From: Foxzphile Date sent: Mon, 6 Apr 1998 02:18:27 EDT Subject: Somebody To Love Rating: PG-13 Language, semi-graphic murder descriptions File Size: 97.3K Category: Scully/Other Romance (sort of), C Spoilers: XF-everything from season 3 to present/ EE-ALL seasons Keywords: XF/Early Edition crossover Summary: Someone is following in the footsteps of The Secret Admirer, but only much deadlier. Scully must find him before he makes her--and Gary--the next victims.(SEQUEL TO: "Till Somebody Loves You".) Disclaimer: I do NOT own any of these characters. I am only borrowing Scully, Mulder and the XF crew from them folks at 1013 productions and FOX. And nor do I lay claim to Gary, Marissa or Chuck. Them folks at Columbia Tri Star and CBS have dibs on those people. Also forgive any typos! Send commentary to Foxzphile@AOL.com, flames are deleted with extreme prejudice! "Somebody To Love" By Foxzphile "You will always be the only one...." --Mariah Carey December 12 D'Agusta Residence Chicago, Illinois Special Agent Veronica D'Agusta walked by her stereo system, turning up the volume as she passed. The first movement of Mozart's "Eine Klein Nachtmusik" filled the entire house with its regal presence. D'Agusta hummed along as she entered her bedroom. She picked up her suitcase from the floor and tossed it onto her bed. She opened it up and turned to her closet. 5:30, she thought after a quick glance at her watch. I still have plenty of time to make my flight. D'Agusta whistled the tune, cheerily now, as she pulled out a few sweaters from her closet, then neatly arranged them in her suitcase. Actually, if she missed her flight, it was no major matter. Her family didn't expect her to arrive for another day, but then again, she couldn't wait to get home--where it was safe. She grabbed a few things from one of her drawers and tossed them into her suitcase. As soon as she had everything she needed, she closed it. Mozart's tune ended and a silence fell over the house. D'Agusta swallowed, having the intense feeling she was not alone. She gasped, both hands flying to her chest as the choral section of Beethoven's 9th Symphony played. She laughed nervously, realizing she was ok. She sniffled loudly, pushing her hair away from her face. When she turned to her mirrored dresser, she drew in a sharp breath. Someone was standing in her bedroom doorway. D'Agusta whirled around as the figure drew out a scalpel. She didn't even have a chance to reach for her gun, let alone scream. December 14 Gary Hobson's Apartment 6:30 AM "Meow." Thump. "...looks like we're in for more snowless days, Chicago--" Another thump. But this time it was a groggy Gary Hobson slamming a palm down on his alarm clock. He opened his eyes, looking to the clock. Was it 6:30 already? He felt liked he'd just went to sleep. As he slowly sat up in bed, he remembered the dull pain in his right arm, then the rest of last night along with it. He'd taken a hard check into the boards at a local indoor ice rink the night before. He'd rushed onto the ice during a pee wee hockey game to stop one of the young players from slamming a puck off the ice. The puck would strike one of the spectators, putting out the man's eye. Oh, he'd stopped the kid from hitting that puck, all right, but the check into the boards came after that. The kid's angry father charged onto the ice because Gary had fouled up the boy's chance at a score. With almost everything in the paper, came the irony. The spectator whom Gary saved from losing an eye was this kid's father! Luckily, the referee got there in time, so Gary escaped with a mildly bruised arm and asking himself why he did this at all? He slugged along, holding his right arm a little until he reached the door. "Meow," went the cat, darting past Gary when he opened the door. "Yeah, yeah," muttered Gary picking up the paper. "And where were you last night?" He shut the door, unfolding the paper. He looked to the cat, who now sat lazily on his couch. "I could've used your help last night, you know." "Meow," answered the cat. Gary muttered a little as he looked at the front page. AGENT FOUND SLAIN IN HOME The words hit Gary worse than a ton of bricks. Especially when he recognized the house in the photo which adorned the front page. Veronica D'Agusta's home. "Not her too," Gary whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. "No, it can't be." Just below the photo of her home was a lovely picture of D'Agusta. Still shaking his head, he sat down on the couch, staring at that headline. He skimmed the article, mumbling sections as he read. "...Agent D'Agusta's body was found inside her home late Sunday afternoon," Gary read. "Police went to D'Agusta's home when family members called the Chicago FBI field office, reporting that D'Agusta never arrived in New York." God, he thought when he finished the article. It was almost the same story as Audrey Lambert a month before. Murdered in her own home with absolutely no clues as to who killed her. The same two agents who helped find the Secret Admirer earlier that year. That was the only connection. Yet another name came to mind--Dana Scully. The beautiful, intelligent FBI agent whose life he'd saved. And she had saved his skin as well. He looked back to the headline. Was Scully in danger as well? Could she possibly end up like Veronica D'Agusta and Audrey Lambert? How could he help her if she was in danger though? She was in Washington, D.C. and he was a slave in Chicago. The words AGENT FOUND SLAIN jumped out at him again. Sighing, he leaned back into his couch, clutching the paper in his hands. He slid his gaze over to the cat, who flicked her tail from side to side, staring at him. "What do you think?" he asked. The cat jumped onto Gary's lap, knocking the paper loose. The cat sat on the now open paper for a moment. "Hey, come on," he said leaving over to pick up the paper. "I have too much on my mind right now, ok?" "Meow," said the cat the hopped off the paper. Gary muttered as he looked down on the paper. Nothing unusual on the page. Most times, the cat was trying to tell him something when she did that. Just metro news, he thought, skimming the articles. City To Repair Pier Benches, Mayor OKs Warehouse Demolitions, the usual stuff. "What?" Gary asked when the cat meowed again. He tapped the paper with his finger. "What is it you want me to see?" "Meow," went the cat again. Gary waved a hand at the cat as he got up. "What's the use?" he grumbled, throwing the paper on the couch. He went to take a shower and get ready for the day ahead. December 15 Scully's Apartment 6:30 AM Dana Scully gasped loudly as she sat up in bed. Sweat covered her body and a sense of fear and panic lingered over her. Her eyes darted around the room. Just a nightmare, she assured herself, swallowing. She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath. "Just a nightmare," she said outloud, just to hear the words. She let out a shaky breath, placing both hands to her face. She ran them over her face then through her hair. It wasn't just any nightmare, though. This particular one haunted her sleep every night for the last two weeks. The same nightmare down to the very last detail. Scully glanced at her clock as she got out of bed--6:35 AM. At least she'd gotten a decent night's sleep this time. She crossed the room and stopped in front of her mirrored dresser. Her mind flashed back to that horrible nightmare. The dream was always in third person, she was an observer. She saw herself, gun drawn, creeping around some darkened building, which later reveals itself to be some sort of warehouse. In the middle of this empty warehouse lies an body. When Scully comes upon the body, she sees it is Gary Hobson. He's dead. Scully blinked, shaking that vision out of her head. She had to get to work, no time to dwell on nightmares. Not now. J. Edgar Hoover Building 10:13 AM Scully sat at Mulder's desk, her own files and photos spread out over it. She adjusted her glasses as she studied the photos of the crime scenes of each of the slain agents. Everything was identical in every photo. All of these murder victims had a few things in common. All were single, female FBI agents field agents and had the privilege of receiving love notes from Agent Guy Richardson, AKA The Secret Admirer. Scully stopped on the last victim, found the afternoon before in her Chicago home--Veronica D'Agusta. D'Agusta's murder wasn't any different from the rest, except for one thing. She was laid out on her bed, dressed in the same pink silk nightie as the other agents. The body had been positioned on its back, arms spread out. Her face, clothes and bed were stained with her blood. Her chest was mutilated during the rather precise extraction of her heart. Due to the amount of blood loss, Scully suspected the extraction took place while the agents were still alive. Profilers believed the extraction of the heart reflected back on his choice of victims...the Secret Admirer women. This person, most likely medically trained since the item used to cut open the chest was a surgical scalpel, must've had a strong sympathy for Guy Richardson's case. Perhaps he felt he was gaining vengeance for a man who only wanted to love somebody. She filed the photo behind the other agents, including another Chicago agent Scully knew--Audrey Lambert. She sighed deeply, intensely studying the newest twist in the sadistic bastard's killing spree. Scrawled on the dresser mirror in D'Agusta's blood was a heart with a message inside, also in D'Agusta's blood: "Catch me if you can, Dana." The murderer of these agents was challenging her to find him. This killer was patient, intelligent, and extremely efficient. He left no evidence of any sort at the crime scenes. Leads were non-existent in the investigation. Six months, Scully thought, shoving the pictures aside. In less than six months, this bastard murdered and mutilated these agents. He'd even tracked down Agents Brody and Leland who'd both transferred out of D.C. into separate field offices. She sifted through the reports on each murder. NO forced entry, establishing either the agents knew this man, or he alternate access to their homes. "Catch me if you can, Dana." The taunt, that gleeful taunt, towards Scully enraged her. Someone obviously had taken Richardson's side. Since she had been the one to kill Richardson, the killer was saving her for last. She stopped her thoughts. No. She couldn't begin thinking of herself as a victim of this sicko. If she did, she would most likely become one. Gary Hobson. He was a pivotal player in the events of the Secret Admirer case. She'd killed Richardson to save Gary's life. This fact surely had to be known to the killer. It'd been plastered all over the news. Would this killer go after Gary Hobson as well? Thinking of Gary Hobson brought a warm sensation to Scully. It diminished the rage in her towards the killer. It also clouded her ability to think clearly. The door to the office burst open and Fox Mulder, obviously pissed off, entered the room. He threw his coat on his desk and waved a piece of paper. "I can't believe this!" he said looking at Scully. "What's wrong?" she asked, carefully sweeping her papers from his desk and into manila folders before he saw what she was working on. Mulder opened one of his file drawers, pulling out some of the files. "Remember how I told you someone recommended me for a psych evaluation?" he said then slammed the file drawer shut. "Yes," she replied. She remember him getting the message on Friday. He was to talk with the Bureau psychiatrist Monday morning. "She suggested I take some time off," Mulder growled, dropping the paper in front of Scully. "Signed, mind you, by Walter S. Skinner as well." He shoved the files he'd retrieved into his briefcase. "I have two weeks off, thanks to them." Scully looked over the paper then up to Mulder. "Mulder, you could use the time off. I understand why Skinner would sign off on this." Mulder snatched the paper from her and an rattled it in her face. "No, Scully, this--this is complete bullshit." He crumpled up the paper and launched it into his wastebasket. "Someone wants me out of the way for awhile." "No one wants you out of the way, Mulder," Scully said, a bit annoyed at his display. "The world doesn't revolve around you," she added under her breath. Mulder hadn't heard her last comment because he picked up his coat and headed for the door. "Mark my words, Scully," he said as he opened the office door. "Something will happen while I'm gone." He paused, looking at her sitting behind his desk then he left, slamming the door closed behind him. "Yeah, something will happen, Mulder," she mumbled, pulling out the crime scene photos. "And it has nothing to do with you." McGinty's 5:05 PM Gary sat at the bar flanked by Chuck and Marissa. His eyes glanced up occasionally at the news on the TV set. He'd been mulling over the situation all damn day. Not even telling Chuck and Marissa about it seemed to help him. He didn't know what to do. "Agent D'Agusta is among those agents stalked by fellow agent Guy Richardson, dubbed The Secret Admirer by the FBI," the TV anchorwoman said. "The FBI does not say whether or not D'Agusta's death is related to the similar murder of Agent Audrey Lambert last month but--" Chuck flipped off the TV and set the remote on the bar. "I wish I could tell you something, buddy," he said. "But I don't know what." Gary shrugged. "I don't know what I can do," he replied. "I feel useless." He picked at the edges of the paper, sighing. "Maybe I could call her?" He shook his head. "That would be too strange. Too much time has passed." Marissa listened carefully to Gary, the tone of his voice. "Maybe you *should* call her. You sound like you want to." She reached out until she touched Gary's shoulder. "I suppose it hasn't occurred to you she might be just as worried as you are. It is *her* life." Chuck nodded towards Marissa. "She does have a good point, Gar," he said. "This is the woman's life we're talking about." Gary looked back down at the paper--AGENT FOUND SLAIN jumped out at him. Imagine losing her forever, stupid, he thought. At least she was just in D.C., alive, now. But what if this crazy whacko gets to her? Marissa let her hand slide from Gary's shoulder. "Or," she said. "You could just focus on the things in the paper. You know, the people who are close enough to be helped." Chuck looked behind Gary at Marissa, a disbelieving expression on his face. Was this really Marissa telling Gary to blow Scully off for the paper? Gary, to Chuck's surprise, nodded in agreement. "Yes, you're right," he said to her. "I can't do anything for her." He stared at the paper a few more seconds then he got to his feet and headed for his apartment. "Gary, where're you going?" Chuck called. Gary turned back to him. "To find her phone number," he replied then disappeared through the doorway. Marissa smiled, pleased when she heard that. She knew Gary's heart would win out in the end. Chuck saw the smile on her face. "You knew he would do something, didn't you?" Marissa shrugged a little, still smiling. "I didn't take all of those psychology classes and not learn a trick or two," she simply replied. An hour later, Gary came back into the bar. Chuck sat at one of the tables, going over the mail from the day before. He looked up when Gary slowly slid down into one of the chairs. "Did you talk to her?" Chuck asked, sitting up in his chair. Gary slumped down in his own chair, looking more miserable than before. "No, I couldn't get her number anywhere," he said. "She's not listed. And the FBI refuses to release that kind of information. No matter what I tried to tell them, they stonewalled me." "You tried, Gar," Chuck said. "What else can you do?" Gary glanced over at Chuck then back down at the table. "Doesn't stop me from worrying about her, Chuck." Chuck didn't know what to say. He could feel for his friend, but in all honesty, what could Gary really do? December 19th 7:15 AM Scully grabbed her briefcase from the table as she finished pulling her coat on. she had a lot of work to do since Mulder was on his little vacation. Still, nothing out of the ordinary had happened all week. No strange people hanging around, just a normal week for Dana Scully. As she started to leave for, her phone rang. She paused, debating on whether to answer it or let the machine grab it. The phone rang again. "Oh," she sighed as she picked up the receiver. "Hello?" A song played. Scully listened carefully to the lyrics: "I've been a bad, bad girl I've been careless with a delicate man And it's a sad, sad world When a girl will break a boy Just because she can Don't you tell me to deny it I done wrong and I wanna suffer for my sins I've come to you Cause I need guidance to be true And I just don't know where I can begin. What I need is a good defense Cause I'm feeling like a criminal And I need to be redeemed to one I've sinned against Cause he's all I ever knew of love...." Scully slammed the phone down in the cradle. It was him. She just knew it. He played the same game Richardson did, too. He liked to use songs. The phone rang again. She stared at the phone, wondering if she should answer. It rang again. Then again. Mid-fourth ring, Scully snatched up the receiver. "Listen to me, you sick son of a bitch," she snarled into the phone. "This isn't scaring me. Just try something--" She stopped, realizing a different song played. It sounded like a school fight song. After a few moments of listening, she recognized the tune--"The Old Chicago Flag". Slowly, she dropped the phone into the cradle, getting the message. The killer didn't intend on leaving Chicago. He had other plans. "Gary," she whispered. His life was in just as much danger as hers. This sick bastard stuck to all the details of Guy Richardson. I have to go there, she thought, picking up the phone. I can't just let this sicko kill innocent people anymore. I have to find him. Stop him. She waited as the phone at Skinner's office rang. "Yes, this is Dana Scully," she said when his secretary answered. "I'd like to speak with AD Skinner, please." Undisclosed Location The Cigarette Smoking Man chuckled as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. He smiled as his assistant hung up the phone. Scully's outburst was just the confirmation he'd needed to make sure his plan would follow through. The Bureau was a definite joke. None of the bastards had any backbone. Just apply pressure to the right places and agents could be given two weeks leave, and others could be given the ok to go to Chicago. "I, uh, I believe you succeeded in frightening her, sir," said CSM's assistant, a light-skinned black man. He didn't like that grin on the CSM's face nor did he enjoy this work for the man at all. "You just have to hope she figured out what that last song meant." The CSM took a drag on his cigarette, staring down on the young man. "Do I detect regret in your voice, Lewis?" He paused, noticing that his young doctor avoided eye contact. "I'm hoping that isn't what I hear. I'd hate to see you...replaced. You do such fine work." Lewis blinked a few times, his eyes tearing up because of the cigarette smoke--mostly. "No, it's not regret, sir," he quietly replied. It's disgust, he added in his head. The CSM nodded, not convinced Lewis spoke the truth. "Our psychiatrist has been fairly compensated for aiding us?" Lewis looked away. "If you mean 'Is she still alive?', then yes," he replied. He looked up as two of the CSM's thugs, obviously there for their brawn, entered. "A psych evaluation," the CSM said, clapping Lewis on the shoulder, causing Lewis to jump. "So simple. No wonder I didn't think of it myself." Lewis looked up at the CSM, not knowing whether to take that as a compliment or a put down. "Thank you," he softly said. He wondered how he'd managed to let this bastard get him into this mess. Oh yeah, he threatened your family. The CSM turned to his more trusted associates. "The man, Hobson, where is he?" "He's currently at his apartment," one of the men said. "I doubt picking him up will present a problem." "No, no," said the CSM, holding up his hand to them. "I want to wait. I'd like to see if Agent Scully even seeks him out." The two men exchanged puzzled glances. The second man asked, "Why?" The CSM took a final drag on his cigarette and tossed it on the floor. He snuffed it out with his shoe. "Morbid curiosity," he evenly replied then grinned. He chuckled, growing from soft to a pure evil cackle. Gary's Apartment 6:30 AM "...and it looks like snow is definitely in our seven day forecast--" Gary turned off his alarm clock, groaning slightly. That pain was still in his arm and better yet, he had lower back pain now. He had no explanation for this pain either. Probably just getting old, he thought as he rested his head back on his pillow. "Meow." Thump. Gary's eyes opened as he sat up in bed. "If the pain was slightly lower, I'd know exactly what was causing it," he muttered as he ambled over to the door. The cat raced inside as Gary opened the door. "Morning," he greeted as he picked up the paper. He closed the door with his foot as he opened up the paper. The bottom section of the front page held a story about Veronica D'Agusta's funeral. Shaking his head, he checked the article for the funeral had taken place--2:00 PM. He had to pay some sort of respects to D'Agusta. He opened up the paper, scanning the article headlines for preventable tragedies. He came across one on the third page, simply titled, "Bench Breaks, Girl Dies". Gary skimmed the article for the important details, a skill well developed now. A fifteen year old girl had been standing on the back of one of the old wooden pier benches when the support beams snapped under her weight. The girl tumbled backwards, landing with all her weight on her neck. She broke her neck, dying instantly. Her sixteen year old friend said the girl had never done anything stupid like that in her life, but the first time she does, she gets killed. "Time, time," muttered Gary, scanning the article once more. Around 3:25 PM. "Meow," went the cat, staring up at Gary from the couch, a knowing look in the animal's eyes. Local Motel 12:53 PM Scully kicked open the motel room door with her foot and edged inside the room, lugging a suitcase and her briefcase with her. She dropped the suitcase at the foot of her bed, along with the briefcase then shut the door, locking it tightly behind her. It had been a miraculous day in the life of Dana Scully. Skinner signed off on her request to attend D'Agusta's funeral. She barely had to argue with him over it, though she detected a hint of resistance. He agreed she should go to the funeral. Next on the list was the travel. She managed somehow to snag a place on a flight due to a cancellation. Now that during the busiest season in flying was almost a sure sign of the Second Coming. She removed her coat, draping it over a chair in the room. She sat on her bed, thinking. Would Gary go to D'Agusta's funeral? He must feel some sort of connection, seeing how he'd saved D'Agusta's life. Yet again, Gary wasn't the only one Scully wondered about. Would the killer show up at the funeral? If he saw her there, he'd know she was ready for him. She debated on whether to talk to Gary about the situation or not. He was quite possibly in danger with this whacko in the city. I shouldn't, she told herself. Gary has enough to worry about with his responsibility to the paper. The best way to protect him is not to tell him anything...I hope. Cemetery 2:30 PM Gary jogged up the incline of the hill, headed for the large group of people that made up D'Agusta's funeral. He cursed himself for missing most of the ceremony, but one of his jobs for the paper took precedence over the dead. He didn't like how callous that sounded but it was the truth. He stopped off to the side of the group which mostly consisted of Bureau agents. He wrapped his red scarf tightly around his neck then stuff his hands into the pockets of his black leather jacket. His eyes scanned the gray clouds above. Perfect day for something as sad as this. He then scanned the crowd of mourners, half listening to a fellow agent give a eulogy for D'Agusta. He saw what he assumed to be D'Agusta's family members sitting in chairs. Their eyes were riveted to the flower laden casket. Sympathy overwhelmed Gary for these people. D'Agusta was a fine woman. She did not deserve to die, especially like that. He blinked a few times, feeling the sting of tears in his eyes. Letting out a breath, he let his gaze move beyond the D'Agusta family. That's when he saw her. Dana Scully, wiping away a few tears of her own, stood just behind the family. What is she doing here? he wondered, almost frantic. How long has she been here? He watched her place a comforting hand on the shoulder of an older woman, who Gary figured was D'Agusta's mother. The woman grasped Scully's hand, gratefully. She's so caring, he thought, watching the older woman clutch Scully's hand. At 2:45, the service ended and the mourners began their departure. Gary checked his watch, he didn't have a lot of time to spare. He had just enough time to reach the pier and find that girl before she fell. He looked around, desperately searching for Scully. He saw her as she opened the door to her blue Taurus rental car. Damn, he thought. Too late. I'll have to find her later. Right now, I have to find this girl. The Pier 3:13 PM Scully walked along the pier, looking out on the lake. Surprisingly, quite a few people were around the pier despite the cold and the very light snow flurries. But Scully was too wound up in her own thoughts to mind the cold or the snow. She paused to watch the water lap at the pier. Water, she thought. Now there is something that never changes. It has no worries, no sickness, no pain. It's just there. God, Dana, you sound stupid. She turned away from the water, noticing two teenage kids, probably off on their Christmas break, carrying on like second graders. How long had it been since she felt that happy and carefree? Too damn long. Those days are over, she thought as she sat down on one of the pier benches. "Hey, Laura, don't!" called a boy's voice. Scully turned back to the teenagers, seeing the blonde girl balancing on the back of one of the wooden pier benches. "Laura! Get down!" yelled a familiar man's voice. Scully looked past the kids to see Gary Hobson headed for the girl on the bench. "I bet you 20 bucks I can do a flip off of here!" Laura called down to her friend, ignoring Gary's call. "Laura, when I said take some chances, I didn't mean climb up on the friggin' bench! Get down!" the boy yelled at her. He held out his hands to her. "C'mon!" "No!" Laura snapped. She started laughing. Her laughter thought was cut short by a loud CRACK! The entire back of the bench collapsed under her, causing her to topple backwards. Gary reached the girl just in time to catch her in his arms. He cradled her like a baby, wobbling to keep his own balance. "Laura!" the boy said, coming up to her, still in Gary's arms. "Are you all right?" Laura blinked a few times, looking from the man who'd saved her to her friend. "Y-yeah, Jeff, I'm-I'm fine." She shakily stood on her own feet when Gary put her down. "Laura, geez," Jeff exclaimed. "You were almost killed! Lucky for you, this guy came along!" He pointed to Gary. "You should be more careful in the future," Gary admonished Laura. "Benches aren't balance beams, you know." "Y-yes, I know. It was really a dumb trick. Thanks, mister." "Come on," Jeff said, taking hold of Laura's arm. "Let's go over to Marlee's house." "You're the one who told me to go out on a limb, Jeff," she said as she and Jeff walked away. "I didn't mean for you to make like Ringling Brothers!" Jeff said. The conversation faded as the two kids left. Gary shook his head, staring down at the broken bench. Kids today, he thought. He had the feeling someone was watching him, so he looked up. Scully, who'd witnessed the entire scene, quickly turned around, pretending she hadn't seen him. Dana? What is she doing at the pier? Gary wondered as he made his way over to her. "Agent Scully?" he called out as he came closer to her. That merited no response from her, so he tried again. "Agent Scully?" Scully sat back on the bench, resisting the urge to respond. What the hell was she going to say to him? Two feet appeared in front of her and a voice gently said, "Dana?" Her eyes slowly traveled up the jeans, over the shining black leather jacket and settled on the kind, face of Gary Hobson. She looked like an angel, sitting there, her bright blue eyes gazing up at him, and that snow catching onto her red hair. Gary sat down beside her on the bench, but she slightly turned away. She may not have had anything to say, but he had plenty. "How are you, Dana?" he asked, not taking his eyes from her. "As well as can be expected," she softly replied. Gary felt a sting because of her coldness. He cleared his throat, nervous. "I've, uh, I've been, uh, thinking about you a lot lately." So have I, she thought as she closed her eyes tightly. All I ever do is dream about you. Not the kind of dreams I'd like to have when you're concerned, but I dream about you just the same. When Scully didn't reply, he said, "Why did you run away, Dana?" "Run away?" she repeated, opening her eyes. "When I was released from the hospital the morning after you saved me, I tried to find you," he explained. "I went to the FBI office and they said you'd left on an early flight, back to D.C." Oh, yes, Scully thought. I did run from you. I'm sorry. "You didn't even leave me a number where you could be reached," Gary added. Scully sniffled loudly, partly because the cold caused her nose to run. "I'm not that hard to find, Mr. Hobson." Mr. Hobson? Is that what I am to her again? Nothing more? "I tried to find a way to call you a few days ago, but no one would help me." She half-turned towards him. "Why did you wait until a few days ago to try to call me?" she asked. Gary felt embarrassed when he replied, "I knew you would come back some day." Scully turned around, almost insulted by that comment. "Come back?" she snapped. "What? For you?" Gary felt his face flush. "I-I didn't mean for it to sound like that, Dana." "If you knew I would come back, why did you try to contact me?" She raised an eyebrow at him. "The murders," he said, as if it caused him physical pain to say it. "D'Agusta, Lambert...the, the others." "How did you know about that?" she asked, a bit suspicious. He pulled the paper from his jacket, showing her D'Agusta's funeral article on the front page. "I can read," he replied. He glanced at his watch. He had another job he had to be to by 4:15. "I have a job for the paper," he said, looking to her. "I really need to talk with you, please." "I need to talk too," she replied. I need to cut this whole thing off before it gets out of hand, she added in her head. "Come to McGinty's tomorrow around 7:30?" Gary said as he got to his feet. "You remember the place, right?" Scully nodded, a slight smile on her face. "How could I forget?" she answered. "Chuck and I, we own the place now," Gary continued. "My apartment is right in the same building." Scully's eyebrows arched, rather surprised he was sharing this information. "Oh, really now?" she said, slightly amused. Gary coughed, realizing how low down he'd just sounded. He didn't want Scully thinking he was just after one thing. "We'll talk then?" he asked. "Yes, I will be there." He waved a tentative good bye, feeling a swirl of emotions--happiness, fear, anxiety. And each emotion was heightened because he just knew he was in love. Scully, however, did not have the same emotions. Hers were fear, hate and sadness. Afraid for herself, for Gary. She burned with hate at this maniac who killed those agents and threatened her life. And sadness because she couldn't talk herself into believing cutting Gary Hobson out of her life was a good thing. She didn't want to fall in love with him, that would only make leaving Chicago all the more harder when this whole thing was over. That's why she ran away the first time. Scully didn't want to give the situation a chance to evolve, though she felt a strong connection, an attraction to Gary. But this "date", this was not for a pleasure, it was to keep a potential victim safe. Heaving a sigh, she stood and headed back to her motel. CSM's associates watched Scully head back to her car. "She's on the move," one muttered in a low voice. The concealed microphone was sensitive enough to pick up his voice and relay it to the CSM sitting in a nearby car. "Keep on Hobson, idiots," the CSM snapped. "We know about Scully. I want him watched." "Yes, sir," came the reply. The CSM glanced at Lewis sitting in the seat beside him. "You haven't said much," he commented, lighting a cigarette. Lewis remained silent, holding back his urge to cough from the second hand smoke. He continued to stare out the window, watching the people of Chicago rush about with their own little lives. The CSM nodded slightly, seeing that Lewis wasn't going to play like he enjoyed the work anymore. He knew Lewis hated using his surgical skills to carve up those agents. In fact, the man threw up several times for each woman. It must've been because the women were alive, awake and alert, crying for mercy or for the non-existent "God". He took a long drag, blowing the smoke in Lewis' direction. "So, Agent Scully has a 'thing' going with this boy," he commented cracking the window slightly. "It could prove useful in the future, ay, doctor?" Lewis muffled a cough but steadfastly kept his eyes out the passenger's side window. He was stuck in this mess because he cared for people: his mother, his sister and her family. Stuck working for this man. Why did he pick me anyway, he wondered. Was I just a name picked out of a hat, or have I been watched for quite some time, like Fox Mulder? Or perhaps it's because I've been depressed lately. Hell, if I wasn't depressed before, I am now. The CSM leaned back in the seat, watching a mother with her two rowdy children walk by. What had Hobson meant when he said he had a "job for the paper"? He was just a bar owner, not a reporter. Hmm, no matter. He snuffed out the cigarette in the car's ashtray, clearing his throat. According to the report Mulder filed, Mulder believed young Mr. Hobson harbored psychic abilities. Now he had to keep a watch on this Hobson to determine if the boy had these abilities and if so, if they would ruin his plans. Lewis stared down on his hands, studying them closely. These hand had killed people; hands trained to save lives had taken them instead. He closed his eyes, remembering Veronica D'Agusta and how she begged in Italian for him to stop, to have mercy on her. Her eyes were so full of fear. The same look the others wore. You don't have to do this, he told himself. You can always leave, but then he would kill your family. Better to damn myself than to risk their lives. "You're a smart man, doctor," commented the CSM, lighting another cigarette. He took a drag, studying the man next to him, sizing up his chosen fall guy. Too bad he had to give up Lewis. He exhaled the smoke. "You really should talk more," he added. Lewis raised his eyes from his hands to the CSM. Bastard, he thought. Lakeside Nursing Home 4:09 PM "Chicago Man, 74, Dies on Nursing Home Lawn," read Gary as he approached the main building of Lakeside Nursing Home. "Russert Calvin, 74, was found dead on the Lakeside Nursing Home main lawn last night. Apparently, Calvin's wheelchair rolled down the steep incline of the south lawn, spilling Calvin out of the chair, causing massive internal injuries." He nodded as he looked up from the paper. That was all he needed to know. He looked searched around the outside of the nursing home until he saw a sidewalk that led to the back of the nursing home, the south lawn. "He's at Lakeside Nursing Home," reported one of the men to the CSM as the two split up. "I'm following him to the back of the building now." "Why is he there?" came the CSM's voice in the man's well concealed ear piece. "I don't know. He read a newspaper for a few moments, something about some old man dying on a lawn, then--I see him." Oblivious to the two friends he'd acquired at the pier, Gary searched the snowy, slightly slick, back lawn of the nursing home for Russert Calvin. He spotted the man near the edge of the slope, looking down at something in his lap. He looks all right, Gary thought, glancing back down at the paper. Nothing had changed. A strong, chilly wind blew, fluttering the edges of the paper. Gary looked up in time to see a piece of paper fly from the man's lap, headed out towards south lawn. Immediately, the old man wheeled after it, giving no thought to where he was headed. Gary sprinted down the walk after him, careful not to lose him own balance. The old man neared the edge of the slope, going as fast as his arms would take him. "Hey! Slow down!" Gary called out as he made a desperate grab for the handles on the back of the wheelchair. His hands wrapped around them just in time. Getting his footing, Gary pulled the chair back from the edge of the slope. The old man looked up to Gary. "Thank you," he said, a bit winded. "I forgot about that slope." He lowered his eyes. "Wasn't thinking." "You're welcome," Gary replied, coming around so he could see Russert Calvin's face. "You should be more careful out here." Russert Calvin nodded, closing his eyes. "I know. It's just that something very important to me flew away. I wanted to get it back." He motioned towards the slope. Gary turned around. He saw the piece of paper lying half way down the slope. "Wait here," he said to Calvin. "I'll be right back." He made his way down. "He just saved some old man, sir," said the first crony, peering out from his hiding place among some trees. "He's going down the hill for some reason now." "He saved an old man?" repeated the CSM. "Yeah, he was reading that paper, then looked up in time to save that old man--" The man stopped talking when he heard the CSM chuckling into his ear. "What is it?" "You say he just read a story about an old man dying on a nursing home lawn. Then he just saved one," the CSM then he laughed again. "He's back with the man. He has something in his hands," the first man continued. "He's giving it to that old man. Should we grab Hobson now, sir?" "No, I think I can bring Hobson to me," the CSM replied. "Let's go. We have plans to finish." "Yes, sir," said the man. He gave Gary another glance then retreated. "Thank you," Calvin said, beaming happily as Gary gave him the paper. "Thank you so much." He smoothed the paper down, smiling. "I thought I'd lost it." "I'll take you inside where it's warm," Gary said, grabbing the wheelchair handles. As he wheeled Calvin back inside, he said, "If you don't mind my asking, what is so important about that piece of paper?" "It's the last letter I received from a girl I met in France during World War II," Calvin replied, a bit of sadness in his voice. "My one true love." Gary opened the door to the nursing home, pushing Calvin inside. He stopped inside the vestibule, looking down on the man. "What happened to her?" "She was killed," Calvin answered. He didn't elaborate on it, just looked away. Gary felt sympathy for Russert Calvin. His one true love killed. Here he was 74 years old, clutching onto the last words she'd ever said to him. Gary sank down into a chair in the vestibule, deciding to stay awhile. He didn't want Russert Calvin to be alone. McGinty's 7:35 PM Gary entered the bar deep in thought. He didn't hear Robin, one of their bartenders, say hello to him. He slowly walked over to the counter where Chuck sat with Marissa, going over some paperwork. "Hey, where have you been?" asked Chuck as Gary sat down at the bar. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago. We have to finish those plans for this holiday extravaganza I'm hosting." Gary rested his elbows on the counter, staring straight ahead. Apparently, he was either ignoring Chuck, or didn't hear him. He didn't notice anyone around him, not Marissa beside him, nor the patrons talking. "How did it turn out with the girl at the pier?" Marissa asked. She could sense the strange mood Gary was in. She didn't need sight to tell that. "Oh, fine," he said in a distant voice. He waited a few moments then added, "I ran into Dana Scully while I was at the pier." "The paper always has the two of you meeting," Marissa said, turning towards Gary. She tilted her head to the left when she heard him heave a depressed sigh. "Yeah," he quietly replied. "Did you have a chance to discuss this relationship with her?" "No," he answered flatly. "She seemed preoccupied when we talked." He sat up a little straighter. "She's coming here tomorrow night though. To talk." "You know, Gar, chasing after this woman is only going to cause you heartache," Chuck told him, looking from his paperwork to Gary. "She's an FBI agent. She has her own thing going back in our nation's capital." "Frankly, Chuck," Gary sharply said, switching his gaze to him. "What I do about Dana Scully is none of your business." "Not my business?" Chuck replied, almost insulted. "Not my business?" He gathered up his work as he got to his feet. "You're my best friend, Gary. What could possibly hurt you is my business." He left the bar. Marissa's expression didn't hide her puzzlement. "You came down on him pretty hard, Gary," she said. "I'm right," Gary said, tapping his fingers on the counter. "It's not his business." "I'm concerned about you, too," she replied. She paused, her expression softening towards him. "Remember Meredith? You wanted her to stay, but she chose to go to D.C. She had to go her own path, like everyone does. That caused you pain." "I never felt this away about Meredith, though, Marissa," Gary replied, slamming his open palm on the bar. "Not even close." "And that's supposed to make what Dana wants different, Gary?" Marissa asked. "She's her own person, with commitments, problems and a life." She reached out until she found one of Gary's hands then laid her hand on top of his. "What do you know about her anyway?" A reply got caught in his throat, but he thought for a moment then said, "That's the whole point of tomorrow night, Marissa. I want to get to know her." He leaned on the counter. "When she talks to me, I get the feeling she's keeping things back. Like she wants to say one thing, but says another." He paused then got up. "I have a job." "Be careful, Gary," Marissa said as she sensed him walk away. Local Motel 8:40 PM Scully, dressed in her silk pajamas, laid in bed, the light off, thinking. She couldn't sleep despite how tired she was. Her brain continued to work, the wheels refused to slow down. What is this psycho's plan? she wondered. When exactly will he try something? She shifted in bed as her thoughts went to Gary. She wasn't really excited about this "date" with him. Being around him, that only made him open game for the twisted sicko gunning for her. Poor Gary had enough to worry about with the paper. Scully sat up in bed, leaning back against the headboard. How could Gary go on everyday, doing what he did? That fascinated her. Actually, in that respect, she and Gary were on opposite ends of the spectrum. He knew what would happen that day and had the chance to do something about it. She, on the other hand, was in a position where she knew neither the truth about the past or present, and the future was controlled by a sinister group of individuals. All that aside, Scully figured they were both just as lost in the world. But being lost was part of life. Scully jumped slightly when the phone on the nightstand rang. She picked up the receiver. "Hello?" What answered was a terrifyingly familiar song: "You're nobody till somebody loves you... You're nobody till somebody cares. You may be king, you may possess The world and it's gold. But gold won't bring you happiness When you're growin old..." She slammed the phone down into the cradle then ripped the cord from the wall. She grabbed her gun from the nightstand, making sure it was loaded and ready. I hope you try something, you son of a bitch, she thought. I'd love for you to just give me a reason. I'll end this entire thing, whoever you are... Abandoned Warehouse The CSM laughed as he clicked off the cellular phone. He set it down on the table where he sat. After that, he took a drag on his cigarette and exhaled. He looked over to Lewis, who sat on the other side of the table. Lewis' head was lowered as he inspected the array of syringes, vials and other medical paraphernalia on the table. "Are you almost done fiddling with those?" he asked, flicking away the cigarette butt. He motioned for his two associates to come closer. "I have something to place in the Chicago Sun-Times, gentlemen." Lewis glanced up at the CSM as the CSM pulled a piece of paper from his suit jacket pocket. "Have our man at the paper place this article in it," he said, handing it over to them. "I need it to run in the December 21st edition. It's vital that it does." The first man accepted the paper while the second man said, "Consider it done." The two men left. The CSM let his gaze settle back on Lewis. "You're aware of what I want done, doctor?" he asked. "Yes," Lewis stiffly replied. "I don't know why you're behaving this way," the CSM said, shaking his head. He studied Lewis a few more seconds, then decided to keep on harassing the man. "What kind of surgeon vomits during a medical procedure? One that doesn't belong in the operating room, that's what." He pulled out another cigarette and his lighter. "It's not like you did any of the hard stuff, like subduing the agents." "You didn't need a doctor to do what was done--"Lewis snapped, for once raising his voice to the CSM. "What you did, Lewis," the CSM barked back, shaking his finger at him. He lit his cigarette and took a drag. "--to those women," finished Lewis. "You don't need me for this...this slaughter." "Doctor, of course I need you. I need precision. Trained medical hands are an absolute must." He narrowed his eyes at Lewis. He was beginning to regret what he'd have to do to Lewis less and less now. "Once you stopped throwing up, you did beautiful work. I need them to think this killer is intelligent, brutal, vengeful and absolutely mad." "Three out of four ain't bad," muttered Lewis. "If you know what's good for your family, you'll keep those smart ass remarks to yourself." He flicked ashes from his cigarette, pausing so Lewis could absorb the threat. "I don't want you losing control during Agent Scully's operation. You understand?" "There's a difference between surgery and butchering someone," Lewis said under his breath as he looked away from the CSM. The CSM waved a finger at Lewis. "What did I just warn you about?" He studied the young man, taking a few puffs from the cigarette. "Patience, doctor, patience. It's all going to end very soon. Very soon." McGinty's 11:23 PM Gary entered McGinty's. The place had been closed for about a half an hour, so it was quiet and dark. He trudged through the bar, headed the office where the light was on. He stopped in the doorway, quietly watching Chuck hard at work on the end of the day papers. Chuck hit a few buttons on the adding machine, then scribbled down the tally on the sheet of paper. He felt guilty now. He should too. It was very rare when Chuck would voice concern about the welfare of others. Usually it was Chuck first and everything else was second. Despite his pettiness and shallowness most of the time, Chuck pulled through in a jam. Mostly, Gary added in his head with a slight smile. Chuck paused in his work. "You can say something," he said, lifting up his head a little. "I know you're there." He went back to putting numbers into the adding machine. Gary sat down in the chair across from Chuck, putting the paper down on the desk. He studied his friend, who didn't even glance up at him. "I wanted to talk to you," he said. When Chuck didn't reply, he just sighed. Chuck stopped his work, looking up at Gary. "I shouldn't be hearing anything you have to say, Gary," he stiffly said. "Your life is none of my business, remember?" He stared at Gary a few more seconds then went back to work. "Look, Chuck, I wanted to apologize for what I said to you," Gary said, leaning over towards his friend. "You know, say I'm sorry?" Chuck went on as if Gary's hadn't said a word. Gary slammed his palms on the desk as he stood. "If you want to be that way about this, then fine," he snapped. Chuck stopped again, but did not look up. He sighed a little. "Gary, I didn't mean anything against Dana when I said what I did," he quietly told him. He raised concerned, yet hurt eyes to Gary. "You're my best friend. I don't like to see you hurt." Gary slowly sank back down into the chair, feeling worse than ever. It took a lot for Chuck to say that. "I know," he replied. "I'm just edgy, worried. I shouldn't have said what I did." He met gazes with Chuck. "I'm sorry." Chuck nodded slightly. "I suppose I can accept your apology," he said, that slick tone back in his voice, as he went back to work. Gary got to his feet, picking up the paper. He patted his friend on the shoulder. "Good night, Chuck," he said then left the office. December 20 Gary's Apartment "...looks like that big snowstorm has switched course, and it's headed our way, Chicago--" Gary turned off his alarm clock and opened his eyes. Slowly, he sat up in bed, every single ache and pain awakening as well. It had been one heck of a day. And he felt like he hadn't gotten any rest the night before. "Meow." Thump. "Yeah, yeah," Gary muttered as he got out of bed. He made a detour by the window, opening the shades. Hmmm, no snow yet, but the sky was overcast. "Meow," went the cat. "Coming," he grumbled, shuffling over to the door. He opened it and the cat trotted inside. "Morning." He grabbed up the paper and shut the door. He unfolded the paper, scanning the articles for the day's work. Mostly run of the mill type stuff--car accidents and the like. "Warehouse Fire Kills Five," he read from the front page of the paper. Damn warehouses again, he thought, shaking his head. He skimmed the article for the important information. The fire department figured the homeless people down in the area started the fire to keep warm, but soon the blaze went out of control. And the time this little adventure was suspected to have started? Around 9 PM. "9?" Gary said, lowering the paper. That would definitely cut into his evening with Scully. But she'd understand. That's what he liked about her. When she said she understood, she truly did. The cat meowed a few times, but he tossed the paper onto the couch as he walked towards the bathroom to immerse himself in a hot shower. Local Motel 7:33 AM Scully gasped loudly as she sat up in bed. Sweat drenched her entire body. She drew in a few breaths, blinking a few times. She'd had that nightmare again, but this time it was much more intense. In this version, she'd was no longer an observer, she'd become herself. Seeing Gary's body lying in that empty warehouse, his heart torn from his chest, blood spattered all over the floor... She pushed her sweat laden hair away from her forehead as she closed her eyes. She tried to picture something else in her mind. Anything but what was in that dream. After a few minutes, she'd calmed herself down and had control. She opened her eyes. They settled on a long rectangular box tied neatly with a blood red bow, sitting at the foot of her bed. She crawled out from under the blankets then down to the box. Pulling the ribbon away and opening the box, Scully knew who had brought it there. Inside the box was a single red rose and a card. She removed the card and read what was typed on it: My Darling Dana, It all ends tonight. Your Secret Admirer. When she saw a piece of newspaper stuck around the stem of the rose, she dropped the card to the floor. Carefully she removed the paper and opened it up. "Oh, no," she sighed. It was a photo of her and Gary from the front page story in the February Sun-Times. Gary was certainly in danger now. Should I tell him? she wondered. No, I can't. He has enough worries. I'll keep him safe. She shoved the box away and grabbed her briefcase. This was her worry, not Gary's. And, yes, it would definitely all end tonight. McGinty's 7:25 PM Scully double checked the street, making sure she hadn't been followed. The heavy snowfall had giver her some visibility problems when driving to the bar, but she was fairly certain she didn't have any unwanted company. She got out of the car, locked it securely and headed across the snowy street to McGinty's. Inside, people talking, music and laughing greeted her. The bar was busy. Of course it was a Saturday night too. Scully removed her coat. She'd dressed in the most casual thing she'd brought; a white sweater and a pair of jeans. "Dana?" She looked towards the counter. Gary stood beside the bar, a small smile on his face. "Hi," she greeted joining him at the counter. Her eyes traveled around McGinty's. "Place looks nice." "Thanks," he replied. He took her coat from her. "Just follow me. We'll go to my apartment, where it's quieter." He led her through a doorway and up a flight of stairs. "This is convenient," Scully remarked as Gary opened the door to his place. She felt a flush of heat in her face when he smiled at her. "After you," he said, making a sweeping motion with his hand. "Thank you, she said the stepped inside the apartment. Gary's place was tastefully decorated. Nothing special but a comfortable and homey feel for a basically one room place. Since the shades were drawn open, she saw the snow falling outside of the window. Gary closed the door and hung her coat with his beat up jacket. "Sorry the place is a mess," he said as he walked over towards her. "I've been pretty busy lately." Scully shook her head, feeling a little nervous. "That's fine. I understand," she replied. She couldn't think of anything else to say so she looked away from him. The two stood in the apartment, shifting uncomfortably. "Are you hungry?" Gary finally asked. "I can get something for you from downstairs." He pointed towards the door. "How about a drink?" "I'd love something to drink," she answered, looking to him. "What would you like?" "Anything is fine," she answered, her eyes browsing over his place. Great, she's bored already, Gary thought. "Ok, I'll be right back," he said then started for the door. He opened the door and turned back to her. "Make yourself at home," he added then went out, closing the door behind him. Scully crossed her arms across her chest as she let out a sigh. She sat down on Gary's couch, shaking her head slightly. You both are nervous, she told herself. Acting like silly teenagers, words caught in your throats like you don't know how to talk to the opposite sex. She felt her arms relax when she caught sight of the paper lying on the coffee table. She glanced at the front page then quickly averted her eyes. "No," she softly said. "Off limits." None of your business, she thought. If it was something you could see, Gary would've said so. Relaxing on the couch, she stared out the window, hypnotized by the snowfall. She wondered if it was snowing in D.C.? Christmas was only a few days away. She had to get back for it. Her mother expected her. For once, the entire Scully family would be together for Christmas. It'd been so long since she'd seen her brothers and their families. The door opened, causing Scully to sit up abruptly. Gary came in with two coffee mugs, steam rising from them. He kicked the door shut with his foot. "I hope you don't mind, but I went with a classic tonight," he said. He held out one of the mugs to her then sat down beside her. "Hot chocolate," Scully said, a smile on her face when she looked to Gary. She smelled the contents of the mug, and added, "I love it. I haven't had this in ages, though." Gary felt relieved when Scully was pleased with what he'd chosen. He had a feeling she was a sucker for the stuff. He watched her take a sip. God, she was so beautiful. "Wonderful," she said, wrapping her fingers around the warm cup. A distant expression came across her face. "This reminds me of a Christmas when I was about 16--" She stopped, her face a bit red with embarrassment. "I'm sorry. I'm sure you don't want to hear about that." "I want to hear it," he said, setting his own mug on the coffee table. "Tell me anything you want, Dana. I'd like to hear about you." He cleared his throat, hoping he didn't sound as eager as he thought. "If you want to tell me, that is." Scully studied Gary's profile. He really wanted to know her. And she wanted to know him too. Oh damn it, she thought. To hell with logic and reason. I plan to enjoy myself tonight while we're together. For a little over an hour, Scully and Gary talked about themselves and their lives. Scully found Gary's tales with the paper entertaining, sometimes frightening, and sometimes hilarious. He was smart, very caring, and he actually listened to what she told him. She didn't feel like she was talking to a brick wall, like when she talked to Mulder. She liked that. Gary knew Scully was everything he'd ever wanted. She was very intelligent, level headed, but still had this romantic side to her. It was a side she probably rarely showed anyone. He loved to hear her laugh, when she allowed herself to laugh. Still, despite everything Scully had told him, she refused to comment much on her current situation. She told him what she did with the FBI, investigating unsolved cases, something called The X Files, and that the work was more Mulder's than hers. After that, she didn't elaborate. She kept her thoughts on Mulder to herself as well. Every time he asked about the man, she would change the subject. Perhaps she'll trust me enough later to tell me more about her job, Gary thought, watching Scully as she finished off her third cup of hot chocolate. Scully set her mug down, completely at ease with Gary now. "You've got an interesting life here," she said to him. "You're lucky to have all you have. Your friends, your business, this nice place." You, he added in his mind as he gazed upon her. He set his empty mug down as well. "Um, when were you planning on leaving?" he asked. Tonight, it all ends...the note from the killer flashed in Scully's mind. "Probably some time tomorrow," she replied. "The holidays are almost here. I'm due to spend it with my family." Gary didn't quite know how to phrase the next burning question he had, but tried just the same. "Have you ever given any thought to a transfer?" he non chalantly inquired, shrugging a little. "No," Scully replied, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. "My job and my life are rooted in D.C. right now." She couldn't explain why. That would require telling him things he just wasn't ready to hear yet. Her sense of pragmatism kicked back in. She had to set this thing straight now...no matter how much it would hurt them. "Look, Gary," she started. "I've really enjoyed tonight, but transferring to Chicago is comp--" Scully hadn't seen it coming but her sentence was cut short by Gary leaning forward and kissing her. Immediately, she forgot the crafty response she'd planned and relaxed, returning his kiss just as passionately. Her hands slipped to the back of his neck, holding him as he put his arms around her waist. It felt so right, so warm. Well, she didn't deck you, Gary, he thought when Scully returned his affections just as eagerly. Gutsy move, but it worked just the same. It shut her up. I could do this all night-- All night?!? The warehouse fire!! Scully involuntarily let out a disappointed whimper when Gary pulled away from her. He looked right to his watch--8:35. He had to move if he wanted to stop that fire. She opened her eyes, sad he'd ended their kiss so abruptly. That was the first time in a long time she'd truly been happy. Scully noted the distressed expression on his face though. "Gary, what's wrong?" she asked as her hands slipped from his neck. "I have a job for the paper," Gary said, getting to his feet. He snatched up his jacket when he reached the door. "I'm really sorry, Dana," he said as he put on his coat. "I won't be long. I promise." "I understand," Scully said as Gary opened the door. "Be careful," she added as he zipped up his jacket. She watched him rush out the door, shutting it behind him. Outside of McGinty's Gary almost fell down in the significant amount of snow which accumulated on the sidewalk. He'd snatched up the keys to Chuck's car on his way out. He'd need it to get down to those warehouses. He turned into the alley where Chuck usually parked his car, despite the tickets he received when he did so. Chuck's car wasn't the only vehicle in the alley. The side door of a black van opened up and two rather brawny men stepped out into the alley way. "Who are you ?" Gary asked as one of the men pulled out a white handkerchief from his pocket. "Who are you?" he asked again, backing away from them. The man with the handkerchief said, "We're no one" as the second man grabbed Gary's arms from behind. The second man pinned Gary's arms back, while the first approached. "Hey!" Gary cried out, trying to struggled with the man holding him. "Hey--" His cries were cut short by the first man covering his mouth and nose with the kerchief. Something is on this, he thought, smelling the rag. It's chloroform, stupid! Don't breathe it. The world began to spiral around as Gary lost consciousness. He felt dizzy to the point he almost wanted to throw up. Too late, he thought then completely blacked out. The keys to Chuck's car tumbled out of Gary's hand and onto the snowy ground as he went limp. "He's out," said the second man. "Let's get him to the van." The CSM stepped out of the van while the two men carried Gary inside of it. He took one final drag from his cigarette then tossed the butt by the car keys. That should let Agent Scully know who she's dealing with, he thought, an evil smile spreading across his face. And while we're waiting for the right time, Mr. Hobson and I will have a chat. He got back inside the van, slamming the door shut behind him. "Let's go," he ordered. "Lewis is waiting." Inside Gary's apartment, Scully sat on the couch, completely unaware of the goings on in the alley below. She sighed as she leaned back on the couch. What the hell am I doing? she thought. I should be ending this, not encouraging it. You want it, a little voice in her head said. You need it. I'll only put him in danger, she replied to the voice. I'll--Danger?! Scully sat up on the couch, alarmed. That whacko was there tonight--and so was Gary! Great! "Meow." An orange cat hopped onto the arm rest of the couch. The cat flicked its tail back and forth, looking at Scully. "Where did you come from?" She knew the cat brought Gary the paper, but how did it get inside? "Meow," went the cat as she jumped from the arm rest to the coffee table, landing on the paper. The cat hissed at the paper and jumped down. Scully reached out for the paper, throwing a glance at the cat who watched her. She picked up the paper and scanned the headlines for clues as to where Gary went. "Warehouse Fire Kills Five," she read from the paper. She looked to the cat. "Is that where he went?" she asked pointing out the article. The cat meowed again, insistently. Scully put the paper back onto the table then pulled out her weapon from the holster clipped to her jeans. She checked the clip. "I'm going," she said to the cat as she walked to the coat rack. She put on her coat and turned around, but the cat was gone. This is definitely one for The X Files, she thought as she opened the apartment door. Outside, Scully searched for Gary's footprints in the snow. Quite a bit of snow had fallen but not enough to make Gary's footprints completely disappear. She followed them into the alley where his were joined by two more sets of prints and what looked to be tire tracks. Someone was waiting for him, she thought, noticing the amount of snow piled was thinner where the vehicle had been parked. She walked back to where three sets of footprints met in what seemed like a struggle. CLINK! She stopped when her foot kicked something under the snow. She squatted down, brushing her bare fingers through the snow until she felt cold metal. Car keys, she thought as she picked them up. She stood then matched the symbol on the main key to the maker of Chuck's car. She shook her head, but something else in the snow caught her eye. "What the--?" she muttered as she leaned over and picked up a cigarette butt. Neatly printed on the filter of it was MORLEY. "Son of a bitch," she growled tossing the butt away. "What the hell are you doing here?" she added as she left the alley. When she reached her car, she brushed the snow from the windows with her hands then hopped inside. Where could the CSM have taken Gary? After a few minutes of thinking, Scully muttered, "Warehouses." She started up the car and drove away. Old Abandoned Warehouse 8:58 PM Gary jerked when someone gave him a hard smack across his left cheek. He groaned a little as he struggled to open his eyes and focus them. "Hmm?" he moaned when two men in suits came into focus. The man closest to him was puffing away on a cigarette, his eyes never leaving Gary. But the light skinned black man who stood next to a table filled with all kinds of medical paraphernalia wore a look of sympathy and guilt. Just past these two men was the black van Gary recalled from the alley. Besides these men, the table, van and a few stacks of crates, the warehouse was empty. He swallowed hard and tried to move. He then learned he was securely tied down to a simple wooden chair. For a minute or two he fought with the ropes then finally looked to his captors. "Who are you?" he asked in a raspy voice. The CSM stepped forward, staring down on Gary. He exhaled smoke into the young man's face and replied, "We're acquaintances of Agent Scully's." Acquaintances of Dana's? he thought, staring back up at this man. This low life? "What do you want from me?" asked Gary. He coughed a little. "You are part of something very important, Mr. Hobson," the CSM replied as he circled around Gary. "Part of what?" Gary asked, turning to look at the mysterious man. "Why is this so important?" The CSM waved a hand at Gary. "All the answers will be revealed in due time." He took another drag on his cigarette then stopped in front of Gary. "Where is that newspaper of yours, Mr. Hobson?" Gary couldn't stop the look of surprise from showing. "What paper?" he asked, trying to sound puzzled. "What are you talking about?" The CSM chuckled as he started to circle around Gary like an animal does to its wounded prey. "You know what I mean, Mr. Hobson. The edition of tomorrow's newspaper you get today. Where is it?" Gary's eyes darted about the warehouse as he fidgeted in the chair. This guy knew things he shouldn't know. This was something he protected almost more than his own life and this guy he'd never laid eyes on before knew all about it. "I know it exists, and that you receive it," the CSM said as he stopped in front of Gary. He looked down on his, puffing on his cigarette. "We've been watching you, Mr. Hobson." He flicked the ashes from the end of it. "Think it over: How did we know when you'd be out of that bar of yours? The bogus warehouse fire story." Gary, completely baffled at why this man was doing this, how he knew everything he did, tilted his head to one side and looked up at the CSM. "Who *are* you?" he asked again. The CSM took a long drag on his cigarette then leaned over to Gary, staring him straight in the eyes. He exhaled the smoke in Gary's face. "It doesn't matter who I am, Mr. Hobson," he replied. He smiled a lopsided evil smile. "You won't know me for much longer." Gary's eyes widened in horror and fear when he realized this cigarette smoking stranger meant to kill him! "Where's Dana?" he demanded. He struggled to keep his voice steady. "She'll be joining us shortly," the CSM said, tossing away the cigarette. "I've left enough clues for her. She's a very sharp woman." He straightened, grinning again. "And when she arrives, we'll all have a very nice chat together." He patted Gary's cheek, more of a slap than a pat and laughed. "Won't we?" Scully drove around the abandoned warehouse district the best she could. The snow had become particularly deep but at least it was tapering off now. Homeless people were camped out around the newer warehouses. Most of them had small fires going to keep warm. He would want to be as far away from people as possible, she thought. She stopped the car and saw a warehouse not too far away, but more run down, with no people camped out by it. She parked the car and got out. The wind blew lightly now, but it was still very cold. Scully pulled her coat tightly around her and made her way to the warehouse. Upon arrival, she noted a set of tire tracks. The snow hadn't quite covered them yet. She shoved open the doors then slipped inside as she drew her weapon. Creeping around the empty crates and boxes, Scully could make out voices talking, familiar voices. Making her way around a stack of crates, she ducked back when she saw the CSM. Son of a bitch, she thought, shaking her head. Carefully, she peeked around the crates to survey the situation. Gary was tied to a chair, sitting next to a table with what looked have needles and vials on it. The CSM looked down on Gary, saying something to him that Scully couldn't quite make out. Another man, a young black man, stood just behind the table, watching the CSM. This man didn't appear thrilled about being there. Just behind that man was a white man, but he was clearly a CSM goon. "I'll take that," said a voice from behind her. Scully gasped when she turned to see a man behind her. He reached out for her weapon. She tried to turn her gun on him but he shoved her back into the crates. "Argh!" she yelled when she crashed into a mess of broken glass and wood. She slowly sat up on the pile of debris. Her eyes lifted up to see the man who'd pushed her--with her weapon. "Thank you," said the man waving the gun. He smiled. "Get up," he ordered. He didn't really give her a chance to comply though. He pulled her to her feet by her coat and practically dragged her to the CSM. "Dana," Gary said. He stopped when he saw blood on her left hand. "Are you all right?" he asked looking up to her. Scully looked at her hand, seeing the blood. She pulled up her coat sleeve, revealing the nice wound she received during her fall. Letting her sleeve fall over her injury, her eyes narrowed as she looked at the CSM. "*You*," she hissed. "What are *you* doing here?" The CSM casually lit a cigarette, took a drag and exhaled. "Nothing much," he answered then smiled. "You're behind this, aren't you? The murders." she snapped. "I should've known." She tried to make a move for the CSM but the goon who'd snagged her gun held her back. "How else would I get you out of the equation without raising Mulder's suspicions?" the CSM asked then shrugged. He took another drag. "I figured, what better way to do it? Your death would knock away the last pillar of sanity Mulder has. I want him *destroyed*." "You murdered all of those agents--Lambert, D'Agusta--just for this...this twisted plan?" She pulled her arm from the goon holding her, taking a few steps closer to the CSM. "You son of a bitch." Gary's gazed flicked from Scully to the CSM. He almost didn't want to know what kind of mess she was then. But his life hung in the balance here too. The CSM smiled after he exhaled a cloud of smoke. "It was all for you," he said. His gaze fell on Gary. "The two of you will be found in that alley beside the bar. As it probably would've happened if Mr. Hobson didn't have his...prior knowledge of the event." Scully's mind was whirring in overtime. Think, dammit, think! she yelled at herself. You have to get out of this mess. What would possibly stop him-- That was it. It had to work! "Do you seriously believe Mulder would abandon his search because of my death," she blurted out. She looked down her nose at the CSM like he was an idiot. "This won't stop him. It will only free him. You couldn't hold this so-called cure for my cancer over his head. He'd be free if you do this." The CSM glanced over at Lewis, then to the man standing just behind Scully. His eyes went back to Scully, staring down upon him as if he were some kind of moron. "And with nothing to hold him back with, he'll be extremely dangerous," Scully added as she folded her arms across her chest. "So, go ahead. Do it. Kill me. Mulder will be free. And so will I." Gary, however, stared up at Scully in complete disbelief. Part of it was about this cancer she mentioned. She'd never even hinted at being sick earlier. And mostly because she was telling this man to kill her. The CSM considered Scully's rebuttal. She did pose an excellent point he'd failed to notice in the planning. What would he have on Mulder if she was dead? Absolutely nothing. And what about Skinner? Oh yeah, Scully's demise would throw the yoke off of Skinner as well. Mulder and Skinner could team up, join forces against him then. No, no, the CSM thought. Can't have that happening. Scully is a valuable asset to my game alive. Well, I can always fall on Plan B. He looked over at Lewis. His eyes went to the man behind Scully then he nodded. The man grabbed Scully and pulled up her coat sleeve. "Hey!" Scully exclaimed, struggling with the man. It was a waste of time though. He was twice as strong as she was. "Lewis," snapped the CSM. He nodded towards Scully. "Do it." Lewis picked up one of the syringes, walked over to Scully and grabbed her left arm. He looked up at Scully while he tied the piece of rubber around her arm. Their gazes locked. Scully did not see evil in this man's eyes, only pain, despair and sadness, even regret. "I'm very sorry, Agent Scully," he softly said then stuck the needle into her arm, injecting the fluid. Whatever it was took effect fast. Scully's mind began to swim as her eyes clouded up. She lost the ability to focus. Finally, within seconds, she succumbed to the drug, falling limp into the goon's arms. Lewis promptly gave Gary the same injection. The CSM looked from Gary to Scully then over to Lewis. "The plan has changed, Lewis," he said. Lewis felt a swift flash of relief then he tensed up again. "To what?" he asked. The CSM shifted his gaze back to the unconscious pair and he grinned. "Wipe us from their memories, doctor." Lewis nodded, still staring at the CSM. What did that expression on his face mean? The CSM chuckled a bit as he decided how to dump Scully and Gary Hobson. He glanced over at Lewis. It was a shame this plan required losing Lewis. He really did like the guy. Gary's Apartment December 21 "Meow." Thump. "...looks like the snowstorm from last night is causing traffic problems this morning--" Gary groaned as he slammed his hand down on his clock. He opened his eyes, staring at the wall opposite him. He muttered slightly as he massaged his aching back. "Meow," went the cat outside the door. "Coming," mumbled Gary as he sat up. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rubbed his face with his hands, trying to wake up. As he lowered his hands, he saw clothes on the floor. Not just his clothes, but ones that definitely were *not* his. "Meow," the cat yowled from outside again. "Mmm," someone groaned from behind him. He felt something move on the bed, then the blankets flew to the foot of his bed. "Someone shut that cat up," Scully's voice moaned when the cat meowed once more. "Dana?" Gary said, halfway turning on the bed. Scully sat straight up in when she heard Gary's voice. She gasped and pulled the blankets up to her neck as Gary jumped to his feet. Neither of them knew what to say. Scully saw she was in an old T-shirt that must've been Gary's then over to him. He wore a pair of old Chicago Bears sweat pants. Her face twisted up in embarrassment and puzzlement. "How....how did we end up here?" she asked, hoping Gary had a damn good answer. "I don't know," Gary replied as he looked around his apartment. An empty bottle of champagne and two glasses sat on the coffee table. His gaze went back to Scully. "Do you remember anything from last night?" Scully placed one of her hands to her forehead, trying to remember. "I--I remember talking. And us having, I think, hot chocolate to drink." She paused, thinking harder. "You ran out to stop a warehouse fire. And--" She shook her head, lowering her hand. "After that, it's all blank." Gary nodded. "That's pretty much what I remember as well," he replied. "I don't recall what I did to stop the fire or how I got back home." His eyes lit up when the cat meowed again. "The paper." He went to the door. Scully shook her head, looking down on her hands. She noticed a bandage on her left wrist. Upon closer examination she could tell a doctor had applied the dressing. What the hell had happened last night? Gary opened the door, jumping back a little when he saw Chuck standing there, paper in hand. "Morning, Gar," greeted Chuck. He smiled as he looked past Gary to Scully sitting on the bed, pulling on her jeans. "Long night?" he asked, holding the paper out to Gary. Gary saw that look in Chuck's eyes as he snatched the paper from him. "Nothing happened," he said as he looked down on the new paper. He scanned the entire paper for anything, something, that could explain last night. "Something wrong, Gary?" Chuck asked, noticing the expression on his friend's face. He watched Gary shake his head and mutter under his breath. "What is it?" Scully, now fully dressed in her own clothes, joined them at the door. "Do you recall anyone out of the ordinary around here last night?" she asked Chuck. He shook his head, shrugging a little. "No, nobody I didn't recognize," he replied. "Why?" Scully nodded slightly, her eyes staring past Chuck. "No reason," she said. Chuck glanced from Scully to Gary. Something weird was going on here, and these two obviously weren't going to clue him in on it either. "I'm going downstairs," he said, motioning to the staircase. When neither of them said anything, he added, "You know, to prepare for the day since nothing *strange* is going on around here." He took a few steps towards the stairs. Gary nodded and mumbled, "Ok" then shut the door to his apartment. Chuck grumbled a little as he trotted down the stairway. "There's nothing in today's paper." Gary said as he put the new paper down and picked up the old one. He stared at the old paper. "I must've stopped the fires," he concluded. "The headline about them is gone." Scully examined the bandage on her wrist again. "I don't understand where I received this injury," she said, coming up to Gary, showing him her wrist. She continued looking herself over then she discovered something new on the inside of her elbow--small bruise with a small puncture hole, most likely caused by a needle. "Gary," she said, looking over to him. "Let me see your arms." "What for?" he asked, putting the paper down. "Something wrong?" He watched her grab his left arm, her fingers softly trailing up and down the inside of it. There is was. She found a similar mark on the inside of Gary's left arm. She heaved a sigh, studying it. "What is it?" he asked, trying to see what Scully found so interesting on his arm. Scully let go of his arm and looked up at him. "We need to go down to those warehouses again," she said. "Why?" "I have a feeling I'll find something there." Abandoned Warehouse 7:15 AM Gary watched Scully as she methodically covered the ground at one of the old warehouses. He wondered why she picked this particular one, so far away from the ones inhabited by the homeless. Still, she *was* the FBI agent and he, well, he was just there. Scully sighed, frustrated more than ever now. The snow had covered this area well. She wasn't sure why she'd picked this area either, just a strange feeling she should look there. About to give up on her search, Scully came across a cigarette butt in the snow. She picked it up, giving it a closer examination. Just as she suspected--the name MORLEY was printed on the filter. "Great," she muttered, tossing the butt back on the ground. She rose to her feet. "We'll never know what happened last night now." She started for her car. "I'll explain the best I can back at your place." Gary's Apartment Scully could tell by the look on Gary's face he was stuck somewhere between shock and disbelief. Of course she didn't tell him the *entire* story about Mulder and their work on the X Files. That included events that Gary just wasn't ready to hear. She didn't like telling Gary what she did, but he deserved some sort of explanation for the night before, even though she wasn't sure what happened herself. Whatever had taken place though, the CSM didn't want them recalling it--ever. Gary, though, was speechless. He couldn't believe what Scully had just spent the last hour telling him. Aliens? Government cover-ups? What other crazy stuff did that partner of hers believe? And was she really telling him the truth about her work or was this some plot to a movie? If this was the truth, no wonder Scully dodged questions about her work. "She has her own thing going on back in our nation's capitol". Chuck's words echoed through Gary's head. Chuck didn't know the half of it. "Are you ok?" Scully asked when Gary tried to move his lips to form words that refused to come out. It was a good thing they were sitting down because Gary had trouble staying upright on the couch. Gary steadied himself then managed to nod in reply to Scully. "This whole thing--I don't know. It's--" He paused, meeting Scully's concerned gaze. "It's out there, Dana." He shook his head. "You're saying this man you told me about, the cigarette smoking man, he altered our memories of last night simply by giving us an injection?" Scully felt like she was looking in the mirror. That look, the tone of Gary's voice, it was her 99 percent of the time when she talked to Mulder. It scared her. Not because it meant she sounded like Mulder, but she didn't want Gary to think she was crazy. "Basically, yes," she sighed in reply, looking away. "That's impossible," Gary replied, sitting straight. "That can't be done." Yes, Gary was her. That's something she would say to Mulder. Now he thinks I'm completely nuts. "A lot is possible that we don't know about, Gary," she softly replied. Thank you, Mulder, she sarcastically thought. I can't even look him in the eye anymore now. "I have a flight back to D.C. for this afternoon," she told Gary, still not looking at him. "I should go and pack." Gary grabbed Scully's hands in his, stopping her from getting up. He held them tightly, not saying anything until she finally turned her eyes to him. "What about that man out there?" he asked. "What--" He almost couldn't ask. "What if he tries something again? I couldn't--" Scully tried to smile as she took Gary's hands into hers. "He won't try to hurt you, Gary. I'm certain of that." If he had wanted to hurt Gary, the CSM would've done it last night, she knew. "Don't worry about him." "It's not me I'm worried about, Dana," Gary said, not letting her get up from the couch. "What if he does something to you?" He forced a nervous laugh, then said, "Then I, uh, I wouldn't be able to talk you into transferring to Chicago some day." Scully felt a rush of warmth rush over her body when Gary spoke those words to her. He truly cared about her. As did she for him. She leaned over, kissed him lingeringly on the lips then stood, still holding onto his hands. "I'd better go," she told him. He knew this moment would come, eventually. But that didn't lessen the pain any when he heard those words come from Scully's mouth. It was her decision, and he respected that. Gary's eyes lowered from her to the floor. "I understand," he softly replied. "It wouldn't be fair to either of us if we kept on like this," she said, gently touching Gary's left cheek with one of her hands. "Would it?" she prompted slightly when he didn't reply. Gary shook his head a little as he raised his eyes to her. "No, it wouldn't," he replied. He could see she pushed back tears of her own. He let his hands slip away from hers. "You're right, Dana." Scully couldn't think of anything poignant to say, because she hurt inside herself. She'd thought, like a fool, she could stop this relationship from blooming. Now it had, and it hurt like hell. She couldn't control her heart. "Good bye, Gary," she whispered, turned quickly on her heel. She grabbed her coat from Gary's coat rack, opened up the door to his apartment and paused. She put on her coat, her head hanging down, debating on whether it would be wise to look back. Sighing, she continued out the door, shutting it behind her. Scully's Apartment 7:31 PM Scully shut her apartment door behind her as she dropped her suitcase on the floor. She walked into the living room and flicked on a few lights. The plane trip seemed to last a lifetime and Scully had plenty of time to think. Her plans to keep herself from falling for Gary Hobson had tanked. She already missed him like crazy. She turned on the TV set in an effort to drown out her own thoughts. The CNN Headline News was on. She ran her fingers through her hair as she kicked her shoes off. Her gaze fell on the flashing red button of her answering machine. The digital read display read 12 messages. She hit the PLAY button then picked up her mail she'd collected from her neighbor. The first three messages were from members of her family, mostly saying they looked forward to the Christmas gathering. The eighth message was from Lillian Sandyford, an old college friend Scully had recently helped out. "Dana, it's Lil," said the voice on the machine. "I just wanted to give you our new phone number and address for Baltimore." Scully set aside her mail as she relaxed on her couch. Yeah, that was right. Lillian had mentioned they were moving to Baltimore a few months before. Well, we can get together some time, she thought. The next message was from Mulder. "Scully, I know you're probably not back from work yet, but Skinner called me last night," said Mulder's voice. "As of tomorrow morning, I'm back to work." He laughed on the tape. "I'll see you bright and early, Agent Scully." Scully turned up the volume on the TV when she saw a field reporter broadcasting from outside a motel in Chicago. "...his body was found early this afternoon by the cleaning service," said the reporter as a shot of a black body bag being wheeled out of a motel room came on screen. "Reports from police confirm earlier rumors Lewis was connected with the slayings of several FBI agent over the last few months--the most recent deaths right here in Chicago. Among the evidence recovered: a large cooler in which the missing hearts of the murdered agents were found." "My God," Scully gasped, sitting up on the couch. She shook her head as photos of a relatively kind black man flashed on the screen. Something about him was very familiar. "Unnamed sources say Lewis had taken an obsessive interest with the Richardson case, also known as the Secret Admirer stalkings. The only surviving agent from the Secret Admirer list, Special Agent Dana Scully, was unavailable for any comment, though sources say Agent Scully was in the Chicago area, attending the funeral for fellow agent, Veronica D'Agusta." Scully flipped off the TV before the woman could continue. The CSM had set up an innocent man for the murders. That had to be the only explanation. But why? Why would he do all of this? What was his gain? What had happened last night? More questions. More questions she'd never know the answers to. Scully leaned back onto her couch, staring at the dark TV screen. Lakeside Nursing Home December 24 4:46 PM Gary wasn't sure why he was standing in the vestibule of the Lakeside Nursing Home. He'd been standing there, letting the snow melt, creating a puddle of water on the linoleum floor. He heard sounds of voices and laughter from inside the home. The smells of a Christmas dinner--turkey, ham, fresh bread, and more--drifted into the vestibule, filling his nose, making him realize how hungry he was himself. Christmas Eve, and here he was hanging out in this nursing home, not knowing why. Dana's probably with her family, Gary thought, lowering his eyes to study the glistening water puddle on the floor. She's going on with her life, no problem, I'll bet. And what are you doing, Gary? Absolutely nothing. Wallowing, idiot, another voice shot back in his mind. Yes, in your self-pity, Hobson. "Sir, can I help you?" asked a woman's voice. Gary looked up to see a middle aged woman dressed in a nurse's uniform, standing in the doorway of the vestibule leading inside of the nursing home. She smiled slightly, her eyebrows arching underneath her red Santa hat. "I, uh," he stuttered, trying to figure out why he'd come there. He glanced down at the paper in his hands, remembering. "Is, um, Russert Calvin around, ma'am?" he asked, looking back to the nurse. "He sure is," she said. She backed up, holding the door open for Gary to come inside. "He's right inside, in the visitor's lounge." Gary stepped inside of the nursing home, that smell of pristine cleanliness hitting him. The stale white walls were accented with the greens, golds and reds of Christmas garland. Behind the nurse's desk sat a menorah, all eight of its candles burning brightly in honor of Chanukah. "Just this way," the nurse said, motioning for Gary to follow her. "Russ has a lot of visitors this year," she continued as Gary followed her around a corner where the laughter and voices originated from. They stopped outside of a room filled with people. The lounge was decorated with a Christmas tree, a table full of cookies, brownies, and snacks more suitable for the residents of the home. Residents and their families celebrated the holidays the best they could in this place. "Where is Mr. Calvin?" asked Gary, searching the room. He didn't see the man. "There he is," the nurse replied, pointing over towards the piano, decorated with white lights. Gary followed her finger, seeing Russert Calvin, sitting in his wheelchair, dressed in a red and green plaid sweater. He talked with a blonde woman, about her early 40s. He wore a big smile as did she when he took hold of her hand. "Who is the woman?" he asked, glancing at the nurse. "That's his daughter, Ann-Marie. She doesn't get a chance to visit much, so today's pretty special." "Grandpa! Thank you!" cried a familiar voice to Gary's ears. A teenage blonde girl threw her arms around Calvin, hugging him tightly. When the girl straightened, Gary recognized who this was--the girl he'd saved at the pier a few days before! "Well, I'll be--" mumbled Gary, shaking his head at that. He'd saved a grandfather and granddaughter on the same day. "Thank you for the CD, Grandpa," the girl continued. "Mom wouldn't let me get it. Said I had to save my money." She hugged her grandfather again. "I went to great lengths to get that, young lady," Calvin said, waving a finger at his granddaughter, but a playfulness was in his voice and a happy glimmer in his eyes. "I expect it to be listened to every day." "Oh it will! I know one of the songs for piano. Want me to play?" "I'd love to hear you play, Laura," Calvin said. He beamed with pride and happiness as Laura sat down at the piano. As Laura began to play the tune to Mariah Carey's "Forever", the nurse said, "Russ hasn't been like this since--oh I don't know when. It's nice he has a family that cares." She looked up at Gary, seeing the distant expression on his face. "Didn't you want to talk to Russ?" "Huh?" Gary said, snapping out of his daze. He saw the nurse staring at him. "Oh no, I, uh, I--I should be going," he said, backing away from the doorway to the lounge. "I don't want to intrude." As he walked out of the nursing home, Gary knew life went on despite it all. It went on for Russert Calvin, and he did just fine for himself. When Gary stopped in the vestibule, he tucked the paper into his jacket, zipped it up and wrapped his red scarf around his neck. He shoved his hands into his pockets, but didn't leave the building just yet. Scully came back to his thoughts. Just because she was in another city didn't mean his life was over. And from the sparks he felt that wonderful night with her, he knew that feeling he had for her wasn't something that would fade away any time soon, probably never. Just maybe, one day, he would reunite with Dana Scully. And if he was lucky, oh, if he was lucky, it would be forever. He sighed, his breath quivering slightly. Gary turned, giving the nursing home one final look. It would be quite some time before he was in this place, that much was certain. He opened the door with his foot, walked out of the home and into the falling snow. And until that time came, he had a lot of living left to do.