From: Humbuggie <san@sv-tales.com>
Date: 16 Feb 2003 09:50:26 -0800
Source: atxc
 
Day Three
New York City
 
"Are you okay, Mulder?" 
 
"Hmm?" He looked aside only to find his partner looking worried at him. She had 
that look in her eyes again that proved she was worried about him. He didn't 
want her to worry. There was no need for it. But he had been sitting quietly in 
the car and now she wondered where his usual smart remarks were. 
 
"I was just thinking about these two victims," he said, "I wonder if they knew 
why they were killed."
 
"We will only know that as soon as we find their killer. He's the only one that 
knows that right now. But I'm guessing that they knew. People usually die for a 
reason, Mulder. Isn't that what your profile states as well?"
 
"Of course it does," he answered, "but human nature keeps on surprising the hell 
out of me. At times I just wonder why someone does what he does. And I just want 
to know why we're here. Why this person is doing the kill the way he is. And why 
I'm here setting up a profile and why you're performing yet another autopsy 
while we should be having fun." 
 
She smiled. "Isn't this your idea of fun? I thought you were such a workaholic?" 

 
He grinned and looked aside, letting his mind drift away from the traffic for a 
second. "Since I've got more than my share of you, I've grown into other ideas 
of enjoyment." 
 
She smiled, tracing the line of his mouth with her finger. In the solitude of 
the car it didn't matter what they said or did, and he responded by resting his 
face against her hand for a second, as if the warmth of her flesh comforted him 
more than any of her words could. She felt like teasing him but knew better than 
to do so. Instead she pulled away her hand reluctantly when they arrived at the 
Field Office. 
 
"Damn it," Mulder said, as the parking lot seemed closed up. A guard walked over 
to them and looked inside. "Sorry, Agents," he spoke, "we've got mechanical 
problems - can't seem to get the system to unlock this morning. There's a 
reserve parking lot around the back though. Just go around the corner and drive 
up the small parking lot to the left."
 
"Thanks," Mulder muttered, doing as the man had said. When he parked the vehicle 
a second car drove up the lot. Campbell had followed them and drove up behind 
him. The two Chryslers stood next to one another. 
 
"Make sure you get the right car tonight," Scully said. Jack pulled a face. 
"Hey, I've got the luxury edition. Let's go." 
 
The agents walked to the front entrance of the building, hoping that there 
wouldn't be any press waiting for them here either. Fortunately the guards had 
chased most of them away. "Before I forget to mention it again, Jack," Mulder 
said as he used the badge to make his way in, "someone came to see you last 
night at the Wells' crime scene. A guy named Alec Thompson. He said he was an 
old friend of yours and works for the mayor." 
 
"That's right," Jack said surprised. "But I haven't seen him for ages. And he 
came to the Wells' site?" 
 
"Yep." 
 
"That's odd." Campbell stepped into the elevator and pushed the button. "Why 
would he come and see me there?" 
 
"Perhaps he had something to tell you," Mulder said. 
 
"I wouldn't have a clue as to what that might be, but I'll give him a call." 
Jack leaned back against the glass and stared in front of him. It was obvious he 
was wondering about that unexpected visitor. Mulder glared at Scully, hoping 
that she might not ask too many questions. She understood his look and excused 
herself when they got out of the elevator. The night before she hadn't asked 
Mulder about Jack. She knew her partner would tell her when the time was right. 
 
"What's going on, Jack?" Mulder asked as they walked down the corridor to the 
offices at the end. He closed the door behind them and watched as Jack walked 
straight to the window and looked outside, his hands tucked in his pockets like 
Skinner always used to do. 
 
"I had another vision last night," he said. "They come more often now and they 
frighten me. I feel like they're trying to tell me that we're running out of 
time and that we're getting close. Somehow those visions that I have fears me 
because they're not there in a good sense. In the past I felt like I could help 
people with what I saw. Now I can only guess at what is happening."
 
"You are the conduit," Mulder tried to explain. "It's through you that we must 
proceed in finding him."
 
"But what if he uses me the same way?" Jack asked desperately. "What if he too 
has those visions and only allows me to see what he wants me to see?"
 
"We can only assume that you alone have those visions, through some connection 
that you have with him," Mulder said slowly, suddenly realizing he had been 
through the same years ago with John Lee Roche. The connection had been there, 
and it been two-ways. "No," the agent said out loud, "we cannot assume that." 
 
Mulder took a deep breath and concentrated on Jack. "Tell me what you saw." 
 
"It's complicated." 
 
"Just try." 
 
"There was a large building and a lot of people inside. They were all dressed in 
tuxedos and evening dress. It was some sort of party, or benefit. There was a 
huge sign upfront. It was a sign for the AIDS-benefit. He moved and then stopped 
and looked around. There were a lot of different people that I saw; all very 
blurry faces. I couldn't make them out. But there was a female hand that 
stretched out. I didn't see her face but I caught a glimpse of her dress and the 
ring on her finger. It was a special ring." 
 
"Do you think you would be able to recognize that ring and dress?"
 
"I think so." 
 
"He chose his next victim," Mulder said. "He was at the AIDS-benefit and picked 
out the victim Wells gave to him. He's moving forward. If the past two days are 
any indication, tonight he will try to find his third victim." 
 
"Wells?" Jack asked surprised. 
 
Quickly Mulder explained his theory on the psychic ability of their killer. Jack 
listened in surprise, realizing at last that he couldn't grasp what was going 
on. No one really could. He sighed deeply and rubbed his head. He was so tired 
of these visions. All he wanted was to lead a regular life and forget he ever 
saw anything inside of his mind. Mulder put his hand on the man's shoulder and 
said, "You did well, Jack. I promised you help and I will give it to you. Just 
hang on for a bit longer and try to see the best of it."
 
Wry Jack smiled. "You're forgetting I'm not so experienced with this paranormal 
stuff. You're the expert."
 
"You're learning quickly," Mulder responded. "Now then, can you get us a list of 
attendees at that party?" 
 
"Of course," Jack said tired. 
 
"We need to concentrate on that ring and dress. First priority now is to find 
our victim. Do you think that ring was custom-made?"
 
"It must have been," Jack said, "I had never seen anything like it."
 
"Can you try to get a list of jewelers in town that could do this?" 
 
"I'll have one of my men on it. He's quite good at that sort of thing. I'm sure 
he'll find it quickly."
 
"Good," Mulder said, "because time is running out on us. Can we compare the list 
of the guests of last night's benefit with the guests of others that occurred 
just recently - let's say during the past two months?"
 
"Of course," Jack said. "Mulder, what exactly are you thinking? Is our killer a 
high profiled man? Is he attending all of those benefits as well, choosing his 
victims amongst his friends?" 
 
"The victims let him in. He knew their habits. He was most likely a friend or 
acquaintance. It does make sense. He most likely had an affaire with Susannah 
Delaney too. Since that list is quite long, it might take us a while to go 
through all the names, and then we can only hope that their romance was known." 
 
"Is all of that in your profile, Mulder?" Jack grinned. 
 
"Most of it," the agent responded. "Let's see if we can pass the profile on, 
shall we?" 
 
Within half an hour Mulder's profile had been approved by Skinner and sent out 
by email to all the law enforcement agencies in town. Every FBI-agent knew what 
kind of person they were looking for. But that still didn't make things easier. 
The most confidential note in the profile was that the killer most likely lived 
in the 'better circles' of town, probably leading a double life. Mulder had not 
mentioned the Jekyll & Hyde syndrome but had referred to it. 
 
Skinner was more than satisfied with the preliminary report and profile. So was 
Washington. But the killer was still on the loose and as noon passed and snow 
began to cover the streets, everyone felt the tension grow. 
 
Day Three
New York City
 
Around eleven, Scully had left for the autopsy of Stephen Wells. "Here I go 
again," she had muttered while leaving. Mulder and Campbell worked like crazy 
going through the lists of attendees of several benefits. It was no good. 
Several names popped up on every list, including the mayor's.
 
Another team was going through the tabloids trying to gather a timeline on 
Susannah Delaney's love life. Jack also placed several calls with different 
newspapers and a society-reporter who told him whom Susannah had been seen with. 
So far about nine names had popped up. There were different timeframes that 
couldn't be accounted for, and since her hunger for one-night-stands with young 
studs was no big secret, everyone could only guess at the correct amount of men 
she'd had. 
 
From the timeline six names appeared on the guest list of all the benefits as 
well. Skinner called it a long shot but worth a look. None of the names meant 
anything to him, but both Jack and Mulder uttered a surprised shout when Alec 
Thompson's name popped up again. At one of the benefits he had taken Susannah as 
a guest. 
 
"So Alec knew her," Jack muttered, looking up as his eyes darkened. 
 
"Don't you think you should have a word with him?" Mulder asked. 
 
"I guess so," Jack said. "Who could have thought this would ever happen." 
 
Mulder didn't understand why Jack was so upset but let his friend be. There were 
other things to consider now. 
 
Before long Scully returned and on her hair danced snowflakes. "It's freezing 
out there," she said, blowing in her cold hands. Her nose had turned a red tint 
as well. Mulder looked at her and his heart made a quick jump before he was able 
to concentrate on his work again. 
 
Finally, around three o'clock Jack's colleague Chris Morgan called and said he 
might have found the ring. From his vision Jack had made a rough sketch that he 
had faxed to his colleague downtown. With that sketch Chris made his way around 
New York's most expensive jewelers, hoping that the ring had been a product of 
The Big Apple. 
 
"Are you sure?" Jack asked.
 
"Definitely." 
 
"Let's go then," Jack said, grabbing his jacket. Mulder and Scully followed. Out 
in the cold the three pulled their coats tighter and rushed through the snow to 
the parking lot. The cars were covered in snow. 
 
"There's our car," Scully said, pointing to the Chrysler that was parked near 
the exit. 
 
"Just follow me," Jack waved before he got in. Mulder and Scully got in the 
other car and waited for the detective to leave, but he didn't. Instead he got 
out and took a look at the left tire. He waved with his hand towards the agents.
 
"What's wrong?" Mulder asked.
 
"I've got a flat. Damn it! I'll have to get that fixed." 
 
"I'll tell the guard," Mulder said. "He can fix it."  
Mulder walked to the guard and explained him what had happened. The guard nodded 
and said he would make arrangements. At Mulder's persistence Jack slid in behind 
the steering wheel and drove while the agent sat in the back. 
 
At the jewelry store Chris Morgan waited for them. "The jeweler is pretty sure 
he made that ring," Morgan explained. "I showed him the sketch and he has a 
photo of the original that looks a lot like it. I suggest that you take a look 
at it." 
 
The jeweler was polite and showed them a picture of a ring he had especially 
designed. Jack took one look at the photo and knew that was the ring he had 
seen. "This is the one," he said. "Whom did you design it for?"
 
The jeweler seemed uncomfortable to give away personal information but he had 
two FBI-agents and a cop standing before him. How could he refuse? "I designed 
it for Congresswoman McPherson," he said. "She's one of my regular customers and 
inherited the diamond. She wanted a unique design for it. Her husband gave it to 
her as an anniversary gift." 
 
Jack looked at the others. "If what we think is right, she might be the next 
victim."
 
"Or it might have been a waste of time," Scully said, hoping she was wrong. 
 
"We have to get in touch with her and put her in protective custody," Jack said 
as they walked out, "but what story are we going to use? We can't just go up 
there and tell her we feel she might be in danger." 
 
Scully asked Jack, "Do you think you might find out if she was involved with 
Stephen Wells?" 
 
Jack hesitated before saying softly, "No. She couldn't be involved with him."
 
"She's his sister, isn't she?" Mulder said. "Stephen Wells had a sister, Sophia. 
She's the one he's after now. He wants to kill her too."
 
"That's right," Jack confirmed. "She is his sister." 
 
Mulder felt a shock surge through him as he suddenly realized how the victims 
where chosen. Now he had confirmation. "He picks out the last person in one's 
mind before death occurs," Mulder said slowly. "That's how he does it. He feeds 
on people's emotions, choosing that one person that means more to you than 
anyone else; the one person you would think of before dying." 
 
"Wait," Scully said, ignoring Chris Morgan's stunned look. "Are you now 
officially calling this an X-File, Mulder?"
 
"It has been since the day it started, Scully," Mulder said. "And now we have 
the proof."
 
"Why? Because he goes after the sister after killing the brother? What proof is 
that? It means nothing, Mulder. There is a connection between all these people 
and it's down to earth. Don't go looking for things that aren't there. We need 
to pursue this the logical way. We cannot afford to turn this into an X-File." 
 
"It is an X-File," Jack said as he stepped forward. He glared at Morgan, knowing 
he could no longer keep his mouth shut. "We need to pursue it that way. When we 
find Congresswoman McPherson, we will find him." 
 
"Fine," Scully said softly but not discontent, "I just don't want to be the one 
to tell Skinner." 
 
Mulder smiled, knowing he had practically won her over. The evidence was there. 
Now all they had to do was put the pieces together and see how it could go 
further. 
 
"Track down Congresswoman McPherson," Mulder said. "We need to talk to her 
before he finds her and kills her."
 
 
 
Day Three
New York City
 
That night, when night settled in, everyone waited in tension for more bad news 
to come. 
But it didn't. There was no new attempt. There was no new bombing. 
 
In a safe house Congresswoman McPherson waited with her husband. She knew she 
would not see her bed that night. They had persuaded her, convinced her that she 
was in mortal danger. And she had run while her heart was filled with grief over 
her brother's death. He had died by the hands of the man that was now going to 
try and kill her, they said. And so she had not thought it over. She simply did 
what they told her to do. 
 
That night her house stayed empty. There was no one present but the police 
officers that kept an eye out, hoping that he would show up. 
 
But he didn't. Because he had known they were there. He had heard through his 
office. Anger had settled in his heart when he stayed at home that night, 
seeking revenge. He wanted to punish the man that was after him. He wanted to 
stop him. 
 
And finally, when he went to bed in his rental apartment in town which he at 
times used when meetings ran out too long and he was too tired to go home, he 
knew he was going to kill him. 
 
And he had found just the way. 
 
 
 
Day Four
 
Even at a time like this when the morning seems so far
Think that pain belongs to you but it's happened to us all
It's all right to make mistakes you're only human
Inside everybody's hiding something
 
New York City
 
After dropping off Jack at his apartment about two blocks from the hotel, Mulder 
and Scully arrived around midnight at the hotel. Skinner was already at the 
hotel but nowhere in sight. He had probably gone to bad after debating for a 
long time with the mayor and his assistant. The two agents had a light meal 
together. Again it was too late to eat properly. Scully sighed when she ate her 
salad, plucking at the vegetables on the plate. It was the only meal the kitchen 
had to offer them at a time like this. 
 
They sat alone in the dining room and the constant chatter of the female cook 
and one of the waitresses sounded monotone in the back. The two agents said 
quietly together at first, both too tired to do much. It seemed that it was 
going to be a very short night once again.
 
"What is it?" Mulder asked. 
 
She didn't respond at first but finally she put down her fork and looked at him. 
"I've got a bad feeling about this," she said. "I feel like we're being watched. 
Our every move is being recorded."
 
"That's the press for you. They know where you are and what you're doing. 
Fortunately it's just a one-time thing," Mulder said lightly, realizing he too 
wasn't hungry anymore. They were all very tired but at least they could rest 
assure that tonight's victim had not died. 
 
"I'm not talking about the press," Scully said. "I'm talking about him." 
 
"Do you feel he's watching us?"
 
"Yeah, and it gives me the chills," she admitted. "Mulder, in all these years 
we've seen a lot of gruesome things. We saw murders that were beyond humanity. I 
know there are bombers out there that don't hesitate to kill off hundreds of 
people if it serves their political purpose. But it's just hard to grasp that 
some deliberately does this to make a person suffer. Every bit of humanity 
inside that man is gone. He doesn't feel anything anymore. He uses his 
intelligence and financial means to do this, and he has the freedom to do this. 
I can't rest properly until I know he's behind lock and key." 
 
"I know," Mulder said, placing a hand on hers. "It's difficult to work on this 
case, but it's going to be worth it when we get him. And I promise you that 
vacation. Okay? When we get out of here, we're taking off. I don't care what 
anyone says about it. It's going to be our vacation."
 
"As long as you don't take me to Vegas, I don't care where we're going," she 
smiled. 
 
"It's a deal." He smiled and his fingers lingered long on her hand. "Let's go," 
he said. They shoved the chairs backwards and walked to the elevators. When the 
doors closed behind them, Scully felt her partner's lips on hers and she opened 
her mouth eagerly. 
 
They knew they weren't going to spend the night together. In the morning Jack 
would come to the hotel to drive to the police station with them, where the 
search for the killer continued. But it was after one and they needed the rest. 
At Scully's door they said goodbye. With regret Mulder shut the door behind him 
and took a shower. 
 
He glanced at his watch. He was awake and not eager to get to sleep. Sighing he 
settled down on the bed and went through the file for the fourth or fifth time. 
He knew it by heart now. He knew every single detail on the killer and couldn't 
help but wonder where they had missed out. But they had a list now of potential 
'candidates'. In the morning they would contact all the suspects and go over 
their stories one by one. There would be a break soon. The killer would slip up. 

 
In the morning he would go for a run; that always cleared his head. Central Park 
was nearby. He had his jogging outfit and running shoes with him. Yeah, a run 
would do him good. 
 
With that thought Mulder finally fell asleep, only to wake up around six-thirty. 
He got changed and scribbled a note that he slipped under Scully's door. Jack 
was picking them up around eight so there was still plenty of time.
 
It was freezing cold out. For a second Mulder regretted having gone out but his 
body adjusted quickly. Warming up to a smooth pace he left the hotel around the 
front, passing the parking lot where a car with running engine stood besides 
his. The man inside the vehicle glanced at him as the vehicle drove off. All the 
cars at the parking lot were frozen, except for the one that just took off. In 
the dark the vehicle's lights pierced into Mulder's eyes for a second. 
 
Mulder picked up the pace and jogged to Central Park. 
 
Scully woke up around seven-thirty, for a while having difficulty to remember 
where she was. She had slept like a log from the moment she put down her head on 
the soft pillow until she woke up just now. She opened the curtains. It was 
still dark out but slowly dawn was breaking. She switched on one of the bed 
lights and looked at something that lay in front of the door. She yawned and 
slipped out of bed. Mulder had written her a note that he was out for a jog.
 
Great, Scully thought. He hardly sleeps and jogs while he should be resting, and 
I'm a lazy person. What a combination! She smiled at the thought of living 
together one day. Then she blushed. There was no way they would move in together 
just now. They had hardly come to terms with their newly found feelings yet. 
Moving in seemed like something still too far away to consider. And besides, she 
still liked that little space she had to herself. It was going perfect the way 
it was right now.
 
She washed up, brushed her teeth and combed her hair. Mulder should be back 
soon. Jack would be coming over around eight. She put her things together and 
sat down on the bed. 
 
Mulder's feet could hardly keep up with the pace he was forcing upon himself in 
Central Park. He couldn't remember how long he had been running like that, going 
so fast he could hardly catch his breath. His body was warm despite the freezing 
cold, but he didn't remove his sweater, knowing that could be lethal to a 
runner. 
 
His mind drifted away from everything he was working on. He forced himself to 
keep up the pace, passing a few other joggers on the way when dawn finally 
arrived. His head suddenly spun, his body reacting to the strain he had put 
himself under. 
 
Someone watched him as he made his run through the park, sitting on the bench. 
He had followed him from the hotel, when their paths had crossed as well. The 
man's glance followed him as Mulder slowly approached him. The agent was slowing 
down now. The killer got up slowly and walked towards him, making sure their 
paths would cross. 
 
Mulder suddenly stopped, breathing heavily in and out. He leaned forward, 
putting his hands on his thighs as he forced his body to relax. He opened his 
mouth as his head pounded and his lungs filled with cold air. His back and legs 
were sore from exhaustion. 
 
The man passed him nearby and for a second his hand touched Mulder's back. The 
touch was so light it could have been ignored. It was like wind brushing through 
one's hair. Then the touch was gone and the man walked forward. Mulder blinked 
and looked up and started walking again towards the exit. 
 
Before he reached the hotel Jack walked towards him. "Thought I might find you 
here," he smiled. "You're still a runner, aren't you Mulder?" 
 
Mulder had caught his breath again and smiled. His eyes blinked. The run had 
done him good. He had to change quickly now before he started shivering with 
cold. Jack picked up the pace and walked with him. "We need to talk, Mulder," he 
said before they entered the hotel. 
 
Mulder stopped and looked at him. "What about?" 
 
"This case. The way we're handling it. Your input."
 
"You're not happy with my input?" Mulder frowned. 
 
"Of course I am," Jack said, "it's just that - I've got this feeling you're 
taking things very personally. I was thinking about it last night and I'm not so 
sure that I've done the right thing getting you here." Jack's excuse sounded 
weak, Mulder thought. He wondered what his friend was really trying to say. 
 
"You look tired Mulder," Jack continued. "You don't sleep that much, do you? 
Have you eaten anything at all last night?"
 
"What are you - my mother?" Mulder muttered as he started walking again. The 
hotel lobby was busier now than before. Mulder ignored the other guests and 
walked to the elevators. Jack had difficulty following now. 
 
"Look," Jack said, "I've been talking to Davis last night. He called me for a 
report and asked me to keep an eye on you. It seems that you've got this habit 
of getting in too deep and I don't want that on my conscience. I asked you here 
because you are a fantastic profiler but I don't want you hurt."
 
Mulder pushed the elevator button. "No, you asked me for advice. You got me in 
on this case knowing it was an X-File. Legally that means that I could take 
over, but I'm not. It's your case and I'm helping you out. You still have to 
live in this town, Jack. I go home when it's over and I'll watch from a distance 
how you will get your promotion. And I'll also watch when you refuse to give in 
on your ability to do more good than you're already doing. Since you've already 
made your decision about ignoring your gift, there's not much more I can say, is 
there?"
 
"What's that supposed to mean?" Jack asked. He paled, realizing Mulder was 
right. He hadn't come here to persuade Mulder to take it easy. He came here in 
order to find an excuse not to proceed with an ability he had tried to ignore 
most of his life. 
 
"You know what it means," Mulder said as the doors shut behind them. "You do 
what you want with your life, Jack, but if you have another case like this 
because of your visions, I suggest you seek other ways to go about it."
 
"Are you accusing me of abusing our friendship?"
 
Mulder leaned tired against the glass. "Call it what you like. I'm not in the 
mood to argue while we should be out there finding our killer. So if you came 
here to tell me I should back off, think again. You asked me to do this case 
with you and I am at the best of my abilities. You don't know about my habits or 
the way I work. Davis knows that. You should too. If you don't like it, you can 
always send me back to Washington, but I'm expecting that you won't. You need me 
too much right now." 
 
Jack paled even more and didn't walk out the elevator with him. "I'll wait 
downstairs," he said as the doors closed behind him. 
 
Day Four
New York City
 
Scully waited patiently until he returned to his room. She could hear him 
slamming the doors, and then there were noises coming from the adjoined 
bathroom. He was in the shower. She decided not to disturb him, but left for the 
lobby instead, leaving a note on the door that she was waiting downstairs. 
 
Jack was downstairs as well, looking very glum. She could tell there had been an 
argument. She walked over to him. "Hey," she said. "How's it going?"
 
"Besides from the fact I'm an ass, everything's going well," he said. "Where's 
Mulder?"
 
"Getting changed. Did you have a fight with him?" 
 
"Let's just call it a pathetic attempt at trying to avoid my responsibilities. 
Jack sighed as his fingers touched his temples. "I'm sorry, Dana. I should have 
known better but I'm just tired and took it out on Mulder."
 
"He'll forgive you," she said. "We've got other things to concentrate on right 
now. We've got a long day ahead and hopefully our killer by the end of it. Are 
you driving with us?"
 
"Yeah. My car is fixed - I got a call from security. I hope you guys don't 
mind." 
 
"Don't be silly. Skinner should be down any minute now too." Scully turned and 
saw Skinner and Mulder come downstairs. At the breakfast table not a word was 
spoken. Mulder was still angry but Scully could see he was calming down when he 
noticed Jack's apologetic glance. At the end of breakfast they were talking 
again. 
 
"We're going to work on that list of suspects this morning," Mulder said, taking 
out the printout he had made the day before with the names of men that might 
have been involved with Susannah. "Sir, if you can, we need your help too." 
 
"Of course," Skinner said. "I suppose we're splitting up in two groups?" 
 
"That's right," Jack said. "I have my team going through the extensive list of 
attendees at the benefit as well, hoping that they might bump into a 
coincidence. This afternoon I will be talking to Congresswoman McPherson to see 
if there are mutual acquaintances she has with her brother that might be 
considered enemies." 
 
"Good," Skinner said. "We're progressing. Mrs. McPherson will remain in 
protective custody?"
 
"Yes, sir," Mulder said. "We are assuming she's still high on the hitlist. But 
if he changes his MO there's not much we can do about it." 
 
"I'll always have a word with Alec Thompson," Jack said. "He's an old friend of 
mine and I need to find out what he was doing at the Wells' crime scene. The 
whole situation is quite odd and he might be awaiting my call." 
 
"Good," Skinner said, "let's get to work then." 
 
The four got up and walked to the reception area. Before getting out the hotel 
manager walked over. "We will arrange your cars for you," he said. "They'll need 
defrosting."
 
"That's very kind of you," Mulder said, "but not necessary."
 
"Please, we insist. Unfortunately we don't have an underground parking lot and 
we always serve our guests." 
 
"Alright then," Mulder said, handing over the keys. Skinner did the same. Two 
bellboys hurried out with warm coats to warm up and fetch the cars. Scully had 
already gone outside and was walking while on the phone with the coroner's 
office. She had a meeting in about an hour to discuss the final results. Mulder 
watched as she walked over to the car.
 
Mulder turned to the manager. "You don't have an underground parking lot?" he 
asked. 
 
"That's right, sir." 
 
"So basically every car that is parked here at night has to be frozen?"
 
"I guess so," the manager said surprised.
 
Mulder frowned. "Is or was there a guest here that drives a black Sedan and left 
early this morning?" 
 
"I can check, sir," the manager said, "is there a problem?" The manager hurried 
to the desk and checked the pc-file with guest entries and vehicles registration 
numbers. All the vehicles that stood on the parking lot were signed in. He 
looked up at a very nervous Mulder. 
 
"Jesus Christ," Mulder said as he glanced towards the bellboys that had reached 
the two cars. There had been a car standing next to his rental earlier that 
morning. It hadn't been frozen and it wasn't from any of the guests. 
 
"Jesus Christ," he repeated as he rushed out to Skinner's and Jack's surprise. 
Mulder practically flew out, shouting Scully's name. She was still on the phone 
and didn't hear him at first. In the back the bellboy had gotten into the car, 
putting the key in the ignition. 
 
"Scully!" he screamed as his tired legs refused to go any faster. She turned, 
still holding the phone in her hands. Her eyes looked at him surprised. Then she 
was in his arms as she dropped the phone and he dragged her with him, making the 
decision to save her. It was too late to warn the bellboy. 
 
The car started. Mulder thought he could actually hear the click as the device 
armed. Then there was another click, followed by an enormous blast that knocked 
them to the ground. He threw himself over her as they hit the ground hard. The 
blast was so big that Mulder could feel the flames in his back, but they didn't 
scourge him. There was a strange numbness in his body. Scully lay deadly quiet 
underneath him.
 
The next moment the world seemed to be on fire, and then it all went black.
 
To be concluded ...
Matrix II
 
Situation:  This story has been written for 'Virtual Season Nine' and basically 
ignores everything after Season seven's 'Je Souhaite'. 
 
Rated R for some explicit language
 
Type: Profiling X-File, M/S UST  
 
Background: In previous stories (to be found on my website 
http://www.sv-tales.com) I have introduced Terence Davis, Mulder's former boss 
at the VCS. In this story he plays his (small) part as well. 
 
Story: New York City's Finest cannot stop a serial killer from running havoc 
throughout the city, leaving his mark on the city. Fox Mulder is contacted by an 
old friend and asked for help, thus turning the killer's attention on him, and 
forcing him into a deadly cat & mouse-game across town. But the agent has no 
idea the price he has to pay is very high.
 
Disclaimer: Do I need to remind you that our beloved FBI-duo are not mine?  They 
belong to CC. But since he's not using him to the best of his abilities, the 
XF-fanfic-writers are.  
 
Disclaimer Lyrics: All lyrics used in chapters are taken from Dido's 'Slide'. 
 
Day Four
New York City
 
There was panic all around as the bomb went off. Campbell and Skinner watched 
the blast from a distance. They had run towards the vehicle as well, but when 
the device went off, both men were thrown against the cold ground as well. 
Campbell put his hand protectively over his eyes, closing his eyelids 
automatically when the explosion occurred. 
 
When he looked up he saw Skinner lying beside him. The Assistant-Director looked 
up dazed. Several people rushed outside from the lobby. The manager cried out he 
had called 911. There was a lot of confusion and devastation. Guests gathered 
outside or in the lobby, shocked at the site of the burning car. 
 
Jack got on his feet and stared at the vehicle. Then he rushed forward, followed 
by Skinner, as they hurried to the two people on the ground, seemingly unmoving. 
The heat could be felt, even at a distance of about twenty feet, where Mulder 
and Scully lay down for the count. Jack knew no one could help the bellboy 
anymore. 
 
"We have to get them out of here," Jack said, kneeling beside Mulder who still 
lay over Scully like a protective shield. Jack couldn't possibly know who had 
suffered the worst but he was afraid Mulder might have to pay for his action. 
 
"Mulder ..." Skinner said as they turned the man around. One side of Mulder's 
face was covered in blood. His clothes were torn but the warm overcoat seemed to 
have taken most of the blow. There was blood on his arm and leg and several 
smaller burns all over his body. The agent looked deadly pale. Skinner knew 
there might be severe internal damage, but they couldn't afford leaving him 
here. 
 
Underneath him lay Scully, just as pale. She was bleeding from the back of the 
head. Apart from that she didn't have any scars on her. But she was unconscious 
and breathed very shallow. Debris lay everywhere. Some of the pieces were still 
burning. Metal was melting and lay spread all over the parking lot. 
 
"We have to move them gently," Skinner ordered as several men rushed to the 
scene. There were sirens to be heard in the back. Skinner made the orders as 
Mulder's body was lifted from the ground. "Support his neck and back. Gently 
with that leg and arm." 
 
With united forces the male agent was lifted up and moved fifteen feet. The 
distance to the lobby was too far. Someone had gotten blankets and put them on 
the ground. Mulder was lifted onto them and another blanket went over him to 
keep him warm. 
 
A few moments later Scully lay on another pair of blankets. She moved slightly 
and then went quiet again. 
 
In Skinner's car the second bellboy sat numb and quietly. It took the helpers 
all their efforts to get him out. His eyes were focused on the burning car and 
his body shivered uncontrollably. His best friend had just been blown to pieces 
and he had watched it happen. He too needed a lot of help. 
 
"They're breathing," Skinner said as he turned hopelessly to the others. "Where 
the hell are those paramedics?"
 
As if they had heard him, several ambulances drove up the parking lot and rushed 
to the scene. There were fire department trucks and police vehicles. Jack looked 
down at Mulder, praying for his friend to open his eyes. But Mulder stayed just 
as quiet as Scully as his body went into shock underneath the thick blankets.
 
Then the paramedics were there and took over, examining the agents before 
preparing them for transfer to the nearest hospital. Mulder suddenly opened his 
eyes with a startle. He looked up to the skies as the paramedics shifted an 
oxygen mask over his nose and mouth and strapped him onto a gurney. His eyes 
sought something. His left hand and arm were immobilized but he could move his 
right one. 
 
"Mulder, don't move," Jack said, making sure his friend saw him. "You're going 
to be fine. It's okay." 
 
"Scully?" The name was nearly unrecognizable but there was so much worry in his 
voice that Jack felt a knot in his stomach. 
 
"She's fine," he lied, "she's right here beside you. Look." 
 
Mulder moved his head slightly so he could see Scully's body. Skinner was next 
to her, holding her hand supportively. Somehow that relaxed Mulder and he let 
himself be strapped down, closing his eyes again as he slid back into the abyss. 

 
Jack knew Mulder was aware of his surroundings. His sub consciousness would not 
rest until he knew she was safe. He felt anger well up inside of him. So the 
killer had accepted the challenge. He had chosen new victims. He had picked out 
his enemies. 
 
They were close. Jack knew it. Why else would he take this risk? The cop bit his 
lip as Mulder was shifted into the ambulance. Scully was taken to another 
ambulance.
"Take them to the same hospital," Skinner ordered. "If they wake up, make sure 
they can see each other. It's important. Jack, you go with Mulder. I'll stay 
with her."
 
Jack sat inside the ambulance beside the man on the gurney. He could hear the 
agent's efforts to breath deeply. It didn't seem to work. He coughed and groaned 
at the same time as the shock wore off and his body was struck with pain. They 
hadn't left yet. The doors were still open. 
 
Skinner let go of Scully for a moment and stepped inside the ambulance as Mulder 
looked up. His voice sounded gentle when he said, "Mulder it's alright. You're 
going to be fine. Don't try to fight it. We'll be at the hospital with you." 
 
Is this what happens when Scully cannot perform the task? Jack thought. Does 
Skinner take over then to care for his agent?  How many times before did 
something like this happen? The cop was numbed up. He wanted revenge. It was a 
stupid thought at a time like this, but he wanted revenge. He couldn't afford to 
waste any time.
 
But when Skinner's eyes met his, they begged him to stay with the agent to calm 
him down. Jack nodded silently and let the doors of the ambulance close. Mulder 
had closed his eyes again, drifting away. 
 
"What's wrong with him?" Jack asked the man sitting next to him. 
 
"His body got a serious blow," the paramedic explained, "this is a way for his 
body to deal with it. I don't think he has any serious injuries but he's got 
several smaller burns and his shoulder is dislocated. He's lucky. Had he stood 
forward facing the bomb, he might have been killed. The chest can't take a blow 
like that." 
 
Mulder felt the hand on his wrist. The touch got through to him even in his hazy 
state. He wanted to sleep again and forget that his body was aching all over. 
But his mind wouldn't let him pass out. There were too many confused memories.
 
Scully! He could still feel her body under his. He saw her knock her head hard 
on the pavement. There was blood in her hair and she had passed out in his arms. 
He could feel her go limp under him and then his body seemed to be on fire. 
 
But Jack had told him she was fine. He wouldn't lie to him. He would tell if she 
had died. But what if he did lie? She couldn't be dead!  Mulder blinked his 
eyelids and stared at Jack. His friend was there, talking to the paramedic. They 
were discussing him. He listened to their voices. They didn't talk about Scully. 

 
"She's dead," Mulder said underneath the oxygen mask. His voice sounded hoarse 
and he could barely speak up as his throat burned. Jack looked at him and he 
closed his eyes again as the insides of the ambulance became part of a very 
blurry picture. 
 
 
Day Four
New York City
 
Skinner sat patiently next to the bed but looked up immediately when there was 
movement. His agent opened his eyes and looked at the white ceiling. It took a 
while for him to come to terms with the situation. 
 
The first thing Mulder was aware of was Scully's absence. In the past they had 
always sat by each other's bedsides. She had been there so many times for him, 
and he had been there for her. But now she was not there. 
 
"Where is she?" he asked hoarsely. There was a small tube stuck under his nose 
to help him breath. His throat ached and his chest seemed to burn. His entire 
body felt stiff and sore as if he had run a marathon within two hours. 
 
"She's alright," Skinner said. "She's resting."
 
"Has she woken up yet?"
 
"No. Don't think of her right now, Mulder. Concentrate on your own well being." 
 
Mulder attempted to smile. "I practically killed her, didn't I? She hit her 
head. I remember. You don't have to lie about it, sir. I know she's in bad 
shape." 
 
"She's not," Skinner repeated, "the doctor's are very positive she will woke up 
at any moment and she doesn't need you upset over her. Concentrate on yourself 
first, Mulder." 
 
Mulder turned his face away from Skinner. His left shoulder and arm were 
immobilized. He had dislocated it. He could feel by the dull pain that struck 
him every time he tried to move. His legs were covered with a sheet but he knew 
he had hurt his left leg as well. There was a scorching pain, like a knife 
cutting into skin and flesh. 
 
His temple was bandaged and there were several smaller burns that turned red 
underneath their separate bandages. His chest hurt but Skinner said that that 
was normal according to the doctor. He had no internal damage. 
 
"How long?" Mulder groaned as he tried to find a watch. 
 
"It's two in the afternoon. The ... accident happened around eight-thirty."
 
"I remember." Mulder put his hand to his head and looked at Skinner again. 
"You're not lying about her?"
 
"I'm not. She will wake up. She's got head trauma but her vitals are looking 
good and first results showed there is no serious damage. She'll have a hell of 
a headache when she wakes up, but all in all she's in a better state than you 
are." 
 
Mulder leaned back against the pillows. Skinner got up from his chair and and 
looked outside. From the window he could see the hospital entrance where a crowd 
of reporters and interested parties had gathered for the latest news. The 
attempt had not gone unseen. Everyone knew about it by now. 
 
Skinner sighed deeply. When and where had this case gone to hell? 
"How did you know?" he finally asked as he turned around to face Mulder again. 
"You knew this was going to happen. You saved Scully's life. But how did you 
find out?"
 
"It struck me when the hotel manager spoke about those cars. There was a car 
when I went out for a run. I couldn't see who it was. I found it odd. The 
bellboy is dead, isn't he?"
 
"Yes. He never stood a chance. When he started the engine the bomb triggered. 
You were supposed to start the car, Mulder. If you had, you would not be here 
right now." Skinner spoke softly as if he couldn't realize it yet himself. He 
had nearly lost his two agents and there would have been nothing to do about it. 
Awkwardly he stood in the middle of the room, not knowing how to proceed now. 
The case was over for his agents. He would not allow them to proceed under these 
circumstances. He would pull out and hand the case to Jack's team. 
 
But where was Jack? 
 
 
Day Four
New York City
 
Alec Thompson sat pale and quietly on his chair in the small office assigned to 
him at city hall. Jack Campbell's fury struck him like a hammer. Less than five 
minutes ago his friend had stormed into the room, accusing him of murder. 
Thompson's features had changed into disbelief. Was Jack actually accusing him? 
 
"Why were you at the office building?" Jack snapped at him. "You knew Susannah 
Delaney, didn't you? Were you fucking or just seeing her? Why Agent Mulder, 
Alec?" 
 
Alec froze up when the mayor himself entered the room, demanding to know what 
the shouting was about. Jack calmed down and glared at the mayor. "Two fine 
people are in hospital because of this case," he said. "They're my friends and 
I'm sick and tired of chasing a phantom." 
 
"I'm sorry to hear about your friends," the mayor calmly said, "but to come in 
here and accuse Alec is a bit far-fetched, isn't it?" 
 
"Is it?" Jack bit back. "My buddy here has a lot of explaining to do." Jack was 
tempted to slam the door in the mayor's face but didn't. Instead the man that 
ran the city turned and raised his hands, ordering his right hand David Lane to 
take care of business. Lane looked surprised at the scene in Alec's room and 
asked calmly if he could do anything for them.
 
"Yeah," Jack said, "leave us alone." This time he did slam the door, causing 
Lane to jump backwards at the last minute. He could hear Lane curse at the other 
side of the door but ignored him, turning his attention back to Alec. "Start 
talking." 
 
Alec got up and sighed deeply. "Look, I know my sudden interest came over 
strangely but there is good reason for it. First of all, I am very worried about 
this bomber because everyone is at uproar. You know it's my job to keep the 
population happy. David Lane might be doing just about anything the mayor orders 
him to, but I need to make sure no one ever knows the whole story."
 
"You mean that you need to cover up the shit," Jack said. 
 
"That's right." Alec tucked his right hand in his pocket and dug out a 
cigarette. "Damn it," he mumbled, lighting it. "I'm so tired of this damned 
bomber. I haven't slept for days now. It's getting to me."
 
"You're not the one lying in a hospital bed," Jack snapped. "I don't give a damn 
about how you feel. If you're withholding evidence from me, I'm going after you 
Alec. You have the means to find out things in that damned high society of 
yours. I don't have the time to be polite. I have someone to catch and right now 
I'm on my own. I want blood and I'm going to get it." 
 
Alec frowned. "So you think I'm lying to you?"
"You're sure as hell not speaking out." 
 
Alec sat down again, savoring the taste of his cigarette. He had only started 
smoking again the day he started working here, for a man that was more 
interested in who he would find in his bed at night instead of the business of 
the day. 
 
"Susannah Delaney was a deluxe prostitute, Jack," he said. "She might not have 
gotten paid hard money for her services but she sure as hell got away with a 
lot. Tell me, is the mayor on your list of interests yet?" 
 
"The mayor?" Jack repeated. "You must be joking. He wouldn't go for a highly 
profiled woman like her. He goes for younger flesh." 
 
"At times he had women picked out for him by Lane. Don't you think our mayor 
might have been tempted to get rid of her if she started blackmailing him?" 
 
"Was she?" Jack asked. 
 
"She might have been."
 
"I see," Jack said slowly. "So she was blackmailing them. The mayor probably 
wasn't the only one. But what for? She had enough money to live two lifetimes." 
 
"She did it for fun," Alec smiled. "She told me so herself when I was ordered by 
Lane to pick her up for a party. She was supposed to be there but she wasn't 
allowed to spend any time with the mayor. Yet he wanted her there because he 
wanted to see her whenever he felt like it. She was there at his command and she 
waited all night for him to speak with her. She liked the mayor but after that 
night something changed between them. She was upset because he refused to 
acknowledge her. So the next day she called him and said she was going to spill 
the beans. And the next day she was dead. Funny coincidence, isn't it?"
 
"Are you saying the mayor ordered her death?" Jack asked. "That he sent someone 
to kill her?"
 
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
 
"What about Stephen Wells?"
 
"He was her lover. She probably told him what she was doing. And he might have 
told his sister. Rumors have it that you got her in a safe house. It's true, 
isn't it? And it all adds up."
 
"Or you might have killed her and are now trying to put the blame on others," 
Jack said. 
 
"Why would I do that?" Alec said. "Give me one good reason why I would want to 
kill her. I hardly knew her. I met her that night and we talked on a very 
shallow level. She wasn't interested in me because she already had the mayor in 
her bed. I was too low-leveled for her. But I can tell you this - the mayor is 
going to run for the Senate. Do you think he wants this out in the open?"
 
"They'll know you talked," Jack said. 
 
"I'm resigning," Alec said, getting up and taking his jacket off his chair as if 
to support his words. "I'm fed up with the way things work around here. I'm 
out." 
 
"Do you think it's going to be that easy?" 
 
"It has to be." Alec attempted to smile. "I'll come in and make an official 
statement. I'm through covering for them." 
 
Jack nodded slowly. "Who do you think killed her, Alec?"
 
Jack's old friend smiled wry. "It doesn't matter who planted that bomb. The 
mayor killed her. I'm as certain of it as of anything I have ever done in my 
life. That pompous man, sitting out there in his pompous office, has done more 
damage to the city than good. I'm tired of defending him to the outside world." 
 
Alec opened the door, only to bump into David Lane who tried to stop him. Lane's 
voice sounded hard when he said, "We need to talk before you walk."
 
"You can go to hell, David," Alec said, pushing him aside. Jack and Alec walked 
out together. When the elevator doors closed, Jack caught a glance of Lane's 
face. There was anger in his eyes. There was something familiar about the man. 
He might be the one.
 
Outside Alec took a deep breath as if he had just been released from prison. 
"I'm a free man," he said with a wry smile. Jack couldn't help but laugh, 
despite the situation they were in. "Grab a cab and go to the station," he said 
to Alec. "Give your statement and tell them I'll be coming over in about an 
hour. I've got some things to arrange now." 
 
Alec nodded. Jack got on the phone with Chris Morgan and asked him to run a 
checkup on David Lane. He might be their guy. Morgan's surprise was great. Lane 
was considered a possible candidate for the next elections. If this got out, it 
would alert the press instantly. "Keep it low-profile," Jack said. "Don't tell 
anyone. Try to find out if he's got a dirty history. Bring him in for 
questioning and check his alibi, and get a search warrant for his apartment."
 
"What are you going to do?" Morgan asked. 
 
"I'm going to get changed at home and then head out to the hospital." Jack 
looked down at his dirty clothes. There was blood on them. Mulder's blood. His 
throat felt dry.
 
 
Day Four
New York City
 
Now he knew it was going to be over soon. They were on to him and soon he would 
rot in jail. But he would not allow that to happen. If they were coming for him, 
he would go out with a blast that would be remembered for a long time. It would 
be a blast like the one that should have killed the two agents. 
 
He took a deep breath when someone knocked on his door less than twenty minutes 
after the cop had left. It was Chris Morgan. "You're caught," Morgan said. 
 
"I shouldn't be. I'm paying you enough to keep me out of that police station, 
aren't I? After all, you did such a good job getting rid of my mother's records 
as well, didn't you?"
 
"Yeah well, you didn't tell me that you were putting bombs all over town, were 
you?" Morgan said, sitting down angrily. "You're in trouble man, and there's 
nothing I can do about it anymore. Campbell is on to you. He's going to bring 
you down." 
 
"Then I'll just have to make sure that he won't live to tell, now will I?" David 
Lane just smiled. "Just give him a call and you'll see what happens."
 
 
Day Four
New York City
 
On the way to the hospital in a cab Jack got a call from Morgan. "I found 
interesting things on our man," he said. "I think you should come to his 
apartment straight away." 
 
"Have you got a search warrant?"
 
"Yeah. Judge Fairchild handed it out. Meet me there." Morgan got off the phone. 
Jack tapped on the cabby's shoulder and asked him to turn. With any luck he 
would have good news before heading for the hospital. 
 
 
Day Four
New York City
 
She didn't move an inch when he touched her hand. He sat in the wheelchair 
looking up at her form. She could have been dead. But the monitors said that she 
wasn't. Her head was wrapped in thick, white bandage. She had stitches, the 
nurse said. 
 
Scully wasn't lying in the ICU but in a semi-guarded ward where a nurse could 
keep an eye on her. Her life wasn't in any danger. The doctors were optimistic 
about her improvements. What improvements? Mulder thought wry. She's still out 
cold. There's nothing to show for her recovery. 
 
Skinner had protested when Mulder insisted on being taken there. His agent could 
barely stand on his feet yet he insisted on seeing her. Mulder had gone as far 
as threatening his boss. Skinner knew he didn't mean a word he said of course 
and understood perfectly well it would only do the agents good to see each 
other. Finally the AD gave in and went to fetch a wheelchair, against the 
doctor's approval. But Mulder had insisted. 
 
With his left arm in a sling and a blanket covering most of his cold body, 
Mulder was wheeled to the other side of the hall where Scully stayed in a room 
similar to his. Mulder hadn't even realized he too had been under observation 
until all of the wires and tubes were removed. Only the IV stayed. 
 
Skinner excused himself as Mulder's wheelchair stood next to her bed and left 
the room. He had a strange knot in his stomach as if something was about to go 
wrong. The morning had started literally with disaster being blown up in their 
face. Now it seemed as if there was more disaster to come. 
 
He reached for his cell phone, only to be reprimanded by a nurse. He walked to 
the nurse's station and dialed Jack's cell phone number. The cop didn't respond. 
Skinner cursed under his breath and called the local Field Office, asking them 
if he was there. When they said no, the sense of unrest grew. After calling the 
police station and talking to Jack's direct boss who didn't know where he was, 
Skinner knew he had to find the man quickly. 
 
He walked back to Scully's room, suddenly startled by Mulder who opened the 
door. The man stood in the doorway barefoot with the IV-bag in his hand. He 
looked deadly pale.
 
"Mulder, what -?" Skinner started, only to be stopped by his agent who grabbed 
the doorpost. With two steps Skinner stood beside him and helped him back into 
his wheelchair. The effort had exhausted the agent. He had difficulty breathing. 

 
Skinner pushed the emergency button and glanced at Scully who was still 
unconscious but didn't seem changed. She wasn't in any danger. But Mulder 
grabbed Skinner's wrist and groaned, "Where's Jack? He's in trouble." 
 
"I don't know," Skinner said desperately. 
 
Suddenly Mulder let go and sunk back in his wheelchair. He looked forward as the 
color of his eyes darkened and his body tensed. "He's dead," he said. "Jack's 
dead."
 
Skinner opened his mouth to protest. Jack couldn't be dead. But a nurse walked 
into the room and said there was someone on the phone for Skinner, wanting to 
speak with him urgently. Skinner glared at Mulder. The agent slumped forward a 
bit, staring at his hands. 
 
And then Skinner knew too that Jack Campbell was dead. 
 
Day Four
New York City
 
The moment he entered the apartment building, Jack knew he was close to 
resolving the case. He would see what Morgan had to show him. Chris wasn't there 
when he arrived. Following the book Jack called him. Without the search warrant 
he couldn't get in. But Chris didn't respond. Jack hung up, not knowing what to 
do. 
 
Then he tried the door, which was unlocked. He pushed open the door and glared 
inside, his gun ready. He stepped forward. Then he felt something cold and steel 
against his temple. In a flash he stepped into his attacker's mind and watched 
as a hand pressed the barrel of a gun against his face.
 
It was a setup, he thought. 
And then the world turned into everlasting darkness.
 
 
Day Four
New York City
 
The body of Jack Campbell was found shot to death, lying face down in a dumpster 
behind a large apartment building, about three blocks from the hospital. He had 
been moved there after his death. One bullet to the head had effectively put him 
down. The bullet had entered the skull from the side. Jack had probably never 
known what happened to him. He had been taken out from the side, not even facing 
his killer. 
 
No matter what Skinner did, he couldn't keep Mulder inside the hospital. With 
Scully still unconscious, there was no one to stop him. Against medical advice 
the agent discharged himself from the hospital. When Skinner confirmed the news, 
Mulder practically collapsed. He refused to show Skinner what he was feeling. He 
simply got out of the wheelchair, effectively ignoring the pain that had settled 
into his body like a constant companion and limped on foot to his own room. 
 
Nothing could keep him there, not even Scully. His first priority now was to 
find Jack's killer. 
 
And so Skinner had no choice but to contact AD Davis and ask him to come over. 
He needed help. With Jack and Scully out of the picture, they were running out 
of resources. Davis didn't let Skinner finish, promising to come over instantly. 
Skinner knew he would book himself on the first flight out and would be there 
within three hours. 
 
After making the necessary calls, Skinner returned to the agent's room. Mulder 
was partly dressed. A doctor and nurse stood in the room, watching him. The 
doctor tried to talk him out of going but Mulder didn't listen. Stubbornly he 
continued to dress himself. The nurse had removed the IV.
 
He does look like shit, Skinner thought. The agent was extremely pale and 
obviously in pain. His arm still rested in a sling but the nurse helped him to 
pull a sweater over it. There was a haunted look in the agent's eyes Skinner 
didn't like. He wished Scully would wake up and tell her partner to stop doing 
this to himself. Skinner knew his agent wouldn't listen to him. 
 
"Let's get out of here," Mulder said, dressed in a set of clothes that seemed 
too big for him. Skinner had picked up clothes during a short run to the hotel. 
Mulder was now wearing a jeans and black sweater that made him look even paler. 
His temple was still bandaged and he limped when they walked down the corridor 
again. 
 
"What about Scully?" Skinner asked as they entered her room. "Are you going to 
leave her to her devices?"
 
Mulder hardly heard what Skinner said. He moved forward and leaned over Scully, 
kissing her softly on the lips. It was a kiss so tender that Skinner for a long 
second wondered what the hell was going on between his agents. Mulder stroked 
her face and touched the bandage over her hair and whispered something into her 
ear that only she was supposed to hear. Then he looked up and said, "She'd want 
me to go after the man that did this. It's my duty to do so."
 
"She'd want you to heal and stay with her."
 
"I can't. Jack's dead because I -" Mulder stopped with a bitter taste in his 
mouth. "I challenged that bastard and this is where it got us. I'm the one to 
blame."
 
"You didn't put that bomb in that car," Skinner said hard. "You didn't pull the 
trigger on Jack. You were doing your job."
 
"And look where it got us," Mulder spoke bitterly. "Jack's dead, and Scully's 
hurt. I always played by the book during this case, but now I'm through. I'm 
going after him with every means I've got. He's going down."
 
"You were hurt too," Skinner said, wondering if Mulder actually realized that. 
"You shouldn't be doing this. It's not your job. Let us worry about catching 
him. You have to worry about her." 
 
"I can't do anything for her here. I can't sit back and wait until she wakes up. 
I need to be out there and find the guy that did this to her. If I'm staying, 
then I'm admitting that I'm weak. I can't let him stop me. That's exactly what 
he wants. He wants to toy. I'm not going to let him." Mulder's voice changed 
tone as he looked at Skinner, hoping for some understanding. The numbness inside 
of him changed into pain and desperation. 
 
Skinner put his hand supportively on the agent. "I understand what you're going 
through. But you can't be of any use like this. Rely on us. I'll help you as 
much as I can, but you need to trust in me. I need to know everything about this 
case - about Jack. We can work from here if you like."
 
Mulder's anger subsided but he shook his head. "I need to see Jack." 
 
"I'll take you there then." Mulder turned and looked at Scully. A nurse entered 
the room. She promised to call them as soon as there was any change. An agent 
from the Field Office would come over to stay with her so that she wouldn't be 
alone when she woke up. 
 
 
Day Four
New York City
 
Jack's body had been transferred to the same hospital where it was resting on a 
slab at the morgue down in the basement. Mulder felt a shiver run down his spine 
as they walked through the cold hallway. Skinner didn't speak a word knowing he 
wouldn't be able to get his agent to change his mind. 
 
The coroner waited for them and brought them to a separate small room where the 
detective would be autopsied. Standard procedure, so the coroner explained. The 
body was covered with a white sheet and stripped off all its clothes. Things 
happened quickly once you were pronounced dead. The autopsy would take place in 
the late evening, but it was obvious Jack had been shot to death. 
 
Mulder nodded and the coroner removed the sheet. The agent looked down at the 
porcelain face of the man that had been with him earlier that morning to assure 
him all would be well; the man, who had confided in him only days ago about his 
psychic ability; an ability that had not saved him. The man who had lived in 
Australia with the woman he had loved, giving up everything he had here to take 
care of her. That extraordinary man was now gone. 
 
Mulder touched his face. There was still some warmth on his skin. He had only 
been dead for a few hours. It was a miracle his body had been found so quickly. 
Jack seemed to be asleep if it weren't for the bullet hole in his temple and the 
blood on his face and hair. The bullet had been effective. 
 
And Jack's spirit was gone, leaving his body a shell. There was nothing about 
him now that seemed recognizable. Nothing that could remind Mulder of the man he 
used to be. 
 
And Mulder had felt him gone. He had felt Jack's spirit slip away from him, as 
if the man's last effort had to be to warn his friend that this had happened to 
him. That he would not be able to help him any longer. And that their friendship 
had stopped before it had the chance to pick up again.
 
Mulder turned his back to the slab and closed his eyes. They left the room 
without saying a word. 
"I'm sorry, Mulder," Skinner said. "I can't tell you how sorry I am."
 
Mulder nodded and allowed his boss to take him upstairs. He was in a trance, and 
Skinner didn't like his reactions. But there was nothing he could right now. 
 
 
Day Four
New York City
 
Quietly Mulder sat next to Skinner and let him drive him to the police station. 
When they got out and walked in, there was a quietness that only occurred when 
one of their own died. The commissioner was waiting for them in his office. 
Jack's direct boss was there too. 
 
"I'm sorry, Agent Mulder," the commissioner said. "I know Detective Campbell was 
a personal friend of yours." 
 
Mulder accepted the condolences and looked through the glass at the policemen 
behind him. They were all discussing Jack's murder. The moment the call came in 
that his body had been found, the entire police squad had been turned upside 
down. Nobody really believed it. Even though no one really knew him, they all 
liked him. 
 
"I want to know what Jack did today," Mulder said. "I need to know his every 
move." 
 
"We don't know much. He went to see the mayor and spoke for quite some time with 
Alec Thompson, one of the men that worked there. Several witnesses have 
confirmed this. He also had a very brief chat with David Lane. He then left the 
mayor's office alongside Alec Thompson who went into an argument with Lane. 
Apparently Thompson quit his job and Lane didn't like this. We're running a 
check on Thompson right now. He's gone missing." 
 
"Did he leave with Jack?" Mulder asked.
 
"We don't know. We're trying to find out if they took a cab or Thompson's car. 
We're tracking down Thompson as well. I've put an APB out on him."
 
"And David Lane?"
 
"He has already called. It's already been all over the news. He was worried and 
told us about the quarrel with Thompson. He said that Jack practically accused 
Thompson and told him to go downtown with him. That's the last time anyone ever 
saw them."
 
"So Thompson killed him and dumped his body," Mulder said slowly. "Why?"
 
"He's our man," the commissioner said. "It's as clear as that." 
 
"Thompson was a friend of Jack's," Mulder said. "He wouldn't kill him. It would 
be too obvious. He already showed up at the Wells' site. Jack said he might have 
wanted to explain something. He knew things that he wanted to share with Jack. 
It would be too ridiculous if he killed Jack now."
 
"It's been known to happen," Jack's boss explained. "It's a clear-cut case now. 
If we nail Thompson, we've got our bomber and Jack's killer. This whole thing 
has been played out wrong. Jack should never have gone to confront him on his 
own. But they said he was angry and upset with the attack this morning. It was a 
judgment call and he lost."
 
"As simple as that?" Mulder interrupted him bitterly. "It's over and done with 
then?"
 
"Would you rather have our bomber walking the streets without us knowing his 
true identity?" the commissioner asked. "It would literally be like having a 
walking time bomb out there. No one would be safe."
 
"No one is safe, sir," Mulder spoke. "I don't believe it was Thompson Jack was 
after. And as soon as you find Thompson's body, you'll know I was right."
 
"His body?" 
 
"Yes sir. Thompson is dead too. It would be ridiculous to say that he's not. It 
will probably look like a suicide. And our bomber will step back into anonymity, 
happy that someone took the fall for his actions. I guarantee you that we will 
not hear from him again, because he has satisfied his needs for now and will 
move on. He'll gloat." 
 
"I think we should end this conversation now," the commissioner said, "before it 
goes out of hand."
 
"Did you know that Jack Campbell was psychic, sir?" Mulder continued, ignoring 
the commissioner. "Did you know that thanks to this ability he has solved many 
cases? That he was in psychic contact with the killer but didn't dare tell you 
because he was afraid of his reputation?"
 
The commissioner got up, trying to end the conversation. "I won't have you 
destroy Detective Campbell's good reputation, Agent Mulder, by spreading rumors 
about him. He was a good man and a good cop. He doesn't need you to bring your 
silly paranormal stories to this department. I know about your line of work at 
the FBI. Did you really think that you would find something for your X-Files 
here?"
 
"Jack asked me because he wanted to find a way deal with it," Mulder said 
angrily, ignoring Skinner's warning looks. "He would have been an even better 
cop if he had found a way to handle it. He wouldn't have died."
 
"He died because you screwed up, Agent Mulder." The commissioner hit his hand on 
the table, refusing to settle down. "You challenged the bomber and you got your 
wish. I hope you're happy." 
 
Mulder swayed on his feet. "No wonder you want to stop the investigation with 
Alec Thompson. You're too short sighted to see what lies in front of you." This 
time Skinner got his attention by grabbing the agent's arm before he could drop 
down. The Assistant-Director pushed him on a seat and forced his head forward. 
 
"Easy does it," he said and his cold hand lay in the agent's neck as a wave of 
dizziness came over Mulder. The commissioner settled down immediately, mumbling 
an apology. With feverish eyes the agent looked up, realizing he too had gone 
too far. Here they were, bitching about who got the blame while there would 
other things to consider. 
 
"I think I need to lie down," Mulder said weakly, for the first time admitting 
he was not well. 
 
Skinner didn't show how worried he was. He didn't give a snap remark. "I'll 
drive you back to the hospital," he simply said. Effectively he helped the agent 
on his feet. The man could barely stand up straight and looked even paler, if 
that was remotely possible. Slowly they made their way to the car, helped by 
Chris Morgan who had come in. 
 
Tired Mulder leaned back in the passengers seat and closed his eyes. By the time 
Skinner got him back at the hospital, driving through the dark, the agent 
wouldn't respond when the Assistant-Director tried to get him to say something. 
Skinner muttered a curse and drove the car to the ER. Within half an hour his 
agent was hooked back on an IV and resting comfortably in a private room. 
 
Skinner knew Mulder would have to stay in for at least a night. There was work 
to do but he couldn't leave him alone. He knew Mulder was bound to take off 
again as soon as he woke up. There had to be some middle way. But as long as 
Scully was still out of it, there was no one that the agent would listen to. 
 
Skinner sighed deeply when a knock on the door made him turn around. Terence 
Davis walked in. "I came to see Agent Scully and heard you brought him back in. 
Is he alright?"
 
"He will be if he starts becoming sensible. It's difficult under the 
circumstances."
 
"I can imagine. How far are you on Jack's murder?"
 
"His colleagues are all over it but Mulder believes they're going after the 
wrong guy. The problem is that he's the only lead they've got right now. With 
Jack gone and this guy Thompson missing, we're stuck."
 
"I see," Terence frowned. "Do you need more guys on it?" 
 
"Mulder's determined to see this case through. We both know that he'll do 
anything to find Jack's killer. I'm pretty sure that he'll be up and about again 
in the morning."
 
"Can we afford to wait that long?"
 
"Do we have a choice?" Skinner said worried. "I want to go back to the office 
and see things through, but I don't want to leave my agents alone either. They 
need me." 
 
"I'll go then," Davis said. "You stay here. Just give me all you've got and I'll 
see what I can do. I've got a pretty good idea on the progress of this case. 
I've read Mulder's profile. I'll talk to the mayor tonight. I know him quite 
well. I'll see what he knows about Thompson." 
 
"Good," Skinner said gratefully. "Thanks Terry." 
 
Davis nodded and left the room, leaving Skinner alone with his agent again. 
Skinner glanced at him and then left the room to walk to Scully's. The doctor 
told him she had shown signs of waking up. It was looking good. 
 
As if to support his words, Scully blinked her eyelids and looked up. She moved 
her head slightly and groaned as if she was in pain. Her eyes sought out 
something in the room. Skinner moved to the bed so that she could see him. She 
seemed to panic and opened her mouth. Skinner knew what she was going ask.
 
"Relax," he said, "you're at a hospital. You're going to be fine. Mulder's okay 
too. He's resting in another room."
 
"Where?"
 
"On the same floor. He's fine, Scully. He'll see you in the morning."
 
"Now," she said.
 
"I can't do that. He's resting."
 
"No. Take me up to see him."
 
Skinner put his hand on her wrist. "I can't, Scully. You're not up to it. Why 
don't you rest now? I'll get a doctor to see you."
 
She nodded but he could see regret on her face. He wondered about his agents 
again and felt a sting of jealous surge through him. The bond that these two 
people had was unique. He didn't belong here. But when he wanted to leave, 
Scully wouldn't let him. Weak she put her hand on him and said hoarsely, "Do we 
have him?" 
 
Skinner shook his head. He wanted to tell her the truth about Jack but knew she 
had to hear it from Mulder. "I'll be right back," he said and she let go. 
Skinner hurried out until he spotted a nurse and asked her to warn a doctor that 
Scully had woken up. 
 
Skinner walked back in her room. She was still awake but lay quiet with her eyes 
closed. There was a strange quietness about her he hadn't seen before. She 
didn't seem to want to talk to anyone, and she didn't ask questions about what 
happened. Her boss knew she remembered all the details of the bombing. And she 
was afraid. 
 
After a thorough checkup the doctor seemed satisfied, saying Scully was doing 
fine. She responded to all questions without hesitation. She remembered where 
she was, what had happened and what day it was. But she seemed nervous and on 
the edge. 
 
"You're a very lucky woman, Dana," the doctor said. "I think you'll be up and 
about in a few days. It seems that the worst is passed now. I'm going to give 
you a light sedative to sleep tonight," the doctor said. "I want to make sure 
you're getting your rest tonight."
 
Scully didn't refuse the proposal but she was still agitated about Mulder, 
asking the doctor again if she could see him. "In the morning," the doctor 
assured her. That seemed to satisfy her. Skinner stayed with her until the nurse 
gave her the sedative and she fell asleep. He was worried about her state of 
mind. Again she had not said a word. 
 
He finally left her room and checked up on Mulder again, finding the agent in a 
deep but restless sleep. Around midnight, both agents were finally asleep. 
Skinner chose Mulder's room to spend the night, sleeping uncomfortably on the 
small couch. 
 
In the middle of the night the man on the bed dreamt restlessly.
 
 
Day Five
New York City
  
You bought this on yourself and it's high time you left it there
Lie here and rest your head and dream of something else instead
Don't slide.
 
The ground underneath the agent's feet was hot. He looked down and noticed that 
his feet were bare and he was standing on an underground of coals. The fire 
blistered his feet. Yet he didn't feel any pain. His eyes focused on his friend 
who stood before him, his hands crossed over his burning body.
 
"You're on fire, Jack." 
 
Jack smiled and flames spit out of his open mouth, showing his white teeth as 
the flesh got eaten away by the fire. "Haven't you been paying attention, 
Mulder?" Jack said. "I'm dead already." 
 
"What is this place then?  Hell? Why are you burning? You got shot, for goodness 
sake."
 
Jack smiled. "Hey, this is your nightmare. And it's not hell. This is the abyss 
you're heading into at your own free will. You've always had this place inside 
your mind but now you're opening up to it. I know you're eager to jump in here 
with me, but you can't. Not just yet."
 
"I need you, man," Mulder said desperately as the flames licked his feet. "I 
can't do this thing without you. You need to come back with me. How am I 
supposed to live with the guilt?"
 
"It's too late for me Mulder. I'm already gone. But I know your destructive 
side. You've always had it, even when we first worked together. You stop at 
nothing to find your man even if it means that you have to fight off the rest of 
the world." Jack's burning body stepped forward. Mulder could smell the 
disintegrating flesh. The image was so vivid that it scared him. But he didn't 
back away either. 
 
"So you want me to stop?" the agent asked eagerly. 
 
"No," Jack said. "I died because I screwed up. You won't do the same even though 
your entire being screams for punishment right now. You were always the stronger 
one Mulder. You can continue and finish this." Jack laughed. "And you always had 
the girls too." 
 
Mulder smiled. 
 
"Look," Jack continued as he sat down on an invisible seat. "We all make 
mistakes in life. Don't make mine. That's what I came to tell you."  
 
"I killed you!"
 
"No, you didn't. He did. Don't take his guilt and put it upon you. That's not 
how it should be. If anyone's to blame, it's him. He did this to us, not you. 
Now go back and get that son of a bitch."
 
Mulder blinked his eyelids. "I can't go back without you," he said stubbornly, 
stretching out his hand so he could touch Jack's burning skin. It hurt! The 
agent withdrew his hand and stared at the blisters on his fingers, crying out 
his pain.
 
"You can't take me with you Mulder," Jack said sympathetically. "It's over." 
 
"No," Mulder shouted angrily but Jack's body simply disintegrated. And then the 
cop was gone and there was nothing left but ashes on the spot he had been 
standing on. Mulder stared in shock at the coals and remained where he was. 
 
Then he opened his eyes and stared straight into Skinner's. His boss had been 
trying to wake him up. 
 
 
Day Five
New York City
 
Breakfast was a piece of toast and jam and a talk with Skinner who had checked 
up on Scully. She was still asleep. Mulder leaned quietly against the pillows. 
He hadn't wanted to spend the morning in bed but he admitted that he was still 
very tired. 
 
"What did you dream about?" Skinner asked. 
 
"Jack," Mulder said, chewing on the toast. "He gave me a message." 
 
"What did he tell you?" 
 
Mulder didn't respond and put down the second piece of toast he had been chewing 
on. His eyes stood dark and depressed. "Can I see Scully now?"
 
Skinner took him to the room down the hall where Scully was still staying. All 
the monitors were disconnected but the doctor had decided not to move her. They 
would release her during the day if her improvements kept up. Scully was sitting 
at a small table finishing her breakfast. A nurse was with her and had told her 
that she would have visitors soon. 
 
When the door opened she looked up. For the first time her eyes lit and Skinner 
watched as she embraced Mulder, taking his head between her hands. He looked 
down on her. The moment felt too personal. The nurse excused herself and Skinner 
turned his back, finding an excuse to leave as well.
 
When they were gone she kissed her partner softly. Her lips lingered long on his 
and then moved over his face, kissing his cheeks and closed eyelids and 
forehead. Last night's bandage had been replaced with a smaller version covering 
his temple. The bandage that had covered her head the night before was gone too. 

 
"I'm so glad you're alright," she whispered as he hoped his eyes again. "I 
thought -" 
 
"I know," he responded. "So did I." 
 
"What happened, Mulder? I remember being on the phone, walking to the car. And 
then you came and the next thing I remember was lying underneath you before it 
all just blacked out. I saw you and you didn't move. You were lying on top of me 
and I couldn't get you to move." 
 
"I thought I'd killed you," he whispered, caressing her face. "You hit your head 
because I pushed you underneath me. I thought you'd gone."
 
She smiled. "You can't get rid of me that easily. I'm so glad -"
 
He let go of her and turned his back to her. 
 
"Mulder? What is it?" she asked, stepping behind him as she put her hands on his 
back. To her surprise his body shocked. She turned him around. There were tears 
in his eyes yet he didn't cry. He just stood there and his voice broke when he 
whispered that Jack was dead. 
 
"No," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "This can't be ..." 
 
He told her the whole story of what had happened during the course of the day. 
She listened in disbelief as he explained that he had seen his friend's body, 
and how he had been killed. Scully stared at the floor. She could still hear 
Jack's voice. She had known him for just a few days and already he had left a 
stamp on her. She had liked him. She had liked the way Mulder had been with him. 
There had been a comfort, an ease that her partner didn't have with many people. 
They had been friends. And now he was gone, just like that. 
 
Mulder stared before him. She looked aside as he finished talking. His story had 
been told on a neutral tone as if he was telling someone else's tale. And when 
he looked at her again, the tears were gone. He moved up. "There's work to be 
done." 
 
"I'm coming with you."
 
He shook his head. "No. You need to rest. I'm going on my own."
 
"Forget it." Scully's voice sounded determined but he was just as determined to 
go by himself. "I'm not letting you out there by yourself. I know you Mulder. I 
know what you can do to yourself." 
 
He turned his face away from her. "I've made up my mind. I want you to go back 
to DC. I'm finishing this case by myself."
 
"If you think I'll let you go, you're crazy. You can't just dismiss me like I'm 
your servant. I'm here to stay."
 
"You've been hurt enough, Scully," Mulder spoke desperately. "Don't you see? 
I've screwed up. I have to finish this but I can't do that while I'm worrying 
about you. You were nearly killed once. I can't allow that to happen again."
 
"So you're sacrificing yourself instead?"
 
"I'm not," Mulder said hard. "I'm doing what's right. I'm doing what Jack would 
want me to do. We're so close to him, Scully. He wouldn't have killed Jack if he 
hadn't figured out the truth. Jack disappeared after visiting the mayor's 
office. It was someone from that office; someone so high in rank that he would 
have the means and influence to do this."
 
"The more reason for me to stay and help you," Scully said. "Mulder, you've 
never asked me to back away. Don't expect me to do so now. We're constantly in 
danger. This is another step along the way. If you were to ask me to stop now, I 
would consider that an insult. So you've got a choice. If I walk, you're walking 
with me. If not, we're getting this thing over with today."
 
"Are you going to discharge yourself?"
 
She smiled. "Of course I am."
 
 
Day Five
New York City
 
He thought he was safe now. The FBI would track down Thompson and put the blame 
on him. The case would be closed and they would all go home. He felt relief 
surge through his body. He had played with fire and won. 
 
But deep inside David Lane's brain, the urgency to murder was still there. And 
he knew that one day he would start to kill again. 
 
 
Day Five
New York City
 
Jack's small office was being cleared, waiting for the next cop that could make 
a promotion. The place had been nearly cleaned out as if he had never been 
there. His personal belongings were put in boxes. The only thing that reminded 
them of Jack, were the stacks of files on top of the desk. 
 
Chris Morgan stood in the middle of the room and turned when the agents walked 
in. He had been looking at the desk. Just a few moments before he had been 
talking to the commissioner who proposed the promotion to him. Morgan had always 
known he was second in line of course. The assignments had become more important 
during the past six months, and Jack Campbell had increased his 
responsibilities. 
 
And now this was it. 
 
Mulder looked at the boxes on the floor and the files on the desk. The bomber's 
was on top. It was closed. Somehow he felt the department had already put a stop 
to it now that Alec Thompson's body had been found floating face down in the 
river. To Jack's colleagues he was the killer. And he had killed himself. The 
commissioner gratefully ignored Mulder's prediction and moved on. The press was 
already being informed during a carefully arranged meeting. Within the hour 
everyone in the country would know Alec Thompson, working for the mayor, was the 
bomber. He had a secret crush on Susannah Delaney and killed her and her lover. 
There was no mention of Stephen Wells' sister. 
 
How convenient, Mulder thought. Another case solved, another killer caught. And 
it was the cops that solved it, not the Feds. The commissioner could be pleased 
with himself. 
 
It didn't matter that Alec Thompson had a good reputation. He was dead so they 
could blame him. Jack had last spoken to him and confronted him with murder, and 
so he had killed his old friend. 
 
It didn't matter that Jack would make a screw up like that, that he would be 
guided by friendship and had trusted his friend so much that he would take down 
his guard. They said he had been upset with the bombing that had nearly killed 
Mulder and Scully. He had let his emotions take over, therefore forgetting all 
his skills. 
 
Of course no one admitted he had been psychic. That would damage his good name. 
Now he would get a proper burial with half the town in attendance. They would 
honor his work and career. And perhaps one day they would give him a statue or 
name a school after him.
 
Mulder picked up the file and looked into it. As expected a report had already 
been typed up to close the file. Chris Morgan had signed it. Mulder looked at 
the cop that had helped them out before. "Are you following in Jack's 
footsteps?"
 
"Yes, I am," Morgan said even though the promotion still had to be confirmed. 
"I'm sorry, Agent Mulder."
 
Mulder smiled faintly. "Don't be. You didn't kill him." 
 
Morgan blushed, trying to read into the agent's eyes but he couldn't see what 
the man was thinking. Mulder put the file down. "It's over then," he said. "You 
guys closed it."
 
"We found our killer. That's the best we could do."
 
"It probably is," Mulder said and he turned around and left the office, still 
limping. Chris Morgan said goodbye to Scully and shut the door behind him. 
Scully followed her partner outside and watched as he picked up the phone and 
called the local Field Office, requesting a list of all the calls Jack made on 
his mobile phone the day before.
 
Scully looked at him surprised. "They must have checked that list."
 
"Yeah, they must have." 
 
The realization struck her hard. "Are you saying a cop was involved?"
 
"I'm not saying anything."
 
"What did you read in that report, Mulder?" 
 
"Lies," Mulder said. "Nothing but lies." 
 
"The case is closed. They closed it. There's nothing more we can do about it. It 
was Jack's authority and they closed it with his death."
 
"This is an X-File," Mulder interrupted. "If we can prove that, I can reopen the 
case. It will fall under our jurisdiction."
 
"How are you going to do that, Mulder? Jack never told anyone. He only talked to 
you about it. They only have your word for it and that won't suffice to convince 
the commissioner." 
 
Mulder's eyes lit. "I have an email. That's legal enough, isn't it?"
 
"Enough to make a case," Scully said with a smile as excitement surged through 
her body. 
 
Skinner frowned as he read the email and listened to Mulder's story. He wasn't 
so convinced. Mulder knew he needed his approval. If not, it would be a long, 
hard battle. "They're not going to be happy about this, Agent Mulder," he said, 
seated behind the desk of the small temporary office. "You're basically 
rejecting their findings and reopening a sensitive file."
 
"I have good reason to do so, sir," Mulder said, feeling very tired as he sat 
back in his chair. "This case has not been resolved. It has been closed. But I 
can tell you that one day this bomber will kill again. It's in his nature to do 
so. I don't want to have that on my conscience, sir."
 
"You're taking this too personally," Skinner remarked. "I should take you off."
 
"You can't, sir. It is an X-File."
 
"Based on a single email?" 
 
"No, based on Jack Campbell's psychic connection with the killer. That 
connection has lead us very close to him. It helped us save a woman's life. We 
cannot deny that. This case should never have been under police investigation in 
the first place. It should have gone to us."
 
"You won't have to count on their help anymore. You do know that?"
 
"I don't care at this point," Mulder said bitterly. "As far as I'm concerned, 
Jack was our interface. With him gone I see no reason to go over this with them 
once again. They're hardheaded and blind to the obvious. I wouldn't be able to 
work with them if my life depended on it."
 
"Just know what you're doing, Mulder," Skinner said as he signed his approval 
under the official request his agent had typed out.
 
"It's our job to close this case in a proper way, sir. That's my first priority. 
The rest of it can go to hell. Yes, I take Jack's death personally. I want to do 
everything I can to catch his killer. But my first priority still lies with the 
people that have died and the killer that holds psychic abilities, which he used 
to murder them. I guarantee you result. If not, I will quit the Bureau." 
 
Shocked both Scully and Skinner stared at the agent. "You can't do that," Scully 
exclaimed. "Don't you dare put your job on the line for this!" 
 
Mulder got up and left the room with the document in his hand. Scully froze in 
her seat, rubbing her eyelids. She was so tired. This day had been a freakish 
mixture of emotions and promises that might not be kept. Skinner seemed worried. 
"Get some rest, Agent Scully," he said. "You shouldn't even be here." 
 
"I'm not going to rest as long as Mulder's running about." She smiled faintly. 
"Someone's gotta keep an eye on him."
 
"I can do that," Skinner offered as his obvious worry became so very clear in 
his eyes.
 
"No offense, sir, but I don't think he's going to listen to you at this time. As 
long as he doesn't have his guy, he's not going to rest. At least I'll be able 
to get through to him in some way. Who knows, at some point he might even listen 
to me."
 
"I'm more worried about his state of mind. He's doing exactly what some people 
at the Bureau want to get him out. He disregards everything for a personal 
quest. Do you think he wants out, Agent Scully? That this is his way of being 
booted so that they make the final decision for him?"
 
"I don't know sir," she said as she realized Skinner had spoken out what she had 
feared for some time now. "I just don't know."
 
 
Day Five
New York City
 
Evening fell and the results of Jack's autopsy came in, albeit with difficulty. 
The commissioner got on the phone with Skinner, explaining his discontent with 
the FBI's official takeover of the case. All files and reports, pictures and 
statements were to be released. With special courier the entire file arrived at 
the Bureau. 
 
At first sight everything was there. Mulder scrolled through the documents and 
statements and read everything from the beginning to the very end. Jack's 
handwriting was on several documents. He had signed various statements as well. 
He had put his stamp on the entire file and had been in full control. Little had 
he known this would be his last case? 
 
Would things have been different had Jack known? Mulder wondered. Would he have 
refused the case or left the FBI out of it? The agent sighed deeply as he 
realized that what if's didn't matter anymore. Jack was gone and his legacy was 
still there. It was almost unbearable. 
 
Suddenly Scully rushed into the office and waved with a piece of paper. "I've 
got something for you that you might want to hear," she said, nearly out of 
breath. Mulder glanced at her, recalling her very pale features and wondered why 
she hadn't gone back to the hotel to rest. 
 
"What is it?" he asked. 
 
"Your phonelist shows that Jack has been in contact with a colleague before he 
died. And guess who that colleague is?"
 
"Let me take a guess. Chris Morgan?"
 
"Exactly. He lied, Mulder." 
 
"But there's a phonelist in the file as well. It doesn't show that call. Wait a 
minute." Mulder scrolled through the file. "Here we go. You see? The number is 
not on it. According to this list Jack didn't make calls all afternoon." The 
agent's eyes changed color when his grip on the document changed. "Wait a 
minute. It's been altered. You see? It's a photocopy. He erased the last line 
and then made a copy so it wouldn't show." 
 
"Do you think Morgan did that himself?"
 
"Who else? Who else had the benefit of Jack's death? He takes Jack's seat. He 
was involved in the case. Jack contacted him and told him who it was. We were 
both in hospital. He couldn't have contacted us. So he called the one person 
that he trusted, the one that was already involved in the case and knew all the 
details."
 
"But to kill a friend for promotion?" Scully asked in disbelief. "How would he 
have known that he was up for Jack's seat?"
 
"That isn't so difficult to figure out. He was probably already on the shortlist 
when Jack made it to that chair so he knew he was up next. Murders have taken 
place for less, Scully."
 
"You do know you can never wave this under the commissioner's nose. He'll bite 
back. They're never going to accept that one of their own is capable of doing 
this." 
 
"Then we'll have to convince them, won't we?" Mulder said, grabbing the phone. 
Within ten minutes Skinner listened to Mulder's story and set up the trap. 
 
 
Day Five
Upstate New York
 
Despite the late hour the city was still dangling with excitement. In his house 
Upstate David Lane didn't notice any of that. He had decided to go home that 
night and not stay at the apartment, despite the early meeting the mayor had set 
up in the morning. 
 
Something was about to go down. He could feel it in his veins. It buzzed through 
his mind like a bee swarming above his head. He listened to the buzz and knew 
that he was going down. His mother had once said that she too felt it when the 
cops came for her to put her away for good. She had explained in prison while 
waiting for her death sentence. He had listened and learned. 
 
Soon they would come to take him away. And he would listen to them and go with 
them. After all, he had nothing to fear. He wouldn't run or hide for it wasn't 
in his nature to do so. He had wanted excitement and publicity and they would 
give that to him. There was nothing to gain by running.
 
But he wouldn't go with them. He had something set up for the FBI-agent that 
would come to arrest him. It would be a thrill. The feeling would be almost as 
good as it had been when he destroyed Jack Campbell's life, blowing his brains 
out. 
 
They both got what they deserved. 
 
 
Day Five
New York City
 
Despite the late hour Chris Morgan just couldn't drive home. Too many thoughts 
were rushing through his mind, making it impossible for him to calm down and 
relax. He trembled when he picked up his cup of coffee and drank. What he 
wouldn't give for a drink right now, but he couldn't give in. He had to keep his 
posture. Especially now that every single move would betray him. 
 
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He was so tired. And Jack Campbell just wouldn't 
let him go. He shouldn't have told Lane about it. But what choice did he have? 
The moment Lane got caught he would be caught too. He was in too deep already. 
He might not have killed Jack himself, but he had the man's blood on his hands. 
And he shivered when he recalled the bloody blanket used to transfer Jack's body 
he had pushed into the huge trashcan that stood behind the Marriott hotel. What 
if someone would find it there? What if some homeless guy would pull it out and 
the blanket would lead straight back to him? 
 
And what if they then figured out that Jack's body had been moved in his car? 
 
A hard knock on the door shook him up. Morgan looked up startled when Mulder 
entered the room. The FBI-agent was alone. "Agent Mulder," Morgan said, after 
gathering his wits. "What brings you back here?" 
 
Mulder didn't speak at first but walked in and closed the door, shutting out the 
rest of the world. "We need to talk, Chris," he said friendly as he sat on the 
edge of the desk. "I figured I might find you here."
 
"Really? How so?" Morgan asked nervously.
 
"A young man in his early thirties with no family to go to usually has nothing 
but his job to keep him occupied. And since you've been trying to kick your 
habit, you wouldn't go to any bars, now would you?"
 
"What habit?" Morgan asked. "What are you talking about?"
 
"Come on, Chris. Jack told me all about it. He said you had some problems in the 
past that you're trying to deal with right now. So I figured that you're trying 
your best not to fall off the wagon again. Am I right or wrong?" 
 
"You're a liar," Morgan said flustered. "I haven't got any problems. If Jack 
told you that, he's a liar too." 
 
"Is he? Well, we can't ask him, can we? Since you killed him, you made sure the 
one man that knew about your problems is gone. And he made way for your 
promotion too. How convenient for you that he died at the right time. Did you 
pull the trigger or did you have someone else do it for you?" 
 
Morgan shot out of his chair, furious with anger. "Get the hell out, Agent 
Mulder. You're grasping for straws. I haven't killed him and you know it! Even 
if what you're saying is true, why would I shoot him? I liked him! He was a good 
cop and one of my best friends!"
 
Mulder took a copy of the phone list out of his pocket and threw it at Morgan. 
"Explain to me then why you manipulated this list? But you've got a habit of 
doing that, don't you? You manipulated David Lane's records too. Did you really 
think we wouldn't find out about you, Morgan?" 
 
"You're lying," Morgan shouted hard as his face turned red. "If you're accusing 
me, come up with the evidence and arrest me. But you can't, can you? There's no 
proof."
 
Mulder remained calm as he moved away from the desk and walked towards the 
window, looking down on the lively city. "One would kill for this view, wouldn't 
he?" the agent whispered. "Tell me Chris, when did Lane start blackmailing you? 
Did he meet you at a bar where you hung around passed out? Did he manipulate you 
at once or did it start with simple gestures, like erasing the connection 
between his mother and himself so that he would have a clean sheet to present to 
the mayor? Did you know that he was the bomber?" 
 
Tears sprung in Morgan's eyes, as he stood powerless before the desk that was 
supposed to become his. It was over. There was no sense lying anymore. He had 
been living with the lies for two years and a part of him felt relief that it 
was finally over and done with. At least now he could raise his head in pride 
and tell them he was no longer playing Judas. 
 
"He was looking for someone to manipulate and it became me," he finally spoke 
hoarsely. "It happened two years ago. He found me and fed me booze until I 
nearly passed out. He said he knew I had a problem and that he would keep his 
mouth shut if I did him a favor. It started with his mother's file. Then I had 
to do little jobs for him. I had to tell him about cases we were working on. I 
didn't understand why at first but then I figured out he was trying to see 
through our means of operation. When Susannah Delaney died, I just knew it was 
him. By then he had started to pay me off for my services. He said that I 
shouldn't work for nothing. The money afforded me things I could never afford 
with my income."
 
"And you enjoyed it, didn't you?" Mulder spoke bitterly. "After all, you told 
him that Jack was after him. Jack suspected he was the one and he called you 
because you needed to find things about him. Instead of going after Lane, you 
went after Jack. Didn't you?"
 
"I did," Morgan admitted, raising his head and straightening his shoulders. "I 
knew Jack was in the way and I lured him to Lane's apartment. Lane had gone over 
and killed him with a silencer. We moved the body out into my car and I dumped 
him in an alley. It was a huge risk we took but I enjoyed the thrill." 
 
"What about Thompson?"
 
"Lane knew that Thompson would be the perfect patsy and I called him up as well. 
As it happened he was on the way to the station. I met him outside, before I was 
on my way to kill Jack, and I lured him into my car telling him that Lane was 
already under arrest and brought to another police station. He needed to go with 
me for his statement. When we drove off, I knocked him out. Lane killed him with 
the same gun and made it look like a suicide." 
 
"And you filed a report stating that you were following leads in regards to this 
case as Jack had requested you to do. If you hadn't manipulated the list, we 
wouldn't have known," Mulder said.
 
Weakly Morgan straightened his shoulders once again, feeling very cocky now that 
the truth had come out. "I don't care anymore," he said. "Lane has destroyed my 
life and as far as I'm concerned I'll be sitting in jail watching him die at the 
stake. But I'll be out in a few years and lead a normal life again."
 
"No you won't," Mulder said softly as anger left him. "I'll make sure that 
you'll get the maximum penalty for what you've done. You'll burn too, Morgan." 
 
Morgan's fear became obvious as his eyes focused on the FBI-agent. "I'll deny 
ever having given this confession then," he muttered. "You won't stand a chance 
of convicting me - not without proper evidence. And what have you got really? A 
phone list, which I'll deny having manipulated? So-called proof, that I have a 
drinking problem? What are you going to base your claim on? Everybody knows you 
would do anything to grab the killer. You would accuse anyone." 
 
Mulder smiled as he reached underneath his shirt and dug out the small wire that 
had sent the entire confession to a meeting room where the commissioner sat 
shocked with three other colleagues, next to Scully and Skinner. "I don't like 
these things," the agent said thoughtfully, "but in some cases they do come in 
handy. You're through, Morgan." 
 
Mulder turned and left the room, closing the door behind him as he walked to the 
meeting room. Inside Morgan looked outside at the city below and knew he would 
never see a sight like that again. It was a though he couldn't bear. Morgan 
reached for the gun on his desk and grasped it in his hand. He closed his eyes 
as he brought it to the side of his face like Lane had done with Jack, and 
pulled the trigger. 
 
In the meeting room everyone, remained shocked as the blast shook up the office. 
They hurried out to find Mulder standing in the middle of the hallway, turned 
around to face the door of the office that had belonged to his friend. The 
agent's face stood blank. 
 
Day Five
New York City
 
"We've got him," the commissioner said but his voice didn't sound too happy. He 
didn't like it when his cops made a mess of things and that's exactly what had 
happened just now. One of his own men had been involved and he would have to go 
explain that to the press in the morning. Therefore he wanted to arrest Lane 
tonight and get it over with. 
 
"Not yet," Skinner said, "do you know where he is?"
 
"He has an apartment in town. We'll go there and arrest him now." 
 
"No," Mulder said. "Not like that. We need proof that he's our guy."
 
"We've got the tape and Morgan's confession. He pointed him out. Isn't that 
enough?" the commissioner said angrily. "Even though this is your case, Agent 
Mulder, I want to make the arrest. We're too personally involved now." 
 
"You've got a confession of one criminal pointing the finger at the other," 
Mulder said. "That's not enough. If Lane suspects anything he'll be on the run 
by now. We need solid evidence that he's our guy." 
 
"And how are you going to do that?" the commissioner asked. "Knock the truth out 
of him?"
 
"If needs be. I don't think he'll be here. He's got a house Upstate. I want to 
go there and confront him like we've done Morgan. We'll need a search warrant to 
search the premises and the apartment. That's all we can hope for right now." 
Mulder looked at Skinner and Scully. "I'm going alone."
 
"Like hell you are," Scully groaned. 
 
But Mulder knew he would get his way. He always did.
 
Day Five
Upstate New York
 
When the doorbell of David Lane's Victorian house rang around midnight, the 
owner didn't seem surprised. "It's okay, Henry," he told the butler who had come 
downstairs from his private quarters on the second floor to open. "Go back to 
bed." 
 
Reluctantly the butler obeyed and retreated as Lane walked over, fully clad as 
if he was about to go to a party. When he opened, he saw Mulder. The agent was 
alone, flashing his badge to be let in. Lane stepped aside and looked at him. 
"Agent Mulder, what a pleasant surprise. What brings you here this time of 
night?" 
 
"We need to talk," Mulder said. "Can I come in?"
 
"Of course." Mulder looked around, noticing the finer details of the grand 
house. Lane had perfect taste, decorating his house with paintings that varied 
in style, and antique furniture, which he had selected himself. Mulder glanced 
through the open French doors into the living room with adjoined library. The 
fireplace was in use. Two leather chairs were facing it and on one of them lay a 
book of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. 
 
 
"Do you like what you see, Agent Mulder?" Lane asked amused. Mulder faced the 
man and realized he had been standing here for a few moments with nothing to 
say. The agent's mind was numb. He took in all the smaller details and realized 
he couldn't believe a man like this went about town setting bombs. 
 
"It's nice," the agent finally sat. Without being invited to do so, Mulder chose 
the second leather chair and looked at the fireplace. He felt cold. The drive 
through the snow had taken a while and he wondered about Scully and the others 
who were sitting outside in the cars. 
 
"I've come to arrest you," Mulder said as Lane took the other seat and carefully 
put his bookmark where he had stopped reading, closing the book before he put it 
down. 
 
"Really?" Lane asked with a tone of mockery in his voice. "Then why aren't you?"
 
"We need to talk first." 
 
At ease Lane walked to the bar. "Can I get you a drink?"
 
"No, thanks." Mulder's head dizzied of lack of sleep. He wanted to get it over 
with soon but there were too many unanswered questions left. He wanted answers 
first. 
 
"Are you feeling okay?" Lane asked with a sense of strange worry that seemed 
inappropriate. 
 
"Yes, I am. I found my killer."
 
"Really?" Lane smiled. "I'm sure it must have cost you some effort." 
 
"Yes, it did. But we've got a solid case and we're taking him down." 
 
"I see." Lane poured a brandy and gulped it down. The fluid burned in his throat 
all the way to his stomach. To Mulder's delight the man's hands trembled when he 
put the glass down and turned his back away from Mulder. "So what brings you 
here then?"
 
"Let's not play games about this, David," Mulder spoke. "It's time that you face 
your executioners, so to speak. You've toyed with everyone. You've got your 
wish. Now you have to pay the price."
 
David Lane smiled and then laughed. "Are you saying I did this? Is that why 
you're here?"
 
Mulder nodded slowly. "I'm here because I want to talk to you first. I told the 
others who are waiting outside that you would go down quietly. After all, you 
wouldn't give me a lot of headaches since the world knows by now you're 
responsible, now would you David?" 
 
The man that wanted to become the next mayor of the city of New York paled and 
frowned. The moment had come. That buzzing feeling inside of him had not failed 
him. His eyes focused on Mulder, the FBI-agent who had done everything in his 
power to destroy him. It didn't matter how they had gotten to him. It was no use 
trying to talk him out of it. And the others that came to back him up were 
outside, sitting in their cars. They would come in before long and take him and 
he would face the music. 
 
With regret David looked around and took in all the beautiful pieces he had 
selected over the years. He thought of all the years he had tried to fight off 
his inheritance, trying to deny who and what he was. He thought of his mother 
who had gone through the same thing. Had she fought off her executioners once 
she knew it was over? 
 
Suddenly David caught Mulder's eyes. The agent seemed ill. Externally his 
expression was one of utter control. But internally the man was trembling with 
anger and hatred towards the man that had killed his friend. David smiled, 
realizing he was still in control.
 
Even while the agent was here to arrest him, he still had full control over the 
events at hand. As long as he could toy with him, he would be able to 
manipulate. 
 
"Are you sure you're alright, Agent Mulder?" Lane asked once again. "You seem 
uneasy." 
 
Mulder looked at the man he was to bring down and smiled. "I'm a profiler and 
have studied psychology, Mr. Lane. If there is anything you cannot do with me, 
it's to manipulate me. I'm here to ask you to tell me the truth. I want to know 
why you killed Susannah Delaney, Stephen Wells, Jack Campbell and a young 
bellboy named Jay Noames." 
 
"You're grasping at straws, Agent Mulder."
 
"That's funny," Mulder smiled. "That's exactly what Chris Morgan said before he 
blew his brains out." 
 
Lane paled. "Who is Chris Morgan?" 
 
"You should know. You've been manipulating him for two years. He's dead, David. 
He couldn't keep live with the guilt and died at his own hand. Just like you now 
he tried to deny anything had ever happened. And just like you are about to do, 
he paid for his input." Mulder got up from his chair and glanced around. "You 
have a beautiful house, David. You had a great job and a fantastic opportunity 
to step into politics yourself. But you just couldn't help yourself, could you? 
You had to do what is in your nature to do. Your mother was a killer and so 
became you. You had to try it out and see what it felt like. Did it feel good, 
David? Did you get off on it? Did you enjoy watching those bombs explode?" 
 
Mulder's hand touched the holster that held his gun as he stepped forward as if 
he was trying to extract the guilt from David's mind. His eyes locked onto 
Lane's and wouldn't let him go. For the first time Lane felt like he was going 
to lose control. It was a horrible feeling. 
 
"Are you here to kill me, Agent Mulder?" he asked as he tried to stay calm. "Is 
that why your colleagues aren't here? Are they allowing you to take justice into 
your own hands?" 
 
"It would be serving justice, wouldn't it?" Mulder sighed deeply. 
 
Lane paled even more. 
 
"No, I'm not here to kill you," Mulder said. "I just want to know the truth."
 
"Alright," Lane said. "If you want the truth, you'll get it. I killed them all, 
yes. Does that make you feel better Agent Mulder? Does it please you to know 
that I set the bombs and destroyed their lives because I liked the kill?"
 
"Why did you choose Susannah?"
 
"She seemed the perfect victim. And she fucked me like I was one of the others 
she had in her bed." 
 
"You couldn't bear that, could you? You hated the fact she didn't love you." 
 
"That's right," Lane said as his eyes left Mulder's lock. The agent had sat down 
again. Lane stared at the doorway and continued, "I loved the kill, just like my 
mother had done. It's in our blood. I needed to know how I would feel. And I 
liked it. So I killed again." 
 
"How did you select Wells?" 
 
Lane smiled. "Now that's a story right down your alley. After all, you're into 
that paranormal crap, aren't you? I'm sure you got off when you figured out I 
had psychic abilities, didn't you?" 
 
Mulder didn't give an answer. 
 
"Yes, I did it all," David Lane said, stretching out his hands. "And now you can 
arrest me and bring me in. After all, you've got your killer now, haven't you?" 
 
Mulder looked sharply at the man and got up. "Good," he said, taking out his 
cuffs which he wanted to place around Lane's wrists. Suddenly Lane's eyes 
focused on Mulder's once again. There was a sharp pain inside the agent's head, 
ripping him apart. Mulder groaned as the cuffs dropped to the floor and his 
hands automatically reached for his head, trying to get that horrible pain out 
of it. 
 
A strange sense entered Lane's mind as well as he received the image of a woman 
that looked very familiar to him. It was his partner, the small redhead that had 
been with him when they spoke before. She was the most important person on his 
mind and the one he thought of now that he thought he was going to die of sheer 
pain. 
 
"So you're fucking her, aren't you?" Lane said in disgust. 
 
In a flash the sharpest of pains was over, and Mulder reached for his gun, 
aiming it at Lane, holding his left hand against his head as he tried to focus 
on the here and now. 
 
The following moment something came towards him from the side. He caught a 
glimpse of something heading for his head from aside. The agent wanted to pull 
out his gun but it was already too late. The next moment he was lying face down 
on the soft carpet of the living room, and his blood was soaking into the 
fabric. The gun fell from its holster onto the ground. His last thoughts went 
out to Scully and the others, sitting in the cars waiting for his signal. 
 
David Lane watched as his butler Henry knocked Mulder off his feet, using the 
bronze statue from the hallway he had bought at an antique shop three years ago. 
Then he looked down at the agent lying face down on the carpet. He was bleeding 
from a deep gash right above the ear. Lane knelt down and touched the agent's 
throat. He was still breathing. 
 
"He tried to kill you sir," Henry said apologetic. "I had to do something." The 
butler awkwardly picked up the gun and aimed it at the agent's head. "Should I 
call the police?"
 
"No," Lane said. "I'll handle this." His hand brought the gun in Henry's hand 
down at the unconscious man on the floor. What a mess, he sighed; realizing all 
too well he only had a few moments left to finish this. "Help me move him into 
the library."
 
The butler nodded and turned Mulder's body, uneasy with what was going on. He 
had no idea who this man was or what he wanted, but he couldn't just let his 
employer be killed, could he? The agent's eyes remained closed as the butler 
grabbed him by the legs and Lane took him by the shoulders. Together they 
transferred the agent to the smaller library and closed the door behind them. At 
the same time the doorbell went, followed by a banging on the wood. 
 
Lane grabbed Henry's arm and said, "Don't open the door and get the hell out. 
You've been good to me Henry, but now it's time to part. You're no part of this. 
They're here to arrest me and I'm not going." 
 
Henry frowned as he looked down at the unconscious agent. "Is he police too?"
 
"Yeah, he is."
 
"My god." Henry glared at the front door again. He was ripped apart between 
loyalty and fear. And he still held the man's gun in his hand. "I can't go," he 
finally said. "I hurt this man, didn't I? They'll punish me." 
 
"Stay then," Lane said impatiently.
 
The banging on the door persisted and the following moment the FBI and police 
were inside the house through the forced open kitchen door. Lane listened to the 
orders that were being handed out while his skilled hands prepared the handmade 
bomb that would finish it all. On the floor Mulder groaned and moved, opening 
his eyes in the process. His hand automatically touched his face as if to 
support his head that became too heavy with the pain that struck him like a 
hammer. 
 
Lane glanced at him and finished the bomb that was now attached to the door. The 
moment anyone would try to bust down the door, the device would go off. Lane 
smiled as he knelt down beside the agent, ignoring his butler all together. "The 
moment I open this door, it will be over Agent Mulder. You have the choice of 
dragging your friends into death with you or to die alone. What's it going to 
be?"
 
Reality struck the agent as he nodded slowly and moved up with the startled 
Henry shoving a hand under his armpit to support him. The agent swayed on his 
feet and stared at the device attached to the door. Behind the wood he heard 
familiar voices. 
 
Then there was a banging on the door and he heard Scully's voice speak out his 
name. 
"Scully," Mulder answered in response with a voice that seemed too dark. "He's 
got a bomb in here, ready to go off. Get everyone out now. It's set to go." 
 
"Mulder," he heard on the other side, "is he in there with you?"
 
Mulder waited for a second. "Yes, he is."
 
"Can we reason with him?" Skinner asked through the door. 
 
"No. Get out now or you're all dead."
 
Lane didn't speak a single word when there was an order to retreat followed by a 
shuffle of footsteps and a lot of noise. The men inside the small room could 
only imagine what went on outside. Mulder looked aside at the only window that 
gave access to freedom. 
 
"It's over then, isn't it?" the agent asked as he sunk back down to the ground, 
helped by Henry. 
 
"Yes, it is," Lane smiled, ignoring Henry behind him. "Don't worry, Agent 
Mulder. It's a painless death. It's over before you know it." Lane's hand 
touched the doorknob. 
 
Mulder's hand fell on the floor, chilling as he rested his head against a 
bookshelf. He looked up, his feverish eyes staring at the bomber. "You're 
right," he said. "It is over." 
 
It all happened very fast. The glass of the only window giving access to the 
room shattered and splintered, sending large pieces inside the room. The barrel 
of a gun aimed at Lane's back. The man turned and let go of the doorknob.
 
The next moment one single shot rang through the library. The bullet coming out 
of the gun held by Henry hit Lane full in the back, sending him forward to the 
ground. Lane seemed to want to pull open the door in the process of falling, but 
a second shot stopped him in his tracks. Without giving another kick the man 
dropped to the floor, his eyes wide open and staring into nothingness. 
 
Mulder looked at Henry who nodded slowly at him. "In the end, it couldn't go 
on," Henry whispered. "Could it?" 
 
 
Day Five
Upstate New York
 
Through the shattered window the bomb squad entered the room and disarmed the 
device that would have blown up the entire house. Mulder sat on the cold floor 
and watched it happen. No one seemed able to move the agent. He refused to go. 
 
Then the door was pushed open and there were people all over the room, accessing 
the situation. The agent felt arms around him as he sat down, and her hands were 
all over his face, trying to get him to look at her. He looked at her but saw 
nothing. 
 
"You're okay," she said. "You're fine. You're safe with us."
 
A shudder that started in his stomach rippled through his entire body like a 
wave crushing down on a rock. He burst out in tears and the embrace that had 
come from her side alone shifted. He put his arms around her and hugged her. 
 
She didn't let go, knowing he needed this. 
 
Exhausted they held onto each other and she knew he had finally found the 
justice he needed. It had nearly cost him everything, but now he could rest at 
ease that Jack's killer had been found and that his death was justified. 
 
 
Day Eight
New York City
 
She watched from a distance as he put a single flower on his friend's casket 
before it was lowered into the ground. No one else had a right to be there, she 
thought. This was his moment alone. But suddenly he looked at her and smiled. 
 
She moved forward until she stood by his side and he grasped her hand and pulled 
her near him. Together they watched as the casket came to a hold at the bottom 
of the grave. 
"It's funny," Mulder said, "but I dreamt of Jack again last night. I've always 
believed there's a place we go to after this one, where things are better and 
life is just the way you want it to be. With Jack, I'm pretty sure he's living 
the good life right now."
 
She smiled. "Did he have a message to tell us?" 
 
Her partner looked at her and embraced her. "Just that we shouldn't mourn the 
life he left right now, but to cherish the one where he's waiting for us. I'm 
pretty sure that we'll see him again one day."
 
"I like that," Scully mesmerized. 
 
"Oh yeah, and he did have another message."
 
"What's that?"
 
"It's about time we take a shared motel room."
 
She grinned. "Nice try, Agent Mulder." 
 
Mulder shrugged and lifted his shoulders, kissing her as they walked to the car, 
finally on their way to that vacation she had promised him.
 
 
- The End -