I told him I could save him, and how. He accepted." She didn't wait for my permission; she spun and returned to Skinner. I started to reach for my backup at my ankle. Was it true? Skinner opting to become a vampire? Sure he would. He'd already shown where his loyalties lay, and I knew where mine were. "OK. How do I help?" Scully stopped in mid-bite. "Mulder, I can't move Walt until I bring him across, and once I do, it will be too dangerous for you too be here. Take Cotelli outside until we've gone. Then take our friend's body up to the roof, and make sure he'll get full sun as soon as it's up. And leave the curtains open." She turned back to Skinner, stroking his forehead, ignoring me completely. I followed orders to a point -- pulling Cotelli outside, but standing in the door to watch this miracle. I'm sure she knew I was there, but she paid me no mind -- there was no way I was going to miss this. First she went back to Skinner's throat, carefully, as if she needed to take just enough. Pulling back from his carotid, she raised her wrist to her teeth, and ripped a wide gash in it. The blood welled from the wound, and started to run down her arm. It looked impossibly stark against the paleness of her skin, like thick red syrup rather than a vital fluid. She reversed her wrist and held it over the unconscious Skinner. Blood started dripping onto his mouth, and slowly, he started licking at it. I'd seen it in the movies, but I really didn't expect it to happen. The unreality of the whole thing probably kept me from getting nauseous. Abruptly, he bolted upright, and crushed her wrist to his mouth. I could tell from the way his throat moved he was drinking deeply. This went on about a minute before she threw herself back and away from Skinner. She'd thrown herself so hard she ended up leaning against the wall. I could tell she was weak. She was even paler than what was now normal, and panting heavily. "Get out, Mulder. Get out now." I got the distinct impression my value as friend and my value as food were warring in her thoughts. "And don't even think about taking Chalmers' body anywhere but the roof. You'll run into some very unpleasant vampires if you do. Friends of the people that torched Rabinowitz's house." She pushed herself to where Skinner was writhing on the floor. I started to move toward him. "No. It's perfectly normal. The change isn't pleasant, but he won't remember an instant of it. When he wakes up, he's going to be very, very hungry. It'd be best if you were downstairs or at least in the elevator. ------------------------- My first conscious thoughts weren't really thoughts. More of an uncontrollable need to have more of whatever was dripping into my mouth. Reaching up I grabbed its source, latched onto it, and began to drink as deeply as I could. It was heavenly. It seemed to fill me with light and ecstasy. As swiftly as the nectar had begun, it was yanked away. I clawed to reach it, but it was gone. And then the pain came. My blood was on fire. Every nerve, every muscle, every inch of skin was in agony. It seemed like my bones were breaking from the inside. I tried to scream, but I was paralyzed. I had to scream, but I had no mouth, to do so. Gratefully, I lost consciousness again. It seemed like a minute, a month, or maybe year later, I couldn't tell. I was conscious and no longer in pain. In fact, I felt better than I'd ever felt. Dana stroked my cheek, and it seemed I could feel every ridge of her fingertips as the moved down my face, and every one trailed cold fire. I felt consumed by her presence. I wanted to bury myself in her, and never come up. I tried to speak, "Dana. Where?" She stopped me with a kiss. "Shhhh. We're in my hotel room. You need to eat. You're hungry." The words seemed to ignite a fire in my gut. Instantly, I was hungrier than I'd ever been. It felt as if I'd never eaten before. I needed to, had to, eat, and eat now. I had to breathe shallowly to keep the pangs at bay. I tried to ask her for food, but all I could do was growl low in my throat. I tried to get up. I was going to go find food, but somehow her slim arm across my chest held me fast to the bed. Growling louder, I pitched my weight into it. She shifted slightly, but no more than a whisper's worth. In all this, my hunger only waxed worse. I no longer cared what I ate, as long as I did. Anything would be better than the emptiness that echoed inside. I heard the door open and quickly shut. Whoever came in, brought food. I could smell it from across the room. The odor was tantalizing. And I was trapped on the bed. Room service, take out, whatever it was, it smelled better than any meal I'd ever had. Trying with what felt to be my last ounce of strength, I threw myself against her as hard as I could. This time, it worked. Dana was lifted to the other side of the bed. Leaping away, I rushed the door. Finally, I was free. Free to find food. Everything I loved to eat fast forwarded through my mind at breakneck speed. Steak. Lasagna. The chorizo and egg tacos I used to get in Austin. Cheesecake. A rare steak. Blackened snapper. Kung Pao shrimp. A really rare steak. There was something in front of the door. I bent to look at it. A body. A man's body, about twenty. No, he was alive, I knew it somehow. I could hear his heart beat. His blood pounding in his arteries -- rushing through his veins. It made a strange, sweet music. I didn't stop to think why or how I could hear it. Only that it called to me, and at the same time promised an end to my hunger. Now I understood what had smelled so delicious. Not room service, but the guy on the floor. How? Intellectually, I knew I had changed. I felt different. Better. Stronger. I knew it had something to do with Dana, but I couldn't remember what. The door was just ahead. Out there was food. I knew it. But instead I kept looking at the supine form beneath me. The hunger kept growing inside me. I didn't want food. Whatever was outside the door couldn't quench the fire in me. I wasn't going to do anything more than smell him. Try to figure out what was so appetizing-what cologne he wore that wrapped around my senses like a banquet. Bending down, I noticed how mesmerizing the pulse-beat in his heck was. I could hardly keep my eyes off it. There was a roaring in my ears as my blood raced. Not only could I see the flow of blood in his neck, I could feel it calling to me. Moving my head close, I only intended to sniff, but my mouth opened involuntarily and plunged to his neck. I hadn't realized it, but my teeth had changed at some point, the canines had elongated and sharpened to points. I couldn't stop myself as those new fangs broke the skin of his neck. Nothing could have prepared me for what happened next. Somewhere my conscious mind was gagging in revulsion. I was drinking blood, but it tasted like nothing I'd ever experienced before. Manna, ambrosia, nectar; all the mythical foods of the gods wrapped into one multiplied several times over. Not only were my physical senses overwhelmed with the splendor of the taste, my thoughts were assailed with images. Brutal, intense scenes of sensual depravity overran my thoughts. This man's life? If so, it was one of cruelty and violence. The visions faded as the flow of blood slowed. Almost immediately, Dana was there pulling me away. Her slight hands wrapped around my shoulders and drug me away. "That's enough Walt. You don't want to drink too deeply so young." Her voice was soft, and comforting. As quickly as it had overtaken me, the frenzy had left. Sated and refreshed, the events of the night returned to me. "Dana? Did you? Am I?" Knowing the answer, I still couldn't believe it. "Yes. I did, and you are." She led me back to the bed. Staring at her, I realized I'd never seen anyone so beautiful, so captivating. "Walter. Stop. There are a few things you ought to know." She took a deep breath and continued softly. "First of all. I didn't do this so I could have some sort of love slave. It's just a side effect of being your sire." The words stung. "Dana. I told you I loved you. This doesn't change things." "No. It does change some things." There was perceptible sorrow in her tone. "It's almost impossible for you not to love me now. As your maker, I'll be more than lover; I'll be mother, sister, and best friend all in one. In time this will fade, and we'll be on a more normal footing, but you'll always be closer to me than anyone else." I heard her words, but they made no difference to how I felt, nor did I see any problem with this new relationship. So I loved her more, so what? Choosing to ignore this line of discussion, I pushed her back onto the bed. The memory of our coupling before couldn't hold a candle to the passion and violence of what happened next. It was a strange melange of feral ferocity and careful tenderness. I was split between kissing every inch of her and tearing at her with my fangs and nails. I entered her too roughly, but instead of shying away, she gripped my hips with her hands and forced me deeper inside her. I was still a bit unsure of how intense our passion should be when she opened up the floodgates by wrapping her calves around my thighs and raking my back with her nails. I could feel the blood well up in the lines of fire her nails left. I didn't intend to, but I snarled in response, wrapped my hands around her slender waist, and drove into her. Dana drew her hands up my back and held them between us. "This is how vampires make love." She purred. Beginning with her index finger, she carefully sucked the blood off each digit. Knowing it was my blood she was enjoying made the act even more erotic. "Mmmm. Delicious." Turning her head slightly, she offered her throat. "Your turn. Drink." She whispered. I didn't feel my fangs extend, but when my lips reached her neck, they were out and already slicing through her silk skin while her blood cascaded into my mouth. The very taste of her was sex. It filled my every sense with the need to drink her, to possess her, to make her mine and beyond mine. With the first penetration of my teeth, she'd begun to writhe beneath me. Biting her made her come under me. Drinking from her made her orgasm. Twisting, I pushed her head to my throat. The instant she broke the skin, I was engulfed an intense climax that went on forever. It couldn't stop until Dana pulled her mouth away, and she wouldn't until I did. I don't know how long we sustained that plateau of ecstasy, it could have easily been hours or seconds. Either way, I'd never be happy with anything less ever again. Even though I couldn't see it, I knew the sun was rising. It was time to sleep. Dana spooned into me. "Walt. I love you too." ------------------------- I did as Scully asked. Took Chalmers up to the roof, left the curtains open, and drug my already quickening partner down the hall to safety. I'd also created another X-File. Another unsolved and insoluble case for the pile threatening to collapse onto itself as a black hole, swallowing everything in its path. The next few days passed in a surreal blur. At first, it was decided that Rabinowitz had been killed in a freak gas explosion, but Monday morning, he surfaced. All the talk about vampires spooked him so he'd stayed with an unnamed friend. He was a bit shocked when he'd been marked 'dead' in the Bureau computers. The victim at his house had been a cousin stopping by for a free room for the weekend. The real shock came when, after calling in sick for two days, Walter Skinner was killed in a single car collision out on Highway One in his red Saab convertible. Top down and doing at least 130, the car hit a bridge abutment and burst into flames. The driver couldn't be positively identified, but was assumed to be Skinner. No witnesses. No questions. Someone had even fixed his door and cleaned the place up. Everything nice and tidy -- Cancerman would be proud. Even though I was sure he hadn't killed himself, I couldn't shake the nagging feeling I should have done more. Trapped between the proverbial devil and the deep blue sea, I did what I'd always done and immersed myself in the X-Files. It worked, but too well. For some absurd reason, people in the Bureau started noticing, and talking about promoting me. end 16/17 Title: Into the Fire (17/17) Author: Don Durham ------------------------- (Skinner) Epilogue Eleven years Later: After Dana and I staged my 'death', we headed out of the country. I hated doing that to my family, but I was pretty certain I'd have problems merely turning in my resignation and walking out of my life. If nothing else, Cancerman would never let it drop. We had way too much history for him to be sure I'd just walk away. Dana kept tabs on Mulder. I was never sure quite how, but she always knew what happened to him and when. One of those 'tabs' was the reason we'd broke into the Bureau tonight. According to her sources, Mulder had found his sister, but the reunion hadn't gone as well as one might have hoped. Samantha didn't want anything to do with him. Mulder had lost the one thing that kept him going and with it, we both feared, his reason for living. Getting in was surprisingly easy. Roofs seem to be uniformly unprotected. Silently moving down the sixth floor hall, I was amazed at how much I'd changed in the past six years. At one time, this had been my second, or maybe first, home. Now it was an alien landscape, almost like I'd never been here. We stopped in front of my old office. It took more than a little control not to gasp at the name on the door, F. William Mulder, Assistant Director. Dana motioned me inside. "I'll be there in a few minutes. You two have a lot to talk about." Her whisper was too soft to be heard by even the most sophisticated systems. I pushed the door open and stared in a strange dej=E0 vu. I had been here before, but I'd been at the desk, not the door. I was in Dana's place watching Mulder taking mine. He'd aged a bit, not badly, but there was a little grey at the temples. Still rail thin, still with the ability to become completely absorbed in his work, and still a damn good looking man. ------------------------- It's 11:45pm and I'm sitting here going over reports. There's a three inch stack of performance evaluations lurking just out of sight waiting to pounce on me as soon as I look away. Probably for the ten- thousandth time, I called out, "Damn you, Walter Skinner, wherever you are!" No one ever answered, but it makes me feel better. Somehow, I ended up as F. William Mulder, Assistant Director, Violent Crimes Division, Federal Bureau of Investigation, US Department of Justice, and I'm sure it was his fault. After the vampire mess with Scully, and his 'death'. I hadn't heard a peep out of either of them. Not so much as a 'The Weather is Here, Wish You Were Beautiful' card in the eleven years since. Eleven years. God. Had it been that long? Shortly after Skinner left, I got bumped up to Supervisory Agent in Charge, and had three teams of agents put under me. Someone must have convinced the Bureau not only of the X-Files' importance but also of the need for expanded investigative powers for the group. Bang, four years after that, I'm called into the Attorney General's office and promoted to Deputy Assistant Director, and five years later AD.. Well, not bang, but sometimes it seems that way. Somewhere in there Cancerman and I developed a policy of mutually assured destruction. It wasn't pretty, but it worked. Maybe I underestimated Skinner - it was a lot more difficult than I'd expected to get the bastard bound up in a corner like Skinner had him. I had a handle on things, not that they were great, until last week. That Wednesday, after lunch, a folder had appeared on my desk with Samantha's picture in it. Not just her picture, but a whole dossier on her: husband, kids (two sons-Henry and Fox), her whole life on paper. I'd rushed to Mill Valley, California to find her, expecting a reunion to bring down the house. What I'd gotten was a cold acceptance of my existence, a firm demand never to darken her door again, and a cold, lonely flight home. Samantha had suppressed the whole thing. As far as she was concerned, we'd all perished, and she had been raised by her Uncle Henry -- we never had an Uncle Henry. I blinked back the tears. Dwelling on it wasn't going to help, and besides I had reviews to do. Reviews. God in heaven, I hate them. "Skinner you did this to me on purpose. Didn't you? Your final solution to keep me out of the field." Ranting to myself was the only way I knew to keep my sanity. "But aren't you the best person for the job?" A voice shattered the silence. Skinner's voice? Leaping back, I cracked my knees against the desk trying to get away from the intruder. "Careful, Mulder. You'll break something." A figure stepped out of the shadow at the door. It was Walter Skinner. I was torn between rushing to him, and throwing a paperweight at him. "Dammit, Skinner. How'd you get in here?" Laughing, he strode over to me. "Quietly, I guess. I'm not sure, but I believe you've set a new world record for getting up from a desk." ------------------------- "... desk." God, he looked tired. And in pain. Instantly, I knew why Dana'd brought us here. She'd been impenetrable on the subject from the moment she'd told me about Samantha and our trip to DC. We were going to bring Mulder across. I didn't know if it was possible for one vampire to have two sires, but Mulder was about to find out. Mulder broke his paralysis and grabbed me. "Damn, but it's good to see you." He paused for a moment, and I thought he was going to break down, but testosterone prevailed. He settled for the banter that we guys use to cover those tedious emotional moments. "You look well. I guess life's agreeing with you. That is what its called, isn't it?" One thing that hadn't faded was that trademark sarcasm. I smirked. "Yeah." I looked around the room and grinned. "Look. I promise I didn't have anything to do with this." But I knew who did. What better way to keep Mulder safe than to promote him out of the field. Somehow Dana had been working behind the scenes, getting Mulder out of the field and danger. I stared at him a bit uncomfortably, unsure where to go from there. "You figured it out. Good." Dana's voice whispered in my thoughts. One of the many things sire and childe could share. "Tell him what we've planned. Ask him to come with us." My stomach roiled with the thought. It was easy enough to be a vampire, but to ask someone to become one? In an instant, I was fifteen trying to screw up my courage to ask Allison Ferguson to dance. I took a deep breath. It wasn't enough, so I took another. "Mulder. I-- Dana -- We. We'd like you to reconsider things. Come away with us." ------------------------- "Come away with us." Skinner's words made me reel. Did he know? How? The one thing that kept me in the Bureau gone. It took a couple of false starts before I could actually speak and it still came out a hoarse whisper. "Y... Y... You mean become a vampire?" There, I said it. He smiled. "Yes. Become a vampire. Join us." He seemed to be measuring me. "It's like nothing you've ever even imagined, and it's forever. Forever. That sounded good after the past week. But where would I fit in? Antonio , Scully, Skinner, me. I didn't know if I wanted to be the fourth in a menage a trois. Of course Skinner knew what I was thinking. "Antonio 's not an issue. He abrogated his link with Dana by not being with her during her first days. It'd just be the three of us." It wasn't even much of a choice. Freedom, or what'd become a shell of a life. I didn't even shut down my computer, turn off the lights or lock the door. Scully met us in the hall, and the three of us, arm-in-arm, headed to the roof. Finis