Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative From: SMYTHJA@BRAVO.aston.ac.uk (SMYTHJA) Subject: Mind 1, 1/2. Culverson Danielle - xnet111.txt [1/1] Date: Thu, 14 Mar 1996 21:19:43 GMT This is a fiction story based on the characters created by Chris Carter. No infringement of copyrights held by 10/13 Productions, Twentieth Century Productions, or Fox Broadcasting is intended. All unrecognised characters and plot-lines belong to me. Names, characters, and places exist solely within my imagination, or are used fictitiously. No connection to any person, living or dead, is intended, and any resemblance is entirely coincidental. Feel free to distribute, but please keep me as the author. Rating - PG Danielle Culverson. Mind 1. (Part 1 of 2) The lights were dimmed in the corridors of Fallham hospital. Visitor's hour was long over, and the long night was beginning. The smell of antiseptic permeated the corridors, hanging in the air. The sound of a television came floating down the quiet halls, muffled, and music played quietly on the radio at the nurse's station. The regular beep of a regulator came from behind the door of one of the private rooms. On the open ward, three beds were empty, five occupied. Of these five, three were sleeping, one reading, and one tossed and turned beneath the covers. The squeak of rubber-soled nurse's shoes came down the plastic-floored corridor. Doors opened and closed quietly as Kimberly Levister did her evening round of checks on the patients. Her dark blue uniform with white apron was creased after a long day, and her eyes were lined and tired, although they sparkled with the anticipation of the end of her shift. Her long blonde hair was pinned up in a bun inside her nurse's cap, a few straggly ends coming loose now. Kimberly stopped outside a door. There was a nameplate alongside the handle which read "Dr. M. Banahaw." She knocked and went straight in. The smile on Kimberly's face froze when she saw inside the room. It was the same as always, except Dr. Banahaw wasn't sitting at his desk, he was slumped over it. A few papers had fallen from the desk to the floor. Blood made an irregularly shaped shadow beneath the consultant physician, and even as Kimberly watched more blood dripped from the wound in the man's chest. the handle of a surgical knife protruded from his chest, blood dripping from the end of it. Later, the pathologist would agree that Dr. Banahaw's death would have been almost instant, as he knew exactly where to stab himself. Kimberly stared at the scene for a few minutes, still holding the door open, unable to move in or away. then her hand rose to her face, and she gave a stifled sob. Finally she managed to turn away, and she staggered from the door towards the nurse's station. Three nurses sat there, talking quietly, and laughing. When they saw Kimberly's pale, shocked face, they silenced. "Kimberly?" one asked. "Dr. Banahaw..." Kimberly answered with a voice that shook, although she had seen many scenes worse than that, "I... I think he's dead." * * * Sunshine speared through the dirt streaked window into the diner. It lit up the dancing dust motes, which floated above the tables, moving in crooked, intricate patterns. The diner was light, and airy, and the smell of bacon frying hung in the atmosphere. Small booths ran along one dark wall, and along the front of the diner, where the sunlight from the windows lit the checked table-cloths. Small rectangular tables filled the remaining space, and many of these, and the window-booths, were occupied. All the booths along the dark wall were empty, except one. At this table, a man in a beige suit sat alone and silent. A cup of coffee stood on the table in front of him, forgotten, as his mind followed paths as crooked and intricate as those taken by the dust motes, and the droplets of water that rose from his coffee. A waitress came out of the kitchen, and surveyed the cheerful lunchtime customers. Her gaze fell on the man, his tousled, brown-haired head slightly lowered as he stared at his coffee without seeing it. She went quickly into the kitchen, and emerged again with a plate of hot, steaming chips. She set the plate down in front of the man, and slipped into the booth to sit opposite him. Fox Mulder, FBI, looked up in pleased surprise, and smiled at the waitress. "I didn't order this, Trudy." "You look like you need it though." she replied. Mulder picked up a chip from the edge of the pile, and bit it in half. "Hard day?" Trudy asked. "So-so." Mulder answered. He put the other half of the chip in his mouth. Trudy smiled and got to her feet, an apologetic look on her face. "Got to get back to work," she said, "musn't waste time chatting to customers." Mulder returned to his original thoughts. Mechanically, he transported the chips to his mouth, taking little notice of the comings and goings around him. A woman entered the diner. She looked straight over to where Mulder was sitting. She carried a beige handbag over her right shoulder, to match her beige suit. Her auburn hair glinted in the sunlight which came through the glass panel in the door. She walked over to the booth where Mulder was sitting, and sat down opposite him. He looked up, and smiled at his partner. "Good afternoon, Mulder." Dana Scully greeted him. She stole a chip from his plate. "What's up?" Mulder shrugged. Nothing was "up". Nothing was really happening at all. That was what was wrong. It had been three months since their last X-file, and, as always, he was constantly on edge, waiting for the next one. X-files. The cases that were investigated by the Bureau that had no other classification. Cases which often seemed to have no rational explanation. Cases which had to be handled quickly and quietly. Cases which some people would rather weren't investigated at all. These were the cases that Mulder lived for. his goal in life. He watched dimly as Scully took the last chip from his plate. * * * The customers at Fallham bank stood silent in the queues. People spoke to the tellers in low voices, and the only noise was the scratch of pens as queuing customers filled in cheques and withdrawal slips. Three tellers stood at the counter. They each had a small microphone so that their voices could be heard through the bullet-proof plastic that separated them from the customers. There was little need for this protection. - There hadn't been a hold-up at the bank for over thirty years. A tall, dark-haired woman entered the bank. She glanced around, and joined the queue of customers. A young woman came in, with a little girl tugging on her arm. She stood behind the dark-haired woman, who turned, and smiled at the child. When the tall woman reached the front of the queue, she approached one of the tellers, her face grim. The teller looked up, and smiled, recognising a regular customer. "Good afternoon, Mrs Calveston. What can I do for you?" Amelia Calveston scowled, and in a quick movement caught hold of the little girl standing behind her, and pulled a knife from the pocket of her fur coat. She held the knife against the little girl's neck. "I'm holding up this bank." Amelia told the teller, and thrust a carrier bag under the screen, "Fill that up, quickly." The teller looked scared. She took the carrier bag, and handed it to the manager, who had appeared behind her as if by magic. A worried frown on his face, he took the carrier bag from behind the counter, apparently to go and fill it. "What's taking so long?" Calveston demanded, "Don't make me damage this pretty young girl." In a few moments, the bank manager came back with the filled bag. He passed it through the large items slot to Calveston, who took it, and hurried from the bank, releasing the young girl as she got to the door. The girl ran to her mother, tears in her eyes. the bank manager stared in horrified disbelief at the door through which Calveston had exited, unable to believe that the richest woman in Fallham had just held up his bank. * * * Mulder looked up from his work when his partner entered the office they shared in the FBI headquarters. He was unable to disguise the hope in his eyes. When he saw the folder Scully held in her right hand, his eyes sparkled, and he looked up at his partner's face. She shook her head. "Sorry Mulder. It's a new case, but only a suicide, not an X-file." Mulder let out the breath he had been holding. He always hoped for an X-file when he or Scully was summoned to see Assistant Director Skinner. When he was sent for, it was more often to be dragged over the coals for something he'd done, but with Scully it was usually a new case. Wearily, he held out a hand for the file. "The suicide was a man named Morris Banahaw. He was a doctor at Fallham Hospital, Montana. He stabbed himself with a surgical knife. He has a wife and a twelve year old son. He didn't leave a note, and his reasons for suicide are unknown." Scully explained as Mulder flicked through the case-file. "Skinner thinks we should clear it up fairly quickly." Mulder nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the photograph of the dead doctor. "He was found by one of the nurses, Miss Kimberly Levister. She wasn't aware that he had any problems, or was at all depressed." "When do we leave for Fallham?" Mulder asked, his tone indicating boredom and disparagement. "I've got us reservations on the red-eye from Washington to Billings." Scully replied, "And there will be a car waiting to collect us. We should be in Fallham by tomorrow morning." Mulder nodded. There was no hurry, - this case wasn't likely to get much colder than it already was. * * * A man ran across a lawn to a large house. The house was in total darkness, as was the garden. The man did not look behind him before smashing one of the small panes of glass in the back door of the house, and reaching through to open the door. He stole inside. Daniel Debowie glanced around him, noting the clean neat kitchen he had just entered. As though guided by some prior knowledge he didn't have, he made his way directly to the study of the house, and entered. The study was dark, and had no windows. Debowie switched on a small desk lamp. The desk was neat and tidy, like the rest of the house. Debowie turned to face the wall. A portrait of a frowning old man hung there. Debowie lifted the painting down, revealing the combination locked safe beneath. His fingers seeming to work with a mind of their own, he unlocked the safe on his first attempt, and removed all the money inside. He didn't take the jewellery. Jewellery was too easy to trace, although how he knew that, as he had never committed any crime before, he didn't know. Debowie closed the safe, and replaced the painting. Then he left the house quietly, his stash in a sports bag he carried over one shoulder. As far as he knew, no-one had seen him. - But if they had, he didn't care. * * * Kimberly Levister sat on a wooden chair in one of the empty private rooms. Her hands twisted nervously in her lap, and she looked at the single ring she wore, which she twisted round and round her finger. The door to the room was closed, but the blinds at the window were open, and the fluorescent lights overhead were on, lighting the sparsely furnished room. Mulder sat on the end of the hospital bed, with it's starched white sheets, and thin polyester pillows. Twisted slightly to face the nurse, he watched her expression carefully. Scully stood by the door, leaning against the wall. She held the case-file in her hands, and was reading through Dr. Banahaw's psychological report. "So, Miss Levister, you weren't aware that Dr. Banahaw was depressed, or had any suicidal tendencies?" Mulder asked the nurse, whose face was pale, except for the dark rings beneath her eyes. She shook her head. "No, he seemed quite contented with his life. What more could he want? He'd got a good job, a wife and son, a beautiful home... What had he to be depressed about?" "He didn't have any financial problems, as far as you are aware?" "No. - But I don't know much about his financial situation." "What about the way he killed himself? Does that seem consistent with his character?" "I don't under stand what you mean." "Well, he killed himself here, where his friends and colleagues would be the ones to find him. - He could have done it at home, or driven to somewhere where he wasn't known at all. Do you think he would have wanted you to find him, knowing that it would hurt you?" "No, I don't think so. - But I suppose he knew we would all be hurt anyway, when we found out..." she trailed off. "What about his method?" Mulder persisted, "Using a knife is very violent, and very messy. Most suicides tend to use a method which reflects their character. - Many women, being less violent than men, opt for pills. - Was Dr. Banahaw at all violent in temperament?" "Well, he got angry sometimes, but then everyone does. - He never hurt anyone or anything like that." "Was he a tidy person? Did he like to keep things neat and clean?" "Yes, he was almost obsessive about cleanliness. - I guess that comes from being a doctor." "Probably." Mulder glanced at Scully, and she saw his look, and smiled. "Suicides also choose a method easy for them to accomplish." she reminded her partner, "For example, you have a gun, and would probably use that if you became suicidal. Dr Banahaw had access to surgical instruments, and therefore they were the obvious choice." Mulder nodded, and turned back to Kimberly Levister. "Did you see anyone strange around here the day of Dr. Banahaw's death?" he asked. "What? You're not suggesting...?" "We just have to investigate every possibility." Scully said quickly, glaring at her partner, who as usual had apparently started following some idea in his mind, and was now scaring Kimberly with his crazy ideas. Nothing really changed with Mulder. * * * The two agents sat opposite each other in the hospital visitor's canteen. Scully had two sandwiches and a glass of orange juice in front of her. Mulder had a cup of coffee, and a steak pie with boiled potatoes. Around them, the smell of disinfectant overpowered the bland smells of hospital food, so most of the canteen's customers picked at their meals with little appetite. Hospitals were glum places, Mulder considered, full of death, illness, and unhappiness. He looked across at his partner, and his mind leaped back to a time when Scully had been a patient in Washington General Hospital. She had gone missing after being kidnapped by a delusional abductee named Duane Barry. Weeks after her disappearance she had turned up in the hospital under mysterious circumstances, and in a coma. Her living will had instructed for her life machine to be turned off, but even so she managed to struggle back to life, overcoming the poisons in her body, formed by some strange genetics experiment that had been performed on her. Even now, Mulder still felt himself lucky that he still had her. Scully looked up, and saw the expression on her partner's face. She immediately knew what he was thinking, and smiled at him reassuringly. Mulder smiled back, and then lowered his eyes to the newspaper that lay on the table at his side. "Millionaire holds up bank!" the main headline screamed. Beneath was a large picture of a tall, dark-haired woman. The accompanying story told how Amelia Calveston, from the richest family in Fallham, had held up a bank, and threatened a five year old girl with a knife, without using any disguise. The paper said that Calveston had made off with more that fifty thousand dollars. Mulder's gaze dropped to the story below. The smaller title proclaimed, "Inexpert burglar cracks safe." It went on to tell of a house which had been burgled. The only damage done was where someone had smashed the glass in the back door to gain entry. The police inspector stated that "the lock on the door could have been forced with minimal damage by almost anybody." The only thing missing was ten thousand dollars from the safe, which the burglar had apparently known the combination for. There were fingerprints all over the place where the burglar had been, - he'd apparently made no attempt to cover his tracks. Mulder came to the end of the front page, and the end of his meal. He looked up, and saw that Scully was waiting for him. Quickly he rose to his feet, and followed his partner out of the canteen. * * * Mulder squatted down beside the body of Ingrid Nissett. He lifted one limp hand with his rubber-gloved fingers, and examined the knife cut on the inside of her wrist. Nissett was slumped on the floor against one of the kitchen cabinets. There was blood in the sink, and down the side of the cabinets. Blood pooled on the floor around the corpse, sticky and congealed now. Young police officers bustled about busily, with the air of knowing what they were doing, although Mulder suspected they didn't. The kitchen was warm and stuffy, and several policemen had already made excuses to go outside. Scully came over to her partner, and squatted down next to him, sitting on her high heels. She checked the corpse over, and shrugged. "It does look like suicide." she told Mulder, knowing he'd be disappointed in this conclusion. Ever since they had been informed of the suspected suicide of Ingrid Nissett that morning, Mulder had been excited. It was the same excitement that came over him when they were working on an X-file. Ingrid Nissett lived in Biston, and when the partners were informed of her death, Mulder had immediately made a connection. "The hospital in Fallham, the bank where the hold up took place, the burglary, and Ingrid Nissett's house all lie on a straight line." he told Scully, "There isn't much crime in this area, and four incidents like this can't be ignored. There must be a connection." "But Mulder, two were almost certainly suicides, and the bank was help up be Amelia Calveston, who was in police custody at the time of the burglary. How can they possibly be connected?" Scully had asked her partner. He hadn't had an answer, but as she watched him now, she knew his mind was following every lead they had, working over every detail again and again until he found the answer. "Are you finished with the body?" one of the paramedics asked Scully. She looked to Mulder, who nodded. The paramedics moved the corpse onto a stretcher, and into a body-bag. They carried it to the waiting ambulance. Mulder and Scully followed, glad to be out of the warm, stuffy house. Outside, Ingrid Nissett's neighbours watched anxiously from behind garden fences. Mulder looked around at the curious, worried faces, and his gaze came to rest on a young woman, standing by a tree across the road. She was partly obscured by the tree, but Mulder thought he could see worry, sadness, and fear on her face. He began to move towards her, but Scully stopped him to tell him something, and when he looked back, the woman was gone. "What is it, Mulder?" Scully asked, sensing her partner was preoccupied with something. "Not sure." he replied, "There was a young woman watching what's happening from the other side of the road. She looked upset and scared and... like she didn't belong somehow. I was just wondering who she was." The ambulance pulled away from the house, and the agents went to their car, Mulder still thinking about the woman he had seen. * * * The next day saw the agents at the house of another mysterious suicide. Barbara Everett had taken an overdose of her mother's tranquillisers. In her mid-forties, Everett had no family other than her parents. Her house was fairly large, and everything inside it was neat and clean. Including the corpse. Mulder knelt on the floor at the side of the body, which was sitting upright in an armchair. Scully sat on the two-seater settee, facing the corpse. From her position, with Mulder down on one knee, it looked almost as though her partner were about to propose to the late Miss Everett. Scully smiled, and hid it behind her hand. The bottle of tranquillisers stood on the coffee table at the right side of the armchair. Apparently Miss Everett kept her mother's tranquillisers at her house until they were needed, as she was the one who collected them from the local pharmacy. Every tablet in the new bottle had been taken. Mulder and Scully followed the paramedics as they carried the corpse to the ambulance, in what was almost a replay of the previous day's events. Looking around, Mulder saw more curious and anxious faces watching over garden fences. The same reactions, the same expressions, but different fences, different faces. Except one. On the near side of the road, Mulder noticed the young woman he had seen the previous day outside Ingrid Nissett's house. The worry and fear on the dark-haired woman's face was apparent, even from thirty metres away. Looking around, Mulder saw Scully helping the paramedics with the corpse. No-one but him had noticed the woman. He began to move towards her, walking slowly. She saw him coming, and turned to walk away herself. Mulder quickened his steps, and so did the woman. She went around a corner at the end of the street, and was out of Mulder's sight for a few seconds. When he got to the corner, she was nowhere to be seen. Scully was waiting impatiently when her partner got back to the incident scene. The ambulance had just left, and the police were securing the house. "Where have you been, Mulder?" Scully asked sharply. "The woman I saw yesterday outside Ingrid Nissett's house was here." he replied, "I started to walk towards her, and she ran away." He turned to DI Piner, who was in charge of the two Biston suicide cases. "Did you see the young woman standing down there?" Mulder pointed to indicate where he meant, "She was about five foot four, had dark brown hair down to her waist, which was tied back in a pony-tail..." "Yes, I saw her." DI Piner agreed, before Mulder had finished speaking, "That's Jill Stevenson. She's a strange girl, is Jill. She lives on the hill with a group of people. they keep themselves to themselves. Jill's the only one who comes and goes. She doesn't talk much. At least, not to folk like us." "Any idea what she was doing here?" Mulder asked. "Barbara Everett used to live up on the hill herself, until her mother got sick, and she had to come down here. I guess they wee friends." "What about Ingrid Nissett? Did she used to live on the hill?" Scully asked. "Not that I know of, but then I didn't know much about Ingrid." "It's probably not related, but can you think of any connections between Dr. Banahaw from Fallham hospital, and Ingrid Nissett, Barbara Everett, or Jill Stevenson?" Mulder asked. "No, but like I said, I didn't really know Ingrid, and I don't think anyone really knows Jill. Except maybe the others who live on the hill." Piner replied. End of part 1. I'd greatly appreciate any comments or constructive criticism from fellow X-Philes. Email me at . Danielle Culverson. ===================================================================== ====== Newsgroups: alt.tv.x-files.creative From: SMYTHJA@BRAVO.aston.ac.uk (SMYTHJA) Subject: Mind 1, 2/2, Culverson Danielle - xnet112.txt [1/1] Date: Thu, 14 Mar 1996 21:20:28 GMT This is a fiction story based on the characters created by Chris Carter. No infringement of copyrights held by 10/13 Productions, Twentieth Century Productions, or Fox Broadcasting is intended. All unrecognised characters and plot-lines belong to me. Names, characters, and places exist solely within my imagination, or are used fictitiously. No connection to any person, living or dead, is intended, and any resemblance is entirely coincidental. Feel free to distribute, but please keep me as the author. Danielle Culverson. Mind 1. (Part 2 of 2) * * * Scully sat on a padded chair in Mulder's hotel room. She crossed her right leg over her left, and straightened her maroon skirt with her hands. Mulder stood by the window, lifting back the net curtain slightly so he could look outside. He had insisted they move from their hotel in Fallham to one in Biston, which he said was the true base for whatever was occurring. The rooms were fairly basic, but the agents had seen worse. "So what is it, Mulder?" Scully asked finally, "You must have some idea of what is going on to want to come here." "I'm not certain, but I'm fairly sure whatever is happening has something to do with that group of people who live on the hill that Piner was talking about." Mulder answered, "Everett used to be one of them, and I wouldn't be surprised if Nissett and Banahaw used to live up there as well. Someone is moving in on the people still up there." "Someone? Mulder we've got three suicides." "And a hold-up and a burglary." Mulder added. "Which obviously aren't connected." Scully said firmly. Mulder shrugged. "Whatever, the suicides and other incidents are gradually moving closer to that group, and from the look on Jill Stevenson's face today, I think they know it." "So what do you propose we do?" "Go up and find out what's going on. I'll bet the group knows what's happening. I want to know who they are, and why they're up there as well." "Mulder, we can't go now, it'll be dark soon." Scully reminded her partner. "Then we'd better hurry." * * * Mulder parked the hire car at the end of an overgrown track, and switched the engine off. Darkness was falling rapidly, and the surrounding forest emphasised this fact, seeming to close in on the two agents as they started up the stony track. There was little sound except for the crunching of their feet on the stones, and the startled flutter of the occasional bird as they approached. Gradually the track dwindled into a path, and the stones, which had apparently been put down to help vehicles, disappeared. The agents came to a slight clearing in the trees, where they stopped for a few minutes. Scully moved slightly ahead of Mulder to look at an old and faded "No trespassing" sign which was nailed to a tree trunk. Mulder gazed back down the path along which they had come. Mulder heard a noise, and turned to see that a man had come out from amongst the trees, and had caught hold of Scully's arm. She stared in horror at the man, whom Mulder could see only the back of, but made no attempt to move away. The man pressed his left hand to the side of her face. Mulder aimed his gun, which he had drawn automatically, at the man. "Federal agent! Move away from her!" The man, who wore blue jeans and a denim shirt, and had short dark hair which glistened in the remains of the light, released his hold on Scully, who slumped to the ground, her eyes glazed. He stepped to one side, and suddenly disappeared into the trees again, lost amongst the dense forest. Mulder ran to Scully, who was sitting where she had fallen against a tree. He knelt at her side, and looked at the side of her face where the strange man had touched her. There was no mark. "Scully, are you okay?" he asked. She made no reply, but looked at him in confusion. "Scully?" She seemed to hear him well enough, but from the look on her face, she didn't understand what he said. Gently, he lifted her to her feet. She was unsteady, so he put an arm around her waist to support her, and put one of her arms around his shoulders. "I don't know if you understand," Mulder told his partner, "but we must continue up the hill. - Now more than before we need to find out what is going on." He helped Scully along as they went up the hill. He kept his gun out, and ready to fire. It was not long before they came to another clearing. A ring of wooden huts stood around the clearing. They were small, only large enough for one or two people in each. Oil lamps burned inside many of the windows. In the centre of the ring, a larger hut stood. It was this hut that Mulder aimed for. He helped Scully up the three steps to the main door, and knocked hard. There was a long silence, and Mulder was just raising his hand to knock again when the door was opened a little way. Mulder recognised the woman he had seen outside Barbara Everett's house that morning. "Jill Stevenson? I'm Special Agent Fox Mulder from the Federal Bureau of Investigation. This is my partner, Special Agent Dana Scully. Could we come in?" Jill's eyes moved from Mulder to Scully and back again. Mulder saw worry in her eyes. "Not in here." she said finally, "Come across to my hut, where your partner can lie down for a while." Jill led Mulder across the clearing to a darkened hut near to the top of the path. She opened the door, took out some matches from her pocket, and lit three oil lamps. She then closed the hut door behind the two agents. She helped Mulder to lie Scully down on the narrow bed at the end of the hut without a word. "What do you want?" Jill asked at last, sitting down on the bottom of the bed, and indicating that Mulder should sit on the chair which stood by the wooden desk. The hut contained little furniture, - a bed, small wardrobe, desk, chair, bedside cabinet. - There was a small room off to one side containing a toilet and sink. A rug on the floor, and some embroideries on the walls, together with the homemade curtains, cushions, and bedspread, made it feel very cosy. Mulder looked at Jill suspiciously. "Well, my original intention when I came up here was to ask you why you were outside the homes of Ingrid Nissett and Barbara Everett shortly after they committed suicide." "And your present intention?" Jill asked, leaving Mulder's question unanswered. "To find out why, when an FBI agent turns up at your door practically carrying his partner, you show no surprise at her condition." "Obviously she has been taken ill." Jill said, turning away as she spoke, "I suppose you came up here because it was easier than going back." "Does she look ill to you?" Mulder demanded, anger rising in his voice. "Yes." Jill replied, still not looking at him. Mulder forced himself to calm down. "So why were you outside the houses of Ingrid Nissett and Barbara Everett?" "They were friends of mine." Jill answered. "When I went towards you, you ran away." "I was upset, and scared. We... aren't that used to seeing people." "So I heard. Are you the only person who ever goes down to the town?" "Yes." Jill nodded. "Is that why you came out of the hut to see us? Because the others up here don't like to see people?" Mulder asked. "Yes. We talk very little to other people. I go to the town to buy what we need. Everyone else stays up here." "But some people go down to live in the town again, don't they? Like Barbara Everett." "Yes." "Was Ingrid Nissett one of you as well?" "Yes." "And Dr. Banahaw?" Mulder probed. "No." Jill shook her head, and lowered her eyes from Mulder's gaze. "He wasn't one of us." "Who are "us"?" Mulder demanded, "Why do you stay up here?" "We stay up here because we have something in common, which we don't have in common with other people." "What's that?" Mulder asked. Jill turned away, refusing to answer. "What?" he persisted. He saw Jill's gaze fall on Scully's face. Scully appeared to be sleeping peacefully now. Worry filled Jill's face. "What's going on here? You know what's happening, don't you? Like you know what's wrong with Scully. Is it something to do with the man who attacked her when we were at the lower clearing?" Jill gasped, "He's that close?" "Who?" Mulder demanded, "Yes he is. Who is he?" Jill turned away. "You can stay here overnight if you want to. I'm going back over to the main hut. You musn't come over there." She got up, and left Mulder sitting with Scully. He stared after her in confusion. She knew what was happening, but why wouldn't she talk about it? And what did this group of people have in common?" * * * Mulder was shaken awake. He opened his eyes and blinked from the sunlight that was streaming in through the square window. Jill Stevenson was shaking him. "Agent Mulder!" she said urgently, "You must come quickly. There's been a... death." Mulder got up, his joints stiff from a nigh spent sleeping on the draughty floor. "A suicide?" he asked. "Possibly..." Jill allowed, and hurried him out of the door. A group of people stood silently around one of the huts. the one towards which Jill was leading him. Mulder saw them turn to look at him as he approached. The group made a path to allow Mulder through, and Jill led him into the hut. Inside, the hut was much the same as Jill's, except it had clearly been decorated for more masculine tastes. A man lay on the narrow bed, his eyes open and staring, his hand raised to the side of his face. Mulder examined him quickly, and then turned on Jill. "What killed him?" he demanded, "You know what's going on. Tell me!" Jill stepped back, her fear apparent in her expression. "Is it suicide?" Mulder asked. "Yes." Jill answered weakly. She sat down on the desk chair. "Yes, he killed himself." "Does this have anything to do with the man who attacked Scully?" "I... yes." Jill admitted. "So you do know?" Jill nodded, "The man you saw is called Frederick Ginelli. he used to be one of us, until he went mad. We had him taken to hospital, and put on a psychiatric ward..." "Fallham hospital?" "Yes. He escaped, and now he's coming after us. He killed Dr. Banahaw, Ingrid, and Barbara. And now Anthony." Jill indicated the man on the bed. "He was behind the bank hold-up in Fallham, and the burglary, and what happened to your partner as well." "Jill, Dr. Banahaw, Ingrid Nissett, Barbara Everett, and this young man killed themselves. No-one else did it for them." "He made them do it." Jill replied. "How?" Worry flooded Jill's face. She hesitated before answering the question. "Agent Mulder, I doubt you will believe this, but Frederick Ginelli is telepathic. All the group are. He can force people to do things against their will." "Telepaths!" Mulder exclaimed, "I should have guessed. Why did you think I wouldn't believe? Surely you know I..." "I don't look into your mind, Agent Mulder." Jill replied, apparently slightly offended, "It isn't right to invade other people's privacy. We all know that. We live up here, and communicate with each other telepathically, but even so we don't enter each others minds past the consciouss, and if someone wants to keep their thoughts private, we all respect that." "So what did Ginelli do to my partner?" Mulder asked. "He put a barrier around her mind. Her consciouss thoughts, memories, and personality are all behind the barrier. But he will come back to finish his work. He won't let you and Agent Scully live, in case you know anything." "Why didn't you tell me all this last night?" "We're scared." Jill replied, "We don't want to end up in institutions because of our "abilities". - But we don't want to be dead either." * * * Mulder sat silently in Jill's hut. His gun lay on the desk at his side. Scully still slept peacefully on the bed. The hut was in total darkness. The window was a dark grey square amongst the black. Mulder was growing tired. He had been waiting for five hours. Some leaves crackled behind the hut. Mulder sat up, and picked up his gun. He heard footsteps going around the side of the hut. The footsteps stopped by the door. The door opened, and someone came in. The door closed again. "Freeze!" Mulder ordered, switching on his flashlight, and aiming his gun at the man. Frederick Ginelli stopped, surprise registering on his face. Then he took another step towards Scully. "You move another inch and I'll kill you!" Mulder yelled, rising to his feet. Ginelli sneered, and took another step. Mulder tried to pull the trigger on hi gun, but something stopped him. He watched helplessly as Ginelli approached his partner, unable to fire the shot that would halt the man's progress. Then his gaze fell on Scully, and he squeezed the trigger. The shot was instantly fatal. Ginelli collapsed to the floor. Minutes later, Jill Stevenson ran into the hut. "Are you alright?" she asked breathlessly, "I felt him die, - we all did." "I'm fine." Mulder assured her, "Both of us are fine." His gaze fell on Scully again, "Well, fine-ish." Jill's eyes went to Scully, and she looked sad. "Yes." she said quietly, and then abruptly turned and left. After a few minutes, she returned. She sat down on the edge of the bed near Scully's head, and looked carefully at the sleeping agent's face. Then she turned to Mulder. "We've considered your problem, and ours." she told him, "You helped us, so we'll try to repair Agent Scully's mind. - If you agree, that is." "Agree?" "We don't enter anyone's mind without their agreement. Agent Scully is in no position to make the decision, so as her partner, we ask you." "Oh. Yes, of course I agree." Jill smiled, "I think it'll be alright. I hope so." She turned back to Scully, placed her hand against the side of the agent's head, and closed her eyes. Mulder watched and waited anxiously. After a few minutes, Jill took her hand from Scully's head again and opened her eyes. She watched the agent's face for a reaction. A moment later, Scully opened her eyes, and blinked. She saw Mulder watching her intently, a worried frown on his face, and smiled, "Hello Mulder." * * * The partners sat silently in Assistant Director Skinner's office, waiting for him to read their reports on the case. They had reassured the group on Biston Hill that their "abilities" would not be revealed beyond what was necessary, and there would be no institutions in their future as a result of the case. Scully's personal report was significantly shorter than her partner's. She vaguely remembered what had occurred between Ginelli's assault on her and Jill's restoration of her mind, but the memories were hazy and fragmented. Mulder's report was detailed and precise, particularly in the areas Scully hadn't been able to cover. They both waited, nervous as always, for Skinner to complete the report so that it could be filed (or, if Mulder got hold of it, lost) and forgotten. Skinner finished reading the reports, and closed the case-file. He leaned back in his imitation leather chair, and interlaced his fingers on his knees. He looked from one agent to the other for several long moments before he spoke. "So, Agent Scully, how do you feel after this... incident?" "Feel, sir?" Scully enquired, "Normal." "There are no... lingering side-effects?" "No, sir." "And you feel fit to continue with your work?" "Yes, sir." Skinner nodded, and turned to Mulder. "Agent Mulder, when Agent Scully was assaulted by Ginelli, why did you continue on towards the group, rather than going back?" "It was closer to go on, sir. I hoped that I would be able to use a radio or mobile phone there to call for assistance. However when I arrived it became clear to me that the group were in the best position to come to Agent Scully's aid, as they knew what was wrong with her." "I see." Skinner nodded. He picked up a pen from the desk, and signed the front of the case-file below Mulder's and Scully's signatures. "That seems to be satisfactorily completed." he agreed, "See that the incident forms are on my desk by this evening." "Yes, sir." Mulder nodded, and he and Scully rose from their seats to leave the office. "You got an X-file in the end after all." Scully told her partner quietly as they walked back to their office. "X-files like that one I can do without." Mulder replied, and held the office door open for Scully to go through. She smiled at the meaning in his words, and said nothing. The End.