From: sonny <sonny@webspin.org>
Date: Wed, 29 Sep 99 06:09:11 +1000
Subject: xfc: NEW Mind Games 5; Seattle 1 of 7
Source: xfc

From: sonny <sonny@webspin.org>

Title: MIND GAMES: Book 5:Seattle 1 of 7
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

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

CHAPTER 1

Day 22 - Saturday
Crystal City, Virginia
2:50 a.m.

 
Skinner had the telephone to his ear. He'd motioned for
Scully to accompany Crystal upstairs to pack while he made
numerous calls and Mulder brought him up to speed. 

Crystal's youngest brother, Justin, had been abducted from
his bedroom. As near as they could tell, it was sometime
between 10:30 p.m. and midnight. The bedroom was in a
separate annex to the hotel, on the ground floor. The 7-year-old 
boy was a restless sleeper and various family members were 
accustomed to checking him during the changing nightly shifts 
in the hotel. It was not unusual to find he had kicked off the 
bed covers and was cold and shivering. His father, Andreas, had 
checked on him at midnight. He was surprised to find the window 
wide open. The outside temperature was well below freezing. The 
boy was gone and Andreas, instinctively going to the window, 
noticed a few drops of blood on the edge. He also noticed large
footprints and more blood drops outside. He immediately
called the police, then tried Crystal at Skinner's home,
only to find the number busy. 

Skinner's lip twitched in annoyance, but there was nothing
he could say to that. Fortunately, Andreas had the presence
of mind to call the FBI duty supervisor across the road.
Within minutes, they had called Mulder's home number. Scully
had accompanied him to Skinner's apartment. 

As Mulder filled Skinner in, Scully followed Crystal
upstairs. Acutely aware of the conflicting emotions the
woman would be experiencing, Scully kept her eyes down as
Crystal picked up assorted clothes along the way. When they
reached the top of the stairs, the sight of Skinner's
underwear at the entrance to his room, and the evident
disarray of the bed covers within was just too much. Crystal
breathed out loud and flung the clothes on the floor in
abandon and turned to stare at Scully. She pulled her lips
to one side in a "What can I say?" look.

Scully lifted her lower lip in a partial smile and said,"I'm glad. 
For both of you."

"And what about you?" Crystal asked softly, her eyes
motioning downstairs.

Scully's eyes slipped aside, but not before Crystal saw
the pain and longing in them. With sudden acute insight, she
added, "You have to be the one to make the first move. He
loves you far too much to place his burdens on you."

Before Scully could reply or even turn away, Crystal went
into the guest bedroom to pack. Scully was left a little
dumbstruck at the woman's insight in the face of her own
grief. She would make one hell of an FBI agent.

Scully bent to sort out Crystal's clothes from her boss',
tossing Skinner's on to his bed and carrying Crystal's into
the guest room. Scully herself felt no embarrassment at the
situation. She'd once had to autopsy a woman Skinner had been
having intercourse with not ten hours before, examining the
woman's vagina for evidence of sexual abuse. In her
profession, dignity necessarily came in other forms and she
had lost none of her respect for the A.D. over that
incident, despite the unusual circumstances. Skinner
himself might have suffered a few moments of embarrassment
when the agents first entered his apartment that evening,
but he had pushed it aside quickly. He'd suffered much
worse at the hands of the D.C. police and OPR. 

Crystal was stony-faced as she tried to pack, but she
couldn't decide what to get together. She put her hand on
her face, suddenly at a loss where to begin. Scully touched
her shoulder and said, "You get changed and I'll pack, okay?"

Crystal nodded and left for the bathroom. 

Moments later, Skinner appeared at the door. "Agent Scully,
there's a flight leaving in forty-five minutes. I have all four of 
us booked on it, can you make it in time?"

Scully finished folding the coat in her hand and placed it
on top of the other clothes in the suitcase. She turned to
Skinner. "Yes, sir, Agent Mulder and I have overnight bags in
the car. Do you want us to wait for you?"

Skinner nodded his thanks and went to his bedroom to
change. 


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


The plane doors had just closed when Scully arrived at the
boarding gate, Skinner, Mulder and Crystal just steps
behind. Scully demanded the door be reopened. The pedantic
airline employee insisted it was too late. Scully's coat
had pulled to one side and the airline attendant, sick to
death of being bullied by government bureaucrats, added
that in any case he had no notification of weapons
being carried on board. They would have to go back and get
the proper security clearance, then he would be formerly
notified and they could catch the next flight in four hours.

Crystal's face fell. Skinner simply grabbed the airline
attendant by the arm, motioning for Mulder, Scully and
Crystal to go into the boarding tunnel. Crystal saw him
pull out his ID and say something to the attendant. Scully
hurried her along. By the time they'd reached the plane
itself, the door was reopening and the fixed plastic
smiles of flight attendants met them. Crystal looked back
to see Skinner's stony face right behind.

There were more than a fair share of scowls from the other
passengers as the four of them made their way to their
seats. The scowls vanished however, at the sight of weapons
inadvertently exposed during the shedding of coats. Crystal
looked at Skinner, wondering. 

He winked at her and replied, "Never underestimate the
power of intimidation."

For the first time since hearing the news, Crystal allowed
herself a small smile.

The plane was half empty, allowing two separate rows for
Mulder and Scully, Skinner and Crystal. 

Scully had gotten little sleep the previous night, worrying
about her partner's whereabouts, and none so far that
night. After the plane took off, she finally allowed
herself to settle back and try for some sleep. Mulder had
covered her hand with his, as he often did during bumpy
takeoffs. He went to release it as they leveled off, but
Scully, mindful of Crystal's words and the bewildering
revelations of the night, turned her hand under Mulder's
palm and clasped his fingers tightly. Mulder rolled his
head to one side in mute question at the intimacy of her
grip, a little surprised at her action, but she had already
closed her eyes.

The airline stewardess walking by a few minutes later,
frowned at the site of the FBI agents seated in rows 48 and
49. First they delay departure, then they act like lovestruck 
teenagers. The bald-headed one had his arm around the dark-
haired woman, stroking her hair and apparently whispering 
sweet nothings. The cute one behind had a redhead asleep 
on his shoulder, her hand clasped in his, resting on his lap. 
Jesus, so much for the big bad G man image. What a life, 
running round the country, flashing guns and badges to get 
their own way, fucking like jack rabbits in motels, no doubt, 
all at the taxpayers' expense. No wonder the crime rate was 
through the roof. 

Scully awoke with a start. Her head rested on a familiar
yet oddly unfamiliar form. She jerked upright and blinked.

"Sorry, sir."

Skinner glanced down at her. "That's perfectly all right
Agent Scully. Glad you could get some sleep."

"Where's Mulder?"

"With Dr. Palmer."

Scully nodded. Mulder would need to get as much
information as possible about the victim, about Crystal's
brother, in order to predict how the UNSUB might act.

"How do you feel?" Skinner asked as she cupped her face in
her hands.

"I'm fine, just need some coffee."

Skinner pressed the attendant button. He glanced at Scully
again and said, "It's always worse when it's someone you
know, or close to them."

Scully wasn't sure if he was talking about her, or himself.

"Mulder doesn't think he'll kill him, might not touch
him," she replied.

"Mm, I've read his profile."

"The one the Seattle P.D. shelved." Scully hadn't meant to
sound bitter. She'd told Mulder the same thing, the death
of the four perpetrators had seemed to give closure,
"Still, even Mulder was surprised at the speed with which
he reacted."

"What do you mean?" 

The flight attendant arrived, complete with surly
resignation.

"Can we have two coffees here, please?" 

She nodded and left, idly wondering who was banging who.
Now it was the cute one sitting with the dark-haired woman,
holding her hand and Red had just been sleeping on the
older guy's shoulder.

The next row up, Mulder was talking quietly to Crystal. He
had been with her for the previous two hours, trying as
much as possible to get inside the mind of her brother. 

"How will he react to this?" Mulder asked her. "Will he 
be submissive or rebellious? Will he attempt to escape, or fight 
back or will terror dominate him? I would expect the terror to
paralyze him, he's only 7 years old, after all."

But if his sister was anything to go by, Mulder thought, the kid 
might just show some cunning.

"Why him? Why now? All of the others have been...what was
the term you used, opportunistic?" Crystal asked.

"He's angry, furious what we took from him. This guy is
different from most serial killers. He doesn't want to get
his hands dirty, literally. I doubt he even has much
physical contact, let alone sexual contact, with anyone.
His thrills are vicarious. He likes to watch. I had hoped
that he may have satisfied his urgings with his current
video collection. And that might have remained the case,
but I think he acted spontaneously and took advantage of a
situation. I'd suggest he was a frequent visitor to the
hotel, probably your Sunday night buffets. He's intelligent
though, so it probably won't be a regular, although I
wouldn't discount that." 

"But he would have avoided the hotel while the FBI were
there, surely."

"No, no, that would have been the attraction. This guy
would have gotten off on hanging around the hotel. It was
the center of operations. Being there was a constant
reminder. Although he's way outside the type of most serial
killers, certain psychological aspects still fit. Keep in
mind he likes to watch. He probably started out with
mainstream porn, progressed to kiddie stuff and snuff
movies, the latter of which are an expensive specialty item
unavailable through regular channels. Then something
happened, he got involved with porn producers and liked to
watch live shows. He's probably still a regular at the
strip joints, although they don't do much for him anymore.
But every aspect of his life revolves around his need to
watch, and that included watching the police then the FBI
work on the crimes. It allowed him to relive things over
and over. He had no reason to believe he would be a suspect
and therefore no fear of apprehension."

Mulder trailed off, realizing he was verbalizing aspects
of his profile rather than answering Crystal's question.
"Did Justin like to sleep with the window open?"

Crystal frowned and nodded. "Jace is a restless sleeper and
no matter what the weather, he insisted on having it open,
even if it were just an inch. So what are you thinking?
That this guy came back to the hotel last night to
recapture some of the thrill, found it empty of what he
needed then discovered Jace's window open and couldn't
resist?"

Mulder pulled back and looked at her, surprised that she
had so quickly grasped the situation. "Pretty much. He
grabbed Justin on a whim. But now he's got him, he won't
know what to do with him. He's not going to want to deal
with an aggressive child, it's more like a...not really a
trophy but an item he might pick up in a supermarket and
put in the cupboard until he can find a use for him. And
this guy needs to find other participants to live out his
fantasies. And that's going to take time and money.
Meanwhile, I think he'll keep your brother captive
somewhere. I doubt if he'll mistreat him because he won't
want to physically handle him."

"But the blood..."

"Did Justin suffer nosebleeds? Look, your father said it
was no more than a few drops. I just can't see this guy
hurting your brother because he couldn't stand to get any
on himself." Mulder turned to look at Crystal and added "I
can't guarantee anything, but don't go tearing your heart
out wondering what he's doing to Justin, or that Justin is
still alive. I'm pretty sure he'll be okay for at least a
few days, probably longer."

"Yeah, but if this guy is as anal as you say, he won't put
up with Jace having a nosebleed or being noisy or crying or
putting up a fight, right? And if he keeps him locked away,
if he treats him like an object, he won't expect Jace
to....I don't know...make a mess, or a fuss, that sort of
thing."

Mulder was taken back. Either this woman had done a few
undergraduate years of psychology or she was
extraordinarily analytical, even when her emotions were
involved and she was stressed. Either way, she was going to
make one hell of an FBI agent.

"I won't lie to you, that aspect is a concern. But it
depends on Justin, if he's as insightful as you, even at
that age, he'll instinctively keep a low profile."

Crystal nodded "Jace...Justin is amazingly empathic. He
picks up on people very, very fast and he's observant. The
only thing is, he's pretty hyper and being confined for any
period...I don't know."

She glanced at Mulder, trying to seek an answer to a
question she was afraid to ask.

Mulder turned his head to one side. "What is it?"

Crystal paused then decided to plunge ahead, "I...I
was outside when you were on the roof the other night," she
felt him instantly freeze up. "No...no it's okay, Skinner
told us...and more or less threatened us with unspeakable
horrors if we ever breathed a word. But he also explained
that it's a sort of...psychic ability."

Mulder's face remained closed but his body relaxed a
little. 

Crystal breathed deeply. "I...I can't imagine a more
frightening talent. But you use it to save people's lives.
You...give of yourself to do that and I am both awed and
humbled that you would willingly do such a thing at the
risk of...well frostbite at the very least."

Mulder allowed himself a slight smile.

"And I have no right to ask it of you, but I'm going to."
Crystal added, searching his face.

Mulder shook his head no, "I'm afraid it doesn't work like
that." He was unsure how much she understood, but now was
not the time to explain it only worked if the killer was in
the process of his kill.

"Skinner called in while you were packing." He continued
"Agent Smith had taken it upon himself to run the profile
in the national database and with what we know, with other
aspects of the profile, I'm almost betting we'll have a
short list to work on by the time we get to Seattle. There
was little to go on at the farm, but once we get all the
elements and start putting them together... And once we have
names, we can start running traces and access driver's
license photos..."

"And can check to see if we recognize any customers."

"Yeah. Crystal, we have a lot more to go on that you think.
The FBI resources are what located Sarah Jefferson and
Steve Baxter and we had them pinpointed within thirty-six
hours. It was just damned good luck to have netted all four."

"What if there were more? What if there were six or more?
Then..."

"Nothing indicated that; don't go giving yourself
unnecessary pain over this. As I said, I won't lie to you,
nor can I make guarantees, but I think we have a good
chance on this one."

A short time later Skinner came back to take his place
beside Crystal. Mulder nodded that he had as much as he
needed and stood, stretching his back before resettling
next to Scully. 

"Get much sleep?" he asked his partner.

"Yes, but I woke up on the wrong pillow."

Mulder chuckled. "Hope you didn't drool."

She glared at him.

"Sorry." He smiled. "I needed to talk with Crystal, get a
feel..."

"'S'all right Mulder, I know." Scully placed a hand on his
arm and smiled. 

Mulder absently covered her hand with his, running his
thumb along the back of her wrist, but Scully felt
uncomfortable with the contact. It was an intimate gesture,
yet everything about Mulder told her he had emotionally
withdrawn from her. Not as a friend or partner, that was
still very much intact, but as...well, something more. His
thumb across her wrist was causing her body to respond in a
less than platonic way. She turned her hand until their
palms met, then squeezed his hand and let go.

His story of alien beings the previous evening had
affected her in unexpected ways. Mulder had always found
it somewhat incredulous that her entire life was based on
the narrow parameters of science, yet she placed faith in
unquantifiable, unprovable religious convictions. She
herself had such doubts, having abandoned most aspects
of her faith in medical school. But her cancer and perhaps
more importantly, prior to that, her meeting Kevin Cryder,
then the strange events not long after Emily's death, had
driven her to question her lack of faith. 

Scully had looked upon the face of evil and knew it to be
real. Why then could she not be gratified that the
spiritual, both good and evil, could be quantifiable? That
both good and evil were a form of metaphysical
possession by alien beings? 

Because it was just too damned Mulderish.

"Mulder, the things you told me last night, doesn't it
strike you as rather Erik Von Danikenish?"

"Sure, but so did Gibson Praise. It makes a lot more
sense when you look at it that way, that we are all in this
together, Scully. That our origins, be they gray Reticulans
or men from Mars, are essentially the same, because all
matter was formed at the same time and we are all a part of
that. That's why we could never find proof of the
differences, because the proof lies within us. Not all DNA
is activated, but every species on the planet, and
elsewhere, are formed by a unique combination of DNA. And
science, Scully, has a bad habit of ignoring that which it
cannot explain. What's not activated is called junk DNA,
but don't you see that is a limitation of science? Just
look at the term, *junk* DNA, how scientific is that?! It's
another way of saying, hell, we don't know what it is, we
can't see how it works, therefore it must be junk. 

"Scully, that's a scientific cop out, big time. One day
someone will come along and prove it's not junk, but
inactive in our species, and science will go, oh yeah,
that's great, and incorporate it into prevalent thinking.
It's not as if that sort of thing hasn't happened before.
Hell, one minute the world is flat and anyone who said
otherwise was burned at the stake. The current paradigms by
which we live are just that, paradigms, not hard and fast
fact. To me it is not simply the height of folly but out
and out hubris that our current science believes it is
capable of explaining everything in the universe. If it
could, then what would the point of research be? We may as
well sit back and declare we know everything now."

He turned to face her and capturing her hand in his again
continued, "Scully, you know that. You look for ways of
quantifying what we have seen and you have personally
discovered whole new species, an entire subcutaneous muscle
group...the list goes on. I'm not asking you to abandon
your science, nor your rigorous analysis of the known
facts. But I would have thought by now you would have come
to accept that not everything can be explained within
current scientific thinking."

Scully sat with her chin tucked in and frowned. "But I have,
Mulder. You've shown me things that challenge me on an
almost daily basis."

"And yet you rarely admit when I am right."

Scully sat quietly. He was correct, of course, but she had
no answer for him. Or perhaps she had and it was just not
one she wanted to believe of herself. Instead, she smiled
and said, "Give you an inch, Mulder..."

He laughed aloud. "So that's it!"

She chuckled with him but then frowned and pulled her hand
away again. "But we're not talking about science, here,
Mulder. What you talked about was...trying to explain the
spiritual in physical terms."

"No, Scully, that's just it. I wasn't. These creatures are
metaphysical. I'm not sure if the black...thing I saw
entwining itself throughout people's minds was what I
perceived it to be. You know as well as I do that our brains
function in a cognitive way. We interpret the unexplainable
in a linear fashion, a gestalt impression of a subjective,
nonlinear experience. What I described is the way in which
my brain perceived it. But it was very clear to me that it
is somehow entwined in people's minds, perhaps what we
might call their souls. The Meta said some individuals are
more susceptible than others. That once enmeshed, it was
impossible to disassociate from this...evil... except
through physical death and even then, the thing might
consume and dominate the soul. Perhaps what we might call
hell."

"So how do you fight it off?"

Mulder shrugged. "I'm not sure...I think perhaps as much as
it is possible to have this...entity subsume one's mind,
one's thought processes, it is also possible to allow what
he called the Masters to enmesh with your mind...a
defensive barrier of good versus evil. Perhaps the
manifestation of this in some individuals leads to
sainthood, who knows? The thing is, Scully, I saw and felt
it, both sides of it. And it makes complete sense, it
explains...everything, from religion to philosophy to
psychology to the paranormal, alien visitation -- everything
in the X-files, it's all there, it all makes sense!" 

His voice had lowered in volume, but increased in
intensity. His excitement was undeniable. But just because
he had his answers did not mean he was about to give up the
fight.

"Scully, nothing of what I told you last night conflicts
with your concept of God. Certainly you believe in evil,
both in a metaphysical and tangible sense. Presumably you
believe in benevolent beings, angels if you like. It's a
common tenet that good guys become angels when they die. I
can't tell you with absolute certainty that what I saw was
an angel. I can tell you that in our mythology...okay,
okay." He held up his hand, realizing he was about to go
into another long ramble. "Look, all I'm saying is, I was
shown...things, that gave me understanding of the nature
and capacity of good and evil. I am physical proof that
*something* happened to me that afternoon. If not what I
describe then I'm prepared to accept it as something else.
Just show me what that something else is, Scully. But
before you try, ask yourself the question, why?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you need to disprove what I saw? It has always
been important to you to quantify things, yet as you
pointed out, you can't quantify the metaphysical. Now, I can
at least give you some explanation that makes sense and
your automatic reaction is to deny it because it doesn't
fit within your science or religious philosophy. Yet it
does!" 

They were interrupted by a flight attendant offering them
breakfast. The everyday actions of dropping tray tables and
juggling napkins and utensils allowed Scully time to absorb
his...accusations. Because that was what they were. Yet
what was he asking of her? To believe him or simply accept
what he said might have some validation? On the basis of
what? The physical evidence of his body? Could she offer an
alternative explanation? No, but that didn't mean his was
the right one. She closed her eyes for a moment and rubbed
a hand across her face.

"And if I cannot accept what you tell me, then you can no
longer accept my presence on this...journey..." 

"Scully, that's not it at all and you know it," he answered 
with some frustration. "The director made you an offer. An 
offer, I believe you should accept because you have your answers, 
you have resolution and it's time for you to move on. Isn't that 
what you want? I agreed with your reasoning and it gives 
credibility to the X-files. I believe in that, I believe in the work, 
perhaps now, more than ever, because I see a need to fight this 
manifestation of...evil...I mean how did you expect me to respond?
How did you want me to respond? Convince you not to accept?
Tell you that you should stay with me and believe something which
you continue to refute? It's not like you to dissemble,
you're too honest a person."

Scully had lost her appetite and pushed the food aside.
She had no answer to give him because he was right. What
exactly did she expect of him, that he would give up his
quest? 

When she did not answer, he added, "For once, Scully, this
is not about me, it's about you. I told you what I saw
because you wanted to know, not because I have any desire
to convince you. I want what you want, I want you to be
happy and this offer is a golden opportunity. What is the
difficulty in you accepting that?"

"Giving up on me, huh?"

"That presupposes you want me to convince you to stay."

"Jesus, I hate it when you play psychologist with me!"

He sighed. "Look, Scully, I don't want to wrestle with you
on this. I've given you physical proof and against my
better judgment, an explanation that fits the evidence,
the science and religious philosophy. And because I know
you still can't accept that, I'm agreeing with the proposal! 
What more do you want?"

The word had left her mouth before she realized she'd
spoken. "You."

******************************************
End Chapter 1 Seattle

Title: MIND GAMES: Book 5:Seattle 2 of 7
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
*********************

CHAPTER 2

Flight 308 to Seattle 

Scully closed her eyes in the bitter realization she had
made a complete fool of herself. For a while she thought he
really had not allowed his windowing abilities to badly
affect their relationship. Since his disappearance and
return he had been Mulder at his best. The easy repartee of
their partnership seemed back to normal, his bad jokes and
innuendoes thrown at her resumed in their usual form. He
had also seemed more content, less guilt-ridden, even when
the body of the last two victims were found. He accepted it
instead of drawing into himself. But his easy affection
lacked the undercurrent of passion and it had been made
clear he no longer entertained a more personal relationship
with her. 

How much of that was due to his strange abilities and what
she had been subjected to in the morgue she was unsure. But
the truth now rocked her. Whatever he had experienced with
the Meta had genuinely allowed him to come to terms with
his past, his present and his future. And his spirit, made
whole by his experience no longer depended on her. And that
is why he could give her up so easily.

The knowledge shocked her to the core, bringing with it an
almost overwhelming grief. That he should be healed and in
so doing abandon her, freely, happily giving her what she
truly wanted, now explained the content and meaning of his
e-mail. Then it dawned on her that this was, far more than
the physical evidence of his now scar-free body, sure proof
that what he said was true.

Oh, my God..had she loved him and stayed with him only
because he needed her? Was her own spirit so small and
wanting that she defined herself only in terms of being
needed? Was altruism truly selfishness defined by those who
need to be needed? She, Dana Katherine Scully, independent,
refusing to give of herself suddenly felt a sense of loss
and abandonment like she had never known.

She looked up in to his face, a face touched by
God...whatever he defined Him to be and saw in it the
truth. That he loved her so truly, so selflessly that it
brought him genuine happiness to open his arms and set her
free. How could she have been so blind? He had done this
before, with Emily, prepared to give her away, give her a
chance at motherhood, despite his great need. Now, he no
longer had any need. She turned away as, to her horror the
tears finally spilled from her eyes.

"Oh, Scully, don't cry, c'mere," and he tried to pull her
into an embrace. 

But she would have none of it. She had needed his need,
but she could not tolerate his pity. Instead, she pulled at
a napkin and turning to the window, dried her eyes. Never
let it be said that Dana Scully couldn't clamp down on the
emotional walls swiftly and surely. Damn herself for
letting him see her weak like this! 

The flight attendant came to collect the meal tray and
Scully excused herself to go to the bathroom. She needed to
reapply makeup and fix her hair. Refusing to look Mulder
in the eye, she climbed across his long legs and walked
steadily to the rear of the plane.

For his part, Mulder sat slightly stunned at her
revelation. In fact his instinctual response was to get
very turned on. Oh, he had been aroused countless times by
the sheer fact of her presence. And she had told him by her
actions that she loved him. But the signals were constantly
mixed and their professional roles easier to fall back on
than risk all. It was only on her couch, three weeks
before, that he seriously thought he could take their
relationship to a different level. 

Since then, he had exposed her to something about himself
no one should have to experience. Sure, it wasn't *him*,
but it was due to an inherent ability in him. That wasn't a
glove he could peel off and toss away. The memory of his
first wife, a beautiful young biologist whom he'd married
after he left Patterson, returned to haunt him. What he had
done to her, not physically, but spiritually, had been
something he swore he would never subject another woman to.
That Scully had seen it still weighed heavily on him. He
was willing to believe she accepted it as another aspect of
his profiling talents. She was his friend, his partner and
he was thankful beyond words that aspect of their
relationship had not changed. But as a psychologist, he
knew that any intimacy was forever tainted. As much as
Scully might think she could put the image aside, it would
creep up on her in a vulnerable moment. The Meta had given
him hope, on many levels and he simply could not comprehend
why Scully would wish to stay.

Now, he knew. 

The timing sucked. But then it always had. What in hell
was he supposed to say to her now? It seemed no matter what
he agreed to, it was wrong. When he wanted to take her in
his arms and tell her he loved her, she froze up and ran
off to the bathroom to reapply that well known Scully
faade. When she returned, well, the Great Wall of China
was like tissue compared to her construct. He shook his
head. As much as he loved her, with rare insight for his
usually dense self, he realized this was something she had
to come to grips with. Emotion and logic would have to war
in her heart and mind and the victor emerge to show him
where he finally stood. But for now, the only way she could
deal with this was to pretend it never happened, push it
aside and tramp all over it with the need to tackle the
case in front of them. The least he could do was give her
that, so he pulled out his legal pad and began melding his
memorized profile of the UNSUB with what Crystal had
supplied him about the victim.

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


CHAPTER 3

Day 22 - Saturday
Central Hotel, Seattle 

>From the Journal of Crystal Palmer
 

I don't hate flying, but I hate flights. It takes as long
to get to the airport and check baggage and then get off
the plane and find the damned bags again, then get a cab
into town as it does to make the damned flight. Okay, it's
a little different when crossing the continent, but you
know what I mean. This time, I hated it for an entirely
different reason.

>From shower to plane in forty-five minutes, including
packing. World record. Skinner got us on by bullying. A gun
and a badge, well what the hell, there had to be some
benefits to the job. Given the scars on his body and a
broken marriage, there were certainly plenty of downsides. I
hated being so far away. I went through all those guilt
things with Justin. If I'd been there, if I hadn't come to
D.C., if, if, if. But I couldn't really indulge myself in
guilt because if I'd still been married I would never have
gone back home to live. If the world stopped turning, we'd
fall off. 

Fuck, I hate if onlys. I've had enough of them in my life,
I wasn't prepared to indulge in any more.

Skinner was good. It must be so hard for these guys having
to deal with frantic or grieving relatives. And he didn't
have the luxury of emotional distance from me, seeing what
I'd been doing to intimate parts of his anatomy just an
hour before. He was reluctant to let Mulder come talk to
me, but I wanted that. I needed Mulder because he was the
only one who could tell me how things really stood. 

He helped. God, not for a minute did I believe he could. I
thought I was just clutching at straws, but he really did
help. He placed it all in a picture box and put each piece,
like a jigsaw, on the table, helping me fit them together
so he could see the picture. He sees it in three dimensions, 
of course and all I see is the flat image, but it helped, despite 
the cracks throughout, despite the knowledge that one ill-
fitting piece could see the whole thing fall apart and Jace 
end up dead. I put the pictures, those pictures out of my mind. 
I had to concentrate on the here and now, not the what ifs.

Agent Smith met us at the airport and took us to the
hotel. I can't really remember a great deal over the next
few hours except it was full of self-recriminations. Dad
was beside himself with what he had done, letting the FBI
in his hotel, accepting their blood money, paying off the
mortgage, knowing this had taken his son from him. But he's
like me when it comes to what ifs and eventually, I think I
convinced him it was no one's fault, any more that Jace
could be blamed for Mom dying. Appointing blame is simply
something our family is not big on, even self-blame.

I told him what Mulder told me and he respected Mulder. A
lot. He'd not seen what happened on the roof, but he'd
heard and he'd seen for himself how Mulder had been so
right it was...well... spooky. 

I tried to get access to find out what was happening
across the road. It was different now since they weren't in our
hotel. They were back on their own turf and I was an
outsider once more. I started pounding the desk and someone
grabbed me and told me to calm down. Took me a few moments
to realize it was Skinner. Should have known -- it was like
fighting an oak tree. He took me through a door into a
private room and I could see the conflict in his eyes. It
shut me up right away because I realized I'd put him in
a difficult situation. God knows why I was feeling so
damned logical because one part of me wanted to pound him
and demand he let me help.

"Crystal, you can't be part of this now. Even if you were
an agent, you would be ordered to back away. You're too
close and that makes it dangerous, not for you, but Justin,
because you can't think with a clear head."

I exhaled a deep sigh, folded my arms and glared at
him. Fuck, I hate it when people are right.

Skinner pursed his lips. "I promise I'll keep you up to
date. The good news is, Agent Smith followed up on Mulder's
profiles of the fifth UNSUB. Seattle P.D. had closed the
case, but the FBI hadn't. It was, I admit, shelved and I
agreed that it could be back burnered..."

"But you knew, Busche knew, Mulder was sure..!" I was
incensed they had done that! He could have, he *should*
have ordered them to follow up on the investigation! 

He stared at me unflinchingly. "The investigation would
have been followed up, in due course, but this office is
short-staffed and there is a hell of a lot more sick fucks
out there. This case is not isolated, though I wish to
Christ it was. I am entirely responsible for that decision,
not Busche, so you want to blame anyone, you blame me."

Damn him, but I couldn't. I've got this bad habit of seeing
the logic in someone else's argument and it was worse
because he was prepared to take the responsibility on his
shoulders alone. Shit. How can you rail against an
honorable man who admits the buck stops here? How many
people do that in this day and age?

"Now, listen to me. We have some leads, some good leads on
this."

But I stormed out of there. I was closer to the door than
him and it wasn't that far from the building exit. I know he
started to follow then stopped himself and I was glad. I
didn't want him wasting time placating me, I wanted him to
find Jace.

I ran across the road and tore back to my room, stripped
my clothes and pulled on lightweight bike gear. Some vague
deference to good sense allowed me to put a jacket on, it
was only just above freezing outside, but I wanted to be
cold. I wanted to be totally fucking numb. I couldn't sit
here and wait, I had to grind it out, push it out from me.
If I couldn't help, whether I was here or gone made no
matter.

I threw my bike down the steps and onto the parking lot,
slammed the helmet on my head, and took off around the
front. I practically ran two agents down, Mulder and Scully
as it turned out, in my haste to get away. Mulder called
after me but there was no way I was stopping. If Skinner
had sent them after me I would have been pissed with him
for wasting his precious fucking limited resources and I'd
already given Mulder everything I could. I'd been told to
back away. Well screw them, I was.

I checked my mirror then glanced back before turning
against the traffic at the corner. I saw Mulder watching me
and I knew he understood. 

Perhaps he was the only one who really did.

 

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

Mulder looked at Smith and allowed his lips to curl in a
slight smile. "You did good. Thanks for putting in the
overtime."

Skinner looked away, still torn with guilt that he had
ordered the investigation to be steeped down to a lower
level of priority. He nodded once to Smith, in recognition
of the man's fine work. "I want tails on all six of them.
What's your take, Mulder?"

"This one, Jameison."

"Why? He doesn't fit all the parameters of your profile,
that's why I put him at the bottom." Smith asked.

When Smith had started his babysitting assignment on
Mulder three weeks previously, he had been both suspicious
and resentful. Forenzzi's little speech had made him wary
and Mulder's ditching had pissed him off, big time. But
Smith had done a complete about face after the rooftop
incident. Mulder might be wacko, but he was one of the
most dedicated human beings Smith had ever seen. Any man
who risked his sanity and his life just trying to crack a
case like this, deserved some form of respect. And Mulder
was good, damned, but he was good. And he was no coward in
the field, another one of Forenzzi's pieces of bullshit.
Smith felt he owed Mulder some sort of an apology, so he'd
made a point of working after hours, getting very little
sleep, running Mulder's profile through dozens of data
bases, cross-referencing them until he came up with thirty-
two possible names. Fine tuning had brought it down to six
possibles. When Justin was abducted he recalled Mulder's
profile notes indicated the guy probably got off hanging
around the hotel during the investigation. He immediately
ran the photos past the hotel staff and all the FBI agents
and technicians. With no luck, he was about to go back to
the discarded names and start again.

Mulder then said that although the perpetrator would have
spent time in the hotel, he might have taken pains to
disguise himself. Recognizing one of them would have been a
lead, but not a guaranteed hit.

Smith had relegated Jameison to the bottom of his main
list simply because he was the only one who belonged to a
strip club. Mulder's profile indicated he probably wouldn't
be that obvious.

"Even my profiles are not gospel," Mulder grinned. "He's
taken an unusual step by personally abducting a potential
victim. If anything, I figured he's go for prostitutes.
What's the club?"

"Well, this is where it gets interesting and why I kept
him as a suspect. It's a regular, reasonably high class
strip joint. Squeaky clean. No liquor problems, no drugs,
no underage, any of the girls caught selling on the side get
tossed. They get a lot of college girls there and they make
sure they're escorted home after working hours, safe and
sound. Trouble makers and drunks are sent home in a taxi,
their fare paid."

"Jeez, we could do with a few like that in D.C." Mulder
muttered.

"I thought you preferred yours in two dimensions, Mulder,"
Scully replied.

He smirked. "Always willing to expand my horizons, Scully."

Smith continued, "I think, but there's no proof, that it
fronts for a more private club known around the traps as
Extras. Vice knows about it but it's hard to prove, you
know? They provide singles, couples, mixed bag, dogs and
kids are specialty items for private parties. Some of the
street kids have worked for them, but they don't last long,
it can get pretty rough.

Scully glowered. "And they can't get a bust on them with
that?"

Smith's lips thinned and his head rocked to one side. "It's
hard to pin it down, they go to ground real fast." 

"So, Jameison's a member of the strip joint, but no way to
connect him to this private club?"

"From what Vice tells me, the club side of it works in
plain view. I mean it's private parties only, clients'
homes. Membership is by reference only and even then,
members are apparently checked out pretty thoroughly.

"So, Agent Mulder, why him?"

Mulder couldn't really say why, it was a gut instinct, but
every nerve in him screamed that this as the one. He could
almost smell the evil.

They had absolutely no evidence to justify a search
warrant, but Busche knew a judge whose wife worked for
kid's shelters. They had their warrant within an hour, but
it did them no good. Jameison's home was on a six-acre
block. The security gates were unlocked and no one was
home. Not wanting to scare Jameison into doing anything
stupid if he had Justin stashed somewhere else, Skinner
ordered three teams to quietly scour the house and yards
for any sign of the boy, but make every effort to leave no
trace of their visit behind. They came up empty-handed. And
they still had not traced Jameison's whereabouts.

They had, however, with the cooperation of SPD placed 24-
hour tails on the other suspects. SPD vice was keen to
bust Extras so they sent two of their own plainclothes
into the strip club, fistfuls of five and ten dollar notes
scrounged from petty cash. Just for appearances, of course.

It had been a long, exhausting twenty-four hours for
Scully. She had managed to get a few hours sleep early in
the evening, then decided to go down to the restaurant for
a late dinner. She'd checked to see if Mulder was in the
adjoining room, but it was empty. He said he'd be across the
road, reworking a few ideas. Scully hoped he'd managed to
put his head down for a few minutes that day. 

Scully was surprised to see Crystal sitting alone in a
corner at the far side of the restaurant. Crystal caught
her eye and motioned for Scully to join her. Most of the
tables were full. The weather outside was good and it was a
Saturday night. Three weeks, Scully thought. It's been just
three weeks. Three weeks since this began, three weeks
since Mulder held her in his arms and taught her how to
play baseball. Three weeks since he'd started to kiss her.
Three weeks and more had been learned and lost and won than
most people experience in three years. 

Scully felt an almost overwhelming desire to sit and talk
with her sister. Melissa knew her. Melissa could read her
and although she might pretend to scoff, Scully would have
listened. 

Crystal stood as Scully approached.

"I'm sorry, Agent Scully."

"For what?"

Crystal motioned for Scully to sit. One of the new staff
immediately placed a carafe of water and fresh bread sticks
on the table. The advantages, Scully thought, of eating in
a popular restaurant with the owner's daughter.

"For nearly knocking you over this morning. I didn't mean
to be so rude, I just had to...get out of there." 

Scully nodded her head. "That's all right. Where did you go?"

"I don't honestly know. I just kept going until my knees
almost gave out. I went for a run with Skinner yesterday
morning." Yesterday morning? Could it have been only the
previous morning? Despite the time difference it seemed like
weeks had passed since then. "And I forgot how it takes a few
days for my knees to recover..." she trailed off, not
really having the heart for conversation.

"Sleep any?"

Crystal nodded. "Almost five hours, Agent Cummins brought
me up to speed about half an hour ago."

Scully looked at Crystal carefully over the rim of her
glass. Crystal smiled and said, "No, she wouldn't tell me
his name, but I guessed Mulder was sure who it was."

Scully simply nodded. "Don't worry, Crystal, Mulder's
usually right."

They talked for a while and Scully allowed herself a half
glass of wine with an excellent stuffed chicken breast. She
had already believed Crystal Palmer would make a good
agent, but now she began to appreciate that Skinner saw far
more than sharp intelligence and classical Greek beauty.
Scully was so absorbed by the woman's pithy and accurate
character analysis of Forenzzi, she didn't notice Mulder
approach until he was almost at the table. 

With a warm smile at Crystal but without preamble he said
"Scully, I really need to run something by you..."

Scully put her fork down with a slight sigh of
exasperation. He might live on sunflower seeds, but she
needed real food.

Mulder looked at his partner with such a woebegone face,
Crystal almost burst out laughing.

"All right Mulder, can I at least finish my dinner?"

He smiled. "Sure...fifteen minutes?"

Scully nodded in resignation, but he'd already gone. 

Crystal chuckled at the look on Scully's face. "Don't knock
it, it's a rare man who's not afraid to admit he needs you."

Suddenly, Scully remembered his e-mail and her face clouded
"He doesn't need me. I'll be returning to forensics soon
and he's made it clear he'll be happy working alone again."

Crystal stared at her in amazement. She'd had reason to
observe them closely these last few weeks. Mulder was
driven, passionate, but he needed a grounding force.
Without Scully to guide and protect him, he would destroy
himself. But his needs were on many levels. Scully was a
bright woman, could she be so dense as to not see that?
Despite her own pained spirit, or perhaps because of it,
Crystal could not idly stand by and watch him destroyed, he
was too beautiful a soul for that. And if Scully seemed
withered now, without him she would curl up and die inside. 

Crystal took a deep breath, recognizing the folly of
unsolicited advice. "He might be an enlightened, politically
correct man of the nineties, but he still has instinctual
needs. He's still a man, he needs to be a big brother, he
needs to be protective and offer support. He needs...to be
needed. You give him professionalism, loyalty, integrity
and strength. But you don't trust him enough to give him
the one thing he truly needs -- your need."

"That's...not true, I trust him with my life." Scully put
her fork down and scowled at the woman opposite.

"But not your heart. Only by giving him your need can you
prove your trust. Since you show you have no need for him,
and he's an honorable man, he'll let you go with his blessing."

Scully was confused, how could Crystal know..? "You don't
understand, the FBI is..." 

"A man's world and you see need and love as weaknesses
that exaggerate your femininity and throw your
professionalism into doubt. You think engineering is any
easier? You stand on a few oil rigs in the North Sea or
Saudi Arabia, order pit bosses around and see what it's
like being a female in a man's world! Trouble is, you've
decided you can be a professional or a woman, but not both.
You think you have to cut one part of yourself off in order
for the other to thrive. What you don't realize is by doing
so, your soul is withering and dying."

Scully shook her head, angry that her words cut so deeply,
so true...like Melissa would have done. "Crystal, law
enforcement partners are not normal relationships. You
depend on each other's strengths."

"Dana, giving love and showing need requires more trust
and strength and a braver heart than facing criminals. In
order to appear strong, you build walls around your
emotions, but they're walls of glass! Anyone with eyes to
see, including Mulder, senses the woman behind. But your
walls are so thick and hard all he can do is look and
desire with a longing heart. He's not a fool, he won't try
to break through because he knows the walls would shatter
and take you both down. Instead, as a man of integrity, he
respects you and backs away, convinced you do not need him. 

"You rightly take pride in your integrity and honesty and
strength of character and that professional clear head and
bravery under fire. But denying him your need is a
deception, Agent Scully. It's a lie, to both of you, a lie
by omission and worse than that, it's the act of a coward."

Crystal realized she had gone too far, but it galled her,
watching these two orbit each other like blinding suns,
held in thrall and yet kept separate by an extraordinary
magnetic force.

Scully somehow managed to both arch her eyebrows and
frown, then politely, coldly, excused herself and left the
restaurant, her half-eaten meal now lead in her stomach.

Crystal was about to get up and apologize, but she also
saw unshed tears and confusion in Scully's eyes. The agent
was not one to let words hurt her unless they were true.
Perhaps, just perhaps, they might break through that
strange wall she had erected. If not, Crystal feared
neither of them would survive for very long.

Crystal sat in thought for a while. Skinner had walls,
too. Too late, he found a way to broach them. She had no
idea if their relationship would deepen, but of one thing
she was certain. Because of his sensitive position, secrets
and freedom to come and go without explanation, she
understood without question. But not walls, not like that.

Scully was angry, with herself more than Crystal. Damn the
woman for looking into her heart and exposing it like that!
There was no time for this!

She wrapped her emotions out of the way as her cell phone
rang.

"Scully."

"Agent Scully? This is Smith, we've located Jameison!" The
excitement in his voice was palpable. 

"Where?" 

"He's just turned up at the strip club!"

Her personal emotions now shunted aside, Scully almost
smiled "Well done, Agent Smith, have you informed Agent
Mulder?"

"Yeah, just now, he said to call you while he got hold of
Skinner and prepared a full backup surveillance team."

Scully all but ran up the stairs to the second floor. She
literally bumped into Mulder coming down. He grabbed her to
steady her. "Smith tell you?"

"Yeah, let me get my coat and weapon."

"I'll get the car, meet you out front."

Scully nodded, all thoughts of her conversation with
Crystal now gone. She trusted Mulder, and although she'd
never tell him, she trusted his hunches enough to know this
might be the break they were looking for.

As she hurried back downstairs a few moments later, a
niggling voice said, well, that's the problem isn't it, you
don't trust him enough to tell him...

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

Title: MIND GAMES: Book 5:Seattle 3 of 7
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
********************* 

CHAPTER 4

Day 23 - Sunday
Seattle 
12:50 a.m.


That Smith had been on the ball enough to have traced
credit card transactions between Jameison and the Extras
Club was bound to springboard his career. Skinner had a
personal stake in this one, big time, thought Scully. She
was pleased. Mulder had plenty of detractors, so it was good
to know he also had one or two quiet supporters, even if
they were only junior agents.

Mulder had parked around the corner in the shadows, their
dark blue Taurus blending with the night. 

He had given no further thought to Scully's inadvertent
confession on the flight. It was neither insensitivity nor
indifference, but the way his mind operated. All of his
being, to the exclusion of everything else, had become
narrowly focused on locating Jameison, saving this child
and stopping the bastard permanently. Whatever he and
Scully were to each other was held frozen in time until
then. 

Over the years, Scully had come to understand his single-
minded tenacity. Give him a shovel and a desert and tell him
the evidence was out there, then while everyone else threw up
their hands in despair, he'd start digging enthusiastically. And, 
oblivious to everything around him, he'd keep digging, never 
giving up until he dropped dead. That he was an embarrassment 
to his peers, that he sometimes ignored Scully and ditched her 
meant nothing to him in the face of his truth. In time, her respect 
for this tenacity had evolved into admiration and eventually, love.
He was the most extraordinary human being she had ever met.
If he sometimes lacked the simple social skills and
thoughtfulness people displayed to one another, it was a
cheap price to pay for his friendship and companionship.

Scully knew all this, yet she sensed in him now a relaxing
of the previous day's concentrated tension. It had all come
down to the here and now. Jameison was inside, all they had
to do was sit and wait. 

Scully gulped, Crystal's accusation playing heavily on
her mind. This was neither the time nor the place, but they
could be there for hours. Mulder's active mind, having gone
over every scenario a dozen times, was starting to get
restless with boredom. His hand began to fiddle with the
heater, a sure sign. They sat quietly, comfortable on a
professional level, but as Mulder's obvious boredom
increased, the air of tension between them of things spoken
and unspoken the previous days, became stifling. The
darkness gave her a measure of freedom to expose her soul.

"I'm...afraid, Mulder."

He glanced swiftly at his partner, immediately
understanding this was not about the stakeout. 

Scully continued, "Crystal finally made me realize
something this afternoon, that I was...a coward."

"You're no coward, Scully." 

But his response was not as intense as it should have
been. In many ways he was not surprised by her next words.

"When it comes to my emotions, I am."

He said nothing, realizing she had come to a decision. He
waited quietly in the dark, letting her do this at her own
pace.

"And so are you. What happened with your wife, Mulder?"

That threw him, when had this become about him? But then,
he had always been more able to reveal himself to her than
she could to him. And his marriage was an issue she was
bound to bring up someday. An issue he would sooner forget.
But as he had insisted on her emotional honesty, so he
could give her no less in return. It was time she learned
the truth, the whole truth.

"Scully, once I come out of these mirroring events, it
honestly has no long term effect on me. If I mirror a
victim, on some level, I know I felt their pain, but it's
like a dream. It's gross, ugly and horrific but you're
analogy to a glove is more accurate than you might imagine.
I've always thought of it as like watching a horror movie.
It sends cold shivers down your spine at the time, but you
walk outside into the warm light of day and shrug it off.

"Trouble was, Bill had me back into the damned theater
before my feet had touched pavement and it started to get
to a point where I couldn't remember if there *was* a light
of day.

"The last case with him, fourteen young men, all early
twenties, had been badly beaten, sodomized, shot in the
extremities and left to die of exposure. This particular
mirroring I was channeling the victim, similar to what
happened on the hotel roof. Scully, for some reason, when
it's a victim, I have a lot more control, but there is a
trade-off. I see a great deal less and sometimes,
unusually, my own psyche gets caught up in it. I can be
jerked out of it before it comes to an end. You pulled me
out of the last one."

Scully looked down at her hands. She'd finally confessed
how much she needed him. She'd sworn then that he would
never have to face it alone again...but in her cowardice
and the cold reality of morning, she had once more, backed
away. Crystal was right indeed.

Mulder continued. "Maybe it's because they *are* victims
and therefore weaker, I don't know. Bill knew that as well
as me. And he knew whether my body became victim or killer,
I witnessed it all. Despite that, he...lost it that night.
The victim had been badly beaten around the mouth. His jaw
was broken and he was in incredible pain. The killer,
Jackson Grujik, had just sodomized him, then tried to force
himself inside the victim's mouth. It was impossible
because of the physical damage, but I must not have
conveyed that to Bill. The next thing I know, Bill's trying
to..."

He broke off, he'd already told her on the rooftop what
Bill had done.

"Is that what snapped you back?"

Mulder nodded once. "I think a lot of shit the previous few
years came down on me all at once. I didn't know if he was
gay or bisexual or just caught up in the moment. Thinking
about it later, I believe he'd kept it tightly controlled
all these years, but had started to succumb to his own
personal madness. Not immersing himself, but actual
psychosis, like the Mostow case. It didn't surprise me when
he tipped then, I'd already had my suspicions. Seeing the
clay on his hands was just the giveaway.

"But that last time with me, I wasn't thinking too
clinically. I was furious on many levels, not the least of
which by pulling me out of my trance, it interfered in the 
process of evidence gathering. He said he was trying to 
make it more real for me, so I could see more clearly, but...
Look, I heard the crap Forenzzi put out about me and it bothered 
me only in that it was taking Skinner's time up with
press releases when it could have been put to more use
elsewhere. 

"Scully, I'm not even vaguely gay. And believe me, when
you spend time at Oxford, you find out one way or another,
despite the likes of Phoebe. But I can understand how
someone would think that, or worse, pedophilia, witnessing
one of these events.

"Patterson, of all people, knew that. He knew me because
we'd had good reason for those issues to be discussed over
years traveling together. So when the stupid son of a
bitch shoved his dick in my mouth...I fucking near took his
head off. Took four agents to get me off the bastard,
despite me being physically run down."

He hadn't meant to be quite so graphic with her, but the
memory of it still made him wince. It was this involuntary
shudder that convinced Scully, if she had any lingering
doubts, that his mirroring truly was outside of who and
what he was. 

"All the times I'd ever been immersed in these incidents,
they've never been part of me or what I am. Patterson's
action was up close and too damned fucking personal."

"You never considered pressing charges?"

He glanced at her sideways. "For what? For interfering
with a case, obstruction of justice? Sexual assault? Jesus,
Scully, it might have made me sick and I never forgave him
for it, but it's not the sort of thing you ruin a man's
life over. What it did do was wake me up out of a
continuous two and a half years long fucking sick movie
show. 

"So I walked. Came close to leaving the FBI altogether,
but the director convinced me to take accumulated leave and
as much personal time as I thought I needed. 

"I went up to Chilmark for a time. Not to see Mom,
although I spent a day or two with her. I had a few other
friends up there, including a woman I'd known off and on
for years. She was a biologist, doing some research on
coastal dune vegetation." 

He lifted his hand and ran it through his hair. The memory
of those months was bittersweet. He'd spend weeks with her,
just the two of them, exploring the coastline. He recalled
her excitement as she'd dig into the sandy soil, examining
the root structure of an unidentified dune plant. She'd
drag him out in the foulest weather so she could see
exactly what happened to dune-stabilizing grasses in high
velocity winds, then they'd end up making love on the beach
in the middle of a storm. God, he had loved her in a simple,
pure, innocent way.

"I was a naive fool to think I could bring her back with
me. She was a post grad at American University and it all
seemed logical that I'd go back to work and we'd get
married and live happily ever after. But things happened. I
went into the VCU and my partner was killed."

"Steve Wallenberg."

He nodded. "Yeah. Meanwhile, Patterson used the opportunity
to try and convince OPR I wasn't suited for..."

"But they cleared you!"

"Yes, they cleared me, but by then, I'd started to discover
a few things. I'd met Arthur Dales and had one very bad
hallucinatory experience with an unknown substance. That's how
I met the Lone Gunmen -- although they didn't call themselves that,
yet. But the experience led me to relive something of my sister's 
abduction. I met Doctor Verber and started regressive hypnotherapy 
sessions. Scully, it was a...confusing time in my life and I let 
myself be pulled back into the BSU, conditional on Patterson 
keeping the hell away from me. 

"It was only a couple of months after Julie and I were
married that I agreed to deep profile, then finally, mirror
a bad case. She'd gone up north for a few weeks and I let
myself run down until I could get into the mind of this
guy. The trouble was, she came home unexpectedly. 

"Even that wouldn't have mattered, but this guy hit his
last victim two days sooner than we expected. It was
opportunistic and happened with virtually no warning, woke
me from a deep sleep and I never had a chance to call up
the unit and warn them to come get me. "

Scully closed her eyes and reached across for his hand.
His voice was almost a whisper as he continued. 

"I could always shelve the things we dealt with in the
VCU. I could come home and forget about them with Julie. Oh
sure, she knew I was an FBI Agent and accepted I wore a
gun. But she disliked it, disliked violence in any form,
wouldn't even watch cop shows on television. If I left my
gun lying around she'd cover it with something, couldn't
even bring herself to move it out of the way. I tried to
show it to her when I'd clean it, thinking if she could
understand the mechanism, she wouldn't be so afraid of it,
but she refused and I didn't have the heart to push it. It
was an aspect of my life she accepted, but she didn't like
it."

Scully sat quietly, wondering what a Fox Mulder who was
not yet obsessed with the X-files would have been like. A
young man coming home to a beautiful, loving wife at the
end of the day. She would have grounded him, allowed the
ugliness of the VCU to be swept aside...until his own
personal demons caught up with him.

His voice trailed off as memories assailed him.

"What happened?" Scully prompted quietly.

He shrugged in the dark. "Much the same as you, but this
guy used to shoot his victims before leaving them to die of
exposure, or blood loss, whichever came first. So instead
of a scalpel, I used my gun."

Scully let out an involuntary moan. Oh, God, it had been
bad enough for her, a pathologist and FBI agent who had
already seen Mulder in the throes of his own personal
demons. But for a naive young woman who loved him in an
innocent and simple way, who knew nothing of Mulder's
necessarily violent life, a person who both feared and
hated guns...oh, my God, what she must have experienced.
What Mulder must have suffered.

"When they explained it to her, she was good about it. I
guess I should have expected nothing less. She was always
generous to a fault...but after seeing that, Scully, after
having gone through that, no woman..."

"Mulder, it was different for her, she would never have
understood it."

"That's why she agreed to an annulment. Just put it past
her, past us. She moved to Florida afterwards. It was a
good move, professionally, lot of coastal erosion problems
down there. She remarried about three, four years back, to
a coastal management planner. I think they've even got a
kid now.

"The director allowed my indulgence on the X-files as
an...apology, and a promise he would seal certain aspects
of my file."

"I'm okay about it, Scully, really, but when you ask me if
I'd wish for a normal life, just for a while...I...I have, I
tried it once and it was very nice but it caused someone I
loved far too much pain. I promised myself I'd never do
that to anyone again. 

"But you can allow yourself to be talked out of self-made
promises. I met Diana soon after and fooled myself into
thinking it just might work with someone who understood
what the work was like. But by then, I was so obsessed with
the X-files and finding Samantha that Diana rightfully gave
up and left. And Scully, that was it, there was no way
after that I'd allow myself to be involved with anyone,
ever again. Make no mistake, despite what I've learned,
more importantly, because of what I've learned, finding
Samantha, fighting the...the lies and the outright evil we
see, I see in the X-files, is still all that matters."

They sat silently for some time. Scully wrestled with her
own emotions. How could she deal with this now? Had she
been mistaken that night he'd taught her to play baseball?
Hadn't he thought there might be something more between
them? Damn it! He had started to kiss her, she was not
imagining things! The only way now was to risk her heart,
to stop being a coward. 

"Mulder, how did the others in the VCU deal with your
mirroring?"

He laughed. "Morgue humor."

She grasped his hand more tightly and added, "Have you
forgotten what your partner is, partner?"

"Scully, look, I'm not blind to...the fact that, well..."
shit, he could do this. "I stupidly fooled myself...I
thought for a while that maybe, because of what we'd been
through together, that you and I might become...closer than
partners and friends. But that was a mistake, Scully. My
mistake and I'm very, very sorry if I led you to believe
something that I shouldn't have."

"Because of what I witnessed in the morgue?"

"And my obsessive little quest. Scully there's no room for
anything else, not now not ever..."

"Mulder, I told you to throw away the glove..."

"Scully, it's not that. But even if it was, Jesus, I know,
I really do understand that as my partner and friend you
can accept that aspect of me. But...not as a woman."

"Mulder..."

"No, listen to me. I know you hate me playing psychologist
with you but what you saw...what you felt...under
different...circumstances...those events would replay in
your mind. You can't separate the association and I won't,
I can't allow that to come between us. So I cannot allow
the circumstances to arise where it might."

Scully tried to read his face in the dark. He needed to
have this idea knocked out of his head once and for all.
Once it was gone she could try and deal with the other
aspects, the Meta and their changing status within the FBI.
One step at a time.

The only sure way she knew how to do this was to finally
be honest with him on a very fundamental level. For all
Crystal was right in accusing Scully of trying to hide her
femininity, Scully knew how he would react, as a man, to
what she would say. But there was no other way.

"Mulder, you are talking to a woman who, after examining
some cadaver's stomach contents and seeing half-digested
pepperoni and mushrooms, gets hungry and starts salivating
over the thought of a pizza."

She sat back, wondering how long it would take him to
absorb the implications of her analogy. He was a smart man,
surely it wouldn't be long...

He jerked in his seat and turned to face her. His body
responded far faster than his brain and he idly wondered if
the car was dark enough to hide his rapidly growing problem. 

Shit, she was a pathologist, for crying out loud. Christ,
he'd been a fool! Skinner was right. The damned Meta was
right, too! Then he recalled her words on the rooftop. She
had called him beautiful, not just his body...Could she
really feel that way about him?

Okay, if he accepted that she could ignore the circumstances 
and concentrate on the fact that she saw and handled *his* 
erect penis, could she be attracted to...?...Nah!

As if she could read his thoughts, Scully added softly,
"Most people would find it pretty disgusting, in fact
downright perverted, that I can compartmentalize my
associative memories. Over here, masticated, semidigested
pepperoni, cheese, tomatoes and dough in a dissected human
stomach. But all I can think of when I'm looking at those
remains, when I'm hungry, and I get hungry a lot, Mulder,
especially with you, is how good a pizza's gonna taste if I
could just be allowed to try."

He was now downright uncomfortable, even in his loose
trousers.

They'd become so accustomed to subtext, the rational part
of his brain warned him that he was reading it all wrong.
He had to be certain, this was too important to approach
from an acute angle.

"So you're saying you can think about...seeing me like
that...and..." 

He gulped but she finished the sentence for him.

"And feeling you in my hands. Yeah, Mulder, I think about
it. A lot. I might be a doctor, but I'm also a woman. I
mean, what if the situation were reversed?" 

"That's different, Scully, I'm a guy; lascivious thoughts
are a constant..."

"And you think women don't have them too?"

He was tempted to convince himself that it was because she
hadn't been with a man in while. Any hard cock in her hands
might have been enough to...but not under those
circumstances...and not Scully. And if their situations had
been reversed, and it had been him touching and watching
Scully like that, his brain would also conveniently ignore
the circumstances and remember only what it was like to see
her, feel her... Shit, he'd be walking around with a fucking
splint tying his cock to his leg because the memories would
never leave him in peace. Was it possible, in some small
way that she felt the same? 

But before he could respond she said urgently, "Look!"

Mulder glanced across at the entrance. In the dim light,
it was not easy to make him out, but yeah, that looked like
Jameison all right. He glanced briefly at his partner and
turned on the ignition while Scully radioed through that
the subject had left the club. All thought of what they had
just been discussing fled from both their minds. But they
both knew a monumental barrier had just been broached. And
this time, there could be no going back.

"Can you see him, Scully?"

The angle she sat at allowed her a better view of the
parking lot.

"Yeah, he's getting into the Jaguar," 

They waited for the vehicle to start. After a few moments
Mulder asked, "What's happening?"

"He's just sitting there, like he's waiting for
something..."

"Or someone. Shit, Scully, maybe he's already picked up
another couple. I didn't expect it quite so soon. If that's
the case..." 

They glanced at each other in concern. 

Minutes passed while Scully kept Skinner briefed. Suddenly
the Jaguar's lights came on and it pulled away. Mulder
eased the Taurus out to follow, keeping his lights off. As
they passed under a street light they could just make out
one, possibly two additional figures in the vehicle. They
must have approached the car from behind. Scully radioed
that information through.

Neither of them commented, but they were both tense now.
Keeping a trail on this guy was critical because if he did
have Justin and he had picked up two people to take home
with him, at the very least, the boy would be subjected to
sexual assault.

A second unmarked car pulled in behind the Taurus and
Mulder flipped his headlights on as the three vehicles
rounded a corner. The trailing vehicle turned his off,
depending on street lights and the vehicles in front to
illuminate the way. 

Traffic was light. The digits on the clock edged close to
2:00 am. Mulder and Scully pulled away at an intersection,
turning left as the Jaguar went on ahead. They continued to
coordinate the trail with other vehicles and finally, a
helicopter. This was imperative when the traffic became so
light that any tail, no matter how far back, would be obvious.

It quickly became obvious that Jameison was heading home.

"Shit!" Mulder exclaimed as he sped through parallel
streets, wanting to get to the address and park before the
Jaguar arrived. 

Scully could feel his frustration and disappointment. If
Justin had been kept in the house, the search teams would
have found him. But then, it wouldn't be the first time
Mulder located a hidden room...A sudden thought hit her.

"Mulder!" she whispered as he turned off the ignition
"Wouldn't it be possible that this guy has his own studio
on the premises?"

Mulder's head swiveled to his partner. "Jesus, of course!
Soundproof rooms! It makes sense. He could keep Justin
inside and the kid could scream his lungs out and no one in
the next room would hear him! If the entrance is hidden, no
wonder the search team never found him!"

Then Scully stopped and shook her head. "But nothing showed
up on the building plans...a sound studio would have
required building permits...contractors..."

"Not necessarily. He might have used a Canadian company,
or paid cash to a private contractor wanting to avoid tax.
No Scully, I think you're right! Look at all the
landscaping, that's tons and tons of dirt -- enough to cover a 
pretty big underground complex!"

Scully relayed her theory to Skinner as Mulder leaped out
of the car and ran to the closed gates. Without warning,
the gates swung open and Mulder ducked inside moments
before the Jag pulled in. Before Scully had a chance to
catch up, the Jag wound up the driveway and security gates
closed behind. 

The stately old home was surrounded by a ten foot high
stone fence. Scully cursed Mulder once again for abandoning
her. Jesus, this was just like the farm all over again! And
this time, he might not be so lucky. 

Shit, shit shit!

Scully practically hopped from one foot to the other as
Skinner, Smith and four other agents in unmarked cars
quietly pulled up behind the Taurus.

Skinner's bulk once again belied a swiftness and agility
that left Scully blinking. Before she'd finished explaining
Mulder was inside, Skinner was already atop the wall and
reaching for her hand. Within seconds, all seven agents
were inside the grounds and making their way to the house.
Minutes passed while they surrounded the house, covering
all exit points, but there was no sign of Mulder.

"He'll be inside," Scully answered Skinner's questioning
look.

Skinner rolled his eyes, knowing Mulder would never
consider the legality of entry. The search warrant could
not be used twice. But Skinner would ram probable
cause down the judge's throat if he had to. He checked the
front door and found it unlocked. Mulder had probably
gotten in that way. Any second now, security alarms would
likely be going off. But all they could do was play it as
it came.

Skinner motioned Cummins to go in first, then Scully,
while he covered them. Agents Wilcox and Smith were
stationed at the rear door while Busche and Cowley came in
behind Skinner. Suddenly a gunshot penetrated the quiet of
the night, then shouting and a second then third gunshot
from a different weapon. 

Scully refused to allow her emotions to take over. This
was the biggest fear of a deeper relationship with Mulder,
that her feelings would interfere with her ability to act
professionally. She allowed Skinner to move ahead of her
into the kitchen. The shot seemed to have originated from
there. But there was no sign of movement. 

Wilcox and Smith came in through the back door but Busche
ordered them outside again. There could yet be a third,
secret entrance if Scully's theory proved correct. Backup
had already been called.

Meanwhile, Scully thought she detected a sliver of light
through what she presumed was the ajar pantry door. As she
opened it she was almost knocked over by a terrified boy
running into her arms.

"He's got a gun! He's got a gun and there's blood
everywhere!"

She couldn't see clearly in the dark. "Justin?" 

"No, Jace is still down there, with the policeman! He's
been shot...there's blood all over the place!" 

Scully's heart pounded as she handed the boy to Cummins.
The female agent pulled him into her arms as Scully
followed Skinner into the pantry. He glanced back at his
agent once, torn between fear for Mulder and for Crystal's
brother. Despite the darkness, he saw that same fear
reflected in Scully's eyes.

Outside, backup began arriving. It seemed half SPD had
been alerted. The external wiring for the gates would soon
be dismantled and a half dozen police were climbing the
fence. If there was an exit outside of the house, unless it
led into an adjacent property via an underground tunnel, no-
one would escape.

Scully entered the pantry and saw a second doorway leading
to a short stairway. She gave it a cursory glance as she
passed. It opened away from her and was covered in shelves
of food. No wonder the search teams had not found it.
Jesus, how had Mulder figured it out? Her eyes cornered the
room below, noting a well laid-out study and two open doors
leading elsewhere. Skinner had started through one. He
turned and motioned for two of the agents to follow him
while Scully went to the next door.

The following sixty seconds were the same confused,
organized but uncontrolled pandemonium of the previous
week. Sixty seconds in which Skinner was shot by a male
assailant, Jameison was shot by Scully, the two assailants
taken into custody and EMTs called.

But no sign of Mulder or Justin.

Once she ascertained Skinner's condition, Scully left the
pandemonium behind and rounded another corner into a small
room. In front of her was a pool of blood spreading around
Mulder's prone form. He lay atop a crying boy, his face
half gone.

Scully staggered, her grip on her pistol wavering at the
sight of her partner, clearly beyond help. For the first
time in her life she literally froze in disbelief. 

Her gun hand slowly dropped, some part of her mind kicking
in that the boy might be injured and she had to get to him,
but the sight of Mulder's face...what remained of it...

"No...not like this Mulder! Damn you! Not like this! I
*need* you damn it! You can't ditch me like this!" 

But her rational mind knew she was babbling. Fox Mulder
had finally gone.

An eternity passed as she moved towards his body, knowing
she had to get to Justin. He was what mattered now. The boy
Mulder had given his life for...But as she kneeled down to
his body something picked her up and moved her aside.
Scully went to fight it, thinking it was another
agent...until she saw the bright blue colored flesh inches
from her face.

"Shit, Mulder, we need you alive," it said in annoyance.

Scully looked in frozen amazement at the blue man...oh, God,
he was not a man! She stared round-eyed as he reached
across to Mulder's torn face. Blood still poured from the
horrific injury. Despite the fact it had destroyed half his face,
his heart still beat. Mulder was still alive, for the
moment.

The blue...creature turned to Scully and said, "Good thing
I was passing by. I'd never normally interfere, but there's
no reason not to do this and every reason to...so..." 

He turned his cat like eyes back to Mulder. Seconds passed
while Scully, beyond disbelief, fell back to sit on the
floor. She noticed that Justin had stopped crying and was
staring up at the blue man in awe. When her eyes came back
to Mulder's face, it was visible -- and whole.

"How did...you...you..!?" Scully tried to articulate what
her scientist's mind refused to believe.

The large blue...man helped the boy out from beneath
Mulder's prone form. 

The agent blinked slowly and, seeing the Meta standing
over him, grinned. "I thought you weren't supposed to help?"

Nik sighed. "I was just in the neighborhood, thought I'd
drop by and see how you were doing...but don't get any
ideas, I am not your fucking guardian angel. Next time,
duck."

Mulder laughed aloud. "I'll remember that."

But before the words were fully out of his mouth, the Meta
had disappeared.

Scully stared at Mulder, her jaw slack in disbelief, her
eyes fixed on the splattered blood all over his shirt
collar and coat. He grinned and winked at her as he sat up,
helping Justin to his feet with one hand.

"What was that?" Justin asked in amazement.

"Do you believe in angels?" Mulder leaned down and asked
him in the same voice Scully recognized from her first
meeting with him seven years previously.

Justin frowned. "Of course not! Besides, an angel wouldn't
cuss like that."

Mulder smiled. "Well, then, *that* was nothing. C'mon, you
have a very anxious family waiting for you at home."

Justin stared at the big man, then broke out in a grin. "A
secret, huh?"

Mulder nodded and smiled in return as he clasped the boy's
hand and led him from the room. He didn't bother to look at
his partner. She either accepted, or not. As he said, he no
longer had the driving need for proof, for the proof was
within him, again. 

Scully stared back at the pool of blood and tissue on the
floor. She knew without doubt when forensics tested it they
would find it matched Mulder's. But what was the point? As
much as she needed to convince herself that what she had
witnessed had been interpreted in some gestalt fashion by
her brain, the fact remained that Mulder had just stood up
and walked out of the room without a scratch on him.

Oh, my God...he had been right...all these years...what
happened to him the week before...it was all true...

Oh, my God...

*********************************
End Chapter 4 Seattle

Title: MIND GAMES: Book 5:Seattle 4 of 7
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 adult concepts
********************* 
CHAPTER 5

Day 23 - Sunday 
Harborview Medical Center - Seattle

>From the journal of Crystal Palmer
 
One of the most heart-rending sensations of relief and terror I
have ever experienced was hearing Jace was safe and Skinner
had been shot. I'm still not sure how I managed to stay
upright and I do not recall running across the road and
telling everyone that Justin was okay and they were
bringing him home.

Dad, Dulcie and Gemma burst into tears while everyone else
hugged each other and laughed. It took Dad a few moments to
realize I was standing there like a statue, white as a
sheet, my fists clenching and unclenching. I was desperate
in equal measures to get to the hospital, get back across
the road to find out more about Skinner's condition and
stay there until Scully and Mulder brought Justin back. 

The hotel was half full and I don't think the guests
appreciated having the entire staff begin an impromptu
party down in the dining room. I didn't notice, though, as
Dad took me aside and asked what was wrong.

"Skinner...he was shot," I replied.

"The A.D.? The one you were staying with in D.C?"

I nodded grimly. "I'm going back across the road, I have to
find out how he is."

Dad just looked at me with those wise, knowing eyes of his
and nodded once.

When I returned a few minutes later, he saw the look on my
face and pulled me into the big pantry at the back. I burst
out crying as the whole damned thing came down on me. I'm
not one for crying. I mean I do, but I think the last
really good cry I had was after Paul left me...not when he
died, but when he left.

Dad pulled me away from him and made me tell him. 

I shook my head and said, "He's okay, Dad, he's fine,
really, he was clipped in the arm. They're going to stitch
him up and keep him in overnight but that's it. But...it
could have been different. Oh, Dad, he might have died, Jace
might have died!"

He looked at me in gentle understanding and made me sit
down on the step ladder. Dulcie came in, but despite her
age, she's pretty sensitive. She took one look and left
again. Justin would be here in a few minutes and I needed
time to pull myself together.

"Do you love this man?"

I blinked away the tears and answered him honestly "I'm
not sure...I...it's all too soon and close and mixed up
with Jace and...I haven't told you yet but they've
approached me to join the FBI...and I haven't told them
yet, but I know without a shadow of a doubt, it's what I
want to do."

His hands dropped and his brows furrowed. I knew his first
thought was for the danger it might put me in. But we were
all in danger, every day, at least this way I felt I had
some control.

He wrestled for something to say then asked quietly
"Because of him?"

I laughed without humor. "Oddly enough, it's got nothing
to do with it. But how did you guess how I felt about him?"

He reached under the side of my collared sweater and
touched something on my neck. I actually blushed. How had
he seen it there? I'd taken great pains to hide it, easy
enough in this weather. But then Dad always was pretty
observant.

He smiled. "You're no fool Crys, you know the difference
between love and lust. Just take a little time on this
because all our emotions are very raw."

Did I mention I have one hell of a Dad? Still, I blushed
again.

"But I don't understand why you would want to join them?
You have hated them here."

"No, I didn't realize it until the end, but what I really
hated was what they fought. I resented them for showing me
that these monsters are here, all around us. But it's like
with that detective, Johns. In all good conscience, I just
can't sit around and depend on others to protect us,
especially not after tonight."

I trailed off as we heard the fuss outside. I wiped my
eyes one last time. Scully, Mulder, Cummins, Justin and
another boy had arrived. The kids had to be taken to the
hospital for a checkup, but since they seemed okay, Mulder
insisted they come by here first. 

Ten minutes later we're in a convoy to Mercy General.
Fortunately it was the same hospital as Skinner had been
admitted to. Now I'd seen Justin and had a chance to hold
him and feel for myself he was fine, I needed to see
Skinner. Justin was more concerned for his new friend than
himself. Near as I can understand the boy, Peter, is the
son of a prostitute. I ended up sitting in the front of
Scully's car and she told me his mother had *sold* him to
Jameison a few days before. I just about gagged. The things
I'd learned the last few months had taught me a few more
painful lessons about life. That all the policing in the
world didn't stop, or even deter the really bad crimes,
especially the ones engendered by society. All it did was
fight to reduce the number of victims. What it came down to
was not how many you lost, like the children that had been
killed over the last eighteen months, but how many you
saved. That wasn't something you could calculate, not
something you could pat yourself on the back for, but it
was more important than simply putting people in jail. 

I looked at Scully and felt acutely embarrassed for the
things I'd said the day before. Although I'd wanted to
shake her out of that faade she wears, I wasn't exactly
tactful. But she smiled at me and said, "No, you were
right." She didn't say anything more, but I felt better,
she'd used the past tense, not the present.

When we arrived at the hospital, it was clear Jace and
Peter would be overmothered by half my family and Agent
Cummins, so I felt absolutely no compunction following
Scully and Mulder to the emergency room. 

Skinner was sitting up on the edge of a bed as an intern
finished up. He was shirtless and my first reaction, after
seeing him looking casually unaffected by the bandaging of
his arm, was oh, my God, he really is a magnificent specimen.
I mean, I really hadn't had a chance to look from a
distance the other night. 

I hadn't had time to develop any sense of possessiveness
over Skinner, so I felt more pride than jealousy when I saw
Scully giving him the once over. And don't give me that
she's a doctor line...and by the merriment dancing in
Mulder's eyes, he wasn't buying it either. 

Skinner's first reaction was to look both his agents up
and down. He frowned when he had a good close look at
Mulder and the blood all over his shirt collar. Mulder self
consciously tried to cover it with his coat, but the dark
stain on the black wool was a give away.

"I heard you'd been shot, Agent Mulder."

Mulder grinned and Scully paled, an odd reaction, I thought.

"Rumors of my demise have, as usual, been exaggerated." 

I could see by the look on Skinner's face that he wasn't
buying it. I had wondered myself about the blood on Mulder, 
but Scully had some on her, too. Given the amount of shooting 
that had happened that night, I figured it must belong to 
someone else. I reminded myself that these three went back 
seven years. A long time, a very long time in that lifestyle. 
I bit the inside of my lip, wanting to be part of this group,
yet feeling like an intruder.

Finally, he turned his eyes on me. We hadn't exactly
parted with loving words.

He asked softly, "How is your brother?"

"Fine, he's really fine...thank you." I looked at all
three of them as I replied, putting everything I could into
that last word.

Skinner nodded once and his eyes changed for a brief
moment, just enough for a personal message to be conveyed.
He didn't have to say or do anything more, it was enough.
He then asked Scully to give him a quick run down of the
current situation. I moved to leave. He'd made it clear
that I was not FBI yet, and he was right. There would be
time to talk later. But Mulder touched my arm and motioned
me to take a nearby seat. 

Skinner gave his full attention to the agents for the next
ten minutes, not glancing at me again during their
debriefing. These were his people. They were his absolute
priority, his loyalty and duty to them and his job would
never allow anything, including personal relationships, to
stand before that. Rather than being put out, I felt a
surge of pride for his passion and dedication. And his
honesty, both to them and myself. If we were to develop any
kind of relationship then he made no pretenses things would
be any different than this. 

I watched them during this debriefing and for all his
stern demeanor, I sensed a powerful connection between
them. They meant a great deal to each other, more than
Skinner would allow himself to show. 

Skinner turned, grabbed his undershirt and pulled it over
his head. There was a dark red stain on the cuff and part
of the torso but he ignored it. However when he grabbed his
dress shirt, his nose scrunched in annoyance at the mangled
and bloodied right arm. I almost gasped when I saw how
*much* blood. Jesus, was he really all right? But his face
seemed as tanned as ever and his eyebrows lifted in
resignation as he pulled the shirt on.

Scully was making noises about him spending the night.
Then an orderly came in with a wheelchair to take him to
his room. 

You have to say one thing about authority. When someone
has it, they don't have to say much to wield it. Skinner
simply stood, looked the orderly up and down, grabbed his
jacket and said, "That will not be necessary, I am not
spending the night." 

Scully started to object while the orderly had the good sense
to shrug and leave. Skinner simply looked at her, his face
somehow expressionless but imposing. That countenance would
have faced down a room full of generals, but all I could
think of was how similar it was when I...well, never mind,
but it was just as I thought, I could never again take him
quite as seriously as he appeared to everyone else. I hid
my grin behind my hand.

Scully gave Skinner her car keys and she left with Mulder
while Skinner put his suit jacket back on. It was almost as
bloodied as his shirt, although being dark it didn't stand
out as much. His eyes scanned the room, looking for his
overcoat no doubt and he asked me again how Justin had
coped with the whole thing.

"He's just very, very hungry. Mulder was right. That
bastard didn't touch him, just kept him locked up in a room
from the moment he arrived, no food and the only water from
a tap in the bathroom. So how bad is that, really?" I
motioned to his arm.

He shook his head to dismiss it and recalling the rather
wild and frightening assortment of scars he had, I added
"C'mon, Skinner, I'm going to see it eventually, so 'fess up."

He looked at me oddly, his face clouding a little. "A very
small, very clean hole through the fleshy part of my arm."

My mouth dropped in a mock sad face. "So, no making love in
the shower for a few weeks, hmm?"

His frown deepened and I instantly regretted it. I had
implied something that was just not mine to imply. The
other night was raw lust. To me, it was lust based on
something more than mere physical attraction. It was lust
for the man himself. But for him...I sighed, feeling lost
again. I really could not read him all that well. Sure,
he'd been very tender and gentle with me on the plane and
okay, we hadn't exactly parted as best buddies a few hours
ago...

"Look, I'm sorry I made an idiot of myself yesterday...and
I'm sorry I stormed out but I had to get away before I made
it worse."

"Crys," he stopped me with a hand on my arm. But it was
not the hand of a lover. Oh, hell, we'd hardly finished in
the shower when this came down, and ever the gentleman, he
had been kind and affectionate under the circumstances.
There had certainly been no promises, real or implied,
made. I forced myself to smile and said, "I'd better get
going because you'll no doubt be up for hours yet, sorting
through the mess of paperwork after the night's work."

Before I had a chance to move, his hand changed pressure,
moved up my shoulder and he pulled me gently to face him.
His eyes scanned my face then he leaned down and very
thoroughly kissed me. And I do mean thoroughly. His big
hands possessively reached down to cup my buttocks and he
pulled me closer so that I could feel him growing hard
against me. Then he whispered gruffly in my ear, "I might
not be able to lift you in the shower, but I can still make
love to you with my mouth."

I swallowed very hard. Boy, he'd learned that trick fast.

"And before I spend the rest of the night on reports, I am
in dire need of a shower."

*************************************************
End Chapter 5 Seattle