From: sonny <sonny@webspin.org>
Date: Mon, 27 Sep 99 08:30:43 +1000
Subject: xfc: NEW Mind Games 2; Mirror Mirror 1 of 5
Source: xfc

From: sonny <sonny@webspin.org>

Title: MIND GAMES: Book 2:Mirror Mirror 1 of 5
Disclaimers: See Part 1
Author/Feedback: YES please! spider@webspin.org.
All parts can be found at www.webspin.org/xfic.htm

*********************
This section rated R for disturbing pedophile concepts
********************* 


CHAPTER 1

Day 10 - Monday
Paco's Coffee Shop - Seattle
8:15 a.m.
 
Despite the hotel coffee being immeasurably superior,
after the short, but bitter, confrontation with Mulder, Scully
had opted for a cafe a few doors down from the hotel. Not,
she thought, that what they'd had was an argument exactly.
It does, after all, take two people to do that. In this
case, she'd talked and he'd ignored her. And right now, she
wanted to avoid all company as she tried to figure out how
best to help her partner.
 
It had been four days since the last victim had been
recovered. Scully had cornered Mulder long enough to insist
his stitches be removed and she took the opportunity to
berate him about his eating, or lack of it. She'd finally
revealed the fact that she'd heard him throwing up at all 
hours of the nights and wanted to give him something to 
settle his stomach and a multi-vitamin shot.
 
"Dam it Mulder, you can't run on empty. You are not going
to do yourself or these kids any good if you get sick and
collapse from exhaustion. And you are sure as hell headed
in that direction. If you're suffering some sort of
bulimia..."
 
He'd rolled his eyes at her. 
 
"All right, well, there must be a reason you're not keeping 
anything down. If it's a stomach bug..."
 
He blinked in frustration as she snipped the tiny stitches
across his lip. The swelling had almost gone but the
bruising was still evident around his jaw and nose.
Forenzzi's giant sized hand had torn the edge of Mulder's
left nostril, too, but it appeared to be healing nicely.
She would have liked to have examined the inside of his
mouth, but the way he held himself told her to forget it.
She kept up a running dialogue and finished with the
announcement that she was going to give him a vitamin shot
whether he liked it or not. The moment the last stitch was
out, he'd shot up from the chair and grabbing his car keys
and coat, walked out the door without a word. Scully just
stood there with the scissors in hand, knowing it was
useless to follow.
 
And so she'd gone to the coffee shop, only to be found by
the one person she really did not wish to see, Forenzzi.
 
"This seat taken?" he asked as he slid into the bench seat
opposite.
 
Scully froze in mid-sip and glared at him stonily.
 
He actually pulled back for a moment, surprised at the
intensity of her look. Good God, little Dana was rather
formidable. He'd have to watch himself. He held up his
hands and rolled his head to one side in an apologetic
gesture. "Hey, you have every reason to tell me to get my
butt outta here. I made a complete ass out of myself the
other night and you deserve an explanation, and an apology."
 
Scully continued to glare at him "It's Mulder you should
be apologizing to."
 
Forenzzi glanced away, unable to concede that point,
"Dana, look, I know he's your partner..." Forenzzi stopped
and rubbed his hands over his face trying to figure out how
best to tackle this.
 
Scully's face had taken on a more neutral pose. Forenzzi
foolishly did not recognize it as her about-to-kick-butt-
big-time face. She was incredulous at this man's actions
against Mulder and fairly sure he was the source of some
rather unpleasant rumors. She was accustomed to little
green men ridicule and snide, beam me up Scotties when it
came to Mulder, but this new take on things was worse
because any denial she might make was a two-edged sword.
 
Forenzzi looked up and began "Look, Dana, I know it's been
twelve years, but we were close once and I thought
I...well, I thought I knew you well enough to believe you 
were a pretty straight arrow. And that's why this is 
bothering me so much."
 
He scratched his head in a nervous gesture. Nothing about
Scully's face or posture gave anything away to him. Mulder,
however, would have recognized all the warning signals and
headed for the nearest bomb shelter.
 
"I know you've worked with the guy for years and I know
you're an extraordinarily loyal person. And I can
understand how that loyalty is extended to the FBI as a
whole. I respect and admire that, I really do. But I knew
Mulder before you and I've seen things he'd naturally hide
from a woman. Look, I'm not questioning your relationship
with him, that's between the two of you, but just for a
moment, I'd ask you try and see it from my perspective."
 
Scully tucked her chin in and pursed her lips. "It was not
Mulder's decision to be sent here. I fully appreciate how
difficult it must be for you to stand aside while Skinner,
not Mulder, takes control of this case..."
 
Forenzzi waved it aside. "No, Dana, you have it all wrong.
Look, I'll be the first to admit that Spook...Mulder's
profiles have generated new avenues of approach. I'm not
criticizing his talents. It's just that...surely you can
see the hypocrisy in using someone like Mulder to run a 
case like this?"
 
"No, Joe, I don't. Would you care to enlighten me how
hypocrisy comes into it?"
 
"You mean you really don't know?" He looked at her
incredulously.
 
Scully was fast losing whatever patience she might have
had. "I doubt that you could enlighten me about anything,
Joe. I had thought your temper might have cooled a little
in the years since we first met. Clearly, that is not the
case. Now if you'll excuse me..." She stood to leave.
 
Forenzzi placed a hand gently on Scully's sleeve. "Please,
Dana, just...please give me the courtesy of your time. Just
a few minutes. I know I don't deserve it, but...please?"
 
Scully sighed and against her better judgement, sat down
again. "Okay Joe, but make it fast, I have to get back down
to the morgue."
 
He nodded once. "Look, I honestly thought you knew about
Mulder. In fact when I first heard they'd partnered you
with him, I figured they'd done so because you were a
doctor. When he was in the BSU, they kept a psychiatrist
with him a lot of the time, not a partner, another one of
the profilers, but he could prescribe drugs to keep Mulder
in line."
 
Scully frowned. What in hell was Forenzzi talking about?
 
"Dana, we all know the FBI keeps a few kooks lying around.
And we both know that genius borders on madness and Mulder
fits in that category. But I could never reconcile his
tastes in...porn...with what he did."
 
Scully began to frown. What the hell did Mulder's porn
tastes have to do with...oh, oh come on! He had to be
kidding? Right? Scully had no desire to see anything of
Mulder's video or magazine collection, but she had
inadvertently been exposed to it over the years. Some of it
was pretty rabid stuff, but still mainstream. The only
homosexuality in any of them leaned heavily towards all
girl romps, not exactly unusual fare for a very
heterosexual male like Mulder. But Forenzzi was
implying...What exactly was Forenzzi implying?
 
"Forenzzi, spreading rumors about a fellow agents sexual
predilections..."
 
Forenzzi realized he wasn't going to be able to pussyfoot
around this one so he simply blurted it out, "Dana, these
are not rumors. I've personally seen what he does. Look,
I'm trying to give you a heads up here. I've got to face an
OPR review tomorrow evening in D.C. and I have every
intention of telling them what I think of them for
protecting a guy who gets his jollies over pictures of 
dead boys then puts him in charge of a fucking pedophile
investigation!"
 
His voice had risen noticeably, attracting the sharp ears
of the tabloid reporter seated in the next booth. The
reporter nearly gagged on his eggs when he heard the
outburst. He knew Forenzzi. Knew he was a asshole, too,
but straight as an arrow. So what was this shit?
 
Scully's anger overwhelmed her, but she kept her voice so
low, the reporter could hardly hear her. "You bastard. Where
the hell do you get off making unfounded accusations like
that? It's a good thing you've been pulled from this
because you have clearly lost all perspective. Spreading 
a rumor that Mulder is gay was bad enough, petty minded
rubbish, but this..."
 
"Yeah? Well we'll see about that when I tell the OPR what
happened ten years ago in Michigan. I saw it, Dana, with my
own eyes, and what I find incredulous is that your loyalty
to the FBI would allow you to...shit...I've watched you
with him. I've seen the way you two look at each
other...and it sickens the hell out of me to think you're 
actually part of his fucked up little world. Jesus, Dana, 
what ever happened to you? I knew you liked it a little 
kinky sometimes but this? What do you two do together, 
get your jollies in front of his videos..."
 
The words were hardly out of his mouth when Scully finally
lost her temper. The last time she could ever recall doing
that was when she was twelve years old and had walloped
Bill. It had hurt her fist something fierce but the
satisfaction of Bill's bloody nose had been more than worth 
it.
 
This time, she remembered to curl her fingers in her hand
before straight arming Forenzzi in the nose. Her fist still
hurt, but again, the blood and reddened eyes had been well
worth the effort.
 
"Please feel free to report my actions to the OPR, *Agent*
Forenzzi, I would be more than happy to explain to them the
reasons for my unprofessional conduct. I would also be more
than happy to explain that, in my professional opinion,
your righteous indignation leads me to suspect a transferal
of motivations."
 
"You little bitch!" Forenzzi had finally recovered from
the shock and pain of the unexpected blow "Are you trying
to imply that you think *I*...!"
 
"If the shoe fits, Forenzzi. I'm recommending a psychiatric
evaluation of..."
 
But he grabbed Scully by the coat and began to pull her
across the table, pain and mindless rage obliterating
whatever sense he had left.
 
The reporter in the next booth stood to watch the foray,
but even he was stunned at the scene playing out before
him. Unbeknownst to either Scully or Forenzzi, Skinner and
Busche had chosen the coffee shop for the same reasons as
Scully, to get away from the crowds of agents in the hotel
restaurant. At least that was what Skinner told himself.
The truth was, he noticed that one of the owner's sons was
looking after the restaurant that morning and somehow, it
hadn't held quite the same appeal.
 
Forenzzi suddenly found himself deadlocked by a furious
A.D. Skinner. "What the hell are you doing, Forenzzi?"
The A.D. spat out through clenched teeth.
 
Forenzzi had a good seven inches on Skinner's height, but
he was not nearly as heavily built and therefore found it
impossible to break the A.D.'s vice grip.
 
Skinner was surprised at the blood on the bigger man's
face. He glanced swiftly at Scully and noticed her nursing
her left fist while she straightened her coat. His eyebrow
rose in surprise and his nostrils dilated in annoyance
"Would someone like to enlighten me here?"
 
Scully sucked in her cheeks and remained stonily silent.
Skinner expected no less.
 
"Scully?" he tried again "Agent Scully, I want you in
my..." he suddenly remembered he had set up his hotel 
room as an office "...room in ten minutes. At that time 
I will expect a full explanation of events. I thought 
I'd made it very clear that neither I, not the director 
will tolerate personal agendas on this case. Do you 
understand?"
 
Scully's eyes narrowed. "Yes sir."
 
Meanwhile, Busche had positioned himself to effectively
block anyone in the coffee shop from coming closer.
Fortunately, patronage was limited to a one couple and a
single male...oh shit. Busche recognized the reporter. He
turned to Skinner and motioned with his eyes to the
journalist. Skinner recognized the warning look and
immediately dropped Forenzzi's arms. The big agent scowled
and reached across to the napkin tray. Grabbing a fistful,
he brought then to his nose and glared insolently at the
A.D. and ASAC. "You two part of the cover-up as well?
Jesus, Busche, I warned you about Mulder."
 
Busche shook his head. "Joe, I know how you feel about this
whole thing, but your judgement is clouded on this. My
advice to you is step back before you get yourself in any
deeper."
 
Forenzzi sneered. "I'm not standing by and letting this
slide. Not for you, not for the FBI and not for that little
ass fuck..."
 
"Forenzzi!" Busche glared at him. "One more crack out of
you and I'll have you arrested. Is that what you want?"
 
The big man finally realized he had no choice but to back
off. For now. His time would come tomorrow at the OPR. And
if they tried to shut him up...no, not this time. This
time he'd make sure someone knew about Mulder and did 
something. He pulled his coat around him and glaring one 
last time at Scully, threw the bloodied napkins on the 
table and stormed out.
 
Scully breathed deeply and with a last look at Skinner and
Busche, left the restaurant.
 
Busche turned to the reporter, but clenched his teeth when
he realized the man had already left. Shit.
 
***********************************************
 
"All right, Agent Scully, would you care to enlighten me
on what just transpired between two federal agents in a
public restaurant?"
 
Scully sat stone faced in front of Skinner. The A.D. had,
within a few days, turned his hotel room into an office,
complete with a large desk and laptop pushed to one side
and a lounge suite for more informal discussions. Right
now, Scully found herself in a hard backed chair facing her
boss across the table. The only incongruity was an unmade
bed in the corner.
 
"Agent Scully, don't mistake that as a request, I expect
an answer. A complete answer."
 
Scully collected her thoughts, trying to find some way of
explaining her loss of temper.
 
Skinner looked at her closely. "Scully, I'm going to take a
wild stab at this and suggest it stems from Forenzzi's
attack on Agent Mulder the other evening."
 
Scully continued to stare at Skinner in silence. But she
was no poker player and she knew Skinner would see the
truth on her face, especially in light of his sarcasm.
 
"I'm going to further suggest Forenzzi inferred something 
regarding your relationship with Mulder and the fact that 
he's been circulating some crap about Agent Mulder's 
sexual orientation."
 
Scully's eyebrows rose a notch. "Sir, since Congress made
its decision regarding homosexuality in the military, the
FBI uses the military's jurisdiction over Quantico to
comply with that mandate. That may not affect current
agents, but it does have an impact on current attitudes.
Unfounded as the accusations may be, it's another way to
undermine Agent Mulder's credibility in the eyes of his
peers. Vicious, long-clawed alien comments I can accept,
because there is some foundation in the remarks.
However..." Scully petered off, her righteous ire blocking
her ability to continue.
 
Having already learned of the rumors from Crystal Palmer,
Skinner waited, sure there was more behind it than that.
 
"However," Scully continued in a frigid voice, "accusations
of the FBI hiding Agent Mulder's predilection to pedophilia
are beyond..."
 
"What!" Skinner sat forward, his eyes narrowing in cold
fury. He had *not* heard that. Shit...had Mulder been on a
case with Patterson where Forenzzi had been stationed? 
Could he have possibly seen...? Fuck it! His eyes stopped 
Scully cold and he grabbed for the phone.
 
"Busche, I want Forenzzi placed into custody immediately.
Warn him to keep his mouth shut, not one word about
*anything* and I want him accompanied back to D.C. on the
next available flight. He'll be met at the airport and
transferral of custody...No, no I'll be speaking to the
director myself...Yes, that's right." Skinner rang off then
punched a longer series of buttons.
 
"Sir, it appears Forenzzi who was heading up the local
team here is partially aware of the contents of that
file..."
 
Scully felt her stomach give out from under her. Until
that moment she had been absolutely certain Forenzzi's
accusations were the delusions of an overstressed mind. Now
the facts began clicking into place. The FBI was covering
up something, something about Mulder, about pedophilia. Oh
God in heaven, anything but that. Not Mulder...surely? She
would have known she *must* have known. There had to be
another explanation, but as Skinner kept talking Scully
felt her whole world topple.
 
"Yes sir, I'm afraid that's right. It was probably only a
matter of time before Agent Scully had to be informed..."
 
Scully sat frozen in sick horror.
 
"...have it couriered here by this afternoon for her to
examine. Yes sir I believe that's the wisest course of
action...No, no sign of it yet but then I have not seen
Agent Mulder in this situation before so there is no way of
predicting when or if he'll...Yes sir. Thank you."
 
Scully tried to get a grip on herself, but her breathing
came in short gasps.
 
Oh, God, anything but that...Please God, let him be gay,
let him be impotent...*anything* but a pedophile! And if
the FBI were protecting him, protecting some crime that he
had committed...In Michigan? Is that what Forenzzi had
said? Ten years ago? If they were protecting him in order
to use him...What was it that Skinner had said in her
apartment? That the director had been extremely reluctant
to bring Mulder in on the case...something about a promise
ten years before...Oh, Jesus, no please, please, no! And now
they expected...they would use, attempt to use her loyalty
to Mulder to protect the FBI and him from...from what?
Revealing what she knew? Revealing that he had hurt...Oh
dear God, *no*!
 
Skinner was talking to her, but the words were not getting
through.
 
"Agent Scully?" Skinner frowned. Scully's face had drained
of all color and...oh shit. He suddenly realized the effect
this was having on her. He stood up from his desk and
walked around to where she sat, he eyes wide and jaw
twitching.
 
Skinner crouched in front of Scully and took her hands to
capture her attention.
 
"Dana, listen to me,"
 
Scully finally looked up at the unfamiliar use of her
first name.
 
"This is not what you are thinking. Forenzzi has..."
Skinner closed his eyes and shook his head "Look, I can't
really explain. The director has a sealed file in his
office, a file on Mulder that only three people within
the Bureau are privy to. He's having it security 
couriered here today. It should arrive sometime tonight. 
Once you read that file you'll understand."
 
Scully finally found her voice. "Understand what, Sir?"
 
Skinner knew he could not explain the contents of that
file properly, so he stood and walked back around to the
other side of his desk. "Scully, it's not what you
think...it's an aspect of Mulder that...look, just wait
until the file gets here and read it for yourself. And 
stop worrying, Mulder is *not* a pedophile for Christ's 
sake. And he's done nothing illegal. It's just that the 
contents are...unusual and kept under wraps for reasons 
that will become evident when you read it."
 
Skinner sighed, took off his glasses and pinched the
bridge of his nose. "Agent Scully, this is one of the
few times I completely concur with cancerman."
 
"He...he knows about this?"
 
Skinner looked at her closely. "Why do you think Mulder's
been kept alive all these years?"
 
He shook his head at her stunned stare. She couldn't
possibly have any idea. Not until she read that file.
and maybe, probably, not even then. She simply would
not believe it.
 
Scully quickly moved to recover her normal poise, but
it was only a facade. No matter what Skinner said, there 
was something about Mulder that had been hidden, hidden 
at the highest level. Something Forenzzi had witnessed...
no matter how Skinner phrased it, she felt like something 
vital had been ripped from her heart. It was as if her 
spirit had been torn out and stomped on.
 
Scully pulled her professional walls about her as
Skinner's phone rang. He answered it and looked up at
Scully, clearly needing privacy. She stood, gratified her
legs continued to support her.
 
"I'll call you when the file arrives," Skinner cupped the
mouthpiece and whispered.
 
Scully nodded and left.
 
She immediately went into her room and for the first time
since her cancer treatment, threw up until her head ached.
 
**************************
End Chapter 1 : Mirror Mirror

Title: MIND GAMES: Book 2:Mirror Mirror 2 of 5
Disclaimers: See Part 1
Author/Feedback: YES please! spider@webspin.org.
All parts can be found at www.webspin.org/xfic.htm

*********************
This section rated NC17 for disturbing pedophile concepts. If you've come this far, please keep going after this chapter - I promise to pull you out of the cess pit.
********************* 

CHAPTER 2

Day 10 - Monday
Coroner's Office, Seattle
5:30 p.m.
 
The previous days had already been a nightmare blur of
court orders and ugly arguments, even uglier press and a
partner who distanced himself from her with cutting remarks
and rude dismissals. Scully felt like she was locked in a
miasmic haze between showdowns and decomposing remains. But
none of it had impacted on her like the morning's
revelations - or lack of them.
 
Scully had tried to push all thoughts of it aside as she
concentrated on the work at hand. They had agreed to
disinter only those victims unclaimed by friends or
relatives. Street kids. Although decomposition had made it
difficult and in some cases impossible to ascertain if the
murderer was left or right handed, enough torsos were
examined to lend credibility to her theory, despite the
M.E.'s vehement insistence that such evidence did not exist.
She had more luck with the toenail trophies. Minute
examination of the victims large toes indicated the nail
had been excised post mortem.
 
Following Mulder's revised profiles, the FBI was burrowing
through, among other things, a convoluted and ugly trail
of porn movie makers. Specifically snuff movies. There were
aspects of that no-one could see related to the way the
bodies were dumped. Traditionally, snuff movies used
imports, frequently Mexican girls and boys, then carefully
disposed of the bodies. But Mulder was sure it would lead
somewhere.
 
Someone, somehow leaked the trophy aspect to the press.
Friday's papers were filled with criticisms and calls for
resignations from the coroner's office. After a round of
snide comments and less than helpful attitudes at the
morgue on Saturday, Scully had gratefully worked alone over
the weekend. No dieners were available to assist but the
small bodies were not difficult to lift and carry.
 
That Monday morning she had been asked to sign the release
papers for the bodies she'd examined in D.C. to be returned
to Seattle. Scully agreed to have them returned, but
refused to release them on the basis that something more 
might yet be learned. In a fit of unprofessional pique the 
M.E., Harqua, told the parents he saw no reason for Scully's 
action. That resulted in a call to the papers and more
hounding press as she'd tried to grab lunch.
 
To cap off one of the shittiest days in her life, she'd
spent twenty minutes trying to find written notes that had
apparently gone *missing* while she showered and changed.
She found them dropped in a bag of biological refuse. The
incident had not set her back. The notes were only copies
from prior work and she had already finished for the day,
but such open hostility might retard, possibly endanger the
investigation. She wordlessly pulled the notes from the
bag, dropped them in a plastic folder and proceeded to dump
them on the M.E.'s desk, sans folder. The resultant
argument had left her depleted and vulnerable and totally
unable to cope with the flashes from newspaper camera's and
bright videocam lights that greeted her exit from the
coroner's office.
 
She'd wanted to park in the underground parking to avoid
just this sort of thing, but there had been no available
spaces when she'd arrived mid-morning. If it were not for
the lights, she might have seen the slick patches of ice on
the edges of the steps. But then again, she thought later,
maybe not.
 
Scully rarely gave much thought to her diminutive size,
but as she jostled her way through the press, he eyebrows
grew together. She'd reached a point where she was just
about to flash her badge and threaten to arrest the next
pencil wielding asshole for obstruction of justice when her
heel slipped on the ice and she fell. No one bothered to
try and help her up, in fact more flash lights went off and
she could just visualize what the press would do with that
*FBI agents falling down on the job*. Oh joy.
 
Suddenly a large black-clad body appeared amongst the
throng. She looked up into Skinner's threatening eyes and 
sighed. Great, just great.
 
Leading Scully to his car, he divested her of her keys and
tossed them to agent Smith. With the door finally sealing
out the shouted questions, Scully closed her eyes and took
a few deep breaths.
 
"Thank you, sir."
 
"No problem, Agent Scully."
 
"How did you know?"
 
"The director."
 
Scully grimaced. Oh fucking joyous day. Maybe she could
get together with Mulder and sing an out of tune duet of
zippity-doo-dah. But the insidious half-revelations of the
morning came to the fore and she closed her eyes. Her
partner...
 
Skinner's words pulled her back to the present. "Seems the
M.E. is unhappy."
 
Scully felt herself bristle, God what else could go wrong
today? "Sir, if you are questioning my..."
 
Skinner shook his head vehemently. "On the contrary, he
and three of the pathologists are about to find themselves
among the ranks of the unemployed. There is no room in
this investigation for petty interagency rivalries. We've
also discovered the press leaks have originated from here.
You have been on this case less than a week and have made
more progress than anyone in the past eighteen months."
 
"It's not just me, sir. Agent Mulder..."
 
"Scully, just for once, take credit where credit is due.
Nobody, at least nobody who matters, underestimates
Mulder's role in this. His latest profiles are sheer
brilliance. Despite his misgivings and the skepticism of
his detractors, it gives us a hell of a lot to work with.
There are some very positive leads out of all of this. An
investigation that could, to date, only be described as
uninspired, now has a new lease. But much of that has been
in no small part due to your findings."
 
Scully finally allowed herself to relax. Now all she had
to do was find Mulder and run a few ideas past him,
hopefully without getting her head snapped off. But could
she face him, knowing that he harbored some dark, ugly
secret about...what? Skinner made no mention of the file.
She hadn't really expected it until later tonight.
Meanwhile, she had to push those thoughts aside. She had 
to force herself to deal with the Mulder she thought she 
knew. What else would be revealed in the near future must 
wait until then.
 
******************************************************

CHAPTER 3

Day 10 - Monday
Seattle
8 p.m.
 
He felt the rhythmic thumping of his heart as his feet 
pounded the pavement. Thump, thump thump. He wished he 
could close his eyes and let the pounding permeate his 
soul. Blood filling his veins, his arteries.
 
Blood. 
 
He would see blood tonight. A lot of blood as it filled 
and overflowed the rhythmic pounding as he fucked him.
 
Mulder almost tripped as the imagery slammed into him. 
Shit. 
It was happening. 
How long did he have before it pushed him aside and took 
control?
 
His momentary panic drove it away and he slowed his 
pace and glanced around, trying to forget that somewhere 
in the city a young boy was cowering in terror.
 
Blood.
 
He would see blood tonight and his body would thrum.
 
No!
 
Mulder clutched at his head. Oh Lord do I have to let 
this happen? Step aside and let it take complete and 
utter control? 
 
Goddammit! It wouldn't be so bad if it simply threw 
him to one side, used his body then let him back in when 
it was finished. Oh no, that would be too easy. He had 
to remain and witness it. He *had* to witness it, 
otherwise what was the point? That *was* the point. 
No Patterson, no poor damned Grahams, no long
dead Webster to serve as its witness. Not this time.
 
Thank Christ he was alone. He just had to find
somewhere safe.
 
Pound, pound, thump, thump, let the heart push the 
blood through his veins. Look around, how to maximize 
the effect? If this was going to happen to him, he had 
to get the most out of it, no pussyfooting around.
Pound, pound as you fuck him and the blood flows.
 
Nausea welled up in him. A child would die soon and he 
could do nothing to prevent it. God help me one more must 
die. God help him, one more must be sacrificed that he
might save them all.
 
It was the only way...
 
Pound pound thump thump, I'm coming to get you little 
one.
 
Where? There! Perfect! Had he subconsciously run here?
He reached into his pocket. Jesus he had had the good 
sense to put one in? So far, so good, you were doing 
something right tonight Mulder.
 
Be prepared.
 
Good little Boy Scout.
 
He was a Boy Scout too.
 
Pound pound thump thump smell the fear.
 
Oh Christ he was not prepared for this, not again!
Ten years, Jesus wept he had gone without this for ten 
years.
 
Ten years.
 
Ten years the boy was, just ten years old.
 
Pound him, thump into him, see the blood, let it flow 
as you get ready to fuck him.
 
Get ready to kill.
 
***************************************************
 
Scully's high heels echoed through the cold, deserted
rooms as she returned to the autopsy bay. She couldn't
understand why Mulder would be there, unless it was to look
for her. They had not made a specific meeting place for
dinner, she had just assumed it would be in the restaurant.
When he hadn't answered her knock at seven, she'd checked
his room. Soiled clothes lay scattered about the floor, but
no sign the bathroom had been used. His cell phone was not
answering, no surprise if he'd gone for a run. As
ridiculous as it seemed in that weather she knew it cleared 
his mind.
 
Half an hour searching the hotel brought her up empty
handed. At first, Scully was inclined to dismiss it, after
all it wouldn't be the first time he'd gone off without
telling anyone. But his car was in the parking lot. Hell,
she thought, maybe he's taken a fall on the ice. Her own
ankle still hurt from tripping earlier in the evening. A
flush of fear arced through her body and the words kept
coming back to her...pedophilia. God where was he? Could
he have become another Patterson? Was he right now, on
the prowl for some young...? Oh, Jesus, no! Skinner had
said he was not *that*...but what?
 
Her cell phone rang. "Scully."
 
"Agent Scully, this is West. Look, I know it sounds kinda
odd, but I thought I just saw Agent Mulder going into the
morgue."
 
Scully frowned, trying to keep her voice steady. "Why do
you think it sounds odd?"
 
"Because he was wearing a track suit. I was driving by and
called out. I'm sure he heard me but he looked sort of...
distracted."
 
"Okay West, thanks for letting me know. I better get down
there, he's probably thought of something."
 
"Want me to turn around and meet you there?"
 
"No, that's fine, he probably just wants to clarify
something in one of my reports."
 
West hung up, but not before Skinner dialed and found
Scully's cell phone number engaged. Damn! He had the file
in hand and it was important she see it as soon as possible.
 
Scully hung up her cell phone and put on her overcoat.
Just as she was about to leave, she realized the back of it
was sopping wet with dirty ice. She hung it in her bathroom
and pulled another one from the closet. She forgot, however
to retrieve her cell phone.
 
********************************************************
 
Feel him, bring him closer to you, hear the screams of terror.
Shut up!
Just shut the fuck up!
I hate it when they squeal like that.
 
Nausea hit him again. He was still in control, long enough
to get himself here...but not for much longer. He could feel 
the window open, feel the conduit between him and himself.
 
One and the same.
 
Become one with him so he is you and you are he.
 
I am not what I am.
 
I am become.
 
He felt himself pushed aside, away and out. And he looked
around at the world below him. Oh God no! Scully no! 
Get back! Get outa here!
 
*********************************************************
 
The lights flickered slowly, revealing nothing in the main
rooms of the morgue. But Scully recalled Mulder's
propensity to sit alone in the dark surrounded by pieces of
the victim's remains, be they articles of clothing or
bodies, in order to saturate himself within the atrocity of
the crime. As if by doing so he could more easily slip into
the persona, the very skin of the creatures he hunted.
 
Scully hesitated briefly, an unfamiliar and unwelcome
shudder of fear arcing up her spine. She'd never been
creeped out by morgues before and the sensation annoyed
her. The dead held no malice for her. It was only the
manner of their deaths that she sometimes, so very often,
abhorred. And it was her job, in no small way, to help them
rest in peace, to give some closure to them and their
families for the injustices perpetrated against them. No,
she held no fear of them...so where did this feeling come
from?
 
Scully's eyes flickered across the room, penetrating the
harsh shadows. Something, someone was here.
 
She resisted the urge to call out. If Mulder was here, he
would be in the back where cold steel refrigerated
compartments separated each unique death into defined
compartments. Gunshot wound, knife, heart attack, drug
overdoes, torn to shreds by insane killer, drowning...all
neatly stacked and categorized.
 
*******************************************************
 
Skinner called again and was frustrated by the continuous
ringing. He punched in West's number instead.
 
"West."
 
"Agent West this is A.D. Skinner, do you happen to know
the whereabouts of Agents Scully or Mulder?"
 
"Um, yes sir, I just got off the phone to Scully. I
thought I saw Agent Mulder entering the morgue. I'm not 
sure why,but the fact that he was in track pants bothered 
me...heseemed...more than usually distracted. So I called 
Scully. She's driving down there now."
 
Shit, was he too late? "All right, West. Where are you now?"
 
"About two-thirds of the way to the hotel, sir. Traffic's
a bit thick in this direction, pretty clear from the hotel
coming into town. Do you want me to turn around and head
back there?"
 
"No...yes...No, go pick up Smith first then get back to
the morgue."
 
"Yes, sir."
 
Skinner frowned and grabbed his coat. Goddamn it to hell.
If he was right, he'd be too late. He could only pray
Mulder was simply distracted. Five minutes, if he ran a 
few lights he could be there in three.
 
********************************************************
 
Scully's stride was less confident now. She would need to
approach Mulder from the front, so he saw her coming. He
had been slipping more and more into the first person the
last twenty-four hours. Slipping deeper into the...thing
that did this to a child. But he seemed more like his old
self only a few hours before. She shivered and clenched her
jaw, steeling herself, then looked hesitantly into the
darkened room. The only light was residual, reflecting here
and there off the polished surfaces of steel. She could see
an autopsy table at the far end, with the tell tale shape
of something on it.
 
Scully knew instinctually Mulder was here. Instinct -- or
was it the unique sense that connected them? Should she
risk turning on the light? No, and calling his name would
be equally distracting. She just needed to find him and
make eye contact, try to draw him back out of the world he
chose to drown in. Or perhaps not. Perhaps it was
sufficient to just be there for him, to be what they wanted
from her, a grounding force that stopped a one-way descent
into hell.
 
But her mind warred...better to let him sink into madness
than let him become...something clicked in here, some
realization. Is this what happened? Did he lose it,
becoming so melded with the mind of the killer that he
played out what the killer was? Was the pedophilia driven
only by insanity?
 
Scully walked slowly towards the occupied table. She
smelled something...something foul and rotten. Not
like and old corpse but something more...maligant.
It wasn't just unwashed Mulder, although that was
present too. No, this was something...worse. She 
shuddered, trying to ward off the feeling of despair 
as the blinding overhead light suddenly snapped on, 
disorienting her. Although she had expected to see him, 
his sudden appearance came as something of a shock.
 
"Mulder, what are you doing?" Scully asked in a gentle voice.
 
"C'mon, bitch, he's ready." It said. But was it a reply?
 
Oh God no! Why did she have to come? Scully! Get away! Go 
back! His mind screamed -- but it was too late. He was now 
apart from his body. Fox Mulder had been pushed away, into 
the farthest corners of the room, and his body was now in 
the control of the killer, mirroring the killers actions 
completely. 
 
Mulder could not stop it, could not control it and God how 
he had tried in the past. He wanted nothing more than to 
close his metaphorical eyes and shut it all out. Let the 
beast do what it will and he would come to claim his body 
back when it finally released him. He had seen Skinner 
arrive and begin to make his way there. Skinner could 
witness this in lieu of him. Skinner...and Scully. 
 
Scully swallowed as the primal part of her brain created
the expected hormonal feedback. Mulder's hardly
recognizable face moved to within inches of hers. His hot 
breath came in ragged gasps. And the stench of decay and rot
filled her nostrils. And yet...it did not seem real. It
seemed as forced as the insane look in her partner's eyes.
 
Oh, fuck. He's lost it entirely.
 
Her stomach turned at this, the most feared loss of all. A 
gunshot wound she could attend to but this...this? What to 
say, what to do to bring him back? Scully opened her mouth 
to speak but he pushed past her with a sickening leer 
directed at the far wall.
 
"He looks good, Sarah, shit he looks good. Why didja have 
to go and take a piss for, eh? You could have waited, you 
could have waited to do it on me afterwards...selfish 
bitch." His voice took on whining edge.
 
Scully's face drained of blood as his grotesque words
smacked her far more powerfully than any fist.
 
"Mulder, it's me, Scully."
 
It seemed unaware of her as it roughly groped at the air. 
"Are you wet yet, huh?" It's hand bumped her hip as it pulled 
back, but before she could react defensively Scully realized 
the contact was accidental.
 
"Yeah, you're wet, you fucking little cunt! You want it
bad, don't you! He's ready too...all soft and little and
sweet and white. Oh, Jesus, am I gonna give it to you. Look
at that little cock, so fucking perfect. Sarah! Hold him!"
 
Scully frowned in confusion as it strode around the
autopsy table like a big cat prowling its cage. Still
uncertain how to react, she stood quietly, waiting for the 
next cue before deciding. Is this what Forenzzi had
witnessed? This madness?
 
"Shut the fuck up!" It stopped and stared at the far
wall. But Scully could see its eyes focusing closer, just
inches in front of him. "Stop fucking sniveling or I'll cut
your fucking little throat! I can't stand it when they
whimper, at least not till I'm inside them, then they can
cry all they fucking like."
 
Scully had been unintentionally holding her breath and the
carbon dioxide built up finally kicked at her conscious and
told her to get on with it. She let it out in a long, 
soundless sigh, praying it would not distract him.
 
It moved, jerkily, like it was not completely in control
"That's it, that's it, get the trousers off...oh Jesus I can 
hardly wait, I'm so fucking hard I'm busting. Oh, God, it's 
gonna be good, sooo tight, so small and tight and good.
"Open his mouth, goddammit, I want his mouth first!"
 
Scully's eyes widened, the investigator's part of her mind
filing away this fact for later. The victim's mouths had
often been so badly mutilated, it had been impossible to
establish if...Suddenly, it lunged at the air in her
direction, its hips bucking. It pushed itself up against 
her, pushing the left side of her body back against the wall. 
It made no attempt to touch or restrain her but the 
uncontrolled power of its bucking movements momentarilly 
held her against the wall.
 
"Yes...I, God, I'm gonna...goddamned little cocksucker
...he bit me! He fucking bit me! Fuck it, I was starting 
to come...Jesus, I'm gonna make you pay for that."
 
Scully had always been acutely aware of her diminutive
size compared to the burly male agents she worked with. 
But Mulder, for all his height, was a fairly lithe build. 
The gentle power with which he had held her playing 
baseball a week before was a distant memory to the feeling 
of brute power pushing her into the wall. 
 
But so far, it made no move to deliberately touch or
restrain her, almost as if her presence was 
coincidental, accidental. How could she get through 
to stop this? Would he attack her if she tried? She 
diagnosed had become savagely psychotic, unable to 
recognize her or his surroundings, lost in the ravaged 
mind of the madman who had killed this child.
 
To her disgust, as he pulled away she saw an erection
straining its now stained trousers. This manifestation
drove home to her how utterly real it had become for him.
She stared in horrified fascination as it stroked itself
through Mulder's pants. Yet it all made a sick kind of 
sense. This then was what Forenzzi had seen, but he had 
not recognized it as madness. A part of her was relieved
beyond measure. This was not Mulder, this was not a
voluntary part of his nature, this was a madness that
took over his soul. God, was it possible to bring him 
back?
 
"Hold him, Sarah, I want the little fucker, *now*!
 
It fumbled for a moment, trying to release its
straining erection. It finally jerked the elastic of 
Mulder's pants and shorts down to its hips. Scully 
wondered if it might yet attack her. Mulder was gone and 
in its place a creature now lurked that might easily kill 
her. She slowly eased her right hand back to her weapon,
but its mad eyes focussed on her and she stopped moving.
But as she looked, she saw something.
They weren't Mulder's eyes...
 
"Stop fucking moving! Stop it, or I'll slit your throat
now!"
 
Scully stopped, unsure if its words were directed to her, 
unsure if Mulder, or the thing that controlled him, even 
recognized she existed or if her presence and movements 
were entirely coincidental. It lunged to stand over her 
once more, but although it came within inches, it still 
didn't touch her. 
 
"You little cunt, open you legs and let me slide in."
 
Scully grimaced at the filth it continued to spit in her
face. And by now, it was spitting, drooling and jerking. 
Mulder's exposed penis occasionally jabbed her stomach in 
a disgusting parody of intercourse. Suddenly it pulled 
back, the lunacy in its eyes turned to cunning.
 
"Okay, yeah, you're right...condom, gotta get the condom
otherwise *they* might find out. Okay, Sarah, yeah, get 
me the fucking rubber. Now, put it on for me while I hold 
him."
 
If he had a body he would have cried. Why? Why Scully? 
Fuck it why even Skinner, although he at least had some 
inkling of the truth. Jesus he could have done this alone!
He could have stood witness...Mulder pulled himself up 
short. He had no right for such self indulgent angst. 
He was in a far better position to witness this crime 
than either Scully or Skinner. And their eyes would be 
invaluable to extract every nuance from the killers' 
actions.
 
He ruthlessly pushed aside his emotions and watched the 
insanity of lust, felt its craving for sex, for blood, 
pushed the emotions aside and concentrated on what little 
he could see through the killer's eyes. He had picked up 
this particular skill quickly. At first his entire being 
had been stomped on, shoved to one corner of the room and 
left to watch in disgusted horror as this thing controlled 
his body. But he had quickly learned to follow its black 
path, to follow into the mind of the killer and see, at 
least partly, with his eyes. 
 
But it had been ten long years and the skills were rusty. 
 
Scully continued to slowly reach for her gun as she watched 
it grab something from Mulder's pocket. Its hand thrust out 
blindly, knocking her right hand away from the holster before 
she could unbutton it. There was a look of expectation in 
its eyes. Should she take it? Should she become involved 
in this madness or ignore it? Could she slip to one side 
and move away? Was she even visible to it? 
 
In hostage situations they were taught not to start
relating to the perpetrators or else they would lose
control. But this was not a hostage situation.
Or was it? Mulder was not there...so who or what now
possessed his body? How could she reach inside and
find Mulder?
 
Its eyes were focussed to one side of her and she decided 
she really had no part of his madness. But to pull him out, 
she had to reach in and get hold of Mulder. Shit. To do that 
meant drawing attention to herself and making her a part 
of his world.
 
<Scully! Jesus Scully! If you're gonna be part of this, 
*help me*! Help me see what *he* sees!> He looked down
on her, down on Skinner hidden in the shadows. He could
not stop this now, he was not longer part of it. But 
if she was going to be there to see...she might even
be able to assist.
He would have gagged at the thought if he had a throat.
But this was his gift. His curse. And now she knew...
<Scully, Christ I'm sorry, but I need you to make this 
end of the link as real as possible so I can *see*
more. Sarah's about to put it on him, *you* have 
to do the same to my body...> 
 
Until then, Scully had avoided looking at his exposed 
penis, trying in some measure to save his dignity when 
he came out of it.
 
Shit. If he came out of it.
 
She pulled her lip into her mouth and bit down, willing
herself to remain calm, willing the horrified revulsion
that was close to sending her stomach contents all over
him, from taking over. It was not the horrific nature of the 
display she was witness to, but that the perpetrator was 
Mulder...
 
But she knew. Even as skeptical as she was. She knew this
was not Mulder.
 
A shapeshifter perhaps? An evil Eddie Van Blundht?
Whatever it was, this was *not* Mulder. No way, no
way in hell.
 
Its hand waved around and bumped hers again as it thrust the 
small foil package out "Do it! Put it on!"
 
<God I'm so sorry Scully,> if he had the power, if he had a 
body he would have cried at the grief of loss.
 
Scully finally looked down and, if was at all possible, felt her
heart break even more. Logic overtook her instinct and she
shook her head. What if this *was* Mulder? It fitted. 
What Forenzzi said fitted. And he had planned this. He had 
gone out and deliberately bought condoms. Unshed tears 
glistened in her eyes. She had to partake in this if she 
had any hope of reaching in and helping him out. 
 
"Put the fucking thing on *now,* Sarah! Don't gimme that
crap about your goddamned hand, you got enough fingers
left to do this!"
 
That it was neither touching nor restraining her gave her 
some measure of courage, so she stepped closer and gently 
took hold of Mulder's penis. Somewhat shocked at the warm, 
pulsing velvet hardness, and his size and girth, a part 
of her wondered if it had been so long since she'd touched 
an aroused man she'd forgotten what it was like, how damned 
big they were when they were angry. Disgusted by the 
insidious thought, she began rolling the condom along his 
length.
 
The situation has not simply repugnant, or even horrific.
It was a surrealistic nightmare. Although her eyes told her 
this man was Mulder, touching him like this, under these 
circumstances made an abomination of what they were to one 
other. This was not Mulder. This was not his penis in her 
hands. This bore absolutely no relationship to any normal 
sexuality, that she could not even think of it as sexual. 
It was raw, violent evil.
 
Although she did not feel physically threatened in any way, 
for the first time in her life, Scully realized that the
act of rape or sexual assault in any form should never be
described as an act of sex. A different term, an ugly
vicious term should be used, a term that described betrayal
and violence and degradation and humiliation beyond belief,
of savage filth perpetuated on both mind and body. How
could the term sex be used in that context with what was
normal and beautiful? The fact that they employed the same
body parts? It made no sense.
 
Hands could be used to caress, to build a city and paint a
work of art, to carry a child and play music to move one's
soul, to literally hold a human heart and give life. But
hands could equally be used to kill and maim, to torture
and brutalize. Yet victims of brutality wielded by hands
did not fear hands that belonged to a loved one, they did
not fear the hands of healers and creators. And thus Scully
managed to separate this act from Mulder. An evil degraded
Mulder's body, using it to commit a travesty of sex.
 
Mulder's body jerked back from her after she'd covered only 
the first couple of inches of his penis, then it spun around 
to face the table. Although she still did not feel personally 
threatened, she reasoned that her interaction might yet 
draw attention to her. And if that happened, its violence might 
be directed at her. She reached for and cocked her weapon, 
then held it in surprisingly steady hands. She carefully aimed 
it at the soft spot in Mulder's shoulder where she knew from bitter 
experience, a penetrating bullet would do the least damage.
 
This was not deja vu, this was an entirely different
madness.
 
In a quiet, reasoning voice she asked "Mulder, it's me, 
Scully. What are you doing?" 
 
<Back off now Scully, I can see...leave it now, let me witness 
this horror alone...>
 
But the killer ignored her, unmindfull of her existance 
because he was a dozen miles away, unknowingly marionetting 
Mulder's body. Instead it swung back and in a move that 
shocked her already overloaded revulsion, reached out with 
its right hand to touch the long black hair of the girls' 
remains as it rested on the autopsy table. No other action 
he had taken so far had caused her such revulsion. 
This was an even more horrific situation than Donnie Phaster. 
 
"Oh, God, Sarah, this is good, soooo good. He's got such
pretty hair, just like yours, Sarah, honey colored. Yours is
short like this too, just like a boy's and you look so good
with your fingers up your cunt. You love this part, don't
you? Don't you?"
 
And then it hit her. The child on the table was a female 
with long black hair. Mulder knew that. Yet he had 
described a boy with short honey colored hair. What was 
this other thing in Mulder's body seeing? How was it 
related to this corpse, or was the presence of the corpse 
just a trigger? A trigger to see...what?
 
"Come over here and let me lick your cunt while I do
this. Oh Sarah it's so good..."
 
The killer rolled his eyes and here, twelve miles from the 
crime, it rolled Mulder's in tandem. The lids closed as
Mulder's body moved roughly, jerking spasmodically, without 
proper rhythm. It showed no awareness of Scully or her gun 
and she realized now that nothing she said or did would get 
through to Mulder. Her actions with the condom had been 
superfluous. Her presence was as a coincidental witness, 
no more, no less. She must allow this sick parody to play 
itself out till the finish, yet she could not bring 
herself to relinquish her weapon and walk away. 
 
Suddenly its left hand grabbed at the table. Picking
up a scalpel it swung the blade wildly in front of Mulder. 
It grasped at the air with its right hand, but jerked back
only once as it cried in Mulder's voice, "Keep your 
fingers working Sarah, your cunt tastes good, sooo 
good. Oh, God I'm gonna come, I'm gonna come it's so 
tight and sweet and...but you can't come yet, can you? 
You need the blood, you need me to do it to him dontcha, 
Sarah! Oh, yes!"
 
Its hand lowered the scalpel and Scully added pressure 
to the trigger, a part of her still fearful that it might yet 
leap at her. The slack nipple at the tip of the condom 
suddenly fill with semen as it slashed Mulder's hand down 
and across once.
 
"Oh God Sarah, yes! Come baby, come, see the blood...Oh
I'm coming baby...it's sooo good!"
 
Without warning, the killer dropped the scalpel and Mulder 
fell to the floor, seemingly unconscious.
 
He was slung back into his body. In control at last he
collapsed on the floor in mental agony. God it hurt, it 
always hurt so much, but only for seconds. Yet as with the 
last time, a decade before, he must now face a greater 
horror. 
 
Scully. 

**********************
End Chapter 3 Mirror Mirror

Title: MIND GAMES: Book 2:Mirror Mirror 3 of 5
Disclaimers: See Part 1
Author/Feedback: YES please! spider@webspin.org.
All parts can be found at www.webspin.org/xfic.htm

*********************
This section rated R for graphic descriptions 
********************* 
CHAPTER 4

Day 10 - Monday
Coroner's Office, Seattle
8:20 p.m.
 
Scully's hands started to shake and she felt her face begin 
to collapse as shock finally overtook her. It took every 
ounce of willpower not to empty the contents of her 
stomach all over the floor.
 
She carefully removed her finger from the trigger, not yet
prepared to put away her weapon, but fearful of her
nervous hands. After a few deep breaths she relaxed her
hold but kept it aimed at Mulder. Only then did she see
Skinner standing in the shadows, his own gun aimed at her
partner. The shock of seeing him was like a physical blow
to Scully and her gun hand fell to her side. She clutched 
her stomach and leaning over quickly to grab at a large 
specimen bowl, heaved her heart out.
 
Skinner strode across the room and Scully collapsed onto
her knees. He took her hair and held it back from her face
as she emptied her stomach for the second time that day. A
small part of her wondered if this was why Mulder couldn't
keep anything down, because he felt this horrific monster
trying to dominate his mind. When the heaving finally
stopped, Skinner lifted her slowly and pulled her into an
embrace, handing her a surprisingly soft handkerchief. The
sight of it touched something in her, some memory of Mulder
silently holding out handkerchiefs to her during unexpected
nose bleeds. First one, then another deeper sob erupted 
from her tiny frame. But she quelled them, fast. 
 
Skinner held her rigid body tightly, cursing every one of
the bastards that had driven Mulder and this fine woman to
this perverted insanity. He held her until he felt her
relax a little, then pulled her back and demanded her eyes 
look at his.
 
"Scully, that...thing, that was *not* Fox Mulder."
 
Scully nodded and said, "I...I know."
 
"No, that's the problem, you don't. Dammit!" Skinner
dropped his hold on her and turned to look at the man now
sobbing quietly on the floor. He looked back at Scully to
see if she had heard her partner's cries. Scully wiped the
tears from her eyes with the handkerchief while she
holstered her weapon. She frowned in concern at her prone
partner.
 
"Scully, I came to give you that file. You should know
that Mulder had already agreed for you see it, before our
meeting this morning. But he asked me to hold off in the
hope it would not be necessary. I honestly did not think it
would happen this fast."
 
Scully's gaze was torn between her partner and Skinner.
But she wanted to get to Mulder. Only half-paying attention
to Skinner's words, she pulled off her black leather gloves
and steered around the A.D.
 
Skinner did not try to stop her when she crouched at
Mulder's side and felt his pulse. It was racing. The color
of his skin and clammy feel told her he was going into
shock. His sobs were almost unearthly and they tore at her
heart, despite the filth this man had just dragged her
through.
 
"We've got to get him to the hospital, he's going into
shock."
 
"No." Skinner put a hand on her shoulder.
 
Scully frowned up at him and pulling her professional mask
on. "Sir, I am a doctor and I'm telling you this man is
sick. He's going into shock. He has just suffered a severe
psychotic episode. He needs immediate incarceration and
medication if we are to be of any..."
 
"Scully, no..!" A cracked whisper reached her from the
floor.
 
Scully looked down at her partner's drawn face, "Mulder,
Mulder?" Her hands reached for his pulse again while
Skinner spoke.
 
"Agent Scully, it is not a psychotic episode. At least not
of any type you'll see in any psychiatric textbook. What
you were just witness to was literally a form of possession.
If they drug him up now, it will damage him, sending him
into a genuine psychotic state...that's why he...why you
need to read the file."
 
Skinner bent and touched the younger man's shoulder as he
spoke "Agent Mulder, I am very, very sorry I did not ensure
Agent Scully received it in time."
 
"S'all right...skeleton's finally out of the closet, huh?"
He smiled bitterly as his body was overcome with
involuntary shudders. "And now we have another 
victim...fuck."
 
Scully was confused. Everything she had ever been taught,
everything she held to be true flew in the face of this.
And what did he mean, another victim? How could he know 
that?
 
"Sir, this man *is* suffering from shock and we *have* to
get him to a hospital, *now*!"
 
"No!" Skinner and Mulder spoke in unison.
 
"Scully, no drugs, told you before...no drugs...just kill
me."
 
Skinner stood and reached across for one of the autopsy
blankets and wrapped it around Mulder's shoulders while he
angled the younger man up against the table's legs. In a
deft move Skinner reached down and pulled the condom from
Mulder's flaccid penis. He stood quickly and, grabbing
Scully's impromptu sick bowl on the way, strode to the
washroom.
 
Scully crouched in dazed confusion until she heard the
toilet flush and sounds of running feet. In seconds, others
would be here and for the moment, she wanted no one except
the three people in that room to know what had happened.
 
Swallowing the raw pain of bile and revulsion in her
throat, she quickly wiped the residue from Mulder's penis
with the edge of the autopsy blanket and pulled his track
suit pants up, with no regard for fine adjustment in his
shorts. She tried to look into his eyes to tell him it was
okay, but his face scrunched up in mortal agony. Tears
coursed down his cheeks and he began to rock back and
forth.
 
That's it, Scully thought. That. Is. It. He's going to
hospital. He was completely disassociative.
 
Skinner came back with a wet towel and glancing at
Mulder's trousers, nodded briefly to Scully as Agent's West
and Smith came barreling into the room.
 
"Call the paramedics." Scully snapped at West, who
abruptly halted at the sight of Mulder on the floor.
 
"No!" Skinner's voice arrested West's movement to reach
his cell phone.
 
"Sir, look at him! He is completely..."
 
"Agent Scully."
 
Scully had been on the receiving end of Skinner's wrath
before and it left her quaking. But the tone of his voice
this time was almost unearthly in its implied threat.
 
"Agent Scully, you will not disobey a direct order
especially given your ignorance of this situation." Scully
felt as if she were being slapped in the face. And for
Skinner to be doing it in front of two other agents,
especially after what she, what both of them had just
witnessed...Scully's eyes narrowed in righteous ire...
until she recognized the pleading look in Skinner's eyes.
 
Trust me, for once, if never again, just this once, trust
me. Trust Mulder, they said.
 
The room seemed to hold its collective breath until
Mulder's singular sob cut through the tension.
 
Skinner was the first to recover. He bent down and lifted
Mulder in his arms. To Scully's professional horror Skinner
slung her partner over his shoulder in a fireman's lift,
ordering West and Smith to clear a path through the morgue
and into the basement car park.
 
The two agents had the good sense to say absolutely
nothing until Skinner gently laid Mulder in the back of his
car.
 
Smith tentatively asked, of no one in particular, "What
now?"
 
Skinner replied, "Agent Scully will accompany Agent Mulder
and myself to the hotel. I'd like you two to go back inside
and clean up anything that looks out of place. Put the body
back, turn out the lights. Then go back to the hotel and
get some sleep. If anyone asks, tell them the truth, that
Agent Mulder was profiling and collapsed from exhaustion.
He'll be fine once he gets a good night's sleep and a hot
meal in his belly."
 
West and Smith glanced at each other. Sure. Fine. Whatever
the A.D. says.
 
Skinner motioned for Scully to give him her car keys.
Fumbling around, she pulled them out and handed them to 
her boss. He in turn tossed them to West. "One of you 
bring this back to the hotel, it's parked out front."
 
They turned and left without a word.
 
"Scully, get in the car." Skinner ordered.
 
Scully began to shake, seriously shake. She dug her
fingernails into her palms so hard they became slippery
with blood. It took some moments to get the buckle done.
 
"Agent Scully," Skinner spoke softly as he turned the
vehicle out of the morgue's basement car park. Scully's
face was turned outwards, watching the shards of light
through the raindrops on the window. They broke up,
fractionalized. She turned her face forward and watched the
windshield wiper drag pieces of light across her eyes.
Blood red, white, amber. Pieces of her soul and heart
fragmented and laying shattered and splotched across the
window.
 
Skinner called her two or three times, getting her
attention finally by shouting, "Dana!"
 
Scully blinked and stared at him, round eyed. That was the
second time today she'd faded out on him.
 
Skinner sucked his breath in at the look on her face. He
had to get this across, he had to get it across now! She
*had* to understand what had happened in there.
 
"Scully, listen to me. Mulder is *not* psychotic and he
did *not* do what you just witnessed. Just...just listen to 
me a minute. This is *nothing* to do with normal profiling. 
He can and regularly does them with one arm tied behind 
his back. Okay, he gets lost in them, forgets to eat and 
sleep and bathe, but that's the nature of profilers. 
And he's brilliant. You know as well as I that most people 
with eidetic memories haveaverage to low levels of
intelligence. Mulder's goes off the scale and he combines
that processing ability with the ability to recall and 
cross-reference everything he sees and reads. That in 
itself leads to extraordinary, uncanny predictions resulting 
in a solve rate that no one, past or present, has ever 
emulated.
 
"For the first year after the X-files was opened, Mulder's
solve rate declined as his theories got wilder. Then you
came on board and it shot through the roof again."
 
Skinner held up his hand to halt her expected protest
"Yes, I'm fully aware that black-lunged son of a bitch
brought you in to debunk Agent Mulder's work. They wanted
him back in the mainstream so they could keep him off
their backs and keep their fucking secrets. But they 
wanted him alive. They *needed* this talent. And they 
misjudged you. They thought they could use you and they
shot themselves in the foot. That's all beside the point,"
Skinner shook his head to get back on track.
 
"This...thing...this is something else entirely. You saw a
glimpse of it, just the edges, on the Mostow case. But 
somehow Mulder wasn't completely...receptive. He couldn't 
let go. Or maybe the thing couldn't take over Mulder's 
body for some reason and went for Patterson's instead. 
I don't know, it was as if, instead of just the mind of a 
killer, it really was a...a demon." Skinner's face 
scrunched up as he tried to explain a concept he hardly 
grasped himself.
 
Scully looked at her boss as if he'd grown another head. 
Skinner talking about demons as if they existed? What
was he trying to say, that Mulder was...possessed?
 
Skinner continued "Immediately after that I was called in 
by the director and made privy to a little known file, 
Mulder's file. It explained a hell of a lot to me, as it 
will to you, as to how the bureau continues to tolerate 
the X-files division, despite the pit stops along the way.
 
"Mulder's abilities have been a closely kept secret. It's
the real reason they called him Spooky...because it spooked
the bejesus out of those who witnessed it. It sure as hell
creeped me out, and I was half-expecting it. Not now, but
soon."
 
"How long were you standing there?" Scully's voice took on
a deadly tone.
 
"I know what you're thinking Agent Scully, but you can't
stop it. You can't stop him once it takes him over or you 
risk losing him...not into madness but into...losing
him from...his body. He has to get back in when its over.
And medication stops that, or slingshots him back out 
again and makes his body catatonic. Eventually, his body
would die and he would be left...adrift." 
Skinner grimmaced, trying to find the right words. 
"You have to ride it out. That's what Forenzzi never 
understood. He inadvertently saw an episode like this 
and had no comprehension that *it wasn't Mulder*! 
 
"Profilers try to get into the minds of killers. But this 
is not profiling. At first they thought it was the killer 
getting into *Mulder's* mind, a sympathetic form of madness.  
But that's not it, it's *not* a form of possession or 
psychic channelling nor astral travel. 
It's something else entirely. 


"When Mulder goes into deep profile mode, sometimes his
mind becomes so receptive to the killer's emotional intensity
that a sensory real-time link is forged. Once the connection 
is made, Mulder is forced from his body and becomes a passive 
observer. Meanwhile, his body is connected to the killer and 
mirrors the exact actions *as they occur*.  Patterson called 
it just that, mirroring. And that fucking son of a bitch did 
not see fit to debrief Forenzzi, so Forenzzi was left with the 
impression that Mulder was getting off surrounded by the photos 
of kids, dead kids, when it was the killer as reflected by
Mulder's body. 
 
"Agent Scully, what you need to understand is that we just 
witnessed the rape and murder of a child as it actually took 
place, through Mulder's body becoming a...a doppelganger, 
mirroring the exact actions of the killer. 
 
The horror of that reality hit her unexpectedly. She 
gagged and grabbed the sodden handkerchief, laid he 
head between her legs and sucked in deep, even breaths.
"How...how long has he been doing...this?"
 
Skinner negotiated a path through the traffic before he
continued, "It started about six months after he entered 
the BSU. The first time, Patterson was present. It was a 
horrific child mutilation case -- not as bad as this one, 
but bad. They understandably thought Mulder had lost it, 
gone completely round the bend. Called in the men in white 
coats and drug him up on Haldol and Thorazine, enough to 
knock an elephant out. But the more they gave him, the worse 
he became. In twelve hours all his vitals began to slide... 
he was literally dying. They tried every damned medication 
under the sun and with every new drug, he faded even more. 
Finally, the attending psychiatrist, Andrew Webster, 
realized they were getting nowhere fast. He made a decision 
that could have cost him his career, at the very least, but 
it paid off. Mulder owes him his life. Webster decided the 
only way to understand what was happening to Mulder was to 
dry him out, clean all the drugs from his system and start 
from scratch. Let him revert back to his natural psychotic 
state, whatever in hell that was, and rethink the treatment.
 
"Within forty-eight hours Mulder was back to normal. I
mean completely and utterly normal. One hundred percent fit
and mentally sound. No one, least of all Mulder, knew what
the hell had happened, although he swore that the entire
time he was *outside* his body. And he relayed complete
conversations between doctors *two rooms away*! He
couldn't get back *in* until the drugs cleared his system.
and without being inside himself, his body was *dying*.
 
"Naturally, he was immediately suspended on full pay pending 
an investigation of his psychiatric fitness. 
 
"On a desperate hunch, Patterson acted on the information
Mulder revealed during this...mirroring. It was so damned 
good they tagged and arrested the killer within twelve hours, 
saving two kids held prisoner in the process. But the real
shock came when Patterson discovered the timing of Mulders'
attack coincided exactly with the murder of the last victim.
And according to the other kids who witnessed it, the 
details were not simply similar, but frighteningly,
uncannily identical."
 
"Patterson nearly pissed himself when he figured out 
that under the right circumstances, Mulder's body
could become a conduit, a real time window to a crime
as it occurred, while his personality was pushed...
outside somehow. He convinced the powers that be that 
Mulder was an extremely valuable commodity that could be 
kept under wraps and used when necessary.
 
"Mulder was, as far as Patterson was concerned, more 
valuable than gold. You see, Patterson taught the men 
under him that to find a monster..."
 
"To find a monster, you have to become one yourself."
Scully replied softly. In this case, Mulder's body
could become the monster while his mind remained
lucid and free to observe.

Mulder's calm acceptance of Donnie Phaster now explained 
itself to her. Donnie had nothing, absolutely nothing on 
what an outside person would think of Mulder after seeing 
him in the same situation as what they had just witnessed.
 
Then Sully recalled the Roche case...Oh my God, she 
thought. As much as her science could not accept it, 
this...mirror, this marionetting of the killer's actions 
explained Mulder's receptiveness to the dreams. 
 
No.
 
No! She could not deal with this, it didn't make any sense!
 
But what was the alternative? What she had been witness to
was *not* Mulder. No way in hell would *Mulder* have ever 
done those things. Skinner's explanation was the only one 
that made *did* make sense.
 
Skinner glanced across at the small women tucked sadly
into the passenger seat of the car. He had been fearful
that Scully was far too absorbed in her own personal hell
to have been listening. He swallowed heavily and continued.
He should have known better.
 
"Patterson drove Mulder, drove him far beyond acceptable
limits. He treated him like shit, like some fucking
personal divining rod. Oh, he was good, damned good at 
pressing all of Mulder's buttons. He kept him on Valium 
between cross-country flights, herding him from one sick 
case to the next with hardly enough time to shower and 
shave between them. Patterson convinced Mulder that every 
new child or woman who died at the hands of a serial killer 
was one that might have been saved if Mulder had just 
allowed himself to be sublimated, to be *used* sooner. 
And the bureau turned a blind eye, too damned pleased 
to take the credit for quick resolution on the worst of 
these cases."
 
Scully closed her eyes and groaned, sickness of spirit
vying with outright nausea at the way these men had used,
abused him. The cancer they had given her seemed nothing
compared to this. Christ, he was just a wet-behind-the-ears
boy...Silent unshed tears scratched at the back of her eyes.
 
Skinner turned into the main part of town, cursing the
traffic snarled behind an accident. The best he could
figure was half an hour before Mulder woke up. How long
since it had happened, twenty minutes? Would they make the
hotel in ten? He shook his head and continued.
 
"Not only was their wonder boy the best profiler, he had
this...this ability to let them see the monster in action.

"It took five or six episodes before Webster, who'd been
assigned as Mulder's personal watchdog, came up with the
idea of monitoring brain wave activity. And that's when 
they figured it out. It's all in the file, Scully. They 
mapped  Mulder's normal brainwave activity. During one of 
these episodes it *shifts* into something, someone else 
entirely.
 
"I don't know much about it, but a person's brainwave 
pattern is as unique as a fingerprint, or their DNA. 
Webster later mapped comparative brainwave patterns of
the killers Mulder profiled, of the monsters we saw 
through him and he found the identical patterns in Mulder's
brain activity during these episodes.
 
"Scully this is not some weird schizophrenia, not by a 
long shot. This was direct, unequivocal scientific 
proof that Mulder has the capacity to mirror the killer 
*at the very moment the killer is murdering the victim*.  
How and where Mulder is *removed*. we don't know. All 
Mulder can say is that he's above his body, above the 
entire scene as it takes place. Mulder's the psychologist 
but even he can't explain the fact that he remains a 
passive observer the entire time. Although under the 
right circumstances, he can follow something of link and 
observe what the killer sees."
 
"I think this goes a long way in explaining how 
quickly he understood Robert Modell and his sister. It's
because, although he had not control, he had some
experience in what it felt like to have his personality
removed from the actions of his body.
 
"Scully, this is where it's important you understand what
I think is happening. You see, when he ceases mirroring, 
when he is given back control of his body, he remembers 
*everything*. And right now, that knowledge, that
awareness of you being there of seeing...being subject
to..." Skinner's lips curled in disgust "That's what
terrified Mulder the most. That's why he wanted you to
remain in D.C., why he disappeared on you, on all of us, in
the Mostow case.
 
"Scully, I understand how you were affected by Donnie 
Phaster, even before that son of a bitch abducted you. Do 
you understand now why Mulder feared you seeing him like 
this? He saw it as all your nightmares, every
conceivable horror all rolled into one -- and you would
naturally mistake him for being the source."
 
Scully swiveled her head and glared at Skinner. "And you
*knew.* You let him go on this case and you damned well
*knew,* you bastard."
 
Although her voice had been soft, quiet, it skewered
Skinner's heart.
 
"Yes, Agent Scully, I knew. And I didn't have any choice.
And neither does he, because too many lives have been lost
and we were not much closer to resolving this thing than at
the beginning -- until tonight." Skinner jerked his head at
the prone form of Mulder in the back seat, determined to
finish the story.
 
"Mulder managed to pull himself out from under Patterson's
thumb. I don't know that he would ever have gone along 
with it in the first place, except for his own personal 
guilt trip."
 
"Samantha."
 
Skinner nodded "We both know Mulder takes it personally
when he can't solve something. He takes every one of life's
fucked-up miseries under wing and tries to save them in
lieu of Samantha. It's very, very personal with him...but 
he's no fool. He put up with Patterson's shit for three 
years, obsessing, mirroring, on these sick fucks more and 
more. He'd seen two of his friends eat their own guns just 
doing *normal* profiles and watched Webster die in his arms 
in a fatal shootout early in 1989. Then Patterson demanded, 
in fact ordered, Mulder to skip Webster's funeral and catch 
the next flight to some other abominable mess halfway across 
the country.
 
"Mulder hadn't had a day off in almost three years. I
still don't know how he pulled it off, and I'm not sure 
what in hell happened to set Mulder off, but he went on 
the case and halfway through it, beat the crap out of 
Patterson, told him to shove it, then took four months off. 
When he came back, he went straight into the VCU. He agreed 
to take on *normal* profiles on a case by case basis, but 
refused to allow himself to mirror as he had before.
 
"How...how...if he has no control over it, how does he 
bring it on...or prevent it from happening?"
 
Skinner grimaced in uncertainty "I think his body needs to 
be run down. Lack of food and sleep deprivation seems to 
open him up to it, but he has no control over the timing 
because it depends on the killer. I understand he may have 
some warning, as the killer prepares his victim. Mulder 
apparently feels it coming on and tries to lock himself away 
from everyone, but sometimes it comes on too fast. And it 
works best if he has some contact with evidence of prior 
kills, like the corpse tonight, or photos or clothing. 
 
"We've backtracked Forenzzi's record. He was a case worker
in Michigan helping track another child killer. Apparantly
Mulder felt it coming on so fast he had no time to warn
Patterson or Webster, so he locked himself in his hotel room.
I called up the guy who was ASAC at the time and he
remembered Forenzzi said something about hearing some
cries from Mulder's rooms and breaking in the hotel door.
Patterson and Webster reached him about the same time,
but Forenzzi must have seen him handling the photos."
 
"That would explain his description of a blonde haired 
male, even though he was touching..." Scully mumbled, 
her analyst mind already fitting the pieces together 
before her logical faade convinced her this was crazy.
 
"Patterson met with him once and only once after that, in
the director's office no less, immediately after Mulder's
partner had been killed in a fatal shootout in September of
that year."
 
"Steve Wallenberg." Scully spoke softly.
 
"Yeah, of course, Mulder took it personally, blamed himself
even though he'd done everything by the book. Patterson 
swooped in for the kill and during the meeting he
threw a fistful of photos at Mulder and virtually accused
him of being responsible for the deaths of dozens of
children on cases Mulder wouldn't touch during his time in
the VCU.
 
"With the director himself making the request, Mulder
agreed to transfer back to BSU, conditional on Patterson
not watchdogging him. At first, Mulder stuck to normal
profiling. He had good reason not to mirror, but Patterson 
hung this guilt trip on him so often that four months 
later Mulder agreed to take on a case that had them in 
knots for almost three years. There was already a 
permanent rift between Patterson and Mulder, so another 
watchdog was put on him. The director blames himself at 
least in part, for what followed. Mulder immersed himself 
and mirrored this guy...but the timing sucked. Something 
went very badly wrong.
 
Skinner turned his indicator on and eased into a parking
space directly behind the hotel. He switched off the engine
and glanced over his shoulder at Mulder, still hunched on
the back seat, eyes close and face pinched. He was still in
the unconscious state brought on by the strange ability 
they'd come to know as mirroring. Skinner turned to 
Scully and took her hand in his before he spoke.
 
"This guy had been killing about every four months. Over 
three years he'd taken down eleven young men. The next 
one was due in a week. Everyone knew that and Mulder
prepared himself to be locked up and videotaped. But
it happened three days too soon and instead of a padded
cell, it happened while Mulder was in his apartment...
and it involved his wife."
 
Scully's jaw literally dropped open in surprise. But 
Skinner had already released her hand and was stepping 
out of the car.
 
"Scully, go around the front and get the fire escape door
opened."
 
Scully unbuckled her belt and moved like an automaton. Too
much. Too much crowded in her mind and her heart to be
dealt with. She blocked them off, building walls as fast as
she could, savagely pushing aside the grotesque image of
Mulder handling himself, of the slashing scalpel, as she
ran along the alleyway to the front of the hotel.
 
His wife...she hadn't even known he'd been married.
 
Fortunately, most everyone was in the dining room and she
avoided questioning looks about her disheveled appearance
and mascara stained face. Following the fire exit signs she
came to the barred door at the rear. Pressing down on it,
she was grateful that the owner complied with the building
code and kept it unlocked. She pushed it open and was
almost stepped on by Skinner as he maneuvered Mulder's 
body through. He glanced around, unfamiliar with the layout 
of the hotel, trusting Scully would have cased the entire
building soon after arrival. He was not disappointed.
 
Scully walked swiftly in front of the A.D., then turned to
ascend a flight of stairs. She wondered how her boss would
be able to carry Mulder up three flights, but he seemed to
have no difficulty.
 
They made it to Mulder's room just as he started to come
around.
 
Skinner lowered the younger man to the bed and began
stripping him. He told Scully to get a trash bucket and
make sure it was lined with plastic because any minute
Mulder would wake and the first thing he would do was
puke.
 
"How do you know all this?" Scully asked, then silently
cursed both her partner and Skinner for not giving her
access to this damned file one hell of a lot sooner. "And
why the hell did he keep it from me?"
 
Skinner turned to look at Scully over his shoulder as he
worked in Mulder's buttons.
 
"If the situation were reversed, Agent Scully, would you
tell Mulder?" he asked softly.
 
Scully was about to bite back a reply when Skinner added,
"Especially if you knew he wouldn't believe you?"
 
Scully's jaw worked to snap back a denial. But then she
froze.
 
Oh, God, of course.
 
Scully the skeptic. If it can't be proved, it's not real.
 
But all she had seen, all Mulder had opened her eyes to,
had at least taught her that there was much she could not
explain, at least not quite in her terms. She'd seen a
woman held in thrall against the ceiling of a house by a
maniacal boy, while that same boy lay in a hospital bed on
the other side of town. She'd seen a dozen, a hundred
things that made her realize her science had a few glaring
holes in it. Only a few weeks before, she herself had
suffered at the hands of some sort of psychic surgeon. But
had she ever admitted as much to Mulder? Had she ever once 
really conceded that he was right? Ever?
 
Had she?
 
But Skinner said the brain scans showed unequivicol 
evidence, substantiated proof! And yet, such evidence 
proved nothing other than that a different brainwave pattern
existed. It did not *prove* Mulder was not responsible 
for his body's actions.
 
Scully stood there agonizing over what would happen when
Mulder woke. He would remember, he would remember... 
Oh, God, the entire thing -- what he'd said and oh, fuck, 
what he'd done in front of her. What he'd said and what 
she'd done, rolling the condom...
 
Scully swayed as a different kind of fear now hit her.
Mulder, knowing her for the skeptic she was, knowing the
effect the Donnie Phaster had on her, would refuse to
believe she understood, that she knew the thing that
occurred that night had nothing to do with him, or her.
Nothing to do with them...
 
It would destroy him, thinking, knowing, he disgusted her
as much as the sick evil fucks who killed with such
perverted pleasure. Worse, that she had worked and trusted 
him all these years and he had turned out to be hiding the 
heart of a monster.
 
Oh, God, how can I convince him otherwise? Please, dear 
Lord help me, help me find a way to convince him I know, I
really know it was not him but a conduit that uses his 
body. How can you give this man this...talent...to fight 
your monsters, but deny him the ability to be loved 
because of that?
 
Mulder's groans snapped her back to reality. Scully
blinked and saw Skinner pulling the trash container up to 
Mulder's bare chest just in time. Scully mentally slapped 
herself and, kicking off her shoes and dropping her coat, 
strode into the bathroom and turned on the hot shower. 
Skinner had stripped the younger man down to his shorts 
and socks. Scully realized such an experience would be 
akin to rape and that Mulder would need to cleanse
himself. She looked across at the vanity and snatched up
the toothbrush and paste.
 
Outside, Skinner held the younger man steady as he heaved
bile into the container. It shocked Skinner that Mulder
brought up little but fluids. When the hell was the last
time Mulder ate? And yet, this starvation would have been
necessary to make him recepetive.
 
Finally, Mulder stopped retching and began to shiver. 
Skinner put his arms under Mulder's shoulders and walked 
him into the bathroom. Mulder opened his eyes enough to
get a glimpse of Scully. His face pulled in on itself in 
agony.
 
"Get her the fuck outta here!"
 
"Mulder, it's all right!" Scully touched his arm but he
flinched from her as if from a firebrand.
 
"No!" His voice fractured, acid bile having burned his
throat. "Jesus, Skinner, what sort of sick fuck are you, get
her out! Get her as far the hell away from me as possible!"
 
"Mulder, listen to me. I know what happened, I know it
wasn't you!" Scully cried.
 
Mulder turned to Skinner, pulling his arm away and swaying
"Get out! Both of you, just get...out!"
 
Skinner looked troubled, he had absolutely no idea what to
do in this situation. The one and only psychiatrist who'd
treated Mulder was dead these ten years. Patterson might
have been able to help, but he was locked away in genuine
insanity. The files said only that Mulder completely
recovered within an hour or so of each incident...except
for the last one and even Skinner could find out no more
about it other than a dropped assault charge and the terse
notation of marriage annulment.
 
He didn't need to connect the dots on that one.
 
In a burst of anger and frustration Skinner turned and
slammed his fist into the bathroom door, splintering the
timber work.
 
Ignoring both of them, Mulder stripped his socks and
boxers then stepped into the cubicle and thrust his head
under the healing spray of the shower. He was way past
modesty now. Scully had more than a fucking eyeful that
night.
 
Shit. Here we fucking go again.
 
The pain of loss grabbed at him so strongly he staggered
and thrust his arms out to gain balance. He leaned against
them and allowed the quiet sobs to wrack his body as he
slowly slid to the bottom of the shower. Nothing would wash
the pain away, nothing could make him clean, ever again. He
was filth in her eyes. Beyond filth, beyond anything even
vaguely human.
 
Scully quickly looked at Skinner's knuckles then glaring
at him, ordered him to find some ice and fix it himself.
She had more important things to attend to than his guilty
conscience.
 
She stripped her jacket and removed her gun and holster. A
latex glove fell from nowhere and she realized she must
have grabbed it with her impromptu sick bowl, then
inadvertently tucked it under her holster. She picked it up
and was suddenly revolted by the dried blood and gore, and
evidence of her being ill. But the sight of the ugly,
crumpled, disgusting thing suddenly inspired her. She
glanced across at Mulder crouched in the corner of the
shower, silent tears cursing down his beautiful face now
made ugly by grief. Scully smelled herself and the
splattered vomit on her clothes and the glove. Tucked down
inside her skirt, the glove had left a wet patch of
something indescribable against her blouse. Lovely. She was
suddenly desperate to be in that shower, to be under that
hot, cleansing water with her partner. She stripped
everything but bra and panties and, carrying the glove with
her, stepped into the relatively large cubicle and crouched
down before Mulder.
 
"Mulder, Mulder look at me."
 
He shook his head, too pained to yell at her,
"Scully, go away."
 
"Damn you. Mulder, don't you go haring off into that self-
pitying black hole again! I know what happened *and
it wasn't you*!"
 
"Yeah, right Scully. And you believe in all that paranormal
shit all of a sudden, right? How fucking convenient."
 
"Look at me Mulder...look at this!"
 
He sat shaking his head back and forth, wishing she would
just go away. He could not open his eyes and see the
loathing hidden in those beautiful eyes. He could never
face that. Knowing was bad enough but having to see it...
 
Scully knew it would be almost impossible to get through
to him. But she had managed it before, in goddamned worse
situations than this.
 
"Jesus, Mulder, you think I'm gonna run out on you for
this? What about that time you had a hole drilled in your
stupid head and pointed a gun at me? I didn't leave then
Mulder and I'm sure as hell not going to leave now. You're
my goddamned partner, for better or worse."
 
He needed her. Christ, he needed her. But she would never
trust him again. He had to know, he had to know before his
guts turned inside out. If he gave her time to recover she
might be able to hide it. But if he caught her unaware...He
snapped his eyes open and stared at Scully long and hard.
 
The look of sheer relief and genuine pleasure in her eyes
was made almost ethereal by a subtle smile on her lips. A
smile that reached her eyes.
 
He frowned in confusion until he felt her hands take his.
He looked down as she made him take a slippery, odious
latex glove in one hand. It stunk of vomit and his first
reaction was to drop it but something told him it was
important. His eyes questioned her.
 
"It's like that glove, Mulder," Scully intoned quietly.
She held up her hand, soft and unblemished and put it in
his other hand. "From a distance, to the untrained eye, it
looks like it's part of me, it's almost transparent. But
it's not me. It's nothing to do with me or what I am. It's
a skin, a tool I pull over my hand when I handle something
horrible. And I've handled more horrible things than even
you can imagine, Mulder. But they don't affect *me*, they
don't ever touch *me*, because when my job is done, when my
part is done trying to piece together the horrors that are
perpetrated on people, I pull off this glove," Scully
pulled the slimy object from Mulder's grasp "And toss it
away."
 
Scully threw the offensive object into the toilet boil and
reaching up, flushed it. The hotel would have a fit if they
knew, but right now, she didn't give a flying fuck how many
toilets got backed up.
 
"And what remains is just this. Just my hand, a bit sweaty
and in need of a wash but still *just* my hand. Mulder,
does this hand repulse you?"
 
The beginnings of a smile touched the corner of his mouth
and his head shook almost imperceptibly.
 
"Your job, your talents are different than mine, Mulder. You
pull on a different skin, a different tool to help you
reach into the minds of the killers or the victims, while 
I reach into their bodies. We each approach the same job 
from different angles, with different tools. When we're 
finished, we peel off those skins and throw them away. A
nd what remains is what's always been there, untouched, 
unblemished."
 
Unbeknownst to the two agents, their boss had stood
quietly by the door and watched the entire exchange. He
feared a violent outburst from Mulder at any moment,
especially after Scully stepped in the shower with him.
Having witnessed almost the entire incident at the morgue
Skinner simply could not believe Mulder would recover so
fast. And Scully...shit. But Skinner let his head rock back
against the door frame in relief.
 
Scully.
 
Goddamned that man if he didn't appreciate the loyalty
and...love she gave to him was like nothing he'd ever
witnessed before.
 
Skinner sighed softly and returned to the main room. He
closed the door quietly to give them some privacy, then
spent a few minutes tidying up the place and bagging the
trash before he left and went next door to his own room.
 
Mulder wanted very much to take his partner in his arms
and just hold her, but he didn't have the strength, or know
quite where to start. He shook his head in amazement and
chuckled.
 
"And I'm supposed to be the psychologist. Think I'll
resign and hand the mantle over to you."
 
Scully smiled and took his hands in hers. She wanted to
hold him close, needing him close to block out the images
of that other...thing. Emboldened by her own emotional
exhaustion she reached across and pulled him to her.
Unresisting, he allowed her to fold himself in her lap. A
half dozen risque comments came to mind, but he rejected
every one. Despite Scully's ability to forgive him, what
had happened involved his body and he needed to steer well
clear of anything sexual. He wasn't sure when, or if he
could ever get that back again. Because this night had not
yet finished.
 
"So, Scully, any skeletons you'd like to share with me to
even up the ante?"
 
"I don't know, Mulder, depends on how many more you've got
left in that closet of yours."
 
"You got that many, too, huh?"
 
Scully chuckled. Maybe now was the worst time to mention
it, but if not now, when?
 
"Mulder...why didn't you ever tell me...was it because of
your wife?"
 
She felt him jerk then stiffen in her arms and she
regretted it instantly.
 
Fuck.
 
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath then pulled away
from her. He knew his timing sucked. He was not trying to
distance himself from her because of that. But holding an
almost naked Scully in a hot shower, while he was
completely naked, was going to embarrass the hell out of 
him if he didn't move soon. Fuck, not that she hadn't seen 
it every fucking inch of it in full living color only an hour 
or so before.
 
Fuck.
 
Shit, he wasn't even up to cursing with a more imaginative
dialogue.
 
He wanted to stand and wash and brush his goddamned
teeth, but not while she was here with him.
 
"Scully, look I realize it's a bit late for false modesty,
but I need to get cleaned up..." he looked at her with
pleading eyes.
 
A shadowy look of disappointment crossed her features. But
she understood that if their positions were reversed, she
would feel the same. As she stood and stepped from the
shower stall, Scully missed the expected innuendo about her
matching silk burgundy undergarments.
 
A sadness crossed her heart. As much as she had huffed and
raised eyebrows over his risque, bordering on sexist,
humor, it frightened her that he was cutting himself off from 
her.
 
She had to stop this. Now.
 
"Mulder, throw the glove away. I have. I don't want to lose
you to this."
 
He glanced up at her and grinned. "You waiting for me to
comment on your shower attire, Scully?"
 
She grinned back in relief as she handed him his toothbrush,
"That's okay, Mulder, you just have."
 
Scully grabbed a towel and opened the door to leave but
glanced back quickly and asked, "Hungry?"
 
"Enough to eat that underwear, partner."

****************************************
End Chapter 4 Mirror Mirror

Title: MIND GAMES: Book 2:Mirror Mirror 4 of 5
Disclaimers: See Part 1
Author/Feedback: YES please! spider@webspin.org.
All parts can be found at www.webspin.org/xfic.htm

*********************
This section rated R for graphic descriptions 
********************* 

CHAPTER 5

Day 10 - Monday
Central Hotel, Seattle
9:30 p.m.
 
"This analysis," Mulder added as he pushed the remains of
the lasagna aside, "is not an attempt to profile, leave
that to me. Mirroring is a valuable reference source, in
this case, witnessed by three trained observers. None of it
is admissible evidence, however, observations will assist in
apprehending the suspects. We have three different
perspectives and I need to cross reference the events in
minute detail in order to extract the maximum benefit."

Mulder met both Skinner's and Scully's eyes firmly. He was
relieved almost to the point of tears that Skinner had been
witness to the mirroring in the morgue. What had passed
between the killer, as seen through his body and Scully
would not be retained as an ugly little secret between
them. For all Scully seemed to accept that this manifestation of
the murderer had nothing to do with the persona of Fox
Mulder, Mulder knew he had destroyed any chance of a more
intimate relationship between them. His heart clenched at
the loss, but he knew it must be. That was a door he would
never open again. 

Ever.

In truth, a large part of him was relieved. Scully now
understood that his mind was a tool that could channel a
murderer. Her wonderfully gentle analogy to a glove was not
lost on him...but he was a psychologist. He knew full well
she could never see him in as a lover without being
reminded of that night, No sane woman could. Scully
was...Scully and she would deny it to protect him. But he
knew. 

God, he loved her...and to have her friendship and
companionship... he'd been selfish to hope there might be
something more. It really was for the best, now they could
put it past them and fall back into the easy, familiar ways
of partnership...he hoped. For even that must be savagely
tested by probing the ugliness they had all been witness to
that night.

Skinner's presence would hopefully convince Scully that he
was not goading her, even though a part of him admitted to
that at the outset. This exercise would be an invaluable
profiling tool. But equally it would prove to be a
catharsis of sorts, or drive a permanent wedge between
them. 

If it 'twere done, then best it be done quickly... 

"Sir," Mulder picked up his notepad as he addressed his
boss "You have the advantage of Scully in that you have
read over the prior mirroring events." Mulder's eyes
flickered between them. Wrapping his psychology Ph.D.
around his bearing, he defied them to look away.

"Scully, as much as I'd prefer you fully briefed before we
go into this, we need to do this now. We don't have the
luxury of time. I'd suggest you follow up on that file
Skinner gave you tomorrow. Although we achieved a great
deal tonight, I am under no illusions it will suffice."

The implication was clear. Scully swallowed but refused to
take her eyes from her partner. "Mulder, just before we
start, do you have much warning prior to these incidences?
Can you control the onset?"

Mulder screwed up his face in distaste. "It varies. It's
been ten years... I came close in the Mostow case. I felt the
warning signs but it seemed to...sheer off me somehow, as
if it couldn't get a grip. There was something greater,
more...evil at work there. If I'd opened up, I had the
feeling it would kill me. 

"But to answer your question, when I was profiling full
time, I began to feel the trace edges up to hours before it
happened. It depends on how much time elapses between the
killer anticipating and actually undertaking the sexual
assault and kill. If we were pretty certain of a kill
pattern, we could anticipate a time frame, sometimes to
within hours of the event. In the last cases I'd stay in a
locked evidence room, or at the crime scene or morgue, with
a couple of trusted witnesses and the mirroring episode was
video taped. 

"Before you ask, all tapes were destroyed to protect me.
As paranoid as I am, I have no doubt of that. 

"Last night, I had ten, maybe fifteen minutes warning. If
you're asking if I can call it up, or control my behavior
in any way, the answer is no, at least not when mirroring a
killer. The only thing I know for certain is that it
generally follows a period of sleep and food deprivation.
Extreme cold or physical pain helps." He smiled self-
deprecatingly. "It's kind of like the old yogis going into
a trance state. I'm sorry, Scully, but we really don't have
time to go into details. There are extensive psychiatric
reports in my file. None of them really explain it, but
they do cover a lot of ground. Right now, I need to cover
the events of tonight. You'll have to catch up with the
files later."

Scully wanted to ask if he mirrored other people besides
killers, but shelved the question for later. She was
somewhat surprised Mulder was so politely forthcoming and
didn't want to push him. Given his mood the previous
days...but then she recognized he had encapsulated himself
in a professional facade. 

Now she must do the same.  

"Before we begin, I'm going to point out the obvious.
Please try to be very detailed. You *must* ignore that it
was my body used and concentrate on the unique
characteristics, the movements and actions of this killer.
I cannot stress the importance of this too much. Nothing,
no residual movements were mine, Fox Mulder's, so if he was
jerky or waddled because he is naturally uncoordinated or
overweight, that's what you have to see. Now, sir, you
entered the room just after it started?"

Skinner looked up in surprise. "How did you know that?"

"Even when it closes my body's eyes, I can see what's
going on around me. In fact, generally better than normal.
I could see you running down the hallway."

Skinner didn't react, recalling something about that in
Mulder's file. He glanced at Scully. They'd discussed the
obscene pathology and unbelievable depravity of crimes
before, and it never bothered him. Despite what Mulder
said, despite what he knew, this time it was different.

But he forced himself to rethink it. Scully was a
pathologist. She'd had to deal with violent sexual
offenses, fetishists, the whole damned spiel. As
humiliating for Mulder and distasteful as the night's
revelations had been, it was nothing compared to what
they'd been exposed to in the past.

Mulder added, "Okay, all three of us saw pretty much all of
it. Now, we need to replay the conversation in its
entirety. I can recall his dialogue letter perfect, but I
need your opinions regarding the nuances and of his voice.
He was aggressive and impatient, but what else?"

They spent the better part of an hour carefully
transcribing the words and discussing the personality
characteristics based on vocal tone and inflections.

Mulder took out a legal notepad and drew two columns. On
the left he had written "male" and on the right "female".

The discussion swapped between the three of them for
almost two hours, observations mixed with opinions. The
first and most relevant point to date was the confirmation
that at least two individuals were involved in the latest
murder.

 

Under "Male A" Mulder wrote:

1. No patience, not into delayed gratification. Sexual act
took place soon after victim was acquired.

2. Limited dialogue; average to below average
intelligence; unusual.

3. Fetish: golden showers, hair, nails.

4. Bisexual.

5. Needs to inflict pain, but only during intercourse,
otherwise does not physically damage the victim.

6. Short-tempered, intolerant of distractions.

7. Requires additional stimulation to reach orgasm:
visual, olfactory.

8. Once the act is complete, he would be gratified and
have no further use of the body. He is not the one
dismembering or disposing, nor is he the one to collect the
trophy.

 

Mulder stopped writing, frowned and commented, "The
requirement to give oral satisfaction to the female, Sarah,
is unusual. Normally, that sort of action is indicative of
an extremely dominant female and subservient, very
subservient male."

Skinner looked up but didn't comment. Scully, however,
raised her eyebrow and said, "Is that a general observation
Agent Mulder?"

Skinner raised his eyebrows and looked down.

Mulder glanced up, slightly glassy eyed and frowning,
trying to piece something together. He blinked when he
noticed Scully's countenance then replayed the last few
sentences in his mind. Lifting the corner of his mouth he
replied, "No, Agent Scully. As you're aware, virtually
without exception, serial killers gain some form of direct
or displaced sexual gratification from their actions.
Generally speaking, the act of oral sex is subservient,
giving gratification without any direct reward. A man
forcing fellatio on a victim humiliates them, dominates and
denigrates them. Women are generally less powerful in this
regard. Cunnilingus requires not simply an open mouth,
willing or otherwise. It requires a certain degree of
active participation by the giver, a finesse if it is to be
in any way successful. In normal relationships, oral sex is
a reward unto itself, the giver often being sexually
gratified by the control of pleasure they in fact have over
the recipient. It implies mutual trust and affection, even
if it is still illegal in some states."

Skinner looked up in surprise and Scully blinked. Mulder
just smirked. "'S true! As law enforcement officers you
should be aware of that. Never know when you might have to
police it."

Scully's eyebrow rose and she muttered, "Mulder,"
threateningly. 

"Seriously, Scully, at least half a dozen states have laws
prohibiting fellatio, and in some, cunnilingus...no, I am
not going to tell you which ones, but there's gonna be a
quiz next Friday."

Scully glared at him. "Get on with it Mulder."

Skinner couldn't help the corners of his lips twitching.
He was vastly relieved to see Mulder's perverse sense of
humor and the casual banter between his two agents. This
should be okay, he thought, it might really, really be okay.

"Serial killers are not big on affection and trust. This
guy is not big on delayed gratification, either, so he has
become subservient to the female, Sarah...I'd go so far as
to say she acts as his dominatrix. It fits, Scully. The guy
slits this kid's throat because she gets off on it,
literally. He's willing to kill for her. However she is the
one with the power, so much so that he has associated oral
gratification to her with his own gratification -- but for
entirely perverse reasons relating to his submissive
behavior. As much as Freud sucks, this guy had a
domineering mother, almost definitely one who used him
sexually. However there is another vital, in fact far more
important factor at play. I can't explain why I know,
because I couldn't actually see any cameras, but they were
filming this." His eyes suddenly unfocused as he
remembered a school play on stage. "That's it!" He sat
forward and glanced excitedly between them. "It's the lights!
My vision is always limited...but in this case I couldn't
see far because of the glare of the studio lights! This is
not a cheap video flick, this is a commercial operation!"

Skinner had sat through countless discussions of the
sexual predilections of these human monsters and he
understood the necessity for criminal profilers. Although
he had come to expect nothing less than professionalism
from his two agents, given the circumstances of the
discussion, he was once again reminded of Scully's
indefatigable resilience, especially when the discussion
turned entirely too personal.

"Scully, in the autopsy reports, it was originally
proposed that each victim was penetrated vaginally, where
applicable and universally, anally. What about orally?"

"The victims' chins and lower faces were often damaged by
the decapitation process. The evidence was inconclusive.
However the last victim's mouth was intact, although there
was no damage or bruising to the lips, tongue or palate."

Mulder nodded and made a notation. "I'll get back to that.
What made you conclude object penetration in some cases?" 

"Depth mostly. Although object penetration is normally far
more violent and damaging due to the nature of the objects
use and the force with which they are applied, often being
the cause of death. I was frankly surprised at the small
amount of damage inflicted on the victims in this area.
It's possible that a finger might have been used, but not
to great depth and no sign of scratching from nails. In
none of the three recent ones I examined were there skin
irritations due to latex reaction...but that only means
they had no allergies. It certainly doesn't preclude the
use of a condom or the inability to ejaculate. There was no
question they had been penetrated unwillingly. There's
certainly sufficient tearing to indicate that."

"Okay, my original profile worked under the assumption
that one UNSUB may be impotent, using objects to take out
ungratified sexual frustration on the victims, and that he
would continue in this vein because of his inability to
find release. Though like you, I couldn't understand the
lack of force. If he was using his penis, he did not
penetrate far and was probably unable to ejaculate. I knew
this wasn't right, but couldn't get a handle on why until
tonight."

Skinner asked "So what are you thinking now?"

"Look at your notes, Sarah holds the victim while he
penetrates. He's only talking to Sarah that way to prove to
himself he's in control, but he's not."

"Mulder, did he actually penetrate, or use external
friction?"

"He penetrated, Scully."

Scully mentally took a grip on herself. Refusing to lower
her gaze she replied, "Mulder, something of that size most
certainly did not enter those I thought were object-
penetrated."

Mulder's eyes shone in amusement. As ugly and humiliating
as it had been, he was fully aware that he was endowed
reasonably well, in fact a little better than reasonably
well. "Scully, as I said at the outset, don't mistake the
messenger for the message."

Scully instantly realized the stupidity of her error and
mentally grimaced as a flush climbed her cheeks. Skinner
glanced at the female agent and knew then, with absolute
clarity that these two had most definitely not been
involved in any sexual, Bill Clinton-defined or otherwise,
relationship.

Mulder was not going to pull any punches.

"Sir, there is a significant point here that I can't
honestly recall, but I need for you both to be very clear
on. Scully, I'm sorry, and believe me when I say I'd much
prefer not to dwell on this, but it's important."

Scully blinked only once, her face carefully composed and
neutral. "What is it, Mulder?" 

"The guy has an abnormally small penis. I don't mean just
a little under you average six inches or so, I mean
preternaturally so. I'd say no more than three inches and
small circumference, almost pre-pubescent...would that be
conducive to the depth of penetration?"

Scully nodded, "Yeah, that would be about right."

Skinner couldn't help his curiosity "What evidence do you
have about his physical size? Could you actually see him?"

"A little. It's the one small piece of control I have.
Unfortunately it's always hazy, blurry and it doesn't help
identify Sarah because she was wearing a mask, only her hair
was visible. But yeah..did at any time he touch himself?

Skinner replied, "I really couldn't see much from my angle,
but it didn't appear that way."

"Scully?" Mulder swung his eyes around and caught sight of
her closed expression.

Shit. He was pushing her on this, too hard. But he had to
know. He desperately wanted to touch her and apologize and
tell her this was nothing to do with him and what he was.
This was nothing about anything that might have once been
possible between them. 

But he could do nothing. Any such recognition would give
some sort of personal meaning to an event he wanted viewed
clinically. In her mind, it would weaken her, emphasize her
femininity. If she were a man, they could sit around and
make fun of his cock and rib him how fast the guy had shot
his wad or depending on the circumstances of the crime,
what crappy hand action he had. Hell, that's the way they'd
gotten through it a dozen times in the past. 

But he did not have that recourse now.

Scully's face smoothed immediately and she opened her eyes
and stared unflinchingly at him. It was immediately
apparent she had shut her eyes to concentrate. "No, he only
ever touched the corpse and scalpel."

Mulder sat forward, gratified Scully had reverted to the
third person to describe the acts. "What hand did he cut
with?"

"Left."

Bingo!

Mulder grimaced before he phrased his final question.
"Okay, last point, when did he ejaculate, before, during or
after the throat-cutting?"

Skinner looked at his notes and reread the transcript,
Scully closed her eyes again to relive the scene.

"During." Scully opened her eyes and glanced at Skinner 

"I couldn't see as clearly, but I'd have to concur."
Skinner added.

"It's unanimous," Mulder added.

"Is that important?" Skinner ventured.

"Oh yeah, most definitely. Although he said that Sarah
gets off on the blood. I really don't want to go into that
now." Mulder scribbled more notes on his pad. "Because it's
late and I want to cover the other points. 

"Scully, can you go back and do a swab in the latest
victim's mouth? He partially ejaculated there first."

Scully blinked, glanced down at her notes and said, "Okay,
he says he was starting to come...then the victim bit him.
But he wasn't wearing a condom yet and..." A second blush
coursed up her cheeks. 

Skinner looked very interested in his notes. 

Mulder bit his bottom lip and said softly, "Imagine what
accounting's gonna say when you have to fill out that line
'reasons for clothing reimbursement.'" 

Their ongoing nightmare with accounts for reimbursement of
thousands of dollars in clothing and shoes was a running
joke between them -- *corrosion from bile ducts, corrosion
from alien blood, immersion in sewers, abduction by unknown
perpetrators, abduction by government employees, abduction
by terrorists, abduction by aliens, gunshot wounds, buried
in mud by vindictive trees, buried in more mud by a giant
mushroom, dragged behind an R.V., blood and brain
matter stains, gouging by a wolf woman, gouging by
mothmen...* the list was endless. 

Scully couldn't help it, her face broke into a grin, then
a chuckle. 

Skinner, all too familiar with his agents' extraordinary
accounting problems allowed the corner of his lips to curl.
Before he realized he'd opened his mouth he added, "Don't
worry Agent Scully, I'll back you up on this one."

Scully's eyebrows lifted but Mulder decided he couldn't
cope with his boss's humor.

"Anyway, try a swab, might get lucky. Since he was killed
soon after, there may be some trace."

Scully nodded and Mulder glanced at his notes again.

"Okay, let's backtrack. I can't see Sarah's..."

Scully interrupted, a nagging feeling at the back of her
mind. "Mulder, the condom?"

Mulder put down his down and rubbed his hands across his
face before replying. 

"Serial killers receive sexual gratification from their
acts. The majority plan ahead, delaying gratification for
weeks, even months. This guy is different. His vocabulary
of expletives is limited to two or three words. He's not
smart -- in fact below average intelligence. He does not
plan ahead and would never consider using a condom. However, 
he is not the one in control, Sarah is. She forces him to use
it, aware that traces of semen could be used to convict,
possibly even identify him."

"No, that's not what I meant Mulder. Why did you have one
on you?"

Mulder and Skinner answered simultaneously

"C'mon Scully, what sane guy doesn't keep one in his
wallet?"

"The hotel supplies the same brand with their bathroom
kit. This incident with Agent Mulder is a typical
manifestation."

Half wishing Skinner had allowed him the illusion of a normal
sex life, Mulder added, "I realized yesterday this might
happen. Past autopsies show no trace of seminal fluids,
hence they used them, so I put one in every set of trousers
I own. 

"Scully, your...assistance...was not necessary insofar as
the killer would not have noticed there was no condom on me,
because he is unaware that my body is emulating his. But
for *me* it proved vital, because it occurred exactly as
Sarah put it on him. The closer my body emulates reality,
the better I can see what the killer is seeing, so actually
putting a condom on, instead of pantomiming it, allows me
to see more clearly. *That* gave me a clear window into
seeing this guy's penis. Without you, I might not have seen
that and when we find the latest victim, your autopsy
report would have confused the hell out of me because you
would have cited object penetration based on the minimal
depth. Now we know why, and now we know for certain there
is another couple, including a male with no genital
abnormalities, involved in the crimes.

That she had proved to be of assistance in this way was
enormously gratifying to Scully. A part of her mind was
already considering how much better she could do in the
future. From a purely clinical perspective it was far less
difficult than inserting a catheter into a man's penis.
And she'd had to do that to Mulder after shooting him and
placing him in an artificial coma to drive halfway across
the country.

"All right, I'd like to go back and further detail
physical descriptions." Mulder added "But how 'bout some
coffee, first?"

Scully picked up the house phone and rang through to the
restaurant below. Although there were facilities in the
rooms, the hotel provided the best Vienna style she could
remember. 

After the order was taken, Mulder went back to his notes
and began.

"We know her name is Sarah and she has short, dirty blonde
hair. It's either natural or the best Clairol job I've ever
seen. Now this is unusual, even true blondes tend to be pi-
bald when it comes to public hair, but this women is blonde
all over. Again, it could be a dye job, but I doubt it. And
she shaves herself, just around the vagina, not the mons.
But the best lead of all is, she has only a thumb, index
finger and half the joint of her middle finger, on her left
hand."

"Rings, tattoos, signs of age?" Skinner asked.

Mulder shook his head. "Can't see, can't even be sure of
her age, no recollection of liver spots, wrinkles or not.
But the fingers thing is pretty good."

"Especially given her name and hair color," Skinner added.
"What about him, Mulder, anything apart from his genitals?"

"No, and I can't really see us putting out an APB on guys
with little dicks. Can you imagine the line up? 'All right
everyone whip 'em out.' Shit, under those circumstances
they'd all be the size of peanuts...I suppose we could tell
'em to get 'em hard, although I think the civil liberties
folks'd choke."

Skinner chuckled while Scully glared at him deadpan. But
he could see the laughter trying to escape from his
partner's eyes and was gratified.

"Sorry, nothing on him."

The coffee arrived and they spent a further two hours
going over their notes, finely picking everything apart
until they had every thread, every nuance to paper. It was
Mulder who eventually called a halt to the session, telling
his partner and boss to get some sleep. Skinner exited by
the front door and Scully headed to the adjoining one, but
she turned before opening it.

"Mulder, you're going to get some sleep, right?"

"Sure, Scully." He replied absently as he booted his laptop.

She looked at him for a moment, knowing full well he would
lose himself in the relatively normal profiling world the
moment her back was turned. In fact by the look of him, he
was already halfway there. She turned back into the
room and walked up to him. He didn't seem to notice until
she touched him on the arm.

Flinching and pulling back he frowned, "What are you still
doing here, Scully? Get some sleep."

"Mulder, you are going to be no good to anyone unless you
rest." She wrapped her fingers around his arm again and
felt his tendons harden at her touch. 

"Scully..." He looked up with eyes that slowly spoke to her.
By brutally pulling apart the events that unfolded in the
autopsy bay, he hoped it might lay waste to any damage to
their friendship. Of that he was now gratefully certain.
But he could no longer look at her any other way. He was
bitterly sorry for that, but that's how it must be. She
must know and accept that.

Scully shook her almost imperceptibly. No. 

Their eyes always said words they could not speak. Yet she
saw his eyes now shutter as he took her hand from his arm
and pulled away.

"Go to bed, Scully."

Falling back on the partnership they still held between
them she replied "Mulder, Skinner holds me responsible for
your condition. If you stagger into that briefing..."

Mulder turned and grinned at her, a semblance of their
friendship trying to mask his now sad eyes. "I promise,
Scully, I'll get some rest before then. At least we now
have something to take into that meeting."

Scully just looked at him until he smiled softly and
nodded his head to her connecting door, telling her to
sleep. She had no tools to fight this. Her own heart was
too heavily-barricaded to know where to look for doors, let
alone open them. And instinct told her that even if she
could find one, he had now locked them too tight to enter.
Is that what had happened with his wife?

His wife...

Oh, God, she had never known.

Scully closed the connecting door then settled on the
mechanical processes of brushing her teeth and changing to
practical warm woolen p.j.'s. If tears formed in her eyes,
she most definitely did not feel them. 

Nope, not Special Agent Scully, M.D.

*************************************
End Chapter 5 Mirror Mirror

Title: MIND GAMES: Book 2:Mirror Mirror 5 of 5
Disclaimers: See Part 1
Author/Feedback: YES please! spider@webspin.org.
All parts can be found at www.webspin.org/xfic.htm

*********************
This section rated NC17 for graphic descriptions 

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


CHAPTER 6

Day 11 - Tuesday
Central Hotel, Seattle
3:45 a.m.
 

"Where the fuck is he? Where could he have gone?" West
screamed softly to herself, but Smith heard her and
grimaced. 

What a rat fuck this was turning into. She almost skidded
on the ice as they ran out of the hotel's fire exit. West's
longer legs had already carried her a dozen feet ahead but
she stopped and stared carefully at the footprints in the
snow. Nothing.

Wonderful, just fucking wonderful. Scully would have her
splayed out on an autopsy table with the full Y section and
her large intestine being ripped, all without benefit of
shooting her first. Yep, she could see it all now, clear as
fucking day. She glared at her partner but the words were
unnecessary. How in hell could he have let this happen?
Jesus, Smith was right outside his door! All Scully had done
was ask one of them to stay outside and wake her up if he
went anywhere. Leave him alone, just let her know.

Smith glared at his partner "I'm telling you I did *not*
fall asleep! He didn't leave the room!"

"Yeah, right, so he just vanished into thin air." Sarcasm
dripped from her voice. Some gut instinct had warned her to
check on Mulder when she'd gone to take over from Smith.

Then it hit her. Smith's eyes widened at about the same
time and they looked up together.

 
"Found him," 

West grimaced as Skinner's eyes lasered her to the door.
He stood unmoving in the foyer, radiating anger in such a
huge circumference that Smith wasn't game to get within ten
feet of the man. But momentum carried her forward and she
added. "He's on the roof."

"Get Scully," he ordered as he slammed the doors aside and
went out to see for himself.

West raced up the three flights of stairs and began
pounding on Scully's door. It opened in seconds. Scully was
fully dressed now in dark jeans, sweater and overcoat, but
instead of following West out the door, she turned her back
and went through the connecting door to Mulder's room.

West began to sweat. Fear mixed with the exertion of
running up three flights of stairs in a centrally heated
building. The adrenaline high had peaked when she saw him
on the edge of the roof and she was now coming down from
it. Before she had a chance to speak, Scully snapped, "He's
on the roof."

"Yeah, I know, must have climbed up from there." Smith
motioned to the balcony. "What is he, Spiderman?"

Scully's eyes were slightly rounded as she turned back
from the balcony and grabbed her overcoat. "Find out how we
can get up there. The fire escape doesn't lead that far."

West nodded and ran back down the stairs again. *On the
bright side,* she thought, *I can forego the stair master
tonight.* 

West ran into the restaurant and was thankful the daughter
was there -- Crystal. The woman had good sense and
discretion. Crystal looked up and frowned at the sight of
West's flushed features and urgent demeanor.

"How do I get on the roof?"

Crystals eyebrow lifted in mute query but she threw down
the journal and motioned to West to follow. As they exited
into the foyer, Skinner, trailed by Smith and three or four
other agents re-entered the building, their eyes arresting
on Crystal. Scully came from the direction of the stairs. 

Although none of them were running, the air of urgency was
undeniable. 

Crystal did not bother to waste time. "Follow me." She was
about to run up the stairs, but the elevator doors were
open. The elevator could easily accommodate fifteen people,
but with Skinner and the four other burly agents, West,
Smith and Crystal crammed inside, it looked overcrowded.
Scully stood so much smaller than all of them, Crystal had
the impression they were closing ranks around her,
protecting her. And it came to Crystal in a flash. Mulder.
Something was wrong with Mulder.

"You can access it via a manhole in the ceiling on #408.
You have your master key?" Crystal addressed Skinner, who
nodded. "Okay, up the manhole and then directly behind is a
short ladder. That leads to the roof. It's not locked but
it is pretty dusty and dirty." She glanced at the expensive
range of thick woolen overcoats. No one blinked. No one was
going to their rooms to change first.

"What's up there?" Skinner asked.

Skinner's eyes bored into Crystal's, his words carried
with them a deeper question, what was there that had driven
Mulder to be there? Crystal knew she could not give him the
answer he needed, she had yet to understand the question.

"Nothing but exhaust vents and plumbing. We rarely need to
access the roof."

The elevator doors opened and a wall of black overcoats
left Crystal behind. Instinct demanded she follow but logic
told her to go downstairs and start a batch of chili and
very strong coffee. They would find the manhole without her
getting in the way.

 
Skinner slammed the door to #408 open. His eyes cornered
the ceiling and came to rest on the framed square. He
glanced down, then dragged the side table until it sat
directly below the manhole. He was already part way through
when West followed the bigger agents and Scully into the
room. Skinner's legs disappeared, then his shoulder and
head came back into view. He held his arm out to Scully
wordlessly and practically lifted her one-armed to join him
in the head high crawl space between the ceiling and the
roof. They switched on their flashlights and immediately
located the short ladder. Skinner went first, pushing the
trap door to the roof upwards as Smith began to climb into
the crawl space.

"No," Skinner ordered the others.

West was about to object when it hit her they may be
dealing with a jumper. But the thought was incongruous.
Mulder suicidal? Okay, possibly he had gone over the edge,
but would he try to kill himself jumping off a four story
building into snow drifts? 

"No, just go back downstairs."

Scully had gone ahead of Skinner and was already on the
roof. She looked around but could see nothing. Then she
glanced up at the building next door. Her heart stopped and
her stomach started doing that carousel thing she hated.
Another Mulderulcer on the way. 

Mulder sat on the near corner of the adjoining building,
facing the hotel. He was curled into a tight ball, arms
around his knees, rocking back and forth. In the darkness
Scully could barely make him out, but it looked like he was
wearing only a tee shirt and track pants. And no shoes. 

The doctor part of Scully cut in. How long had he been out
there? It was 20 degrees at the most and he wore only
minimal clothing. He was already physically depleted and
dammit, she knew he'd thrown up dinner again, right
after she'd closed their connecting door.

She wanted to go to him, but the look on his face as he
said good night closed her out. Utterly.

Leave me be, Scully, just leave me be to work through this.

And she had. Yet again. As she had left him alone for
years and years. Left him to face his demons. Alone.

She read his file and allowed the tears to finally spill,
crying herself to sleep in the privacy of her bed, hating
and despising the men that asked this of him. Despising
herself for her own weakness, for the walls she built
around herself to keep him out. And that sick son of a
bitch, Patterson. Psychiatric prison and comforting
insanity were more than he deserved. And Forenzzi. Jesus,
had he finally been debriefed? Had someone thought to tell
him the truth, that what he had stumbled on was a killer
channeling through Mulder's body?

She could feel Skinner's presence by her side.

"Scully?"

She turned to face him, bitterness in her eyes. "Satisfied?"

Skinner breathed deeply, unable to reply.

Scully shook the anger from her mind and concentrated on
what she needed to know. "Is this another episode?"

Thankful she now had as many facts as him, he replied "I
don't know. I can't see how. They've made one kill tonight
already."

Scully answered quietly, "But they *are* escalating, and
there are at least two couples working." Her eyes cast
around for some means of access to the building, but she
could see nothing. How in hell had he got up there?

Every part of her training screamed at her to get him
down, get him warmed, get a sedative into him and for
Christ's sake get him into a hospital. But sedatives -- in
fact, just about anything including pain medication -- kept
*Mulder* from coming back. Scully knew that no medical
textbook covered this situation. He had to escape from it
alone.

Always alone.

She felt tears try to well in her eyes and she blinked
angrily. Not alone, Mulder. Not this time.

Scully walked slowly to the back of the hotel's roof. She
was now within his direct line of sight. She gradually
walked the length of the rooftop, coming closer to him
until only the twelve foot height difference separated them.

She couldn't be sure if he'd seen her. The file stated
that when he mirrored a victim, he retained a great deal
more control, not quite leaving his body, so she asked
gently, "Mulder?"

He was silent for a moment, but the rocking ceased. Then
he muttered softly. "Cold...Scully, I'm so cold."

Scully felt a wave of relief. If this was another mirror,
it was from the perspective of the victim. Then how could
she feel relief when they were about to witness the rape
and slaughter of a child? She blinked her eyes firmly and
took a deep breath. They were too late to save this child,
but she had to save Mulder.

"I know, Mulder, you're sitting in snow and you're not
dressed for it."

"He took all my clothes, Scully. He took them all off me
except for these."

Her heart raced. Shit, this was not normal. She stifled a
manic laugh as it tried to climb from her throat. Normal!
Normal? Since when did they live in a world where normal
was part of the vocabulary?

"Mulder, who took your clothes off you?"

"He did, he said he'd warm me up with his body...soon, now.
He's bringing his friend and they're going to warm me."
Mulder stifled a bitter laugh. "But I know what they want,
they just want to fuck me again, hurt me...Cold, Scully,
he's so cold." 

Scully forced herself to control her emotions. This was
different, this was definitely another victim. A child who
was alive and about to die. A child Mulder empathized with
and could not save as he sat passively watching the horror
unfold. Good God, he had done this for *three years*?

"Mulder, you don't have to be cold. You can come down from
there and get warm."

"No!" He unwrapped his arms and stood. "No...I have to
feel what he feels! I have to know what he knows...see what
he sees. Oh, God, Scully I'm so tired of this, so tired of
fighting it. He promised!"

Scully could feel the tears in his voice now. He was right
on the edge of the building. If he fell, it would be into
thick snow and might not kill him...but there were no
guarantees.

"Okay, Mulder, okay, but sit down, okay? Just sit, sit down
and wrap your arms around yourself."

He swayed for a moment, but complied. Did that mean the
victim complied, too? Did Mulder have some control over the
victim's actions? Shit! She knew *nothing* about this!

"Okay, Mulder, where are you?"

He didn't answer for a moment, then "Uh...a shed...a barn
I think. Yeah. A big old fashioned barn, you know? I...I
think it's east, just a few miles out of town. Scully he
promised, he promised to let me go if I did it for him. And
I did, I sucked his cock and didn't scream when he fucked
me. I was good, Scully, I was a good boy. Please don't hit
me again!"

Emotions warred in Scully but the last comment jarred her.
In none of the autopsies had she seen evidence of beatings.
Rape, yes -- violent -- and some bruising around the
wrists and
ankles, although that had been hard to detect because of
the rough dismemberment. 

"Leave me alone, Bill, I promise I'll be good. I promise I
won't scream. But it hurts when you stick it in me, Bill,
oh, shit, it hurts, man."

Scully's blood froze. 

Bill.

His father's name had been Bill...but her stomach
unknotted as she realized he would never have called his
father by his first name...unless he'd made him...no. 

Fuck this! She wasn't the damned psychologist!

Then her heart flipped again. Shit if this kept up she'd
have a full blown cardiac arrest any minute.

Bill.

Bill Patterson.

Surely to God he wouldn't have...

But her mind went back to the file and something Forenzzi
had said to her in the coffee shop, about him being
Patterson's Pretty Boy. 

The Violent Crimes bullpen...Their's was a crude and
violent world. The foul language and innuendo's ran thick
and fast. It crossed Scully's mind a few times if the crude
jokes about jacking each other off in the men's room when
they
couldn't score with the secretarial pool were more than
just jokes. Sure, what she said to Skinner stood. Any hint
of homosexuality invited ridicule, but jacking each other
off seemed to rank differently, an off color boys club
thing, designed more to shock the female agents and clerks
that imply any one of them were gay. 

She had always been thankful for Mulder's grace and
gentlemanly mannerisms, and the privacy of their basement
office. Innuendo and porn predilections aside, he bore none
of the crudeness of those she'd met in VCU. But the
profilers were different. True, their world was even more
grotesque, but they were careful to mask that reality to
the outside world. But what of Patterson? He had fallen
into the madness, perhaps he had fallen a great deal sooner
than the Mostow case... 

While Mulder's body mirrored a victim, could Bill have
decided to increase Mulder's ability to observe by making
the situation more real, in the same way Scully had
increased Mulder's visual perception by applying the
condom? But to do what Mulder described, Patterson would
have to have been aroused, have wanted it. And Mulder would
have known, he was always aware of each episode. Is that
why he left Patterson so suddenly? Had Bill Patterson
finally given into the urge during one of Mulder's
mirrorings? Was their hatred for one another based not on
Mulder's leaving, but Patterson's abuse? 

*Didn't want to get my knees dirty,* were his exact words. 

Scully had thought them metaphorical. 

Perhaps not.

"Mulder, did Bill hurt you?"

His head dropped onto his knees. "He shouldn't have done
it, Scully. He should never have tried to push me that far
to see...But it wasn't what he said, he wasn't trying to
make it more real, he...he couldn't help his own lust and
tried to ram his fat cock down my throat
then...later...Mostow...it... something bad took control of
him, instead of my body. And it never let him go.

"I'm ugly, Scully, all the ugliness of their minds focused
on me and he fell in and never got out again."

That they would use him to capture this evil was bad
enough, but to have abused that, to have abused the trust
and friendship that by necessity, had developed between
the two men...Scully closed her eyes and damned Patterson
to burn in hell for his sick betrayal.

"Mulder, you're not ugly...you didn't do anything. You have
this ability...and you use it and it saves people ,Mulder.
You place the glove on and the ugliness never gets inside
of you, never touches *you*!"

"He's coming, Scully. I can hear him. They're coming and
their not going to let me go. The door...it's opening and I
can see the one behind him. He's big, got dark hair, long
and
oily like snakes, and a beard and...he's got a tattoo on his
arm...he...they call him Steve...Got a knife and...Oh, God,
he's got an axe!"

Mulder threw himself backwards and stood. He flung his
arms about himself and spun in a circle. "Oh, God, I've got
to hide, I've got to hide! They're the ones...the ones who
cut up Jonesy and Luke and all the others! I've got to run,
Scully! God help me, where do I go?" 

He was screaming now. Scully barely noticed the figures
standing in the snow at the base of the building. Nor did
she see Skinner in the shadows behind Mulder. 

Mulder took two steps towards the edge.

"No!" She screamed "No! God, no Mulder don't you do this,
don't you leave me like this! Take the damned glove off and
throw it away!"

"It's better this way, Scully, better to die like this
before they get me, before they cut me. Better to leave you
to be a doctor, to stop fucking up your life. You made me,
Scully, you kept me alive and sane and whole and all I ever
did was dirty you, ruin you...your chance for kids, your
career, your family, your whole goddamned life...They're
coming after me now Scully, they're climbing after me and I
have to get higher. I have to get away!"

Good God! This was not mirroring! Somehow the two
personalities had *mixed*. He had become the victim,
empathizing with him, but this time his own fears and self-
loathing became fodder for the thing that twisted his mind. 

Suddenly, a shadow jumped out at him and tackled him to
the ground. Scully backed away so she could see better and
caught a glimpse of glasses as they were knocked over the
edge to land in the snow at her feet. 

Skinner's glasses.

"Get away, get away from me...don't kill me!" Mulder
screamed. 

Scully heard Skinner grunt in agony as Mulder placed a
well aimed foot at the older man's groin.

She saw Mulder get up and scramble to the edge of the
building.

"No! No, Mulder you're not ugly...you're...beautiful! Don't
you see that, don't you know that? I see you Mulder, I see
your dignity and loyalty and your pure spirit and your
passion for what is right, for justice in the true sense of
the word. You are the most beautiful man I've ever known,
not just your body, but your soul. Take the glove off
Mulder, toss it aside!"

He teetered close to the edge now. Skinner could not risk
another tackle, it would likely take them both over.

"I have to jump. If I jump they can't get me. Don't you
see that Scully? I can just float down into the soft white
snow and let it clean me. I'm almost there, I can feel
it..so cold, Scully, so very cold..."

Mulder, no!" she screamed, the cold and her emotions making
her eyes water, almost blinding her. She had to stop him,
had to make him understand that she...needed him. God, the
words were almost torn from her own barricaded heart.

"Mulder don't go...dammit Mulder I *need* you! I NEED YOU!"

He pulled up short and staggered backwards. 

Scully needed him?

He had to get to her, to save her.

He fell backwards from the edge of the building and
Skinner caught him in his black overcoat.

"Have to get to Scully...'s needs me." His eyes begged
Skinner. "Gotta get to her, she...she needs me. Scully never
needs me but she does now and I have to get..."

Skinner wrapped the coat around the smaller man and
cradled him in his arms. "It's okay, Mulder, you'll get to
her, you've got time, now, Fox, plenty of time."

But Mulder had passed out.

*****************************
End Chapter 6 Mirror Mirror